Sean: Dear Members of the Hardwood Federation
We get it, okay? Wood is good and I am here to support you when you tell us that good wood could and should be used for only the best wooden goods: old-timey pianos with finely-crafted hoods, armoirs, dining chair and the most innovative use of a dining chair I’ve ever seen, picture frames, model airplanes from your childhood and low-rise bookshelves, as well as for cheap IKEA bed frames and the particle board said bed frames depend on. Wood is also good for staining, for lacquering and to wallpaper over when you feel your bedroom/den/good-sexy-times-room needs the kind of pizazz that only the splotchiest wallpapers are guaranteed to provide. And take note: I wholeheartedly support consuming every part of a tree, including using pine cones as decorative danglies–and wood by-products like cardboard boxes. Feel free to send me a cheque at your convenience.
Forever your girl,
Sean Horlor
David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
Shawn Baker is the Executive-Editor of Nightcharm and hails from New York. He is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
Richard writes the infamous queer blog Sturtle.com . His turn-ons include wainscoting, ZZ Top, and sharp-dressed men. Turn-offs: sectionals, pleated trousers, and pina coladas.
Eric B. does not Facebook, Tweet or blog. He uses the internet to cruise for sex, like god intended. He has leopard print in every room of his house, save one. And he does not apologize.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Sean Horlor is happy to no longer be using his judgmental prowess for the forces of darkness. He co-hosts a comedy lifestyle reality TV series called Don't Quit Your Gay Job and runs Up Your Alley.
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That faux panelled furniture sure is ugly. – Shug Avery
I don’t even know if there’s a word for this fetish! Woodophile…? Too chunky. Woody…? Too many other common associations. Piney…? Too specific. Timberwolf? Plank-poker? Tinder-tickler? Beam-boinker? (Personally, I’m leaning heavily toward Lumberjack, but I’m funny that way.) Where IS Dr. Freud when you really need him?!
That said (or asked), the old adage, “Surround yourself with the things you love,” can be taken WAY too far an here’s the proof. Too many different wood tones and finishes by HALF! The eye doesn’t know where to light and the subsequent strobe effect is near seizure-inducing! Although you really can’t argue with the frugality of his erotomania. Why spend upwards of 60 bucks American for a high-quality dildo when one only needs flip over their favorite desk chair and hump away…?
How he handles the inevitable splinters, on the other hand, is anybody’s guess…
Good God of Wood, is that an upright piano? As far as the chair trick goes, I’m pretty sure it’s just staged for the photo. If you really want to impress us see if you can get a wooden rocker up there. Beyond that all I can focus on in this lurid dig is that hideous painting. Something about the tones of the faux wood on the upright seem to bring out the garishness in that (what is it? fishing village?) day-glo cum pastel painting. Lastly, I can’t possibly imagine that this is his abode. If he were that into wood, he’d surely not shave his balls and chest as Jimbo has alluded to with his lumberjack comment.
How much wood could a wood-chuck fuck – oh wait, that’s not right. Hang on – how’s it go again?
jeffy wasn’t technically lying when he told his mother he was gonna spend the weekend ‘stripping and staining the furniture,’ but there MUST be a more efficient way to texturize the walls.
This one reminds me of the old joke:
Q: How do you get 4 queens on a barstool?
A: Turn it over.
Where does one find an upright piano to match the cabinet/armoire thing? WallyMart has a piano department? I guess their superstores really do have everything.
That said, that still wouldn’t stop me form getting on my knees in front of the room’s occupant.
Though it was only faux teak, Jimmy was still feeling guilty about the bulldozing of the amazon rainforest, so in solidarity with hardwoods everywhere, he razed the bush all around his favorite piece of wood.
Love how he managed to get the angle of his dick parallel to the angle of the chair leg between his legs.
I’ve never seen a piano with a finish that looks like that. Does anyone think it was refinished to look more like the wardrobe? Speaking of the wardrobe that is a weird cutout between the upper portion and the lower base. Do we thank it came like that or that maybe it is a broken drawer?
From the pillow, I assume this is a bedroom? What an odd place for a piano, let alone a kitchen chair.
I keep wondering what this room smells like. I imagine a miasma of formaldehyde, Scotts® Liquid Gold, musty cardboard, and a hint of ass.
Definitely a Febreeze® Emergency.
I didn’t know they did a naked version of the movie The Poseiden Adventure! Cool. By the slant in the floor I can tell we’re tuning in minutes after midnight, in the paneled ballroom, just as the ship is beginning to capsize. Stella Stevens is just off camera to our left, waiting for this extra to fall on top of her, Maureen McGovern is belting out “There’s To Be Some Whoring After” and that white thing at the bottom left of the screen, though it could easily be mistaken for a pillow case, is actually Shelley Winter’s knee. I love this movie….
RedBackFur, while I have to shudder in agreewith with your comment on the room’s smell, Marketing tells me I have to make the following statement: “This room smells like seafaring pirate ships, exotic spices from the trade routes, clean Caribbean breezes and a 245-pound black woman lounging on a divan. That’s the power of Pine-Sol, Baby.”
agreement! dammit.
I’m guessing Pine-Sol is this guy’s amyl nitrate!
Oh Wooden-I, The piano and the armoire, pretty sure this has been recovered in that oh so popular 70′s mac-tack plastic adhesive backed shelf liner, the stain on the chairs , well that looks to be self explanatory.
Oh Wooden-I, The piano and the armoire, pretty sure this has been recovered in that oh so popular 70′s mac-tack plastic adhesive backed shelf liner, the stain on the chairs , well that looks to be self explanatory.
Maybe he has a dusting fetish. And wants some peg leg pirate to fist his ass.
I do like the armoire. I’m a sucker(quiet guys)for chevron book-matched veneer. I think the opening is the drop-down secritaire section. It would be easier to tell if the chair was being used properly. The piano, I can’t make up my mind if I like it or not. I definitely hate the wall color; there should be a tint of orange to go with the wood tones.
What is it boy? What are you trying to tell us? That’s the wall that offends you???
OK, this is not the ideal bedroom. But it will do for now. Since Jason got kicked out of his parents’ home for polishing the coat tree (if you know what I mean) he has been living in Aunt Pam’s old parlor. Obviously, she hasn’t used it in years. Not since that terrible fight broke out at the Bridge Club. She still can’t fan a deck without becoming faint.
In all fairness, the piano is probably vintage. Veneered wood is used over large surfaces that might otherwise split and crack if one solid piece were used instead. The taller piece looks like a 70′s attempt to modernize traditional furniture. There are so many odd pieces in this space (Jason, we aren’t talking about you this time) that there is no congruity to the design. I don’t think Jason is going to be here long enough to worry about a re-do. Let’s just move on to the next space.
Jeez–bunch of homos don’t know quartered African mahogany veneer when they see it? Bunch of homos don’t know art deco when they see it?
I have a suspicion this is an East-Central or Southeast European setting–Czech, maybe? The incredibly high ceilings and tight floorplan–that looks like the sort of room one would find in a 19th century housing block. Is that carpet or terrazzo on the floor?
That wardrobe looks continental, if only because it’s so tall–an American or British cupboard of that sort would be unlikely to be much taller than 6′.
The piano looks like a Kemble studio piano.
The vibe is very much of Granny’s back bedroom, with all the leftover furniture–possibly inhabited by an artistic student. Once he pulls the chair out of is ass, he’ll hop on his Vespa and motor over to the coffee house to practice his English on the American tourists.
Johan’s piano teacher, Dieter, has been teaching him how to play the piano for 4 weeks now. Johan took to his teacher’s lessons really well. Lesson 1, however, has been consuming a lot of Johan’s time — the proper way to sit on the chair at the piano. Dieter says that Johan has become an expert in his sitting technique and that he’s ready for his first recital at the NAMBLA convention next week.
Recital or rectal? With NAMBLA you can never be too sure.
what does the North American Marlon Brando Lookalike Association have to do with vintage veneers?
Dear Pete F. THAT was fucking funny.
You know a dig is bad when not a single comment on the hideous art on the wall. Shame.
…
She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn’t a chair…
[it was taken]
Could we send this boy a proper butt plug? Really, a chair leg? Yikes, that’s a rough way to get off!
Wood on Wood on Wood….is Good!
How’d we get through this entire post without anyone making a peg-leg butt-pirate comment?
Or a bare wood comment. Or polished wood.
The photo is kind of boring.
good golly….when was the last time you FOUGHT with a chair? honestly, sometimes those pesky pieces of furniture just will not fit where you would like them to and ultimately ruin your design plan…i cannot tell you how many times i finally told someone to just STICK IT UP YOUR ASS IF IT DOESN’T FIT in the room!!!
me again…i JUST noticed that the young man’s penis and the one chair leg below it are almost perfectly parallel to eachother…surely an award of honorablle mention should be given for the near perfection of accidental alignment of two different objects in an interior space.
half of the picture may belong at http://www.furnitureporn.com
This definitely reeks of Eastern Europe, where 70 years of soul-crushing Communist oppression in endless miles of cinderblock hovels could not extingiush the taste for lurid paper-thin verneers in glossy varnish. With 3 families in this studio apt., even the rakish diagonal placement of the tablecloth is futile. No safe place for anything personal, so on those too-rare moments when Vilma, Ptrov et al are away, desire becomes the mother of invention. And when they return, trust me, they won’t even say, “What’s that smell?”
In response to Eye Spy’s comment: OMG! I ALSO just noticed the young man’s penis! And, do you know, I don’t give a toss about the piano, the herringbone veneer pattern, the chair leg, etc. etc. This is , quite frankly, the best penis on Lurid Digs in ages, so please forgive me for completely ignoring the room. Heaven knows, we’ve seen far worse than this sorry excuse for an interior.
Ken came home to the tiny apartment he shared with his roommate, Byron.
He stumbled, pain shooting from his big toe’s nail bed to his agonizing shin splint.
“ALL RIGHT, YOU FUCKING LOSER!!! ENOUGH OF YOU AND YOUR WOODEN FUCKING FURNITURE!!! FIRST, IT WAS THAT GODDAMN TABLE!! OKAY, everyone needs a table,” Ken said, calming a bit, but not enough,
“Then, it was the desk-thingie that has room for a TV on top. But there’s no TV. I stayed and kept paying half your rent because I thought there would be a TV!!! No TV. More FUCKING woodworking manuals.”
Grinding his teeth, Ken continued, “then it was the fucking PIANO! WE DON’T HAVE ENOUGH FUCKING ROOM TO BREATHE, LET ALONE TAKE IN A FUCKING PIANO!!!
“AND NOW,” he was breathing like a lion on the prowl, picking up what little in the apartment was actually his, “THIS FUCKING CHAIR!!! YOU KNOW WHAT?!?! YOU CAN _FUCK_ THIS FUCKING CHAIR!!!”
Wheeling about on the ball of his foot.
Turning, a blurred flash of his damnably icy blue eye the last eye contact Byron would ever make with him.
A door swinging open, then slamming in the pitiful way oak-framed balsa does.
In his ears, the imprecation lingered, rang like crystal in a thunderstorm: “fuck this fucking chair.”
Smiling even as the globus of his pain choked him and wrung tears straight from the heart that beat just below, in his throat, Byron disrobed.
‘Who needs men, anyway?’ He thought, upending the Fucking Chair, as “he” was now known.
‘I have my hobbies…!”
And the idea began to penetrate.
Clearly the do-it-yourself store does not carry this man’s shade of wood finish and he is undertaking the ultimate act of wooden spindle maintenance! Obviously there WILL be a good deal of shellac available at the end of this undertaking….