“This amazing modernist home was designed by Winthrop Faulkner, a name that’ll raise eyebrows at a cocktail party even among people who have no idea who he is.  That name just sounds distinguished.  It’s the name of a man who wears linen suits and will tell you to your face that you’re not good enough to date his daughter.  This house he’s designed (originally for a labor organizer) is a passive solar home, which means that it gets electricity from the sun and that when you ask where it wants to eat, it’ll say “I don’t care,” but then complain about wherever you pick.”

“This amazing modernist home was designed by Winthrop Faulkner, a name that’ll raise eyebrows at a cocktail party even among people who have no idea who he is.  That name just sounds distinguished.  It’s the name of a man who wears linen suits and will tell you to your face that you’re not good enough to date his daughter.  This house he’s designed (originally for a labor organizer) is a passive solar home, which means that it gets electricity from the sun and that when you ask where it wants to eat, it’ll say “I don’t care,” but then complain about wherever you pick.”

Stroll down the foyer and you come to the living room.  What can I say, it’s a room.  It’s nice-sized, with several large windows, and enough space for one of those huge sectional sofas that are more comfortable to sleep on than an actual bed.  What else?  There’s a little shelf on the wall.  You can stack all the cash you’re not paying towards rent anymore on the shelf.  Your friends will come over and be like, “why is there $75,000 in stacked hundreds on that bookshelf?”  (“That’s all the money I’m not paying on rent anymore, since I bought this place.  I’m stacking it on that shelf because my aunt forwarded me an e-mail about the Federal Reserve and now I don’t trust banks.”)  It’s a nice living room.

Stroll down the foyer and you come to the living room.  What can I say, it’s a room.  It’s nice-sized, with several large windows, and enough space for one of those huge sectional sofas that are more comfortable to sleep on than an actual bed.  What else?  There’s a little shelf on the wall.  You can stack all the cash you’re not paying towards rent anymore on the shelf.  Your friends will come over and be like, “why is there $75,000 in stacked hundreds on that bookshelf?”  (“That’s all the money I’m not paying on rent anymore, since I bought this place.  I’m stacking it on that shelf because my aunt forwarded me an e-mail about the Federal Reserve and now I don’t trust banks.”)  It’s a nice living room.

And who wouldn’t be jealous of a house like this?  The entire first floor is a massive entertaining space that the listing says is “perfect for hosting fundraisers!”  (The first fundraiser I’d host here would be themed, “I just bought a $4 million house in Blagden Alley, for god’s sake help me pay my mortgage.”)

And who wouldn’t be jealous of a house like this?  The entire first floor is a massive entertaining space that the listing says is “perfect for hosting fundraisers!”  (The first fundraiser I’d host here would be themed, “I just bought a $4 million house in Blagden Alley, for god’s sake help me pay my mortgage.”)

“The walk-in closet is huge, with an awesome modular shelving system that probably won’t get used since everyone just throws their clothes on the floor, and the master bath features twin basins and a jetted tub, so you can get that pulse of warm water riiiiiight where you want it.  (Get your mind out of the gutter.)”

“The walk-in closet is huge, with an awesome modular shelving system that probably won’t get used since everyone just throws their clothes on the floor, and the master bath features twin basins and a jetted tub, so you can get that pulse of warm water riiiiiight where you want it.  (Get your mind out of the gutter.)”

I don’t think this is the most expensive place to ever hit the market in Shaw, but it’s up there.  That, incidentally, would be a great, albeit unsubtle humblebrag-ish thing to say to your friends when they come over to see your new place.  “I don’t think this was the most expensive place to ever hit the market in Shaw, but it was up there!  Ha ha!”  Then when your friends are in the car on the way home, they can do a vicious, nasal impression of you saying that.  “‘I don’t think this was the most expensive place to ever hit the market in Shaw, but it was up there!’  Why would he even say that?!  He might as well just grab you by the shoulders and shout, ‘I’m rich!’  We’re definitely not inviting him to the wedding.”  (Not being invited to your wedding is a gift, not a punishment, Brenda.)

I don’t think this is the most expensive place to ever hit the market in Shaw, but it’s up there.  That, incidentally, would be a great, albeit unsubtle humblebrag-ish thing to say to your friends when they come over to see your new place.  “I don’t think this was the most expensive place to ever hit the market in Shaw, but it was up there!  Ha ha!”  Then when your friends are in the car on the way home, they can do a vicious, nasal impression of you saying that.  “‘I don’t think this was the most expensive place to ever hit the market in Shaw, but it was up there!’  Why would he even say that?!  He might as well just grab you by the shoulders and shout, ‘I’m rich!’  We’re definitely not inviting him to the wedding.”  (Not being invited to your wedding is a gift, not a punishment, Brenda.)

“The inside of this mansion is as impressive as the outside; the living room is bright and airy, with an antique fireplace, and direct access to the screened-in porch.  Sleeping in a screened-in porch is one of the best things about summer, along with cookouts with friends, and snickering at that stripe of sweat down the middle of your boss’s back when he comes back from lunch.”

“The inside of this mansion is as impressive as the outside; the living room is bright and airy, with an antique fireplace, and direct access to the screened-in porch.  Sleeping in a screened-in porch is one of the best things about summer, along with cookouts with friends, and snickering at that stripe of sweat down the middle of your boss’s back when he comes back from lunch.”