Despite what you may think, things are not very glamorous here in the Rumpus Room. After reading Tim’s theory that we designers work in incredibly pristine areas, and then going to look at the impossibly sexy Apple G4 Cube, I took a look at myself and my desk. This is the sad truth about why I don’t want a webcam recording me (not for the squeamish):
- I sit here in boxer shorts, black socks, and a Hanes t-shirt, because I never bothered to put other clothes back on after stripping off my office wear today. My eyes were hurting, so I’m wearing my glasses which are held together with a dab of hot glue in one of the hinges. sexy!
- I am slaving away at my old and dusty PowerMac 6500, which rises out of a heap of junk on my desk. I have just enough room to place a glass of Coke and a plate of cheese and crackers to have for dinner while I work. The pile of junk includes a stack of bills I am ignoring, marked-up proofs of a few jobs I’m doing, bunches of Polaroids, all the mail I’ve gotten in the last two months, and nail clippers to use during long downloads. sleek!
- I have a stool made from a bicycle seat next to my desk chair. The stool prevents me from walking over the weak spot in the floor that is about to collapse, because I don’t want to step in the dirt floor below the rotting plywood. Glamorous!
- I look over the top of the laptop I use for all of my porno…er, journal-writing, and I see a pile of previously worn pants and shorts growing on top of my dresser. This is next to the pile of dirty laundry on the floor, which sits there because I haven’t removed last week’s clean laundry from the laundry bag yet. That is sitting in the middle of the TV-watching area, by the Chinese take-out menus. sophisticated!
- I can hear the whispers of the dust bunnies as they grow in size, strength, and number. Send help if you I ever disappear altogether. Swanky!
- And I don’t even want to get started on the biological disaster area that is my kitchen.