It's late, I'm tired, but I feel a bit guilty that I haven't blogged in a few days. Usually I enjoy it, but right now I'm wrapped up in more medical tests (easy-peasy today, a CT scan in which I was all finished ten minutes before my appointment time - something paranormal about that machine), family problems that I can't even begin to address (but which seemed somewhat better today), and endless preparations for a book launch which will probably net me about two sales. Nevertheless!
I keep being directed back to this site through Facebook. It's sort of like going to a sideshow: you look through your fingers, but you nevertheless look. These are (we think) actual photos taken by actual realtors to sell actual houses. The followup is never mentioned. The ones I post here are not, believe me, the most extreme examples, some of which are stomach-turning and seem to be fresh murder scenes not yet investigated by the police.
Part of the charm of these weird things is the godawful photography, just abysmal. Even I could do better. This one should be captioned "the light at the end of the tunnel: or, my near-death experience".
Remember before we could delete photos, when we had to have a whole roll developed, and out of 24, 22 would have someone's thumb in the corner?
And why take a picture of somebody's stove?
Weird or inappropriate decor. These settings look disturbingly similar to me.
This is a series called "inappropriate toilets".This matched set would be good for the Doublemint twins.
I can think of a million jokes, but really, this situation is too bizarre to joke about.
Front-row seats! Do they hold up little cards, do you think?
Ah, right by the front door! Convenient, isn't it? If you really have to go when you get home from work - perhaps. But I'm worried about the placement of that mail slot.
It's strange what realtors consider to be a selling point. I'd put up a baby gate so you couldn't go upstairs.
Dead goose in the rafters: are the holes in the roof that big?
I just can't comment.
"Built-in air conditioning!" "Ideal for someone with one leg shorter than the other!" Bah, I'm to bed.
(oh no, oh no, oh no. Oh NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. But yes. Here it is. One even worse.)
At first I thought this was some sort of perverted church, until I looked at the furniture. It's somebody's house. The windows, well, by God. . . I don't know what to say. It's a cock, is what it is, all done up in glass. Whee dogies.
