Carpet is Back

Since Nancy Reagan's brutal War on Carpets decimated the furry flooring business, rugrats throughout the Basement Nation have been clamoring for it's return, joining various occult forces to expedite the demise of the public's soulless hardwood floor addiction. And they appear to be winning. winning. Realtors have long been this great country's arbiter of what a homeowner needs to be fulfilled, and Chicago real estate agents are infamous for taking a leading role, whether it be in redlining or blockbusting, granite or waterbeds, you can count on your local realtor to assure the Joneses are never too far ahead. Upon viewing this Lakeview single family home, the buyers remarked, "Who the f*#k wants carpet. We're outta here."
Lakeview

Tenants Attempt to Scare Future Buyers

In an effort to undermine their elderly landlord's attempt to sell his only worthwhile asset, and hopefully preserve their very below market rent, the tenants of this renovated Lakeview 6 flat posted a distinct warning to give prospective buyers doubts on their potential purchase. As of press time, there is still no confirmation that the tenants were subsidizing the homeless gentleman that was sleeping on their front stoop.
Lakeview

Beanie Babies Decide to Sell Their Home

Declaring that "Roscoe Village is done!", a collective of rarely seen Beanie Babies have decided to sell their quaint Roscoe Village house. "You know, we like moved here twenty plus years ago. Back then we were the only babies around. Now, babies are everywhere." Asked where to next, the group was split with older babies crying, "cities are nothin' more than overpriced boutiques and slums. We're going to get a farm in Indiana, plenty of shelf space there." But the younger ones simply said, "southside, baby."
Roscoe Village

Maria Refuses to See Disgraceful Rehab Work

Local Logan Square icon, Maria, sometimes referred to as "The Celibate One", appearing simultaneously under nearby highway bridges and neighborhood backyards, has taken a new oath (with the help of Skylar's beer pong equipment) of blindness in an effort to avoid witnessing the overpriced single family conversion of this former Logan Square two flat, which substituted vintage detail for gleaming drywall and large shiny appliances.
Logan Square

Federal Reserve Sells Penny to GE

Buyers of this still under renovation Lincoln Park two flat were surprised to find GE's newly released penny-light, which has promised users that the recent surge in Chinese toggle sales with not affect Americans' ability to use their lights because it's new switches have been specifically designed to turn on with your "now worthless pennies." Critics have complained of GE trying to capitalize on the popularity of Steven Spielberg's "Lincoln".
Lincoln Park

Sinkwashers Boosting Lincoln Park Prices

In an effort to increase rent, and not turn off would-be renters in one of Chicago's toniest neighborhoods, the owner of this Lincoln Park three flat has transformed his sink cabinet with a used dishwasher panel. When asked about potential tenants feeling deceived by his non-functioning dishwasher, the three flat owner tersely remarked, "I not do such thing. You not know nothing the dishwash! I am leave open drain pipe. Renter only putting dish in dishwash, then open water, and he wash dish, then take dish from dishwash CLEAN. This is dishwasher, yes? Yes, this is dishwash."
LINCOLN PARK

Embarrassed Potty Makers Elated & Relieved

Legions of embarrassed potty makers, especially those looking to purchase potty maker friendly houses in the City of Chicago, have taken to social media to express their gratitude to the growing number of home sellers and developers who recognize the often forgotten community of home buyers suffering from Potty Making Syndrome.

For years, these home buyers, and others, have had to waste countless gallons of water and innumerable excuses to convince passers by that the potty making machine was not in use. Now, with the help of Victorian furniture, born in an era when people understood the perils of potty making, potty making outfitters have introduced the perfect potty making foil allowing users to simply leave the door open while they enjoy their magazine with a spot of tea.
Lakeview

Realtors Outsourcing Themselves to Kinkos

In an effort to further minimize the time they spend working, listing agents have decided that their clients would be better served by Kinko's new Realtor Helvetica than then they would by a smiling face that informs potential buyers that the bright room they are looking at is in fact, bright.
Lakeview

New Owner Opts to Shower in Sink

After spending several months searching for a historically accurate Lincoln Park home, the new owner has spent every morning of his first week of residence staring at his showers before giving up and retreating to the sink basin. Sources claim that he is hopeful that next week will bring better luck.
Lincoln Park

Missing Wood Posts Concern Buyer

The potential buyers of this 1890's Lakeview Victorian displayed profound concern upon descending into the basement to discover that the entire house was being supported by tree trunks. The wife looked over to her husband, and in a firm but slightly anxious voice, said, "We have GOT to get out of here. Why wouldn't they support their home with wood posts like everybody else. This is NOT safe. We have GOT to go. NOW!"
Lakeview

DIY and OMG Forming Partnership

A Lakeview homeowner came home one inebriated afternoon from Wrigley and decided to renovate her shower. The Ku-Ku Cubbie decided to work straight through the evening before eventually passing out on the bathroom floor. She was awoken from her roommate, apparently unable to figure out how to use the new shower, who sent a alarm ringing text message,"WTF!"
Lakeview

Emergency Exit only for Real Emergencies

In Chicago's Lakeview neighborhood, some two flat and three flat owners are rebelling against the high cost of installing emergency staircases, sometimes referred to as a rear egress or back porch. Their defense is that they only need an actual door size exit. As this homeseller stated, "what's all the friggin' fuss. Don't you see them shrubs I planted. You may get banged up but you ain't gonna die. It's for friggin' emergencies not so you and some lass can have a smoke and admire the skyline."
LAKEVIEW

Definition of 'Electronics' Causes Confusion

The seller of this Roscoe Village single family home was observed smiling in the corner, abiding by the rules of his timeout. Then, without warning, he gleefully blurted out, "my wife has all these rules, all these rules, but she's losing this one. I do one 'mean' thing, like call her 'thick' or something, and then I can't use the dishwasher, or call to tell her I'm running late, or fix the DVR. It's great. Every husband should be put on the Electronics Time Monitoring System"
Roscoe Village

Stainless Cousin Fails to Gentrify

After almost two decades of peaceful co-existence, a Lakeview kitchen has been forced to accept an overbearing neighbor who has made no efforts to warm up to the long standing residents of this incredibly functional but aesthetically scorned kitchen.
LAKEVIEW

Angry Old Man Won't Let Buyers In

Despite providing him with the secret code, offering naming rights to their second born, promising to keep the pink tiles in the guest bathroom, assuring that the paneling will remain in the basement, and swearing to never turn the heat past 62, a young chipper professional couple was outraged when this stone faced curmudgeon refused to let them pass. LAKEVIEW

Child Scared of New Bedroom

While shopping for an affordable home in the Lakeview neighborhood, a couple excitedly told their six year old child, "this is going to be the best bedroom ever", before the husband whispered to his wife, "is this really how we have to live for him to attend a good public school in Chicago?"
LAKEVIEW (Bell School District!!!!! Yeah!)

I Always Wanted to Marry a Foreclosure

“Hey, can we go look at that two flat, the one in Logan for $120,000?,” my client asked excitedly, delightfully oblivious to the car crash he was about to encounter.

“Uh, yeah, sure, but you know it's going to most likely need some work, and you weren't that keen on anything more than painting and some floor refinishing.”

“I know I said that but I've got a good feeling about this one. Something about the outside photo speaks to me.”

Apparently, he'd never explored the all too real world of online dating, where dreamy avatars arrive for coffeeshop dates aged by vienna beef and a cracked rolodex of spoiled romances.

“Alright, we'll take a look. Maybe you're right. I'm sure somewhere in Chicago real estate history a solid underpriced property has been forsaken by buyers for months, while it waited for just the right visionary, who keenly understood that painting those purple walls white would change everything. I'll meet you tomorrow at 3.”

A clean vinyl sided two flat awaited, taunting us like a cantankerous curmudgeon of an old maid, determined to thwart suitors until her rapidly approaching death. VINYL SIDING...Is there a more heinous material in the history of home building? A house built with wet dung is more architecturally appealing. Duct taping giant garbage bags around the exterior wall studs would even surpass the nausea that vinyl siding brings to the senses. Write your Senators. And your alderman. Ban that Shit! (Full disclosure: I'm so embarrassed by the vinyl that enshrines my building that I meet guests on the corner and escort them blindfolded to my door).

“Let's do it,” my client said with no hint of irony, a lifetime of happiness still awaiting him behind Door number one.

The smell of abandonment pervaded like the metamorphosis of mold and cat pee. The floors were still original hardwood though, which should be Chicago's new moniker. Fuck The Windy City. It's the City of Hardwood Floors. You may find a home drowning in yellowed Tribunes and Harold's Chicken boxes, mold blackened bathrooms, and shot out windows, but I guarantee you the realtor (or seller) will turn to you with the straightest face possible and earnestly declare, “Look at the hardwood floors. A quick polish and they'll really turn this place around.” Sure, if you're ok bathing in a plastic tub in the rear corner of the basement and inhaling cracked plaster on your elevated air bed.

“Hey, check out these moldings,” my client barked, still refusing to face the reality that his cyber date isn't even a woman.

“Yeah, not bad, only three, maybe four layers top of paint to strip.”

The rotting galvanized plumbing clawed out from the broken bathroom walls. Two presidencies worth of mold extracted the Bush empire from the forgotten bile in the pit of your belly. Stepping inside the oval office was not an option. The Spinster was beginning to show her spite. Walking down the brief hallway revealed everyone's new favorite room, the former dungeon of domestic servitude, El Kitchen.

A violent storm of post foreclosure looting dropped a Category 5 on my client's Emeril fantasies. Bam!

The countertop had been completely removed leaving only the plywood skeleton, which hung in the air like a subprime diving board. More broken rusty pipes poked through the cracked cabinetry to offer a salutary welcome. And then the Old Lady crapped on us.

“What was that?”the first octaves of concern bellowed from the buyer's mouth.

“Um, she wants us out.”

“Huh?”

“Look up”

A crop circle of peeling paint neatly framed a tub size crater. A small FHA obstacle.

He wanted to swear of internet dating unaware that it's a numbers game. Everything's a numbers game.

“Hey, listen, you can get a rehab loan, and really make this place something. Probably add $80-$100 grand to the purchase price, and in a year you'll have the place you wanted,” I consoled, trying to minimize the hurt a misleading photo will do to a young man's heart.

“You know, I think I'll have to pass on this one. It's a little more work than I thought.”

“But don't you want to see the upstairs unit. Or the basement. Maybe those were kept pristine. This is the classic 'show 'em your ugly side first, and if he can bear with it, than he may be the one' move.” Again, consoling the bereaved.

“Uh, well, uh, ok. Let's take a look upstairs.”

The back porch was quickly reclaiming it's place in Chicago's clay earth, the perilous slant inebriating us for our upper deck arrival. A rusty water heater greeted us with the tip tap tip of it's final fluids. The kitchen had vanished. Abducted? Transplanted? We walked a circle of wonder around The Bam room, two old men at a Mapplethorpe exhibit. The matron waited. So what's it gonna be boy. Can you handle me?

“It's alright. We can go back downstairs. I'm ready,” the solemnity dripping from his mouth like the water tank that now bid us adieu.

Passing back through the downstairs kitchen was a painful Christmas tour of a childhood family album, now digitized by Dad to allow immediate trauma, On Demand. A sticky spatula glanced from the spot where the stove once sat. My client did the foreclosure walk of shame. Look around Chicago for wood boarded windows or a giant orange sticker on a padlocked door. If you see somebody leaving that home, not the one with the bad suit and a bluetooth, but the person accompanying, dejected, face to the ground, wondering what he was thinking, questioning why she couldn't have just posted some real time photos of herself. Everyday in Chicago, hundreds of prospects do the same walk.

But there's hope. There's always hope. It's what makes us human. And, of course, the Bank, who despite tight-assing their soaring profits, is still happy to give you a few more dollars to get the home you deserve.

“Hey, c'mon now,” I said like Coach after another beatdown, “Chicago's a big city. There's no such thing as only one soul mate. We're flooded with options here. I mean, did you see at least see those hardwood floors?”