Richard: I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. Some woman jumps in line ahead of me at the grocery store? Maybe she’s late for a hair appointment. I mean, why else would the bitch leave home looking like that? Some dude blocks me on Grindr? Perhaps I remind him of a distant cousin he used to crush on when he was a kid, and my face dredges up too many memories of unrequited love and crusty gym socks. L’amour, l’amour. 

In this case, I’m going to assume that the original occupant of this room was a legally blind eight-year-old French girl whose former home was destroyed in a slow-moving fire, giving her only enough time to collect a handful of essentials before scrambling out the window. In her new bedroom, she displayed the remains of her former, happy life: a motley collection of stuffed animals culled from a range of unrelated cartoon families; an assortment of children’s movies (too bad she forgot the VHS player); and a half-finished paint-by-numbers Paul Gauguin craft project that she later completed with dayglo sidewalk chalk her mom found in a trash heap outside an abandoned outlet mall.

But using this poor refugee’s boudoir to stage a sexpic? Now that’s inexcusable. Yes, I know some folks like the idea of being watched while they’re doing the chitty-chitty-bang-bang, but the thought of Droopy Dog tumbling into the action after too many enthusiastic thrusts makes me, well, droopy. On the upside, though, if that’s a cumstain on the wall, someone’s been doing his Kegels. So I suppose there’s that.

File Under:Bedroom Terrors

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Richard: It’s tricky to critique pics from Manhunters in other countries. What’s sexy and sultry in Estonia can seem silly and sappy in the States — and vice versa. So I’m a little apprehensive about analyzing this shot, which I’m guessing comes from Holland, based in part on those curtains and in part on other factors. If I’m wrong, someone please send this man a Hickory Farms apology bouquet on my behalf. 

However, I must point out — and Ban Ki-moon would agree — that there are a handful of rules that transcend national borders. For starters: lace is never, ever, ever sexy. I mean, maybe if you were one of the Landers sisters and you were sporting a silk bathrobe and some very expensive lacy bits from La Perla, and you’d put some baby’s breath in your hair, you might be able to get away with it. But if you were one of the Landers sisters, you’d be aiming your trademark pout at straight men, and let’s face it, straight men are easy targets where hot, 80s vagina is concerned. Among the Gays, lace either screams “grandma” or “Stevie Nicks“, so tread lightly.

On the other hand, the wicker furniture is great and perfectly appropriate for a sunroom, and Chatty Cathy gets an A+ for color-coordinating the flora. Too bad nothing says “turnoff” like a giant flyswatter on a coffee table. Well, except putting mayonnaise French fries.

File Under:Dens From Hell

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David: As hard economic times continue to decimate America, we’re discovering more interior submissions like this one where plastic and detritus overtake a room. We suggest limiting storage units to one per room. Also, one trash can per room will suffice. (Though here, with so much shit cluttering the floor maybe this guy is dealing with a hoarding situation and what we witness here is simply overspill). On the plus side I appreciate the surreal effect of the different cloth treatments in this room. The zingy tropic-inspired swatch above the bed is complimented by the spilling forward of a giant wave of beige mediocrity that’s ready to swallow all in its path, including the homeowner. Thank you Mood Fabrics in New York, once again you’ve helped another budding designer find their way (or their demise.)

File Under:Bedroom Terrors

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