The idea occurred to me, as such ideas usually do, when I was drinking.
"Hear me out," I said to some friends who play in a gay softball league. "You guys need money for uniforms. I need childless people under the age of 85 to move to Metamuville and set up Pho restaurants and antique shops."
Thus was the Metamuville Gay Softball Invitational born. I lure a bunch of Seattle gays to the Metamuville baseball diamond, pump them full of alcohol, and hand them real estate ads as they round third. They fall in love with affordable waterfront property close to Seattle, and voila. I've gentrified Metamuville.
Allie was appalled. "That's not what that word means! Gentrify doesn't mean 'replace a bunch of cranky old white people with people whose company I prefer.'"
Well, it should.