Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
I hate it but I want it
The outdated style I dislike most is the decade of the 70s. This home is an example of why. (I bought an 80s house and it was so dated that I couldn't afford to redo it, and that's the problem you have to consider when buying, even if the price is lower.) This one, in Ottawa, Illinois, was built in 1970 & has 4bds, 3ba, $325K.
Okay, this is just silly. Cut the hedges back, the lions look like they're in giant green butt cracks. Let's go inside- I hope you enjoy this 70s throwback.
The oval leaded glass door with 2 side lights were the gold standard, as well as the pony wall planter, spindles and red carpet.
The 70s introduced large stone fireplace walls. In contrast, there was fussy, fancy, metal (or plastic) grill work, as seen in the doorway.
The 70s changed the color of wood- it became extremely dark, through the magic of Jacobean stain. The style included faux brick (which was not yet perfected and looked so faux), carpeted kitchens and ornate cabinetry with plate rails.

But the most distinctive feature was the kitchen lamp post. Even if I gutted this kitchen, I would keep that lamp post, b/c it's such a classic. I've even seen them built into the middle of kitchen tables. (Note the faux brick backsplash.)
Variations of this beloved bedroom set were in so many homes. Even my grandparents had one (and I inherited it). Plus portraits of the children on black velvet.
Wallpaper, fancy and flocked, even if it didn't match the style of the room.
There was a Toile Revival, too.
And, big, dark heavy furniture with fancy foo-foo ruffled fabric or fabric with eyelet borders. Notice the architectural detail of the bed on a platform with a heating vent for practicality.
This fireplace was redone- they removed the mantle, in favor of a shelf, and framed in the hearth so they could display statuary.
It was also the advent of the wall-to-wall carpeted bathroom and tub draperies.
Note that red shag carpeting fades over time, and also pills, balls up, and irretrievably matts down. Check out what looks like a lighted nativity scene in the fireplace.
Ah, the manufactured "colonial" creations. Hanging metal fireplaces adorned with eagles and sofas with spindles, pleated skirts, and pastoral or historic Americana scenes. Wherever there was an opening, put up a fancy railing and/or panel.
What a bonus! A home beauty salon! Also, note the textured paneling and another popular feature- jigsaw cutout wood valances on everything from the kitchen cabinets to windows, to walls. (Also, there's a good example of how red carpet fades, in the corner.)
Some outer details (note the cutout valance even on the roof of the house).
I didn't expect a farm, but there're definitely barns and a silo on the property.
3.67 acres of land.
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2855-E-13th-Rd-Ottawa-IL-61350/115664434_zpid/
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
No <3
i am 18 today. say happy birthday silas or i will cry
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
I want to be mean but I want to seem humble at the same time
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Quit smoking (I’ve removed my lungs for more baccy space)
quit smoking (ive ran out of rizzler and the shops not open till 6)
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Me whenever any human being gives me attention
he’s so cute i wanna skin him alive
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
The rhyme in this is the type of shit Dr. ,no degree, Seuss would die for
‘you’re delusional’ um..have we considered i’m actual and factual??
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I don’t need friends I just need one internet person to like my posts and validate my insanity
1 note
·
View note
Text
I have allowed too much oxygen into my brain I’m like a Honda Civic with NOS rn
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
It would be so funny if i combusted like a small Somalian child
1 note
·
View note
Text
The land of consumerism
Inside this great castle of commerce I was, crowds flooded the halls of this great palace of commerce. The clean streets of this micro town breathed with the spending of the economically disadvantaged, fighting like dogs over the latest product they were commanded to buy from the omniscient boxes in their pockets and homes. Like zombies they crowd the hottest stalls spending money they didn’t have on things they didn’t need. Tag lines of the corporate blanketed the walls, their blind followers gather at the gates. Such entrances guided in thin marble sheets, hiding the truth behind them as though the marble was a reflection of the companies that this place housed. Under a thin venire of public relations managers the true sinful beasts lie inside the headquarters of the corporations. Like lions placed on display, the expensive products of the stores are placed upon obelisks of their masters approval. Various stores for the populous to enjoy are cooled to a comfortable level, providing a chilled euphoria to the shoppers that choose this fate. This state, inviting and addictive like a temperate heroin they all take pleasure in of this castle of the pleasures of modern man.
Now outside I was head to head with a sea of machines in a valley of concrete. Only there for the lucky few who were able to drive such an expensive luxury. Cigarette smoke and sunglasses cloud the delighted shoppers judgement, forcing them to partake in the devouring of the stalls of meat and food are collectively huddled near the entrances of the complex. At a terrace I was able to see the old communist buildings that watch over this new wave of capitalism that has perversely flooded this once great land. Marxist ideas and ideals clash toe to toe in this new Cold War of ideologies, hidden from public view of the unsuspecting public. Like a disease these palaces spring up like woes of the west. Even outside the bounds of this place I’m still bombarded by the cladding of consumerist, cars bare the crests of foreign lands as though they were chariots of the emissive political ideas set forth by their powerful party leaders, overextending their reach to lands beyond their grasp. “Made in China” hides underneath everything in sight like the branding of the beast. Their makers just under the age of adulthood, slaving over their work like one mad with passion to earn the worthless bills dolled up with the faces of dead leaders that strike a aching patriotism inside their holders whenever sight is placed upon them.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I truly feel as though I was left here as an afterthought. Truly an expenditure of a human against everyone else. I feel no more special then the trash on the street. The worthless ends of a cigarette on the asphalt street. I feel as though the modern cold world has left be behind in its ruthless ever evolving state, truly a cold icy monster that encompasses the enviable environment around me.
All I see is the brands that clad people like clans. Burberry, Versace, Gucci. Their alignment towards their maximalist capitalist gods like priests of their identity parading their religion of luxury. A vice of wealth surrounded me even through I was in the poverty stricken country, an oxymoron in the making. Unable to afford bread but able to manage a iPhone 14 Pro Max and a Louis Vuitton bag. In a way I am reminded by my home where anything above else face is kept above all else at all costs.
In my drunken rodeo I am forced to participate in the unwilling attendance of this mortuary of vice. Kept chained by the alcohol ridden drinks and the somewhat acceptable music. Being left alone felt as though I had never felt the touch of my mother, a caring caress that felt missing her inside of me. Alone at the table with everyone talking amongst themselves in a language I was only able to cusp because I had the misfortunate event of being born inside the confinements of the county. A county that disgusted me so much and filled me with a rage intelligible to the average patriotic person.
Now at the bar to empty my boundless sorrows I stand in line, begging for another sip of the empty feeling that the alcohol provided to soothe my empty and devoid soul. A friend where there was none, a lover where there is a lack of affection, a partner of alcoholic bliss. A personal medicine that I was taking in with droves. Friends in tow I was now dragged outside.
Stars and lights partially illuminated the surrounding wooden table at the back end of the building. The laughs, cries and never ending alcoholic blunders of the crowd outside seemed to being life to the empty and dull outside of the building. Their lives bringing vitality and life to the empty thoughts that ruminate through my suicidal mind. The thoughts that would never leave me no matter how much I begged as though they were an obsessive lover, unable to leave the dying relationship, begging to be let back in like a hound begging at the door for food. Their smiles, their laughs filled me with an emptiness that I could not describe in words. A feeling of emptiness that permeated through my body, a vaccine of pure lust towards the filthy throughs.
Their passively inclined flirts towards each other made me fall lovingly into a depressive need for the longing touch of a lover to possess me as though I was an inescapable debt longing over their head. Th social talks that emanated from their mouths seemed to go forever. Their conversations shallow with deceit. Faces fake with smiles. Hearts filled with discontent. Wine glasses clanked together in a celebration of their alcoholism, their consciousness voided and clouded with the caress of the whiskey they consume. One sat next to me, clad in a black shirt, his conversations were a verbal vomit of their daily lives, complete with all the nefarious details of their inner workings of their social lives. One group, huddles together as though seeking warmth in a cold Siberian winter, their body language and eyes flirting with each other as though they were old friends meeting again, looking almost lovingly into each others retinas. Their hands slowly eclipsing each other as though they were the moon and the sun, perfectly matching each others energy. A beautiful symbiotic exchange of warmth of pleasantries.
Slowly sipping my drink I fell further into the drunken warmth that the whiskey provided. Slowly getting myself closer to the ability to feel somewhat comfortable inside my own skin. My deep feeling of nakedness towards everyone around me since I had cut my long locks for a buzz cut. The warmth of my brain seemed to leave me in droves like a exodus of people from a dying metropolis.
I left, drink in hand to soothe my dispositive despair.
1 note
·
View note
Text
If you consider robbery as flirting then yes, now hand over the grippy socks and nobody gets hurt
so lonely i think i’d blush if i got jumped
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
dw babes ill jump u so i can steal ur grippy socks
so lonely i think i’d blush if i got jumped
9 notes
·
View notes