Sweetheart, I think you have something... just... right there.... on your ear. Yeah, just there... no.. your right ear. Yeah. It kinda looks like a lizard, actually. It kinda looks like a beaded lizard. It kinda looks like a beaded lizard humping your ear, to be honest with you. Like it wants to have babies with it. Serious-style. Like little beaded lizard-ear babies. Yeah. Maybe you should get that checked out at the vet or something. It looks like it tickles.
I think this is for fundamentalist Christians who attend those horrible "Ex-Gay" ministries. You hang it over your bunk at night and it traps all the dreams about Zac Efron, while letting the Megan Fox dreams through. (Or vice versa.) Then in the morning you awake refreshed, feeling oh so pretty, witty, and completely heterosexual. You shake the dreamcatcher out over the sink, a beautiful transgendered technicolor unicorn leaps out of it and prances away into the sky, and your gay-be-gone dreamcatcher is ready to be used again the following night!
Wow guys. Just wow. I had no idea just how many bizarre chrocheted manifestations of Sponge Bob existed in the crafting underworld of the magical internet tubez. Evidently, there are at least two. And this is one of them. And it scares the holy fuck out of me.
For double points, imagine the white stripe as Sponge Bob's crack-induced grin. It'll make you chuckle.
So on Friday, kind readers, we discussed what happens when a crapft is simply mislabeled. Well, not simply mislabeled. Utterly and completely mislabeled. Today, though, we're going to take a look at crapfts that are indeed labeled correctly. Correctly and un-ironically. This, for example, is named "one-of-a-kind plush toy", which is, to be fair, totally apt if not a touch understated. As is the accompanying footnote: "(Disclaimer: the stitch work is not great.)" In this kind of a situation I really appreciate this crafter's honesty, as my first reaction upon seeing this object was "what a delightfully normal and well-sewn object I have here in front of me on my computer screen. I am seriously going to contemplate buying this perfectly ordinary and painstakingly crafted plush toy. If only I could own something with such a high level of craftsmanship." And then I would have wasted 24 dollars.
This is just a THANK YOU to everyone who has subscribed to be a follower of HomemadeHilarity since December. I remember, just a few months ago, when I hit 16 followers, and opened a bottle of champagne. Now, we're looking at 200 followers, and I couldn't be happier. So I raise a proverbial glass of bubbly to you, dear reader, and thank you for making this small corner of the internet very, very happy. JK and I aim to please, and with our 200th follower looming, I feel we may have hit our stride. We strive to continue to grow and get funnier, and many big works are in talks at the moment. But, at the end of the day, we are successful because of you, and we certaintly won't ever forget that. So thank you!
Sometimes the issue with crapfts isn't the effort put into them. Sometimes the issue isn't the crapftsmanship involved. Sometimes the issue isn't with the usefulness of said crapft. Sometimes the issueis that they're simply mislabeled.
This, for example, is labled as "The Cutest Pencil Case".
btw... homemadehilarity onfacebook hasn't been showing up properly on this page recently... click here to join! It's free! It's fun! It's awesome! It's interactive! It'll make you sexy and irresistable to the opposite sex! It's almost as good as the wolf and moon t-shirt! Seriously! It'll get you laid! I almost swear to god!SRSLY!!111
As modern women struggle to deal with all the challenges placed before us, it's comforting to know that cutting edge science is being mined every day for new technology that will make our lives easier. Even as we speak Bra Strap Scientists here at the prestigious Merkin Labs (a wholly owned subsidiary of the research arm of the Dove Foundation) are developing bold new strategies for showing off your bra straps.
There's the Screen Door.
There's the Sag Harbor .
An exciting breakthrough by one of our most precocious grad students, here on a Playtex Fellowship, lead to this innovation, which we like to call the Durffenhurffer Gap of Inexplicable Purpose.
And of course you recognize the original bra strap display technology, the innovator of them all, Mauled By Angry Fashion Tigers . I hope you've enjoyed your tour of Merkin Labs, please make sure to enjoy a complimentary cupcake on your way to the elevator.
If we had to come to a decisive consensus, as a people, on what the most evil shoe is, I think we all know what it would be. High heel crocs, no brainer. Just as we react with innate fear and revulsion to darkness and snakes, a cultural genetic memory leads us inescapably towards the conclusion that high heel crocs are a shameful nadir in human civilization.
But what is the most evil hat? I would argue that it is the knitted cloche cap, and my proof is in the handmade pudding called etsy. KNITTED CLOCHES MAKE PEOPLE HATE THEIR LIVES. If you don't believe me just check out all these poor souls:
"I wonder what my high school boyfriend is doing now. Sigh, he's probably dead."
"Did I remember to turn the gas off before I left the house? Sigh, if my house blows up then at least I won't have to live in this town anymore."
"I wish I knew where my dog is. Sigh, he usually comes back home before bedtime and it's so lonely in the apartment without him."
"I just killed my neighbor's dog. Yeah, you heard me. I'm not sorry I did it, merely that I could not join him in escaping this meaningless flesh-parade we call life. "
"Where am I? Why do I feel so depressed? Did... did..."
"Did someone just put a knitted cloche on my head? What is on my head? Oh jesus, get it off me, get it off me."
I mean, is it even possible to find someone on Etsy wearing a knitted cloche and not looking utterly, shockingly miserable?
"My grandson calls all his computer-friends this word, he calls them nubs. I just want to be nubs with my grandson, he's such a good boy and we hardly ever see each other! I think we are going to get ice cream cones and then go out powning later in the afternoon. I've been led to believe it's some new form of skateboarding! I'm going to wear my nub necklace when we go pown-boarding, he's going to be so proud to be seen in public with his Nana!"
I just absolutely adore the thought process that must have led up to this. Like, the crafter must have thought to themself "man oh man, I looooove toast so much that I want to declair my adoration of this commonest of breakfast foods in a way that the whole world can appreciate and understand. But I want it to be obvious... how, oh how, to make it obvious. Without going literal. I don't want it to be literal. Literal isn't obvious. " and then they went on to create this. And how I love this. Win.
Oh good god. Very rarely in the course of this blog, and indeed life, do I come accross a crapft so extraordinary, so awe-inspiring, so truly exceptional that it renders itself reminicent of a full English breakfast wearing a suit. Or a badly crocheted Spongebob. With fangs. Yet here we have it, in all it's noodely-appendaged glory. And I hardly know what to do with it.
Thanks to Patricia Gasparino for the tip! And believe me, look out for more items from this seller coming soon.
Before we begin this week's Super Amazingly Special Awesome Saturday (and by "this week's" I mean "randomly placed" and by "Saturday" I mean "Sunday, Monday, or even possibly Tuesday"), I just want to give a big Thank You to my cohort, JK, for really stepping up recently and diligently posting some very hilarious things. The last month or so my job saving disabled orphaned kittens from the war-torn ravages of lower Kent (and the Greater London area) has really been spreading me thin, and I haven't had much time left over for anything even mildly amusing. So laughing at fat children all afternoon has been out as well.
I know. I sacrifice so much.
Anyway, this week I'm featuring an artist named Scott Wade, a painter who's medium is car windows. Well, dirty car windows. Well, just dirt, really. He paints in dirt, everyone. And he's fantastic at it.
Living down a mile and a half of dirt road, the "dirt" comprised mostly of limestone dust, gravel, and clay, Scott has a permanent (or impermanent, rather) canvas waiting for him at the end of every shopping trip and beer-run. Monet would be impressed.
Using paint brushes, erasers, popsicle sticks, fingers, and, I have no doubt, any other pointy-ended and dust-removing random objects, Scott painstakingly recreates many famous artworks, as well as his own designs, into the back windows of, well, extremely dirty vehicles.
Scott has even managed to perfect the ultimate dirty window, using oil, bags of earth and a hairdryer. I would cry cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater if his works weren't so amazing and unusual. And if he weren't bigger than me.
The sheer impermanence and intricacy of his artwork really makes a distinct, if not intended, comment about the nature of art, and the worthiness of art for art's sake, not just for any extended acclaim granted to an artist by a permanent audience, which is, naturally, what most artists would only strive to achieve.
And look! It's dogs! Playing poker! Lol1!
And there it is, everybody. Scott Wade. One helluva dirty car painter. Although, to his credit to be sure, I have noticed this pioneering art form already extending into and being interpreted by the local pop-art culture if the back-ends of inter-state trucking is any indication. Although it still seems to be in its infantile stages.
Ooohhh! Lastly! Before I forget: I finally went ahead and bought homemadehilarity.com! So no more faffing about with this dot-blogspot anymore! Tada! I'm awesome.
Scott sent me a wonderful note!
"Hey JuliaD, very cool. Thanks for your interest in my dirty pictures! All the best -S"
In honor of my favorite viral video of the last couple of months, Buffy vs. Edward Cullen, I am determined to make a small, JK-shaped dent in the never-ceasing ever-flowing cornucopia that is terrible DIY Meyerphile crafts.
Until that comes together, I just have this one picture for you, a cutoutandkeep project which purports to be a "Twilight Tote Bag". Do not believe its purportations!
Now, it's been a while since the last time I had a big slice of mom's old-fashioned twilight pie, but I'm pretty sure that's called an apple. Wait, let me open up my Twilight-brand Macbook and google it. Yep, definitely an apple.
Just because some hand model was contracted for a hamfisted visual allusion to original sin on your book cover does not mean you get dibs on the concept of "apples", Twi-peeps.
(If you feel like patenting the concept of whiny hundred-year-old corpses who like to watch high school girls as they sleep, I'm all for that. It might save us the inevitable SyFy Network knockoff of the movie "Twilight" coming any day now, called "Dusk" and starring Mario Lopez in white pancake makeup and a cape and romancing the beautiful Beela Schwan.
What a menagerie! Are you supposed to use this as a mirror frame?
"Let's see, we've got a dignified turtle up there on the top, a strong horsie in the corner, right below that a graceful zebra, and oh yeah, a foolish ass right in the center."
Or maybe it's a picture frame. You can put a beauty shot of your favorite evolutionary biologist in the center.
"Oh Richard Dawkins, I know that you and I are no more than soulless beasts, risen to our haunches and punchdrunk with the illusion of free will perpetrated by the persistent sun-worshipping superstitions of our animal past, no more than the zoo animals running the zoo, but I think you are super dreamy."
Oh no, why does George Washington have that horrible rash?
If this is where you keep your cash then you'd probably be better off, aesthetically speaking, just keeping them in a crumpled pile at the bottom of a damp plastic bag. This looks like the wallet of someone who asks if you'll take a personal check, and when you say no offers to pay you in weed and unlimited duct tape sandals.
It's a sad truth that whatever the project, there will be people who can do it well, and people who delude themselves into thinking they can do it well and then totally bone it up beyond all levels of boned-ness previously imagined. This is true of the most complex feats of engineering, art, and athletisism--obviously. Obviously these soaring human accomplishments will not be equally attainable to all.
But it is also true of the simplest of crafts, the simplest of forms... and that is what breaks my heart, people. Take, if you will, the Snake Pillow. Otherwise known as the Tube of Fail. Otherwise known as the Stuffed Lowest Common Denominator. Even this craft will have both its artist Michaelangelos and its, well, mutant-turtle Michaelangelos.
Here is a well-made Snake Pillow. It's fun! It's brightly colored and festively textured! It probably took longer to create than that kid! Speaking of the kid, I bet she freaking loves flopping around on that thing!
And here is a poorly made Snake Pillow. Or is it a Pepperoni Pillow with eyes? Maybe a Garden Hose Cozy? This is the craft equivalent of tripping over a bucket of paint and calling yourself Jackson Pollack. YOU ROLLED IT INTO A TUBE AND STUCK EYES ON IT, YOU LUMP! FOR SHAME! You are going to embarass the entire suborder of Serpentes into evolving legs just so they can deny involvement in the whole thing.
Thesis: The state of argumentative discourse and spirited debate on the internet has become tragically retarded.
I mean "retarded" in the sense of unnaturally slowed, of course, not in the sense of teaching developmentally disabled kids to build Aryan-Indian Buddhist wigwams out of clay. (Check out our facebook page if that made no sense to you!)
The problem is, there are only ever three stages of disagreeing with someone on the internet anymore.
Stage 1: You say something sarcastic about their original argument, the nuance gets lost because it's in print, and they think you are either agreeing with them, acting like a passive-aggressive knob, or maybe a little of both. Foiled!
Stage 2: You call them a douchebag. Or a douchenozzle. Or a douchebox, or a douchehound, or a douchepit, or a douchedouche. Except that insult is so overplayed you may as well be blowing them innocuous, candy-scented kisses. The word "douchebag" floats through the air like a silent breeze and they pass right through it, refreshingly misted. Foiled!
Well, I'm here with a solution to Stage 2, because "pighat" is going to be the next "douchebag".
It's PG-13, and yet completely, utterly humiliating. It connotes levels of fail and shame that "douchebag" could only ever hint at. I guarantee it will be big. And if it isn't, well, at least we still have Stage 3.
(PS pighat image ganked from the homemade hilarity facebook page because I AM SO LAZIEST OF ALL LAZIES and I steal Julia's collection of crapfts)
Let's take off our sociological analysis hats, shall we, and not really delve too deeply into why the trend for draping yourself in plasticene junk food has exploded in the midst of slavering media coverage of the so-called obesity epidemic. As far as we here at the HoHil are concerned, people (girls) just love building tiny cupcakes and cookies out of silly putty and stuffing them into their ears, hairdo's, charm bracelets, trapper keepers, and purses. No deeper socio-epidemiological reasons!
And yet... When the only crevice you will not try to shove a cake into is your mouth (which is, after all, the officially designated "cakehole"), does that qualify as an eating disorder? Maybe it's an eating disorder in the same way that Ted Striker had a "drinking problem" in the movie Airplane!--he just couldn't seem to get the drinks into his drinkhole.
Anyway, long story short, putting my own feminist analysis aside, since brevity is the soul of wit... I'll just say: these fake-cookie necklaces look like straight up finger-molded baby-doods.
So I should just give up already and name this weekly bit Wonderful-Weekends or Super-Late-Saturdays or You'll-Be-Lucky-If-You-Get-It-By-Monday-Although-It's-Supposed-To-Be-Out-On-Saturdays-Sundays.
I especially like that last one. It has a nice ring to it.
Anyway, this weeks' Awesome-Art-That-You're-Lucky-If-You-Get-At-All-Saturdays (Sundays) is devoted to an artist that I came across when I google-searched "amazing art" for shits and giggles. I kid you not. She came up 1st on google for amazing art, so I'm going to take a hint from my internet overlords and roll with it.
London Calling, The Clash
Her name is Erika Iris Simmons, or iri5 for those of you in the know. And, clearly, she and cassette tapes make beautiful music together (see what I did right there? See it? I'm hilarious.)
This cluster of works is entitled Ghosts In The Machine, a reference, evidently, to past philosophical arguments pertaining to Ryle's theories of the relationship between a person's body housing their soul. "I imagine we are all like cassettes," she writes, "thoughts wrapped up in awkward packaging." Which I can almost identify with: the awkward packaging? Check. Thoughts? Not so much.
Jim Morrison, The Doors
She has also been quoted as saying that she got the idea for these portraits while waitressing at The Hard Rock Cafe, while simultaneously owning both cassette tapes and glue. Which is pretty handy, really, when you make portraits of famous musicians using only cassette tapes and glue.
Obviously, though, she's managed to take this new art form to a highly sophisticated level resulting in some pretty amazing and thought-provoking images.
And she lives in Georgia.
(What can I say - there isn't exactly a wealth of information available on homegirl.)