Richard: To the casual observer, True Blood might seem pretty awesome, but lemme tell you: this right here is the Undead Non-Lifestyle in action. Which is to say: not awesome at all. Imagine never being able to finish a home improvement project because all the good paint and fabric stores close at 6pm. Imagine centuries of half-assed self-portraits acquired from emo art students who kept hoping you’d “convert” them, but they were all so unbearably affected, you dumped ‘em like every other mortal did. Imagine the never-ending Seasonal Affective Disorder that comes from living in the dark. Where would you find the motivation to go on not-living?

Dash: I never thought I’d ever type these words and trust me, I am as shocked and dismayed as you will be … I’d kill for pastel right about now.

File Under:Bedroom Terrors

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David K.: Religious relics (the Bible, not the homeowner) shouldn’t really be placed on display so blatantly, within any room of the home. This is especially true should the evening involve any sort of ‘hosting’ arrangements. I mean, put yourself in your trick’s shoes (or tranny-heels): He’s agnostic, you’re Born Again. Not good! It sets the evening off on the wrong foot (I couldn’t resist), especially during this season of the Republican Decline; any reference to the old Fundamentalist Order is quite off-putting (and dick-wilting), so lock up the Good Book before the guest arrives. Other than that, I do like this surreal bedspread. No cat in the animal kingdom has spots so gargantuan. This imparts a sort of carefree boldness to the homeowner, broadcasting something like: “I’m wild in a larger than life way. Look out!” Fabulous. But not so much that reference (again with the religious trinkets) to the Easter Rabbit. Remove from ledge at once!

ericthewriter: Even though the duvet print will hide a multitude of sins, god should be left out of some equations.

File Under:Bedroom Terrors

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Richard: Scary: having butt sex on a wooden bench from the Target’s “Stickleigh” collection.

Scarier: the scratches it’s going to leave as it scoots inch by butt-slamming inch across that alleged hardwood floor.

Scariest: I inherited that skull staff standing by the TV when someone left it in my kitchen during an open house one Fat Tuesday morning. It’s so freakin’ ugly, I can only imagine one was ever made. Which means that (a) this guy’s been inside my house, (b) this is an old photo, and (c) those laminate floors are totally ruined by now.

Shawn: Blond wood — like blond men — is always well-crafted enough, but leaves me longing for the woodsy masculinity of the brunet finished variety. I could argue this entire set piece suffers from being too lightweight in that same respect. The family photos aren’t creepy and forced enough to suggest a Stepfather-esque family annihilator’s den, but then the washed-out color scheme isn’t pastel enough to lend the presence of Halcyon-dependent hausfrau-on-the-edge. Normally, the geek-inclined gum ball machine and Dungeonmaster staff would get my inner Thundercat’s hackles up, but they’re neutralized by the beyond-bland CD shelf, candelabra, and various bric-a-brac mugs. I can only summon up a half-hearted “Meh,” though the trend of TV porn framed within photographic porn has a movie-within-a-movie quality that’s beginning to grow on me.

File Under:Living Room Wreckage

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David K.: Hey Guys. Anyone familiar with Facebook’s policies for FAN PAGES? Not too long ago a Digs visitor launched a fan page on Facebook for Lurid Digs. I thought it was cool, was honored actually and a tad misty eyed — but didn’t think too much about afterwards.

Later I saw guys were really getting into it, so then I considered it a good way for us to get to know each other and do all the stuff people do on Facebook (waste time, trawl former boyfriend’s pages, shit like that.) Well, it seems the fan page was ‘removed.’ So I suppose this has something to do with the dreaded bane of society (and social networks): nudity!! I don’t know, I’m 95-years-old with encroaching dementia and a novice to all of this shit. So can someone let me know what the right procedure is. And if you’re the kind of person that would like to help me administer a page like that (cause I guess I’ve got to go back and try to set up a new one, please email me and state your case).

Which brings me to another topic, and you guys can leave comments on this (or the Facebook issue) if you like, below. Should Lurid Digs be on Twatter, I mean Twitter? Pros and cons. Yes or no? Demi or Ashton?

Thanks boys, you’re the best.

Yours in sad taste,

DK

Steve: All this popularity and yet we have so few friends, it seems! What gives? If you own a blog or a site that’s off-balance and gloriously strange enough to run side-by-side with ours, think about submitting it for inclusion in our Blogroll. We like sites that are funny/gorgeous/dumb, and updated a lot. Email me and include a link to your site, please know that we are choosy bitches.

Steve
 

File Under:For the hell of it

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Richard: For your edification, ladies and gentlemen: a glimpse of life after the nuclear holocaust. No mohawked Tina Turner walks among us. No be-togaed Farrah Fawcett-Majors waits to do our hair and nails (or whatever girlfriend was doing in Logan’s Run besides launching her career). The party people are dead and gone, and we’re left to wallow alone in beige caverns of sadness. Sure, we have remembrances — like family photos from happier times (though that could just as easily be a still from Ciao, Manhattan dangling on the wall). We have curtains that halfheartedly try to remind us what a world of green was like, but they’re much too sad for the job. We shield ourselves from the radioactive misery with layers of shiny Hardee’s burger wrappers, but even the teddy bears can’t stand it any longer: see how Pooh has hurled himself from the doorknob where he hung by his purple underpants? If this isn’t enough to convince Kim Jong-Il to cool his nuclear jets, I don’t know what is.

Tom: The room looks like it should be on wheels.

File Under:Living Room Wreckage

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David K.: Never, ever apply paint atop textured wallpaper. Notice, here, how the do-it-yourselfer abandoned the project and attempted to conceal his mistake by placing a Korean-made landscape over the botch-job. This is incredibly disconcerting. Too, the entire aura of this room radiates lack of care and attention, like we’ve tumbled into one of those underground bomb shelters that were the rage during World War II. I will give props on how the Bologna Pink bedspread/cover perfectly matches the guy’s mangina. Though, given the apathy shown the rest of the room, I’d imagine this was simply (1) a lucky coincidence or (2) results related to the color-sensitive eye of the anal bleaching expert he visited last week.

Allentownboy: I’m confused by which is the bomb shelter in this picture…

File Under:Living Room Wreckage

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Shawn: Nothing quite says “No restraining order can ever keep us apart” like gun fetishism, violent homoeroticism, and a personal arsenal.

The camo netting and drawn venetian blinds — I’m thinking that’s got to be a porn cache on the window sill — create that feel of a claustrophobic, hermetically-sealed personal universe about to burst forth into the world. With the refrigerator in the bedroom, I’m wondering if this might be a single room occupancy, one of those places where socially marginalized men do the “You talkin’ to me?” thing in front of the mirror and that are destined to be surrounded by crime scene tape.

It’s his blandly attractive Midwestern looks combined with the tightly-wound thousand yard stare that caps it all off with a very Targets-style ambience, and that was a good time had by all.

ericthewriter: This is what happens when you buy on sale at Bed Baghdad & Beyond.

File Under:Bedroom Terrors

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