My neighbors were asswipes of the highest order. Not kidding. Their daughter constantly referred to anyone of lower class than she peasants and she wasn't joking. They never shopped in Minnesota. Designer clothing from NYC and Europe was what the daughters always wore.

I wanted their house, though. *sigh* The guy was an interior designer and all the wood for the floors and whatnot he made over in Indonesia and had sent over. The little decorative grooves in the wood were just awesome and I've never seen anything like that before. My roommmate was their housekeeper. She came and got me one day to give a tour of the house while the parents and both of their daughters were gone.

I think living there was as close as I've ever come to having front row seats to the filthy rich. Bringing up Stephen makes me remember them and that's not always a good thing.