awwwww yeeah... sock it to me!
at the end of a long day of huffing litterbox fumes; contending with old, leaking windows; and the conundrum of how else, if at all, can our living room furniture be arranged, i wash up and retire to the aesthetic sanctity of our master bedroom. with its vaulted ceilings, clean lines, and muted greens and greys, this is the haven to which i retire... to seethe greedily over a magazine.
i'm not ogling famous beefcake or poring over a tome of sartorial splendor. through clenched teeth [don't wake the baby] i mutter to casey, "oh my god, will you look at this friggin' spread? shit, crap, and dammit, that's so awesome. grrr..." i slide my modern design magazine across our blanketed laps to he can get an eyeful of a fantastic home. on each delightfully matte page of the chunky issue, we drool and moan over fabulous prefabs, immaculate rehabs, and damn-sexy bathrooms... and then we jealously curse the homeowners. "fuckin' assholes," murmurs casey.
whooda thought a bathroom would be sexy? mmmmosaic tile... sssssizzling saarinen womb chairs! ahhhhlessi kitchen accessories!
got any unusual trigger-trippers?
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