Real estate deathmatch

So I have a confession to make: the reason I've been a bad blogger lately is not because I've been working hard, or because I've been outside enjoying the weather, or even because I've been lying on the couch watching MTV and drinking a whole bottle of wine while vainly imploring the cat to write another one of those non-chart things. (That's just the reason why I haven't been working hard or enjoying the weather.)

No, I've mostly been right here, at the computer, but instead of reading about gay parents storming the White House for Easter eggs or whatever else happened this week, I've been . . . reading about real estate.

That's right! Mr. T&A and I wandered into an open house on our way back from brunch one day, and thus thought vaguely about buying a house, and thus I turned to the Internets for guidance.

Dude, let me tell you, discussions about the D.C. real estate market put celebrity gossip controversies to shame. I mean, sure it's interesting to discuss whether Gwyneth and Chris named their baby Moses because they're obnoxious self-obsessed crackpots or because they're beautiful visionaries who recognize that only their offspring will be able to save us all. But if you're looking for real passion, real feeling, what you want is a real estate debate. Nobody feels neutral about the topic. You have to pick a side:

Side 1: The real estate market is a huge mouthful of Bubblicious about to burst all over those smug yuppie gentrifiers' faces, and that will show them to fuck with the affordable attached rowhouse dreams of the deserving masses. (For instance, see Bubble Meter.)

Side 2: Homeowners are moral and wise, and shall be justly rewarded with double-digit annual appreciation and mortage-interest deductions, while all others will burn in the hellfires of eternal rental payments. (OK, so that's mostly the Real Estate section.)

You can't beat this stuff with a whole bag of Lindsay Lohans. (Yes, I regret the mental image, but it's too late now.) It's gonna take something major to snap me out of this phase. TomKitten, where are you when I need you?