BY HAU SINGH | HOUSING REPORTER

Some would say home is where the heart is, but this lavish condo in Yorkville proves home is where all of your gaudy art is.

Developed over top of a historical Underground Railroad safehouse, the 30-storey tower is fit with three cascading infinity pools. Harriet Tubman slept here and now you can too!

Listing agent Brad Paddington said they’ve spent months working on their $8.6 million evaluation. “Ya so basically, we realized that we can put any number on there and someone will buy it, like believe it or not, there is ALWAYS someone rich and horrible enough,” he said.

Starting in the front foyer, guests are met with two walk-in coat closets, a guest bathroom and exposed geode floor tiling. “It looks gorgeous, you just gotta take large, quick leaps to keep your soles intact,” Paddington said.

The kitchen comes impressively equipped with one of those microwaves that retracts from the wall when you press a button. And say goodbye to that nasty garbage bin—the cartoonishly-large centre island is fit with three circular garbage holes like a Wendy’s soft drink counter.

“Yorkville is a really prime location in today’s market,” Paddington said. “Amazon ships in one day and the Lululemon perfectly blocks the view of Alexandra Park.
Moving on, the spiraling staircase is built entirely of plexiglass, encasing 13,000 live Mexican executioner wasps. The architect, Frank Lloyd Tight, said it’s a commentary on our slow assent to death. We want that in our homes, that’s the goal now.

“It’s one indubitably hunky-dory shanty, moreover one shall procure it on the grounds that I contrived it,” Tight said.

The living room comes furnished with an L-shaped plush couch stuffed to the brim with the feathers of whatever Robert Irwin’s favourite bird is—that Australian fuck.
Is that not enough for you piggy? You want more? Well every doorknob’s just a big polished diamond plug that you can go fuck yourself on.

Yeah buddy, yeah and guess what? There’s a big slingshot

off the wrap-around balcony so you can slingshot your shit at those smelly poor below. You like that?

You know what, fuck you. I’m writing this crappy fluff piece from my sub-basement studio apartment in Cabbagetown. Oh! Oh no! It’s OPEN CONCEPT. Yeah, yeah and maybe the douché valve from last year’s twink that lived here is just a “modern bidét.”

Mexican wasps? Try hissing cockroaches, no plexiglass. They tuck me in at night before I dream of fucking your mother.

Can we talk about that architect? What the fuck was that quote? He wobbled back and forth when he walked like he had a valium suppository shoved up his ass. Also he has a string bean combover, it looks like whatever you’re picturing.

Anyway the stupid apartment is on Zillow or some shit. Go swipe through photos and make sure to aim for Paddington’s profile picture when you do your cum tribute.