We Have a Winner!!

Yes, I know everyone on here is a big loser, but "The Biggest Loser" was already taken. Go figure.  So we have a winner! The biggest winner!

And somebody actually guessed correctly what the fuck this glowing Jesus baby is all about: Msunflower! Because it's a glow-in-the-dark Baby Jesus Soap-on-a-rope.  Why you need your baby jesuses glowing, soapy and ropey is beyond me, but Msunflower guessed correctly.  So (s)he wins my undying love (I know, I'm easy).  So, uh, (s)he wins!  How the hell (s)he knew what it was, I have no idea. Maybe (s)he has one.  I suppose there's nothing like rubbing your nalgas down first thing in the morning wuth a glowing sudsy baby Jesus. Anyway, congrats!

BTW - if you're not following me on facebook yet, click the link in the right-hand-side bar, and it'll be taken care of.  Same for twatter.

PS: Fanboy Wife gets the runner-up for also guessing correctly, but guessing late. Sucks to be you.
PPS: My favourite answer was given by Haley.  So you also win.  Kinda.  You're a winner to me.

Got To Give Props Where Props Are Due.

Way to be creepy as fuck, crocheted umbilical newborn baby doll creature with removeable placenta. I'm truly terrified. Good for you.

Someone call social services

Nature or nurture? Is the instinct to wrap yourself in ill-fitting denim sewn haphazardly to whatever you can sweep off the floor at the Ugly Tablecloth Factory up the hill passed down biologically? Or is it taught?

We have only begun to investigate this fascinating area of neurogenetics, but a recent study where one group of babies (control) was asked to point to the fabric pattern they liked best, and another group of babies (experimental) was asked to design a fashion line for Kohl's Department Store (if Avril Lavigne can do it...) points to there being a fashion-focus hardwired into part of the brain. The cerebral couturetex, if you will.

Mrs. Stewart, You've Lost The Plot

Dear God, Martha. Seriously. While this baby-stuffed lobster would be tasty, I'm sure, with some melted garlic butter and horseradish, it's still a lobster stuffed with live baby at the end of the day. Jesus Christ.

The Lolrus Won't Be Happy

It's late. I'm tired. And this is a baby in a bucket.

Go figure.

source

Why's That Tiny, Naked Man Crying?

For those days you need reminding just what the hell it is that you've been breastfeeding:

inauguration fever!

Kudos to Julia for the snazzy new header. It's new, it's better, she really put her heart into it. I think she's got a case of what's been going around: inauguration fever!

Time for a change? Yes it is! Change we can believe in? Yes we did! Hope for change? Can we yes!

Hope I we? Change can did!

Everybody's going around dewy-eyed and guileless like Tuesday morning is Senior Prom and we've been asked by the coolest boy at school. It's certainly inspired a lot of really bad goods.



This right here is especially sad, a real tragedy, because if not for the unfortunate oversight about white-ink-on-white-cloth being hard to read, this could have been a really mediocre bag. Just extremely mediocre, the most mediocre-est of them all. I suppose the artist could have used black ink on that white cloth... IF THEY WEREN'T SO RACIST. I think if Martin Luther King Jr was alive today, he would probably shake his head and say "Can E has come to." Can E has come to, indeed, Reverend King.



Putting aside the fact that Obama looks remarkably like a burnt piece of toast mixed with a chinchilla,

you will not be able to convince me in a million years that this artist didn't make that HOPE out of toilet paper. Toilet paper is certainly ripe with symbolism. It says to me: COMFORT. It says HOME. Above all, it says I TOUCH DOODS ALL THE TIME. But it doesn't really say HOPE. Now if the "HOPE" had been spelled out in soiled home pregnancy tests, we'd be in business.



Speaking of doods.



I went all through the Etsy listing for this onesie, searching for some small hint that the artist was aware of their own poop joke, and I could not find it. I really think it was unintentional. Ironically, Obama's original campaign slogan was actually "Obama '08: A Fresh Diaper for Your Rashy Behind!"


I have a few more, but I think I will save them for later and end with a positive note, because gosh darn it I think I have a touch of that inauguration fever myself. Check out the cuteness that is the First Family Doll Set:



Finally our long national nightmare of chins has come to an end!

Here's Lookin' At You, Kid.

I... I don't think this was meant to be terrifying.

And I don't think it is meant to look like an old, wrinkled, six-fingered, naked Woody Allen, curled up in the fetal position and wearing a diaper whilst suffering from a bad case of pink eye and/or allergies, either. Or an emaciated, raw chicken that's been left out on the counter to marinate in hollandaise sauce alongside the leftovers of last night's baby pot roast in preparation for tonight's preemie-pot-pie. Or a hairless, albino chimpanzee named Snowball which has only recently been discovered locked up under the floorboards of the "fantasy room" at Neverland Ranch.

I'm sorry. That was all pretty inappropriate. This is actually a charming and not-in-the-least disturbing hand-made felt premature baby, currently for sale for $500 on Etsy. Warms the heart, really.