Man, this was a perfectly nice 19th century farmhouse, but then they had to go and modernize it to try to appeal to the American Apparel crowd. Tsk, tsk.
"Hi!"
"Watcha doing? Mind if we watch?"
"Could you scratch my nose for me?"
"Kissy kissy kissy, come here, kissy kissy kissy...."
"Crap, I thought we were dressing as geese. I swear Alice said we were dressing as geese. Damn it, Alice..."
"Me too! Don't forget meeeee!"
Meanwhile, in the back yard -- look away, children:
Sorry about how bleak the sink with the razor was in that listing down there. How about this to cheer you up? Look! Clowns! Jenny found some clowns! Aren't you happy now? Whee?
(If you need me, I'll be hiding under my covers. Let me know when they're gone, please.)
Oh, God. You could buy this house and then kill yourself, or you could just kill yourself now and save yourself the closing costs. This is as cheery as it gets, despite being almost one million bucks, in Palm Beach, and steps from the beach.
I'm sorry, but I just can't take urban angst seriously when it's right by a beautiful, sunny beach. But Brooklyn! Ooooh, we've got some real rebels here:
Yes, this is very punk and all, but it looks like someone painted it on the inside of their own bedroom door. Is it directed at his (I presume, boooo me) roommates? Does he think that they're all yuppie scum, and thinks mean thoughts about them when he's in his room? Or does it actually say "Die yummie scum," because he's planning on eating them? What kind of scum, anyway? Could this all be fixed with a bottle of Soft Scrub?
(Found by Merridy [Sydney] and Katryn [NYC]. Arrows scrawled in by me, not the real esatate agents, nuh doisey.)