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Justin Bieber Has A Beautiful Home

What we learn when we look inside his white, plastic paradise

Last week, a video appeared on YouTube entitled “BBC Radio 1 hangs out at Justin Bieber’s House.” And yes, it’s true — as magical and unreal as that sentence might sound, Justin Bieber did indeed allow one of BBC Radio 1’s hosts and a camera team to hang out at his house in L.A. How wonderful! And now that we’ve all had a few days to sit down and digest this Dante-like descent into Bieberland, we can begin to make sense of what we saw, what it means, and why no one here (not even me, his own mother!) got an invitation.

Because, damn it, there’s insight to be had. And while some may claim that the eyes are the window into the soul, I will personally argue that the windows into Bieber’s are actual windows — the ones I’m sure he looks out from as he wonders whether he should play basketball in his yard or hop into his Range Rover to buy more outdoor accessories.

Here’s what we learned from this tour of marvels.

Justin Bieber has a couch on his lawn.

Which I am convinced he did as a shout-out to the boys I went to high school with. Unlike Bieber, those guys’ couch had a sign on it that said, and I quote, “Chillax.” Also unlike Bieber, their couch was old, and technically belonged to their parents, and boasted the patterned prints of a thousand early-’90s living rooms. Bieber’s couch is white. It looks ... hard-looking. Which tells me he’s never actually used this couch, or possibly that it’s cold and plastic and impossible to feel comfortable around, hopefully not like Justin himself.

He fishes for bass in his lake (which is situated next to two blue plastic alligators).

This is a reality show we deserve and one I close my eyes and pray we’ll get.

Also: Our precious boy got said alligators online, and he did not refer to either by name. I assume he’s chosen not to get attached, as part of a plan to give them away to the next deserving visitor. (Me.)

He goes out rowing in a tiny boat every morning.

Because he doesn’t want us to look at him? Because he wants to be alone with the fish? Because he’s Ryan Gosling in The Notebook? Is it over? Was it ever over?

Now, instead of swans, picture plastic alligators.

A rope got caught in Justin’s favorite boat, and now he’s waiting for someone to fix it.

Whose fuckup is this? Can someone get on this?

On the bright side: Dude has an enormous waterslide.

And that is not a euphemism. Justin Bieber grew up to live our childhood dreams of attaching a large inflatable waterslide that extends from his house to his pool, all because his baby sister asked him to. And this tells us two things: (1) that he is generous, and (2) that now I have even more reasons to be up at night, worrying about my sweet, sweet treasure.

Justin owns an alarming number of cage-looking, gas tank–esque containers.

They line his yard, and they are painted white, and they are most certainly the millionaire equivalent of when you’re in your early 20s and think, Absolutely, all these candles look fantastic on my headboard, do you see how grown up I am? Can you tell?

His house is basically the White House, but for real.

Justin Bieber’s house is alarmingly white. It is Ross in that episode of Friends where he bleaches his teeth. It is every pair of pants you want to wear after Labor Day, but can’t. It is every pair of pants you want to wear in general, but will ruin in minutes. It signals purity. It is a blank slate. It is a cloud. Which makes sense if you want to think about Bieber’s home as a reprieve from his everyday madness. This house is Heaven, a break, a place where he is merely a person who is alive without responsibility, minus his mortgage payment.

Or he has primed it and is about to paint it purple. Either/or.

Justin’s beautiful, tiny dog is named Todd.

Because he bonds with animals better than people. Because Todd’s face tells me that he accepts and gives unconditional love. Because Todd has never asked him for a selfie. Because Todd doesn’t complain about the weird plastic couch. Because Todd would never judge him for buying two oversize alligators, and Todd would rather watch Justin use the waterslide than ask to use it himself. Because Todd doesn’t ask to play basketball, he just roots for his best friend. Because Todd didn’t say, “Oh, are you really going to wear paint-splattered jeans?”

Mark my words: That tender acoustic album that Justin Bieber is going to make one of these days? It’s going to be titled Todd.