A former tenant of mine, who I never really liked, kidnapped me a few days ago to show me his new house that he’d been “remodeling” for the last couple of years. The “remodeling” he was doing would have given Bob Villa 5000 heart attacks, a bloody nose and an imploded ball sack. The vaulted ceilings were scabbed in with terribly aligned sheet rock caked with cracked mud, the basketball court had slivers big enough to stab through the fattest, most calloused of feet and the foaming insulation he sprayed in the attic was still actively foaming like super yeasty pancake batter.
“How long ago did you spray that stuff?”
“‘Bout a year ago.”
“When is it supposed to stop bubbling?”
“Are you gonna get your money back?”
“Am I supposed to sue myself?”
Turns out his place was part of a bigger compound of DIYers, DIYing themselves into a full blown religion, literally. The compound, as was so rudely explained to me, was a temple of sorts. On the whole I’d describe the architecture as Superman’s Ice Castle meets Concrete monolith meets all public libraries built in the 70s meets your local high school production of “2001 a Space Odyssey”. Everywhere I walked I found myself stuck in the middle of some pseudo ancient ritual usually involving blue makeup and/or stilts. It was all very Alice in Wonderland - Burning Man edition.
I did my best to avoid the “sacred spaces” but the place was so haphazard in the layout that it wasn’t at all obvious how to get the fuck out. Eventually I landed myself in the food court way down in the basement. Even the food was trying way too hard to be religious. There were Xanax cupcakes, Viagra hot dogs and a bunch of other pharmaceutical pastries. I’m afraid of drugs so I went for the basic peanut butter and honey corn dog which as you might guess was nothing more than a corn dog dipped in peanut butter and honey. REVOLUTIONARY. It was a bad choice considering the crumb duster/keystone cop mustache I grew that morning as a joke.
The food court was over run with little chipmunk type animals with oversized heads stuffing their already filled chipmunk cheeks with any and all pills that hit the floor. They were obnoxiously cute, like cartoons come to life, little spots on their cheeks, cute whiskers etc… I tried not to step on any, but they were dead set on placing themselves directly under my feet. I think they were trying to lick off the pancake batter insulation from earlier. Their little heads popped like bubble wrap as I made my way outside where a carload of people dressed in zany pink outfits was just pulling up to go church.
I don’t care how wacky the outfits and music, church eats balls always.
Oh yeah, I ate a bunch of yogurt.
That’s all for now.