And now, my new, across the hall, digs.
So, here's like, the door to my room and the aforementioned dresser and bookcase with a bunch less AV equipment on it.
The door in the hallway is the toilet, so if I have to tinkle, I'm close to that, which is nice. On the downside, it's kinda loud when the water is running.
Moving on...
Slightly to the right of that is the new desk location followed by, wait for it.......................Walk-in closet area door. I know you're like, "Lindros, you're awesome, but what's with the shitty monitor??!" I can only say that it's a bad economy and my WBW paycheck is kind of lacking, if you know what I mean. Which you probably don't, but, you know, just take my word for it.
Anyway, let's take a gander inside the closet, shall we?
Notice the spacious luxury. So spacious, in fact, that I'm able to fit a cat jungle-gym in there. Just for the pimp of it, really. Because I'm sure you don't have a cat jungle-gym and window in your closet. Yeah, bitches.
More closet:
Hats & shit
Closet floor. The toys aren't mine, although they are pretty cool. Sometimes, you know, I'm just walking by and I see them and I run over to them and grab one with my mouth and then start biting it and squeaking it and running around the room like a fucking lunatic with it in my mouth.
Oh, wait, that's not me, that's me dogs. My mistake.
Also, I have too many clothes, so I put some in a big tupperware busket thing. And shooz.
Ok, back into the room, out of the closet.
Be sure to note the state-of-the-art cable modem on the top left of the cabinet and the wireless router, top right.
BAM. Yeah, that's a big ole' TV cabinet and I have supermodels crammed in there for sexytimes. I just don't keep those bottom doors open, because you don't want supermodels spilling out all over the place during the day. It's just unsightly.
Don't worry though, they fold neatly, with their zero body fat and stuff.
Rest of the couch, coffee table (even though I don't drink coffee) and the place where "the magic" happens. And by "the magic" I mean, I cry myself to sleep like once a week. So ronrey.
Oh, and bedside table where I recharges my cell phone and hit keep the snooze-button machine and dresser with assorted nonsense on top.
Speaking of which...
And there you has it.
Me place. Or at least the room in me place in which I spend most of my time.
Your turns.
And you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.