Why Is It ...

… that it’s been a wild year this week?

… that as I get older and remember all the people I’ve lost along the way I think to myself … maybe a career as a tour guide wasn’t for me.

… that when I die I don’t want y’all looking for me in sunsets or butterflies or wildflowers. Look behind you, that’s me chasing you up the stairs.

… that I stress about stress before there’s even stress to stress about, then I stress about stressing over stress that doesn’t need to stressed about? It’s stressful.

… that I want all of you who signed my 8th grade yearbook and told me to ‘Stay cool’ to know that I did.

… that I count my work days like I’m in jail. Three more wake ups and I’m free!  

… that things you find offensive I often find hilarious? And why does it make me happier than you?

… that when I was just 5-years-old a bear told me only I could prevent forest fires; why I was chosen I will never know.

Money Can’t Buy You Class [or] What Happens When Parents Give Houses To The Kids

I am obsessed by celebrity real estate and how the so-called rich and famous live. More often than not the homes are designed to within an inch of their lives by a high-priced designer but sometimes a parent lets one of their children move into the manse and the child decides to take design into their own hands.

Case in point: Dr. Phil. He is one of Hollywood’s highest-paid celebrity “doctors” with an annual income of some $95 million, proving that being a charlatan on television pays, but I digress. Back in January 2020, Dr. Phil listed his Southern California mansion for sale and the listing went viral, with people all over social media poking fun  at the home, so let’s pile on …

The first clue as to what lie behind it is the gate, which resembles a tangled mess of tumbleweeds and branches, but then you get beyond that and the house itself is your typical Southern California Mediterranean Spanish hybrid looking m-effer. As soon as you drive into the house’s driveway, you see a completely normal-looking house, a perfectly livable home that many people would be happy to buy if they had the nearly $6M asking price.

With plenty of space for cars to park and exit as they please, the gate seems to be the only strange feature of the home until you take a gander toward the front door … before, it was a lovely, manicured space and then some sort of vomiting worm fountain was added and it’s all down a rabbit hole from here.

But first, the pool and grounds; in the backyard there is a stunning tapestry of flowers and foliage, with Roman statues surrounding the pool, and a serene dining area under a pergola. 

None of this prepares you for what goes on inside, other than the new addition of a fish puking fountain, so with further ado …

The real estate listing has made note of the property’s “eclectic finishes” but that description doesn’t do the home justice. When you enter the foyer of the 6,170 square-foot home you are instantly the star of your own Tim Burton fantasy. At first everything looks pretty standard, even considering the purple swing chair at the door; and while the color scheme isn’t my choice, it is a choice.

And initially, the living room looks like a standard living room, a kind of nice room, until you realize that nothing matches, and the longer you look, the weirder it gets. It’s mix-matched mess, with custom art and animal figurines surrounding the fireplace, but according to the listing, these one-of-a-kind pieces can be kept upon purchase of the property; as if.

And then comes the Great Room where things really get odd. The chandelier is Disney Evil Queen Castle, but it sits beneath a Beetlejuice, Alice in Wonderland  black and white checkered dome. But then you see the staircase, draped in woody vines that climb up to the second floor, wrapping around the bar with stools that have antler-like backrests. And then there are the many neon art pieces and colorful ornaments that appear everywhere in the home.

This second living room, which was described on the listing as “the fireplace” room, has a post-modern art-deco vibe, but there was no editing done at all. It seems like the interior designer—I kid, like they used an actual interior designer—had so many ideas that they poured them all into this one room.

One thing to note is that nearly every space in the house features figurines of rabbits and bears with no explanation; you cannot walk through any room without some faux animal giving you a side-eye.

And the dining room, with its creepy hairball chandelier and weird orange bear standing guard is enough to make dining out a necessity. Between the patterned rug and the patterned chairs my vertigo has kicked in and I am no longer hungry.

Of course, even if I were hungry the kitchen is the last place I’d want to spend time doing meal prep and such. Tio be honest, I love a black kitchen, but the shellacked back mess of cabinetry makes me think Hannibal Lecter is the hired chef.

So, let’s go to the Billiards Room … well, perhaps not. Between the blue painted floor, which looks like the heavy pool table was dropped onto, created the white cracks around each leg and another Beetlejuice ceiling, perhaps it’s best to go to sleep.

The Primary bedroom, with its soothing blue walls, though they look purple in the second photo, looks like a nice spot to nap, though that odd desk thing in the corner has me thinking it’s where Nosferatu sleeps; and then you have the neon Cheshire cat and that, what is it in the corner, a cat tree?

Perhaps the Beverly Hills Hotel is in order.

So, there you have Dr. Phil’s hideous house, but in the interest of transparency, a representative of the McGraw family wants to make it clear that Dr. Phil himself has never lived in the home and as such is not responsible for the lunacy of the space.

No, that honor goes to Phil’s thirty-seven-year-old son Jordan who is the one living in the home, and the one responsible for all of the … sorry I vomited in my mouth a little … design choices proving, as I said up top, this is what happens when a rich guy gives his son a multi-million home to play around with, until; Daddy decides to sell it and has to spend millions making it look less Tim Burton and more Beverly Hills.

Not Fries