This is ostensibly Taylor Swift's mansion and this one might not absolutely suck since maybe you and your squeeze plus a few buds could hang here with the other space dedicated to, say, a luxy music studio, a screening room, etc. Maybe you could get half a dozen adults in here who could live at once without bumping into each other all the time and pissing each other off.
Are there people you want to see every day? How about every twenty minutes?
Fuck that.
Sure I'm so strange ... but ... likely you have a place for someone, maybe with some kids, and anyone else can generally piss off until you feel like dealing with them.
There's the obligatory tennis court to one side and likely there's a huge pool back there as well. However, if you're really all that busy then you probably won't have that much time to play with such things and if you're not, well, what a drag to be you. I wouldn't do well as one of the idle rich; in fact, I believe I would have been bored senseless.
Oh, yes, Buffy, I'm aware I could play tennis but, drat, I played tennis yesterday.
Oh, the trials of the rich and famous.
When the mansion gets much bigger than this one, you probably have all or a large part of your entourage in it so now you have this bloody great mansion but you only have privacy in a relatively tiny part of it. There's probably also some cadre of house staff on a rotating or live-in basis and this place starts sounding quickly like a New York City train station.
We have to kill that one right now since I will likely roll out of the sack naked and I see no reason to change that status simply to use the toilet. I'm not willing, amazingly, to be saying hi, how are ya to the crowd along the way and back.
Is not going to fucking happen.
The place makes you easy to find and it will be surrounded by paparazzi nipple freaks whenever you are there. The paparazzi or at least its most unseemly quarter live for celebrity nipples. Nothing pops the corks for those twisted monkeys faster than celebrity nipples.
It just keeps getting fucking better, doesn't it?
Ed: that's in part fueled by Mark Zuckerberg's nipple perversion since he has banned all nipples in Facebook. That caused the value of a paparazzi photograph of, for example, Taylor Swift's nipples to go astronomical and such is the genius of censorship.
That boy was damaged at the factory and there's not much to be done about it. Like Donald Trump, he's determined to make Americans look like backwoods idiots since Euros don't go apeshit over nipples.
How about this much better example and I believe this one was pitched as the most expensive home property in America.
Note: this was used as the set for "The Beverly Hillbillies" on television.
Quite apart from anything else, this pad probably has more ghosts than the average horror "B" movie.
How about one night in the place, just your marvelous self, whomever you are. You would likely be walking around with a lantern all night trying to figure out what all the creepy noises were.
Or you can go with Plan B to move some part of your entourage in there but really they're still ghosts since most of them are probably moochers.
Oh ... Hell ... No
No comments:
Post a Comment