Philanthropic Mansion

Am I ever going to grow up? Probably not, if I can help it. I mean, who really wants to be an adult? Now, I’m sure there are plenty of bonuses like paying bills, raising kids, paying taxes, and that whole chained to a rock in a solitary prison cell lock-down that they call marriage. Oh yeah, that all sounds like fun and games, but you know, there’s also that whole responsibility thing. And I’ve never been a huge fan of responsibility.

Then again, there are certain parts about adulthood that I can actually look forward to. Yet, they are the things that I don’t currently have. A brand new Lexus would be nice. All adults are entitled to one of those, are they not? There’s also the right to stay up all night playing Metroid Prime 3 (which I still haven’t gotten around to buying just yet). But foremost among those rights of adult-ness is living on your own.

At present, I have been without a roommate for over a year and a half. And let me tell you, it feels awesome. Not that I don’t miss the old roomie, I do, he was a cool guy. There’s just a lot more freedom about living by oneself, if you know what I’m getting at. If you don’t, let me spell it out for you. When you have a roommate, it’s damn near impossible to lounge on the sofa in your underwear, eat Cheetos off your chest, and play Super Mario World. Not that I’ve tried or anything. And if my Super Nintendo controllers have an orange cheese residue on them, well, that’s entirely coincidental.

The continuing problem I’m finding with my current living arrangement is not the fact that I live alone, it’s that my apartment could use a little more class to it. Oh sure, the balcony is nice, it really is, and it gives me a good place to air out my hockey gear so it doesn’t obtain the reek of twelve separate gym lockers. But there are people that live all around me and the walls aren’t exactly soundproof. And really, that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from inviting Hugh Hefner over for a glass of warm cognac and a fine Cuban cigar. If I lived in a house, I’d totally be surrounded by Playboy Playmates every weekend. Totally.

Sadly, I don’t live in a house. And there are many reasons why having a house would be monumentally beneficial for me. For one, I like to throw parties. What can I say? I love entertaining guests. And it’s far too difficult to cut loose and have a good time when you know the ease to which it will annoy your neighbors. I have been known to throw a pretty memorable bash, if I can say so myself. I’d like to do so again, but I’m in need of better environs.

Keeping that in mind, I ran across this nifty little program on the World Wide Web. It’s amazing the things you can find on that there internets. The program has you answer a few simple questions, and after you’re done, it will “build” your dream home. Now, it’s not a complete, full detail model, but it’s a fairly engaging exercise. And personally, I found my dream house to be highly indicative of my wants and desires. Feel free to click here to take a gander at it.

The text describing my Philanthropic Mansion begins by stating that I have “people” to take care of my kitchen needs for me. Honestly, that sounds awesome. I may be no stranger to wrestling with the arcane arts needed to master the oven and microwave, but let’s face it, I’m lazy. I’d much rather have some one else do the cooking for me. And for the record, I hope these “people” that tend to my culinary needs are women, because, well, the kitchen is where women belong.

Apparently my dream home has a pantry that is loaded with enough alcohol to last through another prohibition. And to be fatally serious here, that’s something I actually have thought about before. I mean, what if the entire state of North Carolina goes dry? I would but up the proverbial creek without any booze. And that frightens me. It frightens me like a fourteen year old school girl watching The Exorcist for the first time. On a much more rational note, you can’t buy alcohol in North Carolina on Sundays until after 12pm. Additionally, the ABC Stores (only places where you can buy liquor) are closed all day on Sundays. So a guy like me has needs of a full pantry of beer, wine, and whiskey to keep the alcohol gods well venerated on Sundays until after the noon is eclipsed. So it’s nice to see my dream home has me covered there.

It would be nice to have that study stocked with hardback editions of all the classic novels. Believe it or not, I’m a huge fan of literature. I mean, I do harbor dreams of becoming a professional novelist someday. I enjoy such ancient classics as the Odyssey and the Aeneid as well as much more contemporary classics including Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and Breakfast of Champions. I’ve also been known to enjoy selected works from Shakespeare. Oh, go ahead and laugh at me if you want. It’s ok, I’m used to it, I am a Rex Grossman fan, remember? And also for the record, I’ve actually read Rich Dad, Poor Dad. It’s good stuff.

Now, if I can draw your attention to the piece of the blueprint provided by the website, please. Most importantly, I’d like to note the garage measured in light seconds (which I’m scientifically aware enough to know is a measure of distance, not time). As fate would have it, the garage is big enough to fit a full sized X-Wing fighter. Now, if only it was possible to find a working model to park in there…

The home theater with stadium seating (located in the bottom right corner) is a must. In fact, I wouldn’t be much of a manly man without out it. There’s nothing like watching a football game in high definition on a television screen bigger than most stadiums’ jumbotrons. Although I’m not sure I’d need a completely separate room (on the top right) to dedicate to my many sports accomplishments. But then again, who doesn’t like trophies? I mean, they’re just so shiny.

The Grand Ballroom is a nice touch. Though I have to admit, I’d need to install a fully stocked bar in the back, loaded with a full sized keg fridge and several high quality beers on tap. That way I could entertain all my friends properly. Oh, I’m sure that it might take up room that most people would have reserved for dancing, but well, I’ve never been that big on dancing. But if my guests intend to do the dancing thing, well it’s a Grand Ballroom, I’m sure there is more than enough space for them to do so. Oh, and the wall for wallflowers is a must, because, well, I’m pretty sure that’s where your supposed to put them.

So that’s my dream home. Whenever I get around to building it, I’ll be sure to let Hugh Hefner and his numerous lady friends know, so they can swing by and visit. But until then, I’ll still be here, in my one bedroom apartment, hanging out with girls who aren’t quite Playboy Playmates. I know, it’s a sad life I live. But worry for me not, I will persevere and one day, I will have the home to fulfill all my dreams.