I loved reading this so much, I knew I HAD to feature it on my blog. Note: I did not write this, I only wish I could write like this. I know a certain someone with a gift for writing and I hope to submit more of this person's work in the future if they will allow it. Very entertaining.So I've gotten into Big Love this season. It's sick and wrong but I can't stay away. We were bored one Saturday so we went and toured this new community south and way far west of where we live. *Disclaimer: this was a cultural expedition and in no way a sign that we were house hunting. Purely research driven and anthropological*
Eventually, it will become its own self-sustaining city with all the bells and whistles of a real city. However, comparatively speaking, this one will face challenges because at its center will stand a brand new $385 million L*S temple, and there won't be a single bar within spitting distance, and you won't see a bare shoulder on any of the 18 trillion stroller toting L*S women who have taken up residence in Nightscape, Utah. Getting to the point, this place looks alarmingly like the community where Bill and his three families live. It would be really easy to lead a polygamist lifestyle here, the backyards melding and overlapping one into the next.
The high point of our field trip was how we were able to scrutinize nearly every nook and cranny unbothered, throwing knowing glances at one another over our garmentless shoulders, sneers dripping down our faces like melted icing off a cake. Our gleeful cackles slipping loose like hyenas in a sheep farm upon encountering the 1500 sq ft Armageddon rooms mandatory in nearly every home.
I, with my sleeveless tank top and unkempt hair was the dead give away in the equation, one that didn't take them long to resolve. No babies, no capped sleeves. Clearly, the deviant individuals in front of them were facing eternal damnation and in no position to peruse their Temple facing, tree-less streets of vintage inspired homes.
K-Pax got crankier by the second. Then, our one and only sales encounter of the day proved calamitous. At one stop a perky new home specialist made us fill out a carbon-paper, three-plied questionnaire requesting our last seven addresses, our bank statements and a full dossier of our tithes for the last eighteen years. K-Pax insisted that we'd already filled out several at the sales center that morning, but she refused to be sold on his brand of non-truth. They must offer weekend courses on spotting non-believer lies.
We had to squeal tires and lay rubber in order to get K-Pax out of there fast enough. He was loudly complaining of chest pains and sun stroke but there was no fooling our self-appointed, new home sales guru. We narrowly avoided running down a couple of eternally optimistic B*U grads as we dodged her interference, us careening wildly to the left after a solid fake to the right. We managed to drive off unscathed, and with minimal destruction in our wake, we applauded our valiant pioneering efforts. Long live Utah and long live non-assuming polygamy.
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