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."

Shawn: Here’s proof that our adult lives really are just mosaics of our childhood obsessions. Who hasn’t had their complete Masters of The Universe action figure collection or bedtime best friend Teddy Ruxpin drive a potential score awkwardly out the door? This is as perfect a nine-year-old’s bedroom preserved in amber as I could ever imagine. Every detail drips with tacky kiddie nostalgia: the gimme caps dangling from the bedposts, the dime store bulletin board littered with clippings, the sports and classic rock pin-ups. I admit to having cheap-ass blinds like those until I convinced my parents to let me have Voltron curtains. The patchwork wallpaper triggers “Oh Scarecrow, I think I’m going to miss you most of all!” feelings in me. Crowning touch: the crucifix strategically-placed ‘Salem’s Lot-style to keep his vampirized best friend from clawing at his window pane, full of malevolent lust in his eyes.

Steve: It’s just a photograph, but I swear I can smell Cheeze Poofs. Let’s make ham sandwiches and watch episodes of The Snorks.

Steve: This is a little routine I like to do whenever I’m showing a unit, I mean, apartment. You can see that we’ve "staged" it for you — that means we’ve placed some items in here to help you visualize what it’ll be like when you live here. Just the basics. It’s a framework for your imagination. These things won’t be here when you move in. Especially not the designer chairs. Those were expensive.

David: Proof that gay men can be as bland as they wanna be. The palette of this room alone is enough to keep the blind happy with their fate. But it’s the chairs. The chairs. THE CHAIRS that commit the gravest travesty. Where does someone even find objects like this? The laws of gravity seem to be topsy turvy here, where a pyramid of pillows look to be collapsing the seat towards the earth’s core. I image the sinking chair seat phenomenon intensifying to the point where a gigantic inter-dimension sinkhole is created, sucking everything through a spatial, intergalactic worm hole. Away, banished. Forever.