And now we have the portion of Top Design that I like to think of as a variation on the British Parliament's Questions for the Prime Minister, only instead of Tony Blair fielding questions on Iraq and banking policies from irate Tories, it's hapless designers being quizzed on color selection by Kelly Wearstler. Tomato, tomahto. We start things off with Carisa; Jonathan would like to know what architecture she really created. She replies that she turned the freestanding columns at the center of the loft into a longer wall; that in turn became a closet space area on one side and the famed Wall of Corkboard on the other. Oh, and she MacGyvered up a really nice base for her ping-pong table, though Trudie points out you really don't see the base; Carisa counters that you do if you're standing far away and if someone points it out to you. Jonathan enthuses about the bedroom, calling it the centerpiece of the loft: "And I can imagine getting into some really freaky scenes in that pit." Thanks, Jonathan -- I'm 12 minutes from sweet, glorious freedom, and because of that one little sentence, I'm going to have to spend the next week soaking my brain in various disinfectants. Well done, dummy. "Actually, it's a cool idea for a bed," Margaret adds, after shaking off her horror. Funny, but that's not what you were saying six episodes ago. Not that I'm looking for consistency or a series of carefully assembled premises to a logical conclusion. Hell, I'm just happy when you don't declare a room looks great because it reminds you tacos and tacos taste great. Sting's better half declares the kitchen to be "an area that I wanted to be in" -- perhaps one of the eight Sting residences is a house comprised entirely of kitchens. Jonathan asks how Carisa picked out her appliances; "just grunted and pointed at the catalog" is my guess, and Carisa's answer about bottom-drawer freezers and stainless steel is no better, so I'm going to assume I'm on to something. Margaret asks if there was anything Carisa ran out of time on; apparently, there were 75 books that she was going to place on a shelf somewhere that she never got around to. And now I am dying to know what books made their way into the Carisa Perez-Fuentes personal library. Who Moved My Cheese? A metric ton of Harlequin Romance novels? Every collection of old Garfield cartoons ever published? This is simply a missed opportunity. As to what she would have done differently, Carisa says not a darn thing; Jonathan responds to this non-answer better than when Michael ducked an Adler-posed question.