My new half-million-dollar flophouse. Totally.

Now that's what I call a fixer-upper. Does all the trash come in the price?

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My new ridonkulous giant hand house. Totally.

I don't think it's real. I hope it's not real.

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My new half-bath. Totally.

I. Don't. Even. Want. To. Know.

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My new weekend place. Totally.

The French Chateau-inspired Batcheller Mansion (with a minaret) is also a functioning bed-and-breakfast, so I can have all my friends over.

Cheap at twice the price!

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My new house made entirely of hard surfaces. Totally.

I'll never understand people who want to live in houses that look less comfortable than a tire-store waiting room (and have the same concrete floor).

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My new ticky-tacky designer house. Totally.

OMG. Where is the crew of "Tacky House" when you need them? Double points off if those are indeed framed Mao prints in the dining room.

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My new multimillion-dollar heap of not much. Totally.

Has a pile of junk ever cost this much? Only in Bel-Air.

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