I Kind Of Want A Giant Umbrella Boat Now.

I've been feeling a bit stressed out at work recently, but you know what's cheered me up no end?  This £99,500 painting of a pair of disembodied, levitating hands reaching out to a very, very pale Michael Jackson riding in a massive umbrella with his children on what I can only assume to be a sea of delusion and perpetual atonement.  And this brightens my day.

Why riding in an umbrella? Why the hell not? Why are his very-much-alive kids with him on this trip down the proverbial River Styx?  Because this piece of artistic genius will not be shackled, yes, SHACKLED, by facts.  Why £99,500?  Because clearly £99,00 wasn't enough but £100,000 was, you know, too much. There are many things that you could say about this artist, but apparently being greedy isn't one of them.

It Pains Me To Think There May Have Been More Than Two Entrants...

Apparently third place was a used Q-tip stapled to a oily sock. With a dead kitten inside.

And just a side-note:  I've officially never seen the term "amateur" used so flatteringly.  I can think of lots of words to describe this tomfuckery, but "amateur" isn't one of them.  I think the word "amateur" still denotes a certain level of aptitude, or a least a person giving half a rat's ass, neither of which are attributes I could honestly level at this artistic genius.

A Guild To Uterus-Flavoured Baked Goods

So I know what you were thinking this afternoon, somewhere after you smoked the dank fatty but before you watched the third episode of "The Big Bang Theory":  you thought "Damn, I could really go for some Uterus Cookies".  I know.  I've been there.  We've all been there.  The problem is, though, that you can't really purchase uterus cookie for human consumption, even in the back aisles at Trader Joe's.  Again, I know.  I've been there.  So what to do?  Why, create your own, of course!  So, in order to aid your filthy, filthy obsession, I came up with a handy pocket guide to refer to when making your very own gynecological baked goods.

Tip 1:  Do not just use an inverted penis cookie cutter.  Or an upper-case "T" cookie cutter.  Or a non-inverted penis cookie cutter turned upside down.  It just isn't the same shape as a uterus.  It just doesn't do the uterus justice.  And for fuck's sake, don't be sloppy with the icing:

Tip 2: You may want to reconsider adding unborn children.  I'm not saying that foetuses are unappetising, but, you know, they're kind of unappetising. Kinda kills the buzz.  Kinda brings you down.  Kinda makes you want to hurl.  That's all I'm saying:

Tip 3:  It's great to be anatomically correct, but there may be a limit, especially if your piping skills are lacking (read: terrible), and especially when you're not sure how many ovaries the average woman possesses (read: two).  If you're unsure, consider the following example of what a uterus, most definitely, does not look like:

So that's about it, folks.  I support your uterus-cookie-wanting ways, and I don't hate, I celebrate.  But please, let's keep it realistic.  The next time your stoned ass wants to eat something placenta-oriented, at least do it justice, and for reference:

You Couldn't KEEP Me Away!

Oh, Exploratorium, you golden-domed golden-gated institution of learning and exploration and golden opportunities for children of all ages, I had no idea you also dabbled in surrealist garbage-stained trash puppets.  How was I to know you have a deep-rooted interest in pond-liner-bodied, garden-twine-waisted, wooden-dumbbell-mouthed, old-argyle-sweater-armed, car-rag-haired childrens' dolls?  Except for the fact that yes, you advertised it:

"Visit the SCRAP table and use fabric, buttons and toys discarded by local businesses to create a Trash Puppet. Come with a character in mind or make one that looks like you! We’ll attach a pencil to the puppet’s arm so you can make your puppet come to life."

You'll attach a pencil?  Well, I don't say.  A whole pencil?  With an eraser and everything? To my very own trash doll?  Will the finery never cease? Count me in, Exploratorium, count me in.

COME ON

Now I'm not going to say that this Jesus light switch has an ill-placed light switch, but I will throw it out there that this Jesus light switch has an ill-placed light switch.

Seriously, this Jesus light switch has an ill-placed light switch.  It brings a whole new meaning to the term "glory hole".

I'm going straight to hell, aren't I.  I doubt I'll pass go, and I'm certainly not collecting $100.

Whoa Everyone, Just Whoa.

Sorry I disappeared for about two years there, everyone.  I suppose I should have left a note, or sent a postcard, or at least called the kids on Christmas or something, but it's kind of a funny story really.  No, no, I'll tell you all about it later.  I can see you're busy with your new favourite website and I wouldn't really want to interfere.  I'm just stopping through to let you know that I'm back around and that I'm really going to make something of myself this time.  No, seriously.  I'm going to get myself cleaned up, maybe design a new header, just get the whole website organized, try to make you and the kids real proud of me again.  Here; just to show my dedication I even brought you a new crapft:

See!  See how much I care! I BROUGHT YOU A CARTOON COUPLE MADE OUT OF BANDAIDS, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!  LOVE ME!!!111

Okay, I'm cool, I'm cool. I just, you know, care.  So I'm gonna go now, but I'll be back.  Go ahead and tell your parents that I haven't died, and I'm going to make it all okay this time.  Tell them that.

One thing before I go, though - can you loan me 50 bucks until Tuesday?  I'm good for it this time, I swear.