Yippee ki yay, butterfly chairs.

So have y'all seen this image about a jizzillion times?

If you're like me then yes you have and you've probably also repinned in about a jizzillion times too because hey, I can't keep up with the thousands of things I repin and sometimes I really really love something and DON'T BE JUDGING MY PINS!!

Just kidding, pins are always up for mocking.

So I decided to do a little research about the origins of such a glorious patio with its sun-dappled concrete slab of cantilevered panty-creaming awesomeness. Won't you be my forever Valentine?  

Except you, butterfly chairs.  I don't like you and you can be Alan Rickman and I'll send you plummeting to your death over the edge of that patio like in Die Hard which is a shame because Alan Rickman gives me a lady boner just like this patio.  I realize I might be alone on that part.  The chairs, not the Alan Rickman part.  I know y'all know what I'm talking about there.

Here's another view because I'm taunting you with my knowledge. via LA Times

It turns out that the patio of my wet dreams belongs to the interior of my wet dreams that is the home of architect Ray Kappe that I've also repinned about a jizzillion times as well: 

Zoinks! I love it when my Valentines come together for a threeway of architectural hotness!  

But wait, there's more!  We're turning this Nicki Minaj a trois into an orgy of modern sessy times.

How adorable are you, Mrs. Kappe?  Can I call you Shelly?  Let's hold hands and walk around the garden while you feed me homemade shortbread cookies and we talk about having sex in front of giant windows.  

Can we all just bow our heads for a moment in hornor of a nice modern house that is warm and looks lived in and not a place where angles go to die?  It makes me feel better about my tchotchkes.

LA Times

That's so weird, I think we have the same hood...  I appreciate that you read my blog, Ray, but let's try to not be so blatant with your stealing of my design sensibilities, mkay?

I think nooks and crannies like these are highly underrated.  Some serious napping would commence after I dry humped that concrete wall.  It's how I show my love.

Beautiful stairs of death.  We know I'm not really good with stairs lacking in handrails or anything that requires coordination or balance so I will have to scoot down these like a dog missing a leg or two but at least I'll get to admire all the fine detail up close.  

Oh hello, awesome courtyard.  Those rays of light must be the fingers of jeezus coming to tickle me while I have a picnic.  You can't buy jeezus fingers at Home Depot y'all.  

via LA Times

Fun factoid: the house was build on the side of hill on a natural spring.  When diverting the spring didn't work he just decided to float the house on top of it.  You're such a boss, Ray Man.


But it can't be all jeezus fingers and concrete lovefests:

via LA Times

Sigh... this is why you don't let architects be in charge of color and throw pillows.  Best to just stick with wood and concrete.  Hell, *I* should just stick with wood and concrete now that I think about it.


Shelly, I know everything in this bedroom is now an antique and should be preserved in the museum of "Get In My House" but maybe we could go on some retail adventures and buy some new pillows.  


It'll be my treat if you bring the shortbread cookies and let me move in with you and become your adopted 31-yr-old Madame child.  I'll just sleep in the nook and be totally happy forever and ever.  I won't even make fun of your other throw pillows, I swear...

All images via Selectism unless otherwise noted.

Must...  Not... Mock.  I love it like I love my Grandmother's collection of butterfly art which is to say lots and lots but only because she's old and family.


And since I'm going to be the adopted child of the Kappes then I guess these can stay too.  


But we'll have to have a long talk about the butterfly chairs...