One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Ew fish

You know, just the other day I was telling my pool boy that if only I had a giant, badly-sewn, big-lipped fish pillow to cuddle with on those lonely, cold, 7-martini nights, my life would feel more complete. Or, at least, more completely awesome. Because frankly, this giant, badly-sewn, big-lipped fish pillow is fucking RIdiculous. With an capital R and a capital I for added emphasis, let's be frank.

Unfortunately, the crafter seems inordinately proud of their monstrosity, regardless of the fact that it looks like the missing evolutionary freaking link between the mattress and the dolphin. I dare you, seriously dare you to read what they've written about their most excellent handiwork without smacking your forehead in disbelief:

"All of the pieces were cut from old clothes and then sewn on to a pillow case. I sewed everything--EVERYTHING-- by hand. It took a heck of a lot of patience on my part, so be careful..."

Yes, my gentle readers, "be careful". About what, pray-tell, I have no idea. Just, you know, watch out. In general. It's over-all lovelyness is so extraordinary you could very well be blinded by its beauty. Truly, you could find yourself contemplating suicide just by glimpsing the sheer magnitude of its extensive and awe-inspiring hand-sew-ed-ness (how do you like that for a quilifying adjective). In fact, better yet, if you haven't managed to see the picture yet, just do yourself a favour and avert your eyes altogether. You'll thank me later.

Deb Ball

Oh, hellooooo there. Welcome to my house. What's that? Why yes, since you ask I do have to keep my friend Maude here on permanent retainer to carry my billowing chickenwire gown wherever I go. But Maude and I have grown quite close in the two years that she's been carrying my chickenwire gown, and although I do sometimes wish that I could run and ride a bike and frolic on the beach like normal people who aren't wearing chickenwire gowns, my loss of mobility and privacy is a small price to pay for looking like a complete and utter ass-clown. Wouldn't you say, Maude?

The difference between flower and weed

Here is an ancient zen koan for you, passed down by generation after generation of contemplative monastic master to interlocutory student: if it looks like a bong, and it smells like a bong, and it was clearly made by someone under the influence of a bong, is it a bong?

Nope, it's a vase! Suck on that, monks!

I can't let you doily that, Dave.

Well, that's just poorly conceived and unpleasant to look at. Check out the horrible neck! I guarantee you, that'll go deep into the closet and won't come out until decades later, if ever. Also there's a crocheted robot.

Form and Function Should Really Try to Meet Somewhere in the Middle

I dunno, guys. I kinda feel like if you ever find yourself at a point in your crafting career where you think that duct-tape and cardboard are all that's needed to make yourself a fine-looking pair of sandals, you seriously need to put down your favorite huffing glue and back away slowly.

Example A:
From the listing: "My daughter has a wide chubby foot which makes it hard to shop for shoes, these here are easy to slip on & off plus she loves them. Just trace foot onto cardboard, cut out plus foam, then tape up."

That is all.