Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Bearskin Ug(h)

I think I've mentioned that I'm an interior designer.  And no, that is not an attempt to drum up bid-ness.  I try to avoid designing (and work, for that matter) at all costs, which I believe has also been established.  On the rare occasion that I actually LIKE a person, I'll do it.  This was recently the case.  Clients are in the process of purchasing a home and the current owner's possessions are still in it.  As is often the case, this was informative.  You can tell A LOT about people from their stuff.  The first thing I noticed was that these people like Egypt.  Like disturbingly so.  I half expected a mummy to pop out of a closet and start chasing us around.  That actually happens from time to time.  They just don't report it on the news.  Conspiracy.  The second thing, which upon investigation became even more disturbing than the Egypt shit was that these people are WAAAAYYYYYY into each other.  Pictures of them lovin' it up all over the place.  Framed wedding invitation ( IF), mementos of their travels scattered about as if to remind them of that sweet, sweet Tahitian love they was rather nauseating.  I have a theory that this had to have been a second marriage.  'Cause does anybody REALLY like their original spouse this much?  No offense, Dave.  I will speak for him.....DAVE:  "None taken". So, I'm thinking this is weird but whatever.  I was working and could not be distracted by bad taste and overzealous displays of affection.  This was until I entered the master bedroom and became not just distracted but completely unhinged.  Not only are these folks fans of Egypt, they are fans of wine in the boudoir.  And you know what that means.  Cue the 70's porn soundtrack.  How do I know about the wine?  Oh, I'll tell ya.  The first clue was the two rather garish wine glasses (chalices, really) on a black granite counter top, below which was the second clue....a wine 'fridge.  Um......if you cannot be distracted from your lusty romp for long enough to drag your naked ass downstairs for more wine, you, my friends, need a hose turned on you.  I will say that in my case, a conveniently located supply of wine would be considered a safety measure.  Depending on how much I had consumed prior to entering the bedroom, navigation of stairs may prove tricky not to mention potentially dangerous.  I do not believe this was the case here.  Other clues lead us to believe that they are doctors (the diplomas in the study helped).  Doctors don't drink like I do.  Something about health.  Stupid health. But I digress.  Adding to this disturbing scenario was the fireplace.  'Cause you just know what happened there.  And I had to take my shoes off!!!!!  Needless to say, after touring the master bedroom anyplace that you could picture a bearskin rug was avoided like the plague.  First design recommendation?  Replace all carpet.  Quickly.  And for God's's a tip:  if your house is ever for sale, remove all indications that you are total horn-dogs as it freaks people the hell out.  It's not a good visual.  You could be Brangelina and it still makes us feel all skeevy.  Eeeewww.

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