Nice headline from the New York Times: Fuel Prices Shift Math for Life in Suburbs. And this little nugget from a person trying to sell her McMansion so she can maybe extricate herself from oppressive mortgage payments and find more modest quarters in the city. The subtext in the article is along the lines of: "Living way the fuck out here with my central air and expansive carpeted floors and automatic garage-door system and new-smelling formaldehyde fragrances sounded pretty neat at the time." As if considering the hours she spends getting in her car, driving, parking, getting out of her car, waiting at the pump, pulling out her credit card, creeping along, waiting, emitting flourocarbons, talking on her cell-phone device, getting lost in the scorched-earth mirages of tailpipes . . . she had this to say: "Now, the suburbs seem mean. I wouldn't do this again." And then she probably walked inside to cool off, opened her pantry for a twelve-pack of waxy chocolate doughnuts, and wondered how long it would take her to drive to the neighborhood gate to get on the nearest arterial and park at the nearest Olive Garden before heading to Costco to get ready for the work week.
03 July 2008
Suburbanites bad at math, awesome at garages
Nice headline from the New York Times: Fuel Prices Shift Math for Life in Suburbs. And this little nugget from a person trying to sell her McMansion so she can maybe extricate herself from oppressive mortgage payments and find more modest quarters in the city. The subtext in the article is along the lines of: "Living way the fuck out here with my central air and expansive carpeted floors and automatic garage-door system and new-smelling formaldehyde fragrances sounded pretty neat at the time." As if considering the hours she spends getting in her car, driving, parking, getting out of her car, waiting at the pump, pulling out her credit card, creeping along, waiting, emitting flourocarbons, talking on her cell-phone device, getting lost in the scorched-earth mirages of tailpipes . . . she had this to say: "Now, the suburbs seem mean. I wouldn't do this again." And then she probably walked inside to cool off, opened her pantry for a twelve-pack of waxy chocolate doughnuts, and wondered how long it would take her to drive to the neighborhood gate to get on the nearest arterial and park at the nearest Olive Garden before heading to Costco to get ready for the work week.
