Uh oh, Scooby, it's Professor Pickle!

We're on the case! Pam the Ulcer-colored Puff has been kidnapped. She's chained up in someone's backyard and it's up to us to find out who did it.


Look at the sadness in her wee little felt eyes. That sick bastard sent this photo to us with a demand for 14.95 in ransom money. That seems a little steep, I'm not sure Pam is worth that sort of scratch, so why don't we just ask around and see if anyone knows what's up.




Dishrag Danny says "Pam the Ulcer-colored Puff? That dang dumb broad is always gettin into trouble. Frig her an her crappin problems!" Dishrag Danny has a filthy mouth that probably harbors many unsavory bacteria, but he does tell us that Professor Pickle has been acting suspiciously. We go to Professor Pickle's Saggy Lair and confront him.


"Yes, I kidnapped her! I did it, alright?" Professor Pickle shouts haughtily as his pea soup suit sags majestically in the corner. "I needed the cash to buy myself a working nose. Have you seen this thing I'm rocking? I don't even know how my glasses stay on, it's an embarassment. All the other Professors look down their noses at me, and how can I respond? My life is a carnival of shame."

Case closed!

Hangover Cures of the Gods

WWJOFT? (What Would Jesus Order For Take-Out?)



cutoutandkeep.net/projects/lolita-maternity-ish-top

Oh, and this one is still in the planning stage but I will be keeping an eye out for the finished product. Lolita maternity wear! What could possibly go wrong? (Besides 16 getting you 20, of course.) This modern world.... Lolitas having Lolitas... I tell you!



Leave suggestions for what Jesus would order for take-out in the comments! Lord fried rice? Twice risen pizza?

eggs on you egg you on

Clearly a devious attempt by the powerful Egg Lobby to give you dreams where you nuzzle your face into a pile of fried eggs. That or this is Big Egg's new mascot, Eggy the Vaguely Silky Creature of Leisure.



At least he's better than their first choice, Goldy the Vaguely Lamé Creature of Leisure... hmm, I think I need some assistance telling what creature this is. If only there was some helpful information in pillow form...



Hey, thanks BIRD PILLOW! I remember you! I knew you existed for a reason.

octomessy

So, let's say you're an octopus. Subjunctively speaking, as an octopus, would you be upset to discover that people are making dolls of you that are 20% big blue balls and 80% collagen lips?



And how would your opinion of the blue octopus ball be affected if I told you the only other option for your doll was something made out of The Joker's soiled handkerchiefs that looked like a hookah-style communal pantyliner?



Has your opinion of the first doll changed? Interesting. Thank you for participating in our octofocus group, we really appreciate your input.

burp

As we all know, nothing is more appropriate than using a craft to store said craft's supplies. Martha Stewart supports using old sweaters to store your knitting supplies.



Sewing your own pincushion is fun and easy. And I for one have always been in favor of printing cookbooks on paper made from flattened beef jerky and overstock fruit tape. That way you can nibble on the pages while you cook, as I have made clear in my many, many letters to Rachel Ray. For some reason she has yet to write back, but rest assured that I have sent my idea in to the patent office just in case she gets any ideas about her next cookbook being called "All About Jerky, All Upon Jerky, It's Jerky Time with Rachel Ray" without properly compensating me. But when it comes to the soda tab seamstress, the pop can provocateur, the seltzer sartorialist, where do these fashionable souls store their extra soda tabs? In the soda tab pouch, of course.



It's colorful, it's useful, and as a bonus it will give you a wee preview of the overwhelming public scorn you will face once you start wearing that soda tab chainmail bodice you've been working on!

potato oh no

Here at Ho Hil Headquarters, we are certainly no strangers to potatoes. Julia and I are both proud descendants of the Potato Isle ("au gratin go brah"). I myself have been known to use mashed potatoes as a creamy dip for my french fries, and she is, well, she's about as ginger as you can get without being kidnapped by rogue sushi chefs and served as a garnish. Which is why it pains me to announce that as of now, I will be giving up my starchy past and going cold turkey (and cold cranberry sauce, and cold nothing else). Because the potatoes are sick and tired of us eating them, and they are opening their thousand eyes, and they are moving their slow thighs, and they are slouching towards the produce aisle (not to be confused with the Potato Isle) to start eating us back.

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.

I've heard of Fractured Fairy Tales...

but this is ridiculous! *rimshot*

This is what happens when you shop your contracts for heart-warming fairy tale happy endings out to the lowest bidder. Shoddy workmanship.

The happiest night of your life and all your conversations go the same way: "Prince Charming! Why hello, I don't think OH MY FEET OH HOLY MOTHER OF FEET we've been properly introduced, my name is Cinderella, and of course I'm a big fan JUST CUT THEM OFF AND END THIS TWISTED CARNIVAL OF SHARPNESS of your work with the kingdom and all. Shall we dance languidly beneath that shaft of moonlight I AM IN A UNIVERSE OF PAIN?"

JK gots to get paid, son

I bet you thought I'd have a witty comment right here, huh? Nope, tricked you, don't you feel like a boob now. I actually want to shill for myself for just a second.

I am a huuuge MST3K and Rifftrax.com fan, and while I might be able to diet away the huuuge part, I can't deny my moist and tender feelings for sarcastic commentary over bad movies.

Well, Rifftrax.com has a section for fan-created iRiffs, and this is mine, over an old educational film about menstruation from the 70's:
http://www.rifftrax.com/iriffs/hi-im-jk-and-is-my-iriff-lindas-film-menstruation

If you enjoy my sarcastic commentary in text, try it in voice form won't you? You can pay 99 cents to download the 17 minute video (I get 50 cents of that, score!), or maybe you could just watch the free sample, then register an account and vote it "5 stars a subtle masterpiece of cinema", since it is.

Thanks! Hearts to y'all!
JK

loledward

Hey, speaking of things which like to watch you with silent, murderous contempt...




Edward Cullen shower curtain! I mean, he only watched Bella while she slept. He's going to watch you while you pee.* (That means he likes you more.)




*(Unless he is busy looking at his hair in your bathroom mirror.)

Looks like cats are back on the menu, boys

Do you long for the uncomfortable sensation that is a cat silently watching you, planning exactly how many minutes after you die to wait before starting to eat your face? Sure, we all do. But how about if you could have all that, without having to change a litter box? Well now you can, thanks to handmade ceramic Katz (tm)! Guaranteed to exude a constant aura of silent murderous contempt at all times or your money back!

Prima Loofahrina

Have we really dredged the bottom of the barrel in terms of things to make into dolls? I mean, okay, corn husks are a classic. Fine, tube socks are soft and they do make a quality monkey. Alright, even the occasional nylon stocking filled with sand will be allowed through. But wooden spoons and loofahs? I am drawing a line in the stocking-covered sand. No more, I say! I'm instituting a doll version of Obama's Put America to Work Plan, where spoon dolls are conscripted to stir soup, nylon and sock dolls have feet stuck up in their business, and rag dolls get attached to the nearest Swiffer, Master-Blaster style, and wiped across our national doorway lintels.

I mean, a spoon and a loofah? Can you come up with a worse material for a doll? Can you?



Oh, girlfriend no. You look like you have some major artistic ability going on there, so stop making dolls out of paper cups you dug out of the cafeteria's recycle bin and get thee to an art school posthaste.

I heard they put mayo on their burgers too

This terrifying feline apparatus comes to us from Denmark, I believe. Hmm. Let me just open up my "Places Never to Visit" notebook and jot something down here real quick...

Frogspotting

Hey Julia I found one of those rock frogs you were talking about. In it's natural habitat.



This picture was titled "frog in pong", which I guess is like a pond only instead of being made of water it's made of an old AOL free trial CD flipped upside down and covered in pebbles. All things being equal, I think I might prefer the 600 minutes of hissing CHHHHHHHZZZZZTT EEEOOOOEEEEOOOOO dial-up to having to look at that thing for even one minute.

Hopefully this is from the same person who posted the step-by-step tutorial on rock frogs. I would hate to think they got someone else hooked on this lifestyle. (Rock frogs are a known gateway crapft.)

I watch too much Intervention

"I don't know what the problem is, I put the chemical formula you gave me in the spoon and I cooked it up, but no meth came out... Amphetamines are so complicated! I'm going back to huffing."

(Actually that is the molecular formula for sugar, a spoonful of it, which is a pretty cute and geeky idea--too bad it makes you look like a crackhead from a distance.)

the 33rd voyage of sinbad

Sinbad has a lot on his plate right now. He's battling a skeleton, he's lost in some sort of low-shrubbed skankforest, and he seems to have contracted a really nasty case of dysentary judging by how he's swimming in those pants. Bitch looks skinny as hell.

So I'm not going to give him more to worry about by making fun of the production values on this sculptural piece. Sure, his skeletal nemesis looks like it's made out of melting fluffernutter, but if you've ever seen the old Harryhausen stop-motion Sinbad and Argonauts movies, they don't look much less melty.

Don't look at me

Hey, I'm not the one who quit my job so I could sell cards like this on Etsy full time, lady. Projection ain't just a class in film school no more, you dig?

A shy creature, ill suited for domestication

Most species of hermit vaginas have long soft abdomens which are protected from predators by the adaptation of carrying around a salvaged empty seashell into which the whole vagina can retract. Most frequently hermit vaginas utilize the shells of sea snails, marine gastropod mollusks. The tip of the hermit vagina's abdomen is adapted to clasp strongly onto the columella of the shell. As the hermit vagina grows in size, it has to find a larger shell and abandon the previous one.

There are about five hundred known species of hermit vagina in the world, most of which are aquatic and live in saltwater at depths ranging from shallow coral reefs and shorelines to deep sea bottoms. However in the tropics, a number of species are terrestrial, and some of these can grow to quite a large size, for example, Kirstie Alley's.



Do you know all the various group terms for animals? A murder of crows, a school of fish, a pride of lions? The group term for hermit vaginas is actually "a lilith fair of vaginas". This lilith fair has actually left the safety of their shells to transition to large ones, an elusive subject for photos to be sure!

It's a Major Award! I won it!

Fra...fra-GI-le? It must be Italian.

Gay-Be-Gone Dreamcatcher (tm)

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!