Ally McBeal
Blowin' In The Wind

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Blowin' In The Wind

Ally is walking down the "wintry" "Boston" "street," bracing herself against the "winds." Vonda is squealing something about "the wayward wiiiiiind, is a restless wiiiind, and a wiiiiind that likes to waaaaandeeer." Ally's hat blows off her giant head, and she chases it for a while. Finally, she catches up with it: it's stuck on a snow-covered "FOR SALE" sign on a huge, honking old elephant of a house. She gazes at it for a while, then wanders on inside. Because houses with "FOR SALE" signs on them are usually open, so any old body can just wander inside and set a spell.

Inside, the house is trashed. There's trash all over the stairs, the railing has broken spindles in it, there are giant cobwebs everywhere and bound-up bundles of magazines on the mantle, the walls are bleeding...well, painted a really lovely Victorian dark red. Did you see The Royal Tenenbaums yet? That dusty rose they had in their halls is what I want in my halls. House ownership is really great, but you always have fixer-upper stuff to do, it's neverending. I saw a fixer-upper like this one Ally's peering at, which on paper said "five-bedroom Victorian with stained-glass windows," but should have read, "Filthy craphole with broken plumbing, pentagrams on the walls, and body laid out on third floor. Killer may still be inside!" I'm only slightly exaggerating. And while owning is a way to build equity, DO NOT THINK it is cheaper than renting. That's true only if you don't fix anything up, or paint, or knock down walls or mortar up walls or rip out rugs or put new tile in the bathroom or get new windows installed...all stuff I've done in the last few months. ["Whoa, really? All we had to do was paint, thank god. Oh, and we have that little tub-draining leak problem that we haven't fixed yet. We're lucky! What's that? This isn't a recap of Trading Spaces? Right. I'll shut up now." -- Wing Chun] Good thing Ally will get Jon Bon Jovi as a fix-it guy. Because they aren't all that pretty. Anyway, back to the action: Ally walks right in and fantasizes that the trash-strewn house is all nice and fixed up. There's a real estate agent who says the house "just went into probate" even though the sign outside was all covered in snow. Ally asks for an "offer sheet," and the agent is all, "Don't you want to know how much?" Ally asks, "How much?" Yeah, that's how real estate is sold. Ally should have just whipped out a pile of cash and thrust it at the agent, who'd stammer, then holler "SOLD!"

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Ally McBeal

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