Wednesday, June 1, 2011

An open letter to the former owners: WTF?

Dear Former Owners,

Why?  Please explain to me the thought process that went into your color choices for the humble abode which is now ours?  Cranberry red?  Really?  Why?  And why in the world is one wall in the front room that monstrosity of red while the other two are puke green (I swear that really must be the official name of the paint)?

What is the name of the demon who possessed you to paint the ENTIRE DINING ROOM in that awful dark red?  I would like to send him a firmly worded letter (full of expletives).  Nothing says, "Let's enjoy this delicious dinner together with our lovely family" quite like walls that look as though they're drenched in blood.

SIX FREAKING COATS OF PAINT is what it took to cover just one of those red walls (including 2 coats of primer).

This entire house has me wandering around asking, "What were they thinking?"  So please, do tell, what WERE you thinking?

Moose?  Really?  Why?

I want a 2 page essay explaining the motivation behind these firmly attached horrors.

Please explain your love affair of the ugliest shades of green and peach.  It is not 1987.  CUT THAT OUT.

the New Owners
who will be painting for the next three months to cover these horrid colors

P.S.  Our sincerest thanks for taking that awful ceiling fan with antlers with you.

The infamous antler fan (at least a portion of it) at the top of this photograph.

Please note: don't blame me for the furniture or colors.  Those are all the fault of the former owners.

It was actually far worse than it appears in this shot.  There were even MORE antlers than you can see in this shot and there was a large log replica at the base against the ceiling.!  


  1. antlers!? but no picture of THAT!?

  2. Just for you, Phyllis, I went and found a photo that shows at least a portion of the antler fan (and just some of the awful wall colors).

  3. I want the door moose! I will love them and call them my lucky moosies! Seriously. I don't know why I've suddenly become fixated on tacky moose. I need to soak my head in rum.


  4. The husband gleefully tore one moose off and tossed it away since it had sharp nails of death hanging out of his back. The other one is firmly attached (with both nails AND glue for some g-dforsaken reason). If I can tear him limb from limb (or at least limb from door frame), he's yours.

    I have no fixation with these beasts, yet I too would appreciate soaking my head in rum.


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