Realtor Open House

Since I am stuck here smiling inanely and keeping the cat in as realtors and clients tromp through my house, I have decided to blog about it so I can be the snark I want to be record it for posterity.

German Fashionista Lady: Yeah, don’t turn your Teutonic nose up at my house. Sure, you probably live in a mansion in Shaughnessey. But my home is MY home. Oh, and your shoes are butt-ugly.

Funky Glasses Man: Yes, I know there’s no closet space. I know because I have lived here for four years. And fuck, did you HAVE to step on the cat? Asshole.

Teddy Bear Man: Is your professional realtor schtick that you’re cuddly? How does that work? You nuzzle people into buying a house? I hope that works out for you…

Armani Guy: Yes, those are our hot air registers. Aren’t they quaint? Now, go get yourself a designer coffee or something. I can tell you won’t pimp our house.

Chunky Highlights Giggly Woman: Fark me, are you 12? Why do you giggle as you ask about our ceiling height?  Are the ceilings cute? Do you have a crush on them?  Okay, now, Byeeee!

All In Suede Guy: Um, did Danier have a sale?

Older British Accent Man: I like you. You were respectful of our space and didn’t scare the cat. You may buy my house.

About A Billion In-and-Outers: WTF? What can you see by standing in my living room for 1.3 seconds?

Okay, everyone. It’s noon. Time’s up. Get out.

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