Steve: Whenever I see something like this, I have a violent initial reaction which is then nullified by a secondary reaction of, “Oh, this must be Europe — one of those tiny countries I don’t know the name of where everything looks completely chaotic and insane and nobody notices and it’s okay anyway because everyone is eight times sexier than the average American.”

But if I’m wrong, and this is just Arkansas, then may the Lord have mercy on whoever was behind the aesthetic considerations of this space.

Terrarium — check. Eight kinds of green — check. Tiny shelf mounted on wall to display tiny vases and tiny cocktail umbrellas — check. Matronly sprawling yarn throw blanket — check. Bull-fighting schedule or something — check.

Not that any of it would stop me from sleeping with this guy at first availability.

Steve: Though not as gorgeously tropical as her sister, this sofa definitely belongs to the same family. In a startling show of irreverence to form, these wilting billows of puffy floral fabric most resemble a tin of cake batter, caught in the process of rising to golden-baked goodness. As it stands, the cake is little more than half-baked, and not ready for consumption.

However, I’m placing an order for seven of those cute little raccoon statuettes.

David: Try as I might, I can’t stop obsessing on that pile of fabric (or is it baby clothing) on the right top edge of the “couch.” (That is a couch isn’t it and not a left over corpuscle prop from the 1969 Raquel Welch sci-fi classic Fantastic Voyage?) But that pile of patterned material. Why? Why? Why?

Wayne: Welcome to our clothing-optional billiards room!

1. Dark Chinese red is a great color for setting off your white man and showing him to best advantage.
2. Grease may be the word, but when i saw the picture - Travolta did not wear the dress! Must be a new director’s cut?
3. You can get two pairs of stylish frames for the price of one at Lenscrafter, but they totally screw you on the price of the lenses! So he only got this pair.
4. Grease MAY be the word but here we prefer to CHALK our sticks!
5. Fluorescent Sneaker. One. (A trend?)
6. “Someone’s Scratchin’ at the window, I wonder who is it?” It would take a miracle or a bungie cord to get me to stay.

*visible shiver runnin’ down my spine*
 

Shawn: “It’s quiet and peaceful in this emotional nirvana blue…” warbles the chanteuse from Hooverphonic as we enter the confines of this cerulean sanctum. There’s an almost narcotic affect to it, the whole blue-on-blue scheme presumably designed to achieve a zen lull for the occupant. Is our spread-eagled tease actually asleep on that immense doily of a bedspread? Methinks. It would so easy to believe that the kitsch balloon rendering focal point is a highly symbolic epitome of childhood whimsy still alive and well in an uncaring world, but no, I don’t buy it. If slasher movies have taught me anything, then it’s that an item like this is either the motive for a murder spree or the means of identifying the killer. As the room’s linchpin it’s just too forced, too suggestive of some dread that can only be held at bay by the cyan ambiance. There’s an unspoken Marnie-like trauma from childhood lurking here. I sense an ill-fated birthday party staged on a pristine suburban lawn, the unendurable mocking laughter of children in white, a wound-too-tight mother’s castigation, and definitely ponies. But we must never, ever speak about the ponies…

Steve: I understand what happens with bedside tables. They’re small. They sort of give up. And when they do, untold number of bedside-table-suitable items from all the best yard sales start to nestle around the base of them, awaiting a turn on the elevated surface. Some of them will make it, but many, many will not.

Steve: There are some situations in which no amount of cleaning could help remedy a shot, but this is a situation in which no amount of cleaning could matter. I don’t really know anyone who would turn down a nice roll through these particular beer bottles… or whatever.

David: Notice that zig-zagging counter top? That’s quite deliberate. What’s happening here is the end phase of the Metropolitan Church’s Annual Labyrinth walk. Due to bad New York weather the maze event was held indoors. The church elders were forced to have the labyrinth conclude in the rectory kitchen. Who knew Cozmo, the head altar boy would be caught so unaware. What a blessing!

Shawn: There’s a dissonance between decor and sexual persona here that’s troubling. Two competing entities are vying for supremacy and the more dominant will imbibe the weaker. I’m thinking Jo versus Blair on The Facts of Life or that thing that happens when a zygote absorbs its twin in utero, but then it still lives on in spirit and wants to kill like in The Parent Trap. Here we have jock-inspired nudie play up against Flower Power and our Bat Boy is doomed be KOed by his own efflorescent surroundings. The baseball cap, sneaks, and tube socks want to be the focal point, but they’re all undone by the robin’s egg blue table cloth, florid rug, and the crocus yellow draperies with matching throw pillows on the leather couch. My fantasy of scoring with a slutty post-pubescent Charlie Brown is compromised now and I feel a little more dead inside than usual.

David: During the 1920s, after a period of working with more subdued colors, Henri Matisse’s palette once again brightened. As well, his ardor for painting patterned backgrounds took on a new impassioned glee. All that went missing were the nude male models. Always we were stuck with a bare breasted female, usually with some sort of Moroccan turban on her head. Yawn. Naked men just weren’t a part of Matisse’s tableaux, and what a pity. Imagine what he could have done with a specimen like our homeowner featured above. It’s all there for us: the oriental carpet competing aggressively with the Clown Flower-like patterned curtains and pillows. Wait…! That blur of robin’s egg blue tablecloth — blowing in a breeze? A window or door ajar? Spectators watching the spectacle? And why not? So what if Matisse would pass this by, we at Lurid Digs honor the arrangement fully. Of this dreams and art are made. Now excuse me while I help this gentle soul to his bedroom. I’m curious if the curtains really do match the rug.
 

Steve: I don’t think anyone appriciates subtlety any longer. Elegance. The quality of small-ish, less ostentatious furniture. This tiny little recliner, originally designed with a Schnauzer in mind, says, “small furniture can make a big statement,” or perhaps it says, “I may be tiny, but I pack a wallop.”

To the left (to the left) we see everything you own in a box a tiny little card table with a delicate table cloth fit for a princess, and the start of what we must assume is another, matching tiny recliner.

Matching and pares. That’s the theme here: two ferns, two tiny recliners, two tiny tables with two tiny table cloths. In ancient Rome, this would be the the beginning of a seduction ritual which would inevitably lead us to the pleasure to be found from two tiny nipples.

Steve: Lex Mathis began building his media empire when he was only fourteen. An involved and extensive system of cables, monitors, and audio/video data stored on a spectrum of formats including VHS, Beta, and stereophonic audio cassette-tape is what has resulted from more than eight years of constant attention. It is rivaled only by certain branch offices of the Minnesota Public Library System.

Steve: Creamy beige, espresso hues and luxurious royal blue ensure that the sex you are about to enjoy will be nothing less than opulent. As does the monkey toy.

Steve: "Asian culture. Love it. Love it. Did you know that in Jah-pan, everyone walks upside-down and talks backwards? That’s why Mister Kaguya told me to paint my walls this war-like neon yellow color. We found all this particle board furniture at the flea market, but you can’t tell it was cheap because it’s lacquered over with this sophisticated, glossy ‘onyx’ black. (‘Onyx’ is Jah-panese for sexy.) Pretend you don’t see the blankets. I haven’t found anything better yet, but I sort of thought these said ’sophistication’ or whatever.

Like my Madonna poster? Let’s have sex."