Intermeccanica Murena GT, 1967. Construzione Automobili Intermeccanica was founded in Turin in 1959. The Murena GT was marketed in the US by Murena Motors of New York and was powered by a Ford 429ci V8 engine. In total 11 cars were made
Hello Friends! Now that I’ve had my brief reprieve, I’m happy to be back in the saddle again. Thank you for your patience.
This week’s Certified Dank™ McMansion comes to us from Naperville, IL - one of my most requested locations.
This 5 bedroom, 6 bathroom beaut, built in 1999, is currently selling for almost $1 million. Not a bad deal for more than 5000 square feet of space.
The Lawyer Foyer
I’m very fond of this term, because it rhymes despite the fact that it looks like it doesn’t because English is a dumb language. Also, what the hell is going on in the top right hand corner there??
Ok is there an ACLU for architecture, because I’d like to report a human rights violation.
The Sitting & Staring Room
I’m pretty sure everyone knows these rooms are just a big lie, because rooms with sofas are for watching TV and nothing more. Y’all aren’t fooling anyone; do you actually think that I sincerely believe y’all sit around and have meaningful conversations? It’s 2016!! /s
The Dining Room
For anyone salty about this year’s Thanksgiving, this one’s for you.
The “This Was Totally Always a Home Office, What Are You Talking About?”
Dang it, ain’t that just sad.
The “Great” Room
As someone who will probably never be able to afford a Noguchi coffee table, this image makes me a human salt mine.
The Kitchen
If you or a loved one knows of a kitchen in desperate need of renovation, the Kitchen Defense Fund can help: call 1-800-34-OVENS, that’s 1-800-34-OVENS. (before i get sued: this isn’t a real thing)
The Breakfast Nook?
Is anyone else laughing at the thought of the ceiling fan blowing people’s napkins off the table or is it just me?
The Master Bedroom
Dammit, Cheryl.
The Master Bathroom
Do not let the softness of the pink walls fool you: the neutral sink territory is still a heavily contested area.
The Spare Bedroom
I’m sorry I can’t make a comment on this room, because I’m overcome with both bitterness and nostalgia.
The Horrifyingly Gendered Bedroom
“Mom, I want to be a mechanical engineer.” “That’s cute, princess.”
Bathroom of Said Gendered Room
Somehow they managed to pick a different colored pink from the pink in the attached bedroom…and this one’s worse.
Bedroom the Fourth
Cheryl always manages to find some way to circumvent Home Depot’s list of banned phone numbers.
MEDIA AND ALCOHOL LAIR
Disclaimer: I’m secretly into that bar.
And, now time for the obligatory…
Rear Exterior Shot!
Well, that does it for this week’s Certified Dank™ McMansion! I’m off to celebrate now, because today is my birthday!!! If anyone is interested in celebrating with me, please consider donating to my preferred charities:
Copyright Disclaimer:All photographs in this post are from real estate aggregate Zillow.com and are used in this post for the purposes of education, satire, and parody, consistent with 17 USC §107.
Solving the following riddle will reveal the awful secret behind the universe, assuming you do not go utterly mad in the attempt. If you already happen to know the awful secret behind the universe, feel free to skip ahead.
Let’s say you have an ax. Just a cheap one, from Home Depot. On one bitter winter day, you use said ax to behead a man. Don’t worry, the man was already dead. Or maybe you should worry, because you’re the one who shot him.
He had been a big, twitchy guy with veiny skin stretched over swollen biceps, a tattoo of a swastika on his tongue. Teeth filed into razor-sharp fangs, you know the type. And you’re chopping off his head because, even with eight bullet holes in him, you’re pretty sure he’s about to spring back to his feet and eat the look of terror right off your face. On the fol ow-through of the last swing, though, the handle of the ax snaps in a spray of splinters. You now have a broken ax. So, after a long night of looking for a place to dump the man and his head, you take a trip into town with your ax. You go to the hardware store, explaining away the dark reddish stains on the broken handle as barbecue sauce. You walk out with a brand new handle for your ax.
The repaired ax sits undisturbed in your garage until the next spring when, on one rainy morning, you find in your kitchen a creature that appears to be a foot-long slug with a bulging egg sac on its tail. Its jaws bite one of your forks in half with what seems like very little effort. You grab your trusty ax and chop the thing into several pieces. On the last blow, however, the ax strikes a metal leg of the overturned kitchen table and chips out a notch right in the middle of the blade.
Of course, a chipped head means yet another trip to the hardware store. They sell you a brand new head for your ax. As soon as you get home with your newly-headed ax, though, you meet the reanimated body of the guy you beheaded last year. He’s also got a new head, stitched on with what looks like plastic weed trimmer line, and it’s wearing that unique expression of “you’re the man who kil ed me last winter” resentment that one so rarely encounters in everyday life.
You brandish your ax. The guy takes a long look at the weapon with his squishy, rotting eyes and in a gargly voice he screams, “That’s the same ax that slayed me!”
