Every kid who watched Fantasy Factory wanted a warehouse.

I've dreamed about owning a warehouse since I first saw Rob Dyrdek's Fantasy Factory. A whole generation did. A place that's yours: where the business gets built in the front, the skateboard lives in the back, and your people are always around.

Then we grew up, and the math said no. Warehouses are for corporations. Leases are for people with lawyers. The dream got filed under “someday.”

Except the math was never the real problem: split a warehouse five ways and the rent becomes a number regular people can say out loud. The problem was that nobody made it simple: finding the space, finding the people, doing the paperwork, convincing the landlord.

And it was never really about the square footage either. It's about working in a place you love, around people who make you take it up another level. Your environment sets your ceiling. Most people never get to pick theirs. You should.

So that's the mission: make the warehouse dream splittable. Real listings with the rent already divided. Floor plans that draw themselves. The crew, the paperwork, the plan: all of it, in minutes instead of “someday.”

The third places died: the clubs, the halls, the hangouts. We think the warehouse with your homies is what replaces them. Front of the house for the work. Back of the house for the pool table.