People we want in our hallway

So, our hallway has a corner where we stash things. It's quite convenient (well, that's what I assume, since I never have to walk past it), and it doesn't count as mess if it stacks. We also have a list of people we'd like to keep there:

Bruce Dickinson. For the sheer, ebil awesomeness of the dude who can fly a plane AND be rock guy;

Jorn Lande, because there's some seriously inviting vocal frequency going on there;

Emmy Rossum, because she's ridiculously pretty AND sings, and because it would be hilarious to have someone so tiny & fragile-lookin' next to the guy best described as the 'Norwegian Meatloaf';

Tobias Sammet, 'cause he tries so hard, and there isn't enough hilarious German powermetal in the world (or our hallway);

Johnny Depp. Needs no explanation.

Grace Jones, because a day just isn't complete without a little terror.

Gerard Butler doesn't make the hallway list, 'cause we'd like to keep him someplace else.

Ah, rental.

So. Real Estate Agents kindof freak me out.

Don't get me wrong, our landlady's property manager seems lovely. But there's really something rather strange about every real estate agent I've ever met. They're all incredibly enthusiastic, which creeps me out when they're inspecting my house at 9 in the morning (I'm not so much a morning person. Enthusiasm at that time of day's pretty wrong, in my book), and they smile ALL THE TIME. They're perfectly coiffed & made up, and the smiling... I always have these moments of HOLY CRAP, THERE'S A ROBOT IN MY KITCHEN. Uncanny valley muchly.

*Ahem*. Sorry. No more caps today. Anyway, we passed our inspection (although the exhaust fan cover in my ensuite apparently isn't quite clean enough) and there's no more robot in my kitchen; it's now occupied by cupcakes.