Park Ridge Power House

All I could think of, going through this Park Ridge McMansion that seemed to have been emptied out due to a foreclosure, is that this was the home of people who went for what they wanted -- no holds barred.

And if that meant owning an ugly, overpriced dish in the shape of a crab, so be it.

What did they care? These were people who believed in the beauty of their dreams! The power of their vision! The intoxicating scent of their own overripe ambitions!

People who probably paid top dollar for a surround-sound system, without actually knowing that it's called "surround sound."

A steady schedule of grueling workouts only added to their mastery of themselves and the people around them.

After all, they had studied the ways of personal power. They understood it. They controlled it. The world was theirs, and the universe existed solely to respond positively to their intentions!

At least until the bottom fell out. Now, the universe wants nothing to do with them.

Proper Park Ridge Colonial

Park Ridge is just northeast of O'Hare Airport. It's the kind of place people are referring to when they roll their eyes and say, "the 'burbs." Once though, towns like Park Ridge were called "bedroom communities." I think there was a reason for that.

What a lovely living room. I think I'll go to sleep right here.

Nothing to write about here. Let's keep looking.

Honestly, is there nothing interesting or unusual about this place?

No. But it does remind me of a funny story.

Earlier this summer I was at an estate sale very much like this one. This was before I was taking photos and writing this blog.

The house was nice and proper and respectably middle-class in every possible way.

Naturally, I went down to the basement to nose around.

In the back I found a box. After a closer look, I discovered it was filled with sex toys of all shapes and sizes, and half a dozen economy-size bottles of lube.

That was the day I got the idea for this blog.

Park Ridge Galleria of Wallpaper

Wallpaper is back, according to the home style experts. But in some homes, it never went away. In some homes, in fact, you might have a hard time getting rid of it.

This home is one.

But first, let it be said I found a lot to love in this house. For starters, this light fixture, hanging over the main entryway. The new owners are sure to tear this down, but I hope it ends up in a good home.

Here's a view of the elevated dining room, which looked out over a formal living room, both of them situated beneath a cathedral ceiling.

Things start to get wonky here in the kitchen.

Here's a closer shot of that linoleum. Dated, yes. Busy, for sure. But still in fine shape, and by itself not necessarily offensive.

But pair it with this wallpaper and suddenly, I don't know whether to laugh or cry or drop a hit of acid and hope for the best.

This shot gives you a better sense of the full effect. That poor clock looks like it's crawling up the wall in an effort to get away.

The kitchen also featured one of those ceiling fans that were so popular a few years back, until that series of unfortunate decapitations made the news.

Sure, it was just a closet. But sometimes a closet likes to dress up and feel pretty, too.

The master bedroom. Who wouldn't enjoy being lulled to sleep by the sounds of a crackling fire?

Surrounded by birds and massive pink flowers, twisting and writhing all around you?

Hurry up and do your business, before the walls close in on you!

If you're a glutton for punishment -- like me -- here's a final shot. Just don't look at it too long or the image will be burned into your retinas.

Park Ridge Rat's Nest

If you're the type of person who's bothered by the idea of growing old surrounded by piles of junk and your own filth, find the exits now.

Here's something you don't see very often. Stuff from the inside piled up on the outside.

There sure was a lot of it.

People were frantically digging through this like there were hundred-dollar bills buried somewhere beneath it.

You know that song from Hedwig and the Angry Inch called "Wig in a Box"? This is the box.

You entered the house through the kitchen. It was a tiny little thing, crammed full of stuff. The sun seemed to have a hard time getting through those windows.

The bathroom down the hall was a mess, too. You could buy cards for only $1, loose cards for an amazingly low price of .10, loose linens for just $1, wrapped sheet sets from $5, kitchen towels/pot holders for .50 and soap only .50. The only downside is it comes from here.

This was found outside the bathroom. That's Oprah Winfrey's signature at the bottom. Way back in the day I used to work at Harpo, and know that these cups were only given to people who appeared on the show. So whoever lived here must have appeared on TOWS. (That's what we called "The Oprah Winfrey Show.") Considering the state of this place, I can't imagine it was one of those "simplify your life" or "live with less and love it" episodes.

These big-eyed cuties were found in a bedroom. It was the third time I'd seen art of this style today. They look like they're ready to strike up a tune. Perhaps "Dance This Mess Around."

UPDATE: A helpful reader recently shared some history on these little ladies. According to her, they were given away as premiums by one of the grocery store chains back in the early 1960s. You saved enough receipts for milk, bread, meat and eggs, and you could take home these prints -- and possibly, several others in the set -- for free. Judging by the prices these were being sold for in 2009, their value has increase only slightly.

The dining room was a short walk down the hall. It, too, was stacked and packed with stuff going back at least 40 years.

This was laying in the center of the table. She seems as overwhelmed as I was.

The living room. There were actually a couple of pretty nice end tables in this room for $30 each, and I'm in the market for end tables. But when I looked closer at one it was covered with mouse droppings. I passed.

Stairs to the attic. That's a rubber glove laying on one of the risers. It's there because the people running the sale were giving them out as you came in. Someone must have dropped theirs on the way up. I bet they were sorry when they saw the attic.

It was a big space, and -- no surprise -- also packed. On more than one occasion I heard somebody remarking, "Where do you start?"

There's no telling what you might find up here, if you had unlimited time, and no allergies to dust or mold.

But the attic looked like cozy and well organized when compared to the basement.

This is the entry. Looks like someone already hit their head pretty hard on that overhang.

Nastiest.

Basement.

Ever.

This was a shower. Thinking about that makes me want to take one. But not here.

Magazines and catalogs were piled everywhere.

Some of them went back to the early sixties. I liked the "flabby youth" headline on this one.

When I climbed up out of the basement I saw this. Um, no thanks.

Park Ridge Haunted House

A malevolent force assaulted me on the front stairs: an old, stale, dirty, musty smell. Something evil awaited.

Inside, trash and junk were strewn everywhere.

The kitchen looked as if a poltergeist had torn through the room.

Follow the musty smell down into the old, dark basement...

The sense of evil was strong down here.

Strange things appeared around every corner.

Ghostly forms floated through the room. I ran.

There's a creepy second floor? Let's explore it together. Hold my hand.

The upstairs was maze-like, filled with little rooms, with little nooks and crannies.

And all of them filled with junk.

I heard voices.

A woman crying.

What's that next to the old TV? A sign of some sort?

Why isn't this out front?