I'm slowing down but still secretly keeping an eye out for things to buy for my new apartment. Not that I'm acting nearly as compulsive as I was a month ago NOT AT ALL. It's just that when I reflect on what I appreciate about other people's spaces, and by space I mean anything larger than one room because I'm very good at throwing together a room especially when someone gives me a mattress, I know that I want it to be beautiful and comfortable.
I want pillows and blankets and music and booze and tea to be always at hand. Are your feet cold? Here, let me open up my large red ottoman and get you the soft fleecy blanket I liberated from an American Idol's fan package two years ago. Like the American Idol needed it. He had a record deal! His path to Hollywood success was paved not in fleecy blankets but in red carpets. He wouldn't miss it.
Are you thirsty? Feeling weak? I'll brew a mug of detox tea and crack a Bud Light. I believe in the curative powers of both. I've shopped at local stores, particularly ones with sales, and IKEA. I've been on Ebay and Craigslist and most recently, thanks to Mandy, an online auction site where I bid on, and won, a collection of antique glass jars and vases. Matt Sperling asked me about my decorating style and I've decided to call it manic modern gothtique.
I'm now at the point where I'm out of room. Walk in the big open front room which quadruples as kitchen, living room, dining room and DJ booth and there's no less than 13 different places to sit. I offer serious seating options. No one will be forced to stand in my home. This maybe should have, but didn't, keep me from ogling bean bag beds online.
For weeks I considered buying a bean bag bed. I fondly remember the brown bean bag I grew up with and my dad's teaching days, when two of his groovy 70s students hung out in our living room, lounging in the bean bag with their sideburns and fros and hoodies. I was too young to actually remember the groovy student night but the photos look cozy and relaxed and that's what I want.
Then I watched the demonstration video on the bean bag website. The video shows how the bean bag turns into a bed when you take the cover off and this appeals to me. The bean bag bed would be gracious AND clever. Nostalgic, versatile, and useful.
The video, however? WTF, my friends, WTF. The video pretends to be all wholesome and mainstream, the picture of middle America normality with its fireplace TV room clean cut vibe, but it harbors sly smutty undertones. It's amateur porn done badly. Is it ever done any other way?
The two stars of the video are the antithesis of my groovy 70s target audience: a blond in lowrider jeans and her enthusiastic muscle-bound buddy. Look how he cracks up at the beginning of the demonstration. What did she say to him? Perhaps he's laughing at the porn soundtrack the video is set to. Yes, that must be it.
He fluffs and stuffs the bean bag bed like it's an athletic event, like it's a station at the gym. He spins it around for her, muscles rippling. She hops in and leans back, smiling at the camera, knee up, and cocks her head way to the side. She holds the pose and I make a note to self: either never ever do this or do it on a regular basis. Do it even if no one is watching; it's an awesome move.
He brings her a footrest and she slams her legs into it and throws her head back again, still smiling, head still cocked. Who choreographed this? I want a word with them.
He extends a hand from above and she takes it. He lifts her out and she holds and does a TWIRL beneath his arm, a genuine dance move. This commercial is trying to sell romance with their bean bags. This jock and cheerleader are having the time of their lives with their bean bag bed and you can, too. They circle the bean bag and fall into it together, arms around each other. "It's a loveseat!" flashes across the screen. I get it.
Now it's time to make it into a bed, enough of this foreplay. They unzip the cover and she holds it and watches on while he tosses the mattress in circles and lays it out flat. She falls onto it, settling with one arm outstretched above her head and poses. I'm tiring of her insipid smile but whatever, it's still fairly innocently dumb until the next shot, a closeup of a liquid splashing onto the mattress. I understand the rational message: Thank god they got the cover to protect the mattress! That extra 49 bucks sure was worth it!
The less linear part of my brain, however, the part that subconsciously makes associations and draws free-floating conclusions goes further and is pretty sure that the liquid is not supposed to be water. Their dog isn't peeing, their kid isn't doing a science experiment. No, this show is XXX rated and we have reached the climax. The porn music plays and the spurts keep spurting.
Worse is that it totally works. My next thought is that I will buy the mattress cover to protect my investment in case any of my guests have sex on my bean bag bed.