Another Backstreet Boy Moving On

SELLER: Howie Dorough, aka Howie D
LOCATION: Los Angeles, CA
PRICE: $2,475,000
SIZE: 2,910 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 3.5 bathrooms

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: First, frosty haired Backstreet Boy Nick Carter listed his 5 bedroom and 5.5 pooper Parkland, FL mcmansion in the summer of 2008 with an asking price of $1,500,000. Lusty Mister Carter either had a real estate change of heart of a spate of bad real estate luck–not unusual for someone in suburban Flah-reeduh–because records reveal that Mister Carter's property never sold and listing information shows it's now for lease at $4,500 per month.

Then came Kevin Richardson who sold his 4 bedroom and 4.5 pooper property above Los Angeles' legendary Sunset Strip in April of 2009 for $4,078,000, The children might like to know that the selling price was slightly higher than the $3,977,000 asking price. Your Mama isn't sure to where Mister Richardson and his family decamped but according to several sources on the interweb, they own a rural spread with a large house just outside of Lexington, KY.

The next Backstreet Boy to hoist his house on to the market is Howie Dorough, otherwise known as Howie D. Mister D. first listed his Sunset Strip area property in November of 2009 with an asking price of $2,750,000. The asking price was karate chopped to it's current number of $2,475,000 in early February of 2010.

Although Mister D. failed to make the cut for the casting of Menudo, he soon found fame and fortune working his falsetto as one of the Backstreet Boys, that quintet of baby-faced young men who made million upon millions of teen and tween boys and gurls around the world pee their pants with excitement and scream bloody murder. The Backstreet Boys–or any other boy band for that matter–were never Your Mama's musical cup of tea so we could have been pushed over with a feather tickler upon learning that the Backstreet Boys were still touring as recently as 2009. We had no idea that young boys and gurls still went weak in the knees over a quintet of squeaky clean boy-men who spin, slide and glide around the stage in unison while singing sappy songs about heart aches and breaks. We thought the youngin's all prefer the musical stylings of Miley Cyrus, The Jonas Brothers and that Lady Gaga gal nowadays.

In addition to singing like a castrato in the still together Backstreet Boys–which really ought to be called the Backstreet Men now since most of these guys are married and making babies–Mister D. has occasionally appeared on the boob toob (Dora the Explorer, Roswell and Sabrina the Teenage Witch) and mentors and manages a couple of balladeers and songstresses Your Mama has never heard of including some gurl group with the preposterously silly name of No More Drama. Anyoo, Mister and Missus D. made a baby in the spring of 2009, and like Your Mama has said before–yesterday actually–on of the many reasons rich and/or famous folks think they need a new home is the birth of a baby: new baby, new house.

Property records show that Mister D. snatched up his house in May of 2005 for $1,530,000. The taxman shows the house was built in 1981 and measures 2,619 square feet with 3 bedrooms and 3 poopers. Listing information, on the other hand, shows a square footage of 2,910 and a bedroom and pooper count of 4 and 3.5.

The bizarrely configured .62 acre parcel is dee-lishusly sited up a private road, down a gated (and we're pretty sure, shared) driveway and behind two houses on a perfectly private prow-like promontory that gives the house insane 300-degree views from downtown Los Angeles to–on a clear day–the Pacific Ocean. At night, chickens, there is nothing but a twinkling carpet of city lights to be seen out of the large windows and sliding glass doors that wrap around the living areas. Say what y'all will about the fugliness of Los Angeles–and we're sure y'all will because you always do–but there are few (quasi)urban places where a person can own a house with a view like this.

The busted up and broken down black top driveway is a pity, the front facade of the house with its stacked stone accents isn't much to behold or write home about and it seems the front door is all but hidden. Difficult to find front doors ensure boozy guest will be tramping through the landscaping looking for a way into the house. In all truthfulness, none of that matters much once we get inside the house because Mister D.'s property ain't really about nuthin' but the view, children.

The main living space is an open plan affair with the living room one side, the dining room on the other. The wood vaulted ceiling allows for a kind of airiness in what appears to be a fairly modestly sized space and windows and sliding glass doors wrap around the room on three sides. The back wall of the living room area has a gigantic stacked stone wall with a fireplace and behind and open to the dining room, the not do big but very bright and well equipped kitchen that has simple flat fronted cabinetry that might be mahogany or maybe cherry or maybe just stained to look like cherry or mahogany, and a full suite of Viking brand appliances including a built in microwave and a 6-burner plus a griddle range the size of a small SUV.

The living/dining room, wrapped in sliding glass doors, gives way to a triangular shaped deck that practically hovers over Los Angeles. Your Mama can imagine that with a large market umbrella to escape the blistering southern California sunshine that this deck would be the most marvelous place to whittle away the day curled up on a comfy chaise lounge with the latest New Yorker, a stack of gossip glossies and a bottomless pitcher of gin & tonics.

Two of the 4 bedrooms are, according to listing information, masters suites each with private terliting facilities and walk-in closets. The main master, the one where Mister and Missus D. do what married people do–or do not do–in their bedrooms, has a vaulted wood ceiling, a massive stacked stone fireplace, a wall of floor to ceiling sliders that open to a narrow balcony with the sort of view most Angelenos can only dream of waking to. The master pooper, all beige travertine, beige paint and itty-bitty tiles in various shades of beige, includes a double vanity with cabinetry that matches that in the kitchen and may or may not be mahogany (or maybe cherry), a free standing soaking tub and a party-sized shower with a giant window for taking in the view while shampooing, rinsing and repeating.

One of the other bedrooms appears to have been put into use as an office/music studio for Mister D. where a couple of keyboards sit atop built in blond wood cabinetry that might be made of maple. Like most of the other rooms in Mister D.'s dwelling, the office/music studio opens to a terrace with big views through a couple of large sliding glass doors.

A long, long, long flight of stairs off the deck at the back of the house leads to a large terrace that hugs the curve of the hillside. The gently arcing terrace, a lovely spot for a sun downer cocktail party, has an above ground spa, built in bar of stacked stone, and a built in fire pit. All of this is quite nice and the view from the lower terrace is nothing if not soo-blime. However, Your Mama is concerned about the number of stairs required to access this terrace. Not only are we worried about the well-being of those with unhealthy hearts we are also quite concerned about the sanitary issues. Let's be honest chickens, what drunk dude or boozed up bimbo is going to climb all 479,000 of those steps when nature calls? Not a one of them. That means of course that unless Mister D. has put a Port-a-Potty down there people are well, we know what they're doing, right? They're squatting in the scrub that surrounds the terrace. Your Mama recommends the new owners install a damn funicular.

Your Mama really hasn't any idea where Mister and Missus D. plan to live next. Given their new roles as new parents, we can certainly imagine and understand that they might prefer a property not so conducive to a toddler wandering off the deck and tumbling down the hillside.

We're not sure where the other Backstreet Boys actually live, but property records indicate that A.J. Mclean owns a fairly modest home in the Los Feliz area of Los Angeles and Brian Littrell has an large estate in Alpharetta, GA with a 6,020 square foot mansion. As far as Your Mama knows, neither Mister McLean or Mister Littrells' homes are for sale.

photos: Everett Fenton Gidley

David Boreanaz Does the Suburban Daddy Thing

BUYER: David Boreanaz and Jaime Bergman
LOCATION: Hidden Hills, CA
PRICE: $3,350,000
SIZE: 6,269 square feet, 6 bedrooms, 4 full and 2 half bathrooms

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Just before the Christmas holidays last year Your Mama discussed Los Angeles house owned and listed by actor David Boreanaz and his former ack-tress wife Jaime Bergman. At that time, their Sunset Strip area ranch house was listed with an asking price of $3,249,000. Since that time, the comely couple chopped the asking price by $100,000 and, in an impressive show of financial fortitude and real estate optimism, laid out $3,350,000 for a new house in the guard gated Hidden Hills community in the northwestern suburbs of Los Angeles. The Chicken Littles and property market Pollyannas may need to duke it out over the fact that the purchase price was slightly more than the $3,299,000 asking price.

Mister Boreanaz is the hunky and baby's butt smooth lead player and producer on a tee-vee program called Bones. His previous showbiz successes include a few years on Buffy the Vampire Slayer that, lucky for him, turned into a spin-off show called Angel. In the late 1990s Mister Boreanaz's blondie baby momma Jaime Bergman worked as a St. Pauli Girl and later bared her boobies and baby maker in the slick pages of Playboy as well as appeared in at least a couple of Playboy videos. Miss Bergman later moved into more mainstream film fare with roles like "Girl #2" in Shasta McNasty and "Buxum Blond" in Soulkeeper before she had a good couple of years playing the suggestively named B.J. Cummings on a program called Son of the Beach, a short-lived parody of Baywatch.

In the fall of 2009 Mister Boreanaz was hounded and pounded and by the press for allegedly doing the dirty with nightclub VIP hostess and alleged ho-wrangler Rachel Uchitel, the gal who was allegedly one of the 14 hussies Tiger was getting bizzy with. She denies being one of Tiger's many extra-marital lovers and Mister Boreanaz repudiates any rumor he got with Miss Uchitel. But that's really another topic for another time. None the less, at about the same time Mister Boreanaz was having to run interference with the tabloids and explain the salacious reports to his wife, Missus Boreanaz pushed out the couple's second baby that arrived in September of 2009. Surely the children know that nothing says "new house" for rich and famous types than the explosive combination of new babies and/or allegations of infidelity.

So a house huntin' the new parents went, settling on a big house in the horsey, family friendly and star studded community of Hidden Hills. According to the folks at Celebrity Address Aerial–who actually slipped Your Mama this information last December 23rd–and confirmed with property records, Mister Boreanaz and Miz Bergman bought a 1.9-acre hilltop estate with a sprawling, single story house. Information that Your Mama managed to wrench out of the interweb indicates the contemporary ranch house–listing information rather generously called it a "French Country home"–measures 6,259 square feet and includes 4 full and 2 powder poopers.

The living room has a fireplace with carved stone surround and large slab limestone floors. The home also includes, according to listing information, a formal dining room with hardwood floors and an eat-in kitchen with all the expected high-grade stainless steel appliances including a Thermador range and Miele dishwasher. The family room has a second fireplace–there are two more in the master suite–vaulted and beamed ceilings, and French doors that open to the swimming pool and and city lights view beyond. That would be the city lights of Calabasas, natch, and not the city lights of Tinseltown.

The grounds include a elementary school playground-sized blacktop motor court–not exactly the most charming material for a positive first real estate impression–a free form swimming pool, wide covered and not covered terraces that surround the house, a flat pad perfect for a $10,000 celebrity style jungle gym for the kiddies, large swathes of green grass, a small orchard, and a fully detached guest house that looks to Your Mama like it may have once been stables for the horses.

Other big name residents and property owners of Hidden Hills estates include Sharon and Ozzie Osbourne, Lisa Marie Presley who's trying to sell her spread–Melissa Etheridge and her soon to be ex-wife Tammy Lynn, Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony who recently splashed out on an 17,000 square foot sprawler, LeAnn Rimes who is currently leasing a house in Hidden Hills, Shaun Cassidy, Beverly Mitchell, Nicolette Sheridan who recently filed a lawsuit against her former employer Marc Cherry and, of course, the Jenner/Kardashian clan's homestead is located in Hidden Hills.

Some Home Made Floor Plan Porn

Last week Your Mama discussed a New York City doo-plex co-operative that filthy rich financier Robert Hurst recently hoisted on the market with a toe curling $29,000,000 asking price. If the children will recall, Mister Hurst's apartment encompasses two entire floors of an unusually slim pre-war building on Fifth Avenue and has stellar views of Central Park.

The children may also recall that we whined and went on at length about a few elements of the floor plan that gave Your Mama a serious case of the real estate agita. In the interest of settling our stomach and soothing our order craving brain thought we'd spend some time working out the wonkiness of the floor plan.

What we have above, puppies, is the existing floor plan on the left and Your Mama's proposed plan to the right. The children will want to click on the image in order to view the plan(s) at a larger size.

Your Mama changed next to nothing on the first floor of the doo-plex. This twenty-some million dollar doo-plex is, for all intents and purposes, a one room wide railroad flat and to divide any of the rooms would only accentuate the narrow-ness of the apartment. Besides, we rather like the vast entrance gallery even if it is a sea of marble floored wasted space and we saw no good reason(s) to screw with the decent proportions of either the living or the dining room.

Back in the kitchen, Your Mama made a couple of minor adjustments. On the existing plan, a peninsula counter separates the kitchen and the breakfast area. It is our opinion that the space works better without that peninsula sticking out into the room. If more counter space is required by Connie the Cook, we'd suggest extending the work island a foot or two. We also added a vegetable sink to the island.

After a consult with our imperious house gurl Svetlana, Your Mama realized the laundry facilities, located just off the breakfast area, are very poorly situated in relation to the rest of the apartment. Imagine the time and effort required to haul the sheets and towels down from the upstairs bedrooms not to mention the ugliness of dragging all the dirty linens across the grand entrance galley, through the dining room and then wind one's way through the butler's pantry and kitchen.

A better solution would be to move the machines upstairs and into one of the walk in closets that line the hallway. However, given that laundry machines must vent to the exterior of a building and we don't know if it's possible to vent the machines from anywhere on the second floor–we are not, after all, an architect or engineer with any intimate knowledge of this building–we left them in their existing location. We do imagine, in our booze baked mind, that if the washer and dryer must stay where they are we'd replace the standard side-by-side machines with a stackable set in order to provide Lucinda the Laundress with a smidge of counter top on which she can fold the owner's undergarments.

The layout of second floor of the apartment makes Your Mama all kinds of crazy and requires a radical but not particularly complicated rearrangement of rooms in order to create a more sensible and harmonious flow. First, we widened the stair landing to a more graceful width making it feel more its own space that just an extension of the very long hallway. The bigger issue is, however, the erroneous location of the library and the master bedroom in the existing plan.

We're sure some will vociferously disagree, but one of Your Mama's many floor plan pet peeves is when the most prime real estate in an apartment or home is reserved for the master bedroom. As far as we're concerned, a view such as the one from Mister Hurst's apartment is, quite simply, wasted on the master bedroom. We can understand the logic: The person who pays the bills deserves to retain some of the most prime real estate as a private sanctuary for themselves and themselves alone. However, in the case of Mister Hurst's doo-plex, there are only two direct exposures to Central Park, and one is given over entirely to the master bedroom, a room in which far more time is spent sleeping, dressing, bathing and/or fornicating and not enjoying the view.

The location of the library in the existing plan also makes Your Mama go a bit berserk. The library, a fah-fah-fancy term for a family room in this case, is stuck in the back of the apartment and couldn't be farther from the delicious view of Central Park. Even worse–and a real damn high crime of space planning in our book–is that access to the library in the existing plan is only through a small home gym. The inelegance and indignity of having to pinch past an elliptical machine and a Soloflex in order to get to the library in a $29,000,000 apartment is enough to make Your Mama need a big ol' fat nerve pill.

And too, the library–where rich people who occupy posh pre-war apartments on the Upper East Side often keep the boob-toob–is a semi-public room in which owners might occasionally want to entertain informal guests and friends. Who wants to invite a guest over for movie night or a Real Housewives of New York City marathon on the Bravo and then ask them to pass through an armpit stinky room filled with scary looking contraptions designed to pretzel and torture a body into taut submission? No one, that's who.

To fix that very serious floor plan problem, Your Mama swapped the library at the back and the master bedroom at the front. Not only is the library in the new plan easily accessible through the newly expanded stair landing and generously sized ante room with wet bar, but the best view in the entire apartment can now be enjoyed from the room that is, quite likely, the most frequently used. The fireplace is a bonus. We're sure some folks think it's 14 kinds of romantic to have a fireplace in the master bedroom, but we'd bet money and our long bodied bitches Linda and Beverly that a fireplace in a library gets far more use than a fireplace in the master bedroom. Again, one can't enjoy a fire in the fireplace iffin yer asleep. Besides it's damn dangerous to leave a fire running when drifting off to slumber.

Some might say that moving the master bedroom to the rear of the apartment is like asking the owner to step to the back of the bus. We see things differently. The location of the master suite in the proposed plan creates a cocoon of privacy from the rest of the apartment, the guest bedrooms in particular.

We replaced the gymnasium in the existing floor plan with a pass-through dressing room surrounded with built-in cabinetry and enclosed wardrobes. While Your Mama would never dream of having a fitness room in our house, we kept with the existing program and moved the gym equipment to a windowed room carved from the square footage of the apartment's smallest bedroom. The small bedroom and an en-suite pooper replaces the dressing room and master pooper in the existing plan.

We sectioned the east end of the master bedroom off to make a proper if simple master pooper and we consciously retained the tight terliting facilities in the hallway, adding a doorway in the hallway so that the entire ass end of the apartment can be used as a master suite with bedroom, dressing room, gym and two poopers. The doorway from the hallway to the dressing room was retained so that guests or other family members might also have access to the gym without penetrating or passing through the inner sanctum of the master bedroom.

We are braced for criticisms. Have at it.