"Hello, we're the nice new Hispanic family that moved down the street. You can tell that we're non-threatening because we dress exclusively in Canadian tuxedos."
In the aughts, houses were like prostitutes. Sure, you had your bottom bitch. But then you had to get some other girls to work for you if you ever wanted to get off the corner you were on. And thus, "flipping houses" was born.
"Did you hear Gulliver was shot in his new '20s era Craftsman-style bungalow down near the Zoo?"
"Yes. I heard it was an up-and-coming neighborhood. Isn't there a really good shabu shabu place down there?"
"Yes, there is. Really good."
The craze was deepened by shows like "Trading Spaces" where couples donning primary colors redecorated their friends' homes. They incorporated inventive homey touches like painting, sprucing up, and moving a couch from one side of the room to the other. These were the sorts of things that passed for creativity in the aughts. It was a slow decade.
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