Shawn: An abode for a divided self split right down the center, overstuffed excess versus stark white ramshackle. Possibly a schizophrenic’s, maybe even a carnival half & half’s, but likely a drag performer whose occupation requires two to live as one. The divide is essentially masculine/feminine: hot pink walls (and what appears to be a matching nightgown), plush burgundy bordello furniture, baroque gold frame, tiger plushie, silver bedside table on the manic half of the brain, while hardwood flooring, spartan tables, a ceiling lamp with exposed wiring, speakers, and some sort of handmade treen hanging on the wall signify the more introverted side. The presence of the valise suggests someone is just visiting, and I can tell you from personal experience that there are two undeniable indicators that an occupant is near the breaking point: home exercise equipment and a pile of phone books.
File Under:Bedroom Terrors
42 Responses to 'Bedroom on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown'
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David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
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Someone Call Disneyland. I think the furniture from their Castle is missing….and that polka-dot pillow…isn’t that the same fabric as bow sported by Minnie Mouse?
Ok I’m cool with the whole Victorian Whore House furniture. The coffee mug on the right and the ash tray/lighter on the left definitely speaks to “Gentlemen Callers” who have frequented Miss Kitty’s bedroom. The side table the ash tray is on is both homely and spindly. Super Walmart must have had a sale I mean “roll back”. Lastly is that polka dot pillow on the chair shaped like a heart?
Where does Shawn see any masculinity in this abode, the bare mattress on the floor?
But more importantly, what is that modern light pendant on the left doing in this antique/Salvation Army mishmash? And if you’re gonna do a hideous floral print lampshade, instead of a baby blue palette couldn’t you pick something in the pink/red family to tie-in the rest of the decor?
p.s. the tiger stuffed toy perched gamely on top of that side chair your gentleman caller brought you totally ruins its’ integrity.
By the way that hot fuschia wall needs AT LEAST one more coat of paint. Splotchy, splotchy, splotchy. God, I hope the wall opposite it is the same color and that it’s not the dreaded Accent Wall.
I think my very favorite items in this “garage sale from hell” decor scheme are the Tibetan meditation bowl on the spikey table next to the ready-to-burst chair and the dish towel/doll house rug standing in for an antimacassar on the tippy top of the also about-to-burst sofa.
Oh and since I’ve recently seen the original, I’m horrified to think that just possibly the “painting” is a copy of the famous portrait of Madame Du Pompadour. Eek to the nth degree.
Kenneth and Florian, unable to keep up the rent on their furnished Buckhead duplex, stealthily “accessed” several “U-Lok-It” long-term storage units and, using both the containers and contents, have cleverly devised for themselves a fully-furnished 3-room flat. See their hilarious adventures on LOGO’s new smash-hit sitcom “Honey, I Fucked The House”
The wall is splotchy because the justifiably outraged paint mixer at Home Depot absolutely refused to make another batch. For which I thank him or her from the bottom of my heart.
Why the hell is a mattress in the parlor? And we are talking a king size mattress I believe. I don’t see no red headed beehive wig ala Miss Kitty on anyone’s head, nor any painted on mole on her cheek. Heck, Miss Kitty at least had her bedroom upstairs and there was definitely a door separating it from the rest of the place. Nineteenth century prostitutes had more design sense.
Red velvet Victorian furniture! How butch can you get?! Where are the lace tablecloths for the side tables? Where is the tre tacky ceiling fan? Where is the fake Tiffany lamp? Get your period design right girlfriend!
Major peeve of mine: stuffed animals displayed by grown men. Stuffed animals are not interior design accessories!!!! Jeez, I can handle the Pepto Bismol colored walls more than I can friggin stuffed animals on display.
And finally, dude, use a condom! You’re liable to find Marshal Dillon’s buckshot up there. Heck, Festus is probably hiding in there.
If hoarders and a porn meet-up in the clean-up portion of the show, this is the visual cue of scene 3, act 3 the therapeutic dose. Hideous wall colors don’t go with antique furniture. And, what is up with exercise equipment in the living room.
A still from the most horrifying production ever of Ibsen’s “A Doll House”
I just cancelled my trip to London. Why you have it all right here for free, & with no jet lag – the Tate Modern & the Victoria & Albert Museums all rolled into one.
STOP, already! It’s not a bed. It’s a SOFA bed, as witness the paperback-thin mattress and the fact that it barely clears Happy Boy’s ankles. But this only opens up a whole other can of worms. Namely: Are they merely guests in this apartment? Or did Pops call a Rent Boy sight unseen and decide when he arrived that he didn’t want to spoil the “good sheets”? Or is this a studio apartment? Then again, what manner of sofa does that mattress pull out FROM? Also, what kind of an idiot does the walls in standard eggshell and an accent wall in fuschia – FUSCHIA!! – but then peoples the room in blood red, overstuffed Victorian settees?! (The same kind of idiot who greets his conquests wearing nothing but a matching fuschia Snuggie, evidently.) And do the red satin, polka-dotted, heart-shaped throw and the little blue pillow belong on the sofa bed when it’s… not in use or are they actually SUPPOSED to be on that high back and, if so, WHY?!
So many questions…
And, as always I ask, “Who the hell TOOK this picture, and how were they involved in the scene“??? I mean, eew.
It’s kind of like, “What if Jo Ann Worley moved into William Wurster’s Gregory Farmhouse?”
That’s not just a ceiling lamp with exposed wiring; that’s an IKEA ceiling lamp with exposed wiring.
“Börk Börk Börk!”
after jeffy checked the pics in the hidden camera, it became apparent why it took the painters so long to finish.
oy, that paint. sedate on one side, insanity on the other. it’s like someone looked at a frosted mini-wheat and thought “LET’S DO THIS!!!”
Come on guys, if we’re going to make catty remarks about color schemes, we at least need to spell the colors correctly. It’s FUCHSIA. Yes, it’s tricky. As a mnemonic, just think FUCK-SEE-A, then you’ll always remember that the C comes first.
Okay, so after careful further examination I have come to the conclusion that there is something we are not allowing ourselves to see, because the ramifications are too grim to conceive.
Pappy and his happy Buddy have by their merging of Wine-in-a-box Red and Pepto Pink ripped a hole in the space time continuum, threatening the stylistic safety of us all as nameless white condo rooms meander unchecked into our carefully thought out homes.
I shudder to think of waking one morning to discover that there would suddenly be a tragic white noise space like we see here attaching itself to my apartment.
Be AFRAID!
If I am correct, nobody mentioned the bookcase or entertainment center located near the Ikea hanging lamp with exposed wiring. Oh and the white curtains look like they are being blown by a gentle breeze. What if this place is in a condo or apartment complex and some unsuspecting soul might walk by and look in the window when no one is around? Imagine the YEARS of therapy they’d need!!! Hmmmm…. after viewing this interior design trainwreck I think I need to pop a few Xanax with a dry martini chaser!!! Who decorated this place???? Blind, angry lesbians????
There is no gentle breeze in this apartment. The curtains are moved that little bit because of the radiator. This room smells of horsehair, armpit and Jean Nate. Although it is my understanding that lesbians often DO love color, that color is never in the pink family. Natch.
I think they’re playing while the hostess is away….maybe Aunt Dorothy? But then she’s have decent antimacassars, and maybe a TV tray sitting around.
You guys got it all wrong. This is an Art Installation. Pure and simple. I saw something similar at LACMA in Los Angeles some years ago, minus the performance artists. We have to thank these fellows for bringing ART to LIFE.
However, the one glaring omission, as stated above, is the condoms. Where are the fucking condoms??? Since they are generally available in colors – and fuschia in particular – there is no excuse.
In my best Nancy Kerrigan voice….WHY WHY WHY????
I can think of only one story to tell this tale and that is that Buck and Randy are living above their antique/junk shop while their dream home is being constructed. That would explain the lack of definition of space. They have to be a couple. You can’t tell me a trick wouldn’t run the minute he saw this terror of design. I use the word “design” loosely here. But please tell me they stored the real artwork elsewhere. If not they need to put some real money into art for the dream home. Or just burn what they have.
the colors are ‘blush’ and ‘bashful.’ one is much darker than the other.
The colors are ‘vagina’ and ‘labia’ and why any man – even the Gayest goose on God’s Green Earth – would choose such a palette is completely beyond me.
But HUGE props for the “Steel Magnolia” reference! Now, every time I look at these digs, I’ll be seeing hard cock and bad taste but I’ll be thinking ‘Shelby.’
And ‘kidney failure.’
The jig is up for these cowpokes. As it is for so many of these brummagem scenarios. This was taken at
The Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo. Afterwards, they headed to the Goldrsush Sheakhouse. How do I know this? It’s precisely that Sadam Hussein palace chic that’s a give away. The only other possible explanation is that this is a vacation photo from Pyongyang. Isn’ that the dear leader’s portrait in the gold frame?
If God had meant for walls to be that colour, he would have created a magenta paint that covers completely in a single application. The rule is simple – if it requires more than two coats, you’re going to end up with a faux finish that looks like you used a raspberry smoothie instead of paint. Nice dick, though.
Just noticed that colossal blood stain on the sheet. I can’t believe no one has commented on it. OMG! Does that mean Legs Eleven was a virgin?
I had to laugh at these comments, what else can you do. Why do I laugh, because I know one of them. Not often I come across someone that I actually knew in more ways than one.
Yes, the decor leaves a lot to be desired, but when the lights are off it’s not that bad.
i have but two words for cloris: tinted primer.
Now I know why there was no Peptobismol left at Walmart
“Outside it may be raining, but in here it’s entertaining.”…Moulin Rouge!
Very Cirque de Soleil
From one in the know to those that are not.
This wonderful arty (lol) place is in Amsterdam
What man in their right mind would buy a pink snuggie? Is this supposed to attract other men? Is this one of the signs of the impending apocolypse?
@ Paulo. Please don’t insult Cirque Du Soleil. Their stages have less clutter than this room does and are far more aesthetically pleasing. As for the decor in this room, I am hoping that either they bulldoze the whole place or give the place back to Helen Keller. After all, who could live in that room but someone who is deaf and blind? That fuschia is screaming SO LOUD that it would take someone deaf and blind to be able to spend longer than it takes to trick in there . . .
I feel you, GS, I really do but be honest – looking around that kaleidoscopic maelstrom of a room; taking it all in – can you truly say that that pink Snuggie is the most outrageous item you see there? Or that’s it’s even out of place?!
Hell, I’m guessing they fight over gets to wear it!
Either Mom (or a favorite aunt) WAS Miss Kitty, and upon her death one of these 2 inherited her parlour furniture. Except Kitty’s parlour was on the spacious side, and these guys’ pad, well…isn’t.
I’m liking the Ikea lamp, though (without the exposed wiring.)
GIVE UP THE PINK !!!
are we giving birth in the bedroom again???? or is this afterbirth?? the accent wall is way too harsh to ever consider sleep….how about the screamroom….P.S… love the JAZZ HANDS.
bebe telo quiero chupar todo