Popcorn Ceilings: Real Estate's Version of Pimples


I'll be the first to admit that I spend an ungodly amount of time watching HGTV and TLC with my mother. One of our favorite shows, The Real Estate Pros (formerly The Real Deal), has actually inspired me to pursue real estate as a career. I absolutely love watching the efficiency of the featured real estate company, Trademark, as they "flip" homes (buy, renovate, and sell for a profit) in the blink of an eye. It's fascinating to observe a successful company that is truly built on teamwork and respect and a whole truckload of decent qualities like that.

Last night, however, as I was watching a rerun with my mom, I took a break from gorging on pizza to ponder the all-important subject of popcorn ceilings.

Who invented them? Why? A quick trip over to Wikipedia proved rather fruitless.

Therefore, I would like to send this open-ended letter to the man or woman who thought it wise to add acne to ceilings...

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Inventor,

What has become of you now that the people of this world are no longer enamored with staring at cottage cheese on their ceilings as they fall asleep at night? Certainly, you still have loyal clients in the hotel industry, but the top Google search results for "popcorn ceilings" are all related to their removal. Furthermore, what drove you to create, share, and market this product? Surely, if your ceiling was that stained, a good coat of paint would have sufficed just as nicely.

Perhaps you were indeed in the middle of such an innocent painting project when a gust of wind kicked up the styrofoam beads which were leaking out of your bean bag chair and thrust them unkindly upon your unsuspecting ceiling. Even then, I would venture to say that you shouldn't have listened to whatever friend told you that this looked "fine!" or "creative!" or "unique." Seeing that this product was first introduced in an era known for great recreational drug use, you should not have trusted the judgment of this person. You should not have trusted your own judgment, either, but I suppose you might not have had the senses about you to form such thoughts for yourself.

In any case, I plead with you to use your inventive genius to formulate a letter of sincere apology to all the poor people of this world who must now spend their valuable time scraping your product of the ceilings of distraught and miserable homeowners.

Yours truly,

Let it be noted, however, that I wouldn't mind a ceiling that somehow dispensed popcorn. I'm on my way to see the movie No Reservations tonight, and this would be an especially useful feature in a theater, don't you agree?