Saturday 31 January 2009

How To Look Unbelieveably Awesome In One Easy Step

Do you have someone really special in your life? Someone really special in like a "isn't s/he special" kinda way? Someone really special in like a "takes-the-short-bus-to-market" kinda way? Someone really special in like a "likes-to-eat-the-glue-and-sometimes-the-pink-chalk-as-well" kinda way? Because if you know someone like that, or if that person just happens to be you (you know who you are), well, I've finally found what you've undoubtedly been looking for: good quality, attractive, not-at-all-hilarious helmet covers.

Aww, bless. Isn't he just darling, sitting there all happy at the K-mart photo studio, safely strapped into his massive helmet, not a care in the world. Either that, or what I can only assume is a frog is giving birth to a fully-clothed human baby and someone managed to get it on film. This one's totally going on the mantle.

Is your helmet not noticeable enough? Would you like to look even more, uhm, outstanding? Well, just slap on this hot little red number and watch in amazement as the amount of mockery you already receive triples, almost instantaneously. It's perfect, really, for any hardcore helmeting enthusiast.

Ooh, this helmet cover is almost awesome enough to make me wish I had a helmet with which to put it on. In fact, I think that if you do have a helmet, this should be the mandatory cover for it. In fact, I think that even if you don't have to wear a helmet it should still become mandatory to wear a helmet just because you would then have to put this helmet cover on it. In fact, I think it should just become mandatory to strap a dead coyote to your head when leaving the house in general.

I think we could all learn something from this lady here: why look like you're just wearing a normal helmet when you could be looking like you're wearing a hideously massive and malformed 17th century felt cap?

Thanks to David D for sending me these links!

Note: making fun of those with disabilities is never okay, especially when the disability is severe enough to cause a person to have to wear protective headgear. So I apologize for that. Please don't send me any angry emails; I feel bad enough already as is.

I'm going to hell for this, aren't I.

I Love Google

This week Homemade Hilarity has been voted by Google as:

#4 for : crocheting a new tin foil hat
#19 for : chimps wearing diapers
and #1 (!) for : homemade 4 x 4 shiny boards

Thursday 29 January 2009

Oprah's Vagina Has Its Own Holiday?

What in sam hill is going on around here? How did I miss this? When I started looking through my daily list of blogs this afternoon it quickly became obvious that today appears to be, officially, Oprah's Vah-jay-jay Day nation-wide. It was all I could do to hold back from punching myself for not keeping up on something as important as Oprah's vagina and whether or not it has its own holiday. Gosh, I feel like such an idiot. I mean, of course someone as powerful as Oprah's vagina would be granted special privileges. I can only imagine that after receiving the congressional medal of honor last year and the key to Chicago the year before, the only distinction left for Oprah's vagina, really, was its own holiday. So, everyone, in honor of the heroic efforts and monumental sacrifices made over the years by Oprah's one-and-only, I give you today's gallery of awesome.

The majestic Oprahmobile, which famously runs on the kisses of orphans and the dreams of the illiterate. Naturally, it also comes standard with its own team of halo'ed trumpeting angels which harken upon its arrival, or its departure, or at hot girls walking down the sidewalk:

The last thing the fajita saw before it died:

Aaaaand, my favorite portrait of anyone, ever:

Doesn't she just look special.

If you don't believe me about it being a national holiday, I don't blame you. It does seem almost too good to be true. Don't just take my word for it, though - check out any of these sites and see for yourself.

See what I mean? I couldn't make up something so awesome.

Schitzophrenics Always Give The Crappiest Presents

I believe I have finally found a crapft that officially defies explanation:

I think part of my cerebral cortex just imploded a little bit. Unfortunately, the whole thing is all just a shade too insane for a mere mortal like myself to try and comprehend. Although, admittedly, I'm almost really curious about what this whackadoodle's Christmas cards look like. Just imagine...

"Don't be Afraid of Spiders, it's Christmas"
"Drink Some Coffee"

Ooh, or how about Valentine's Day...

"Don't Stop Skateboarding, it's Valentines Day"
"Eat Some Jello"

The possibilities are endless, really.

Also, if you enjoy my understated brand of subtle humor and dry, finespun wit, you won't want to not go to (and rate me, natch) or (and leave me glowing reviews, obvs).

Wednesday 28 January 2009

So I Guess There's More Than One Way To Skin A Dead Squirrel

I stopped by Rick's Custom Squirrel Taxidermy Services earlier today, as one tends to do when one has a dead squirrel laying around that they're not sure what to do with. Or when one is looking for a dead squirrel with which to do things. Or when one just wants to see how much a dead squirrel is going for these days.

And man, did I ever hit the jackpot.

For example, you can get a stuffed squirrel made to look like he's just nonchalantly climbing up your wood panelling, like this awesome little fella here.

Obviously, he's perfect for any kitchen or bathroom. Hell, get one for your kitchen and one for your bathroom. Really impress your more discerning visitors.

Alternatively, you can buy a dead squirrel stuffed to look like he's climbing down the outside of your house, as squirrels tend to constantly do.

Just imagine; you can glue him straight onto your trailer, right outside your front door, and thoroughly charm all the postmen, Jehova's Witnesses, and bounty hunters that I'd be willing to bet stop by your abode more often than regularly.

For those of us who may want to own a dead squirrel, but don't want the hassel of owning a dead squirrel permanently attached to our wall, This next dead squirrel is for you.

Frozen in a permanent walnut-pondering state, this charming taxidermied rodent could really go anywhere in your home. I suppose. Within reason. Preferably out of the way. In a box in the closet. Or something.

If the aforementioned dead stuffed squirrels are too alive-looking for your tastes, well, dear Rick has kindly taken you lot into consideration as well. Behold, his specifically dead-looking dead stuffed squirrel:

It's just so realistically, wonderfully dead-looking! If your spouse doesn't come home and immediately become overwrought, aghast, alarmed, and perhaps even a touch nauseous, I'm pretty sure you'll get your money back. He's such a little treasure! Personally, I'd hang him above my headboard, just to, you know, set the mood and everything.

But this, my friends... this is a true masterpiece. This is an heirloom. This is undoubtedly the most awesome dead stuffed squirrel ever invented. And I know dead stuffed squirrels.

It almost seems a shame, killing the only known member of the Red Beret's extensively-trained and hugely-important tree-top killing machine only referred to in highly-confidential whispers as The Squirrel Brigade of Impending Doom, but hey, all's fair in love and war, and frankly, I love this.

Tuesday 27 January 2009

Okay, this is actually pretty hilarious


I nearly peed myself watching this. It's Barack Obama doing "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. Check it out!

Quick One


This framed embroidery inspired me to choreograph a twelve-person dance piece incorporating ballet, contemporary jazz-fusion, and spoken word poetry. It's called "Stop Embroidering Things", and it may be my life's work.

Monday 26 January 2009

I've found Jesus!

It has come to my attention recently that Jesus has started making the rounds again, turning up unannounced (and looking slightly bedraggled. Let's be fair.) on an array of surprisingly gourmet foodstuffs. And apparently not just any food; no, not our Jesus. After extensive researching, I've noticed patterns in his preferences, and not surprisingly, he seems to prefer seafood and alcohol. I guess some things never change.

For example, he recently popped up on a half-eaten piece of shrimp (Fancy!):

As well as a delicious, delicious perogi (Extravagant!):

And he doesn't much seem to mind melting himself to an oyster, either (Not Allergic!):

Or helping himself to a nice bottle of hard cider (Classy!):

Or, perhaps most understandably, here he is enjoying a burnt-to-hell fish finger (Expensive!):

And prepare yourself, everyone... I, too, have also recently found Jesus on a food item! Now, you might have to squint a little bit to see him, but I think I found him on a pumpkin seed for sale at Etsy for $6! I know! It's a miracle!

Of course, to be honest, pumpkin-seed Nicole Kidman was also available for $7, so, uhm, there ya go.

Saturday 24 January 2009

Today's Googlisms

Today's top googley love:

I'm #1 on google for: movie trailer "i'm bleeding" trash can

#10 for: no teeth for Alan Rickman

and, naturally, #2 for: jumble puzzle

Holy Crappy Costumes, Ghetto Bat-Dude! (Link Fixed)

Ai-yi-yi. This reminds me of the track pants at Walmart with only two stripes down the sides. Or the sneakers at Payless with the backwards swoosh. Or Ashlee Simpson.

Seriously, no matter how well constructed you make these costumes, the best you could possibly hope for is the ever-popular "Batguy" with his famous sidekick "Much Smaller Batguy", or maybe The Flash's shiny-polyester-loving, professional-Mexican-wrestling 5th cousin "El Phosphorescent Burst-o". That is, if you don't opt to dress your kid like the newest member of the KKK's ill-fated and much-maligned Red Ninja Killing Squad. And poor Captain Lustrous-McFly there on the left: I don't even think he's authorized to make official-sounding super hero noises. I have a feeling he's only allowed to shout "KERPLUNK!!" and "POOF!!" and "SWAT!!" while running around with his bad self on Saturday mornings. At least I usually make the effort and throw on a pair of oversized sunglasses.

Friday 23 January 2009

Welcome to Lonelytown

Sometimes it's not the craft itself, or even it's craftsmanship, that is the most unfortunate thing. Sometimes the most unfortunate thing is imagining the craft being used. Julia's post on sanitary flannel springs to mind. A real L.L.Bean bloodbath, that one. Or this dog here:

I started conjuring an image of the person who would buy this in my head, and then I couldn't stop. He's an older man, divorced or maybe widowed. He loves dogs, but his tenacious lifelong allergies prevent him from owning one. He lives alone in the woods in Maine, subsisting on organic ham sandwiches which are delivered from the closest Whole Foods every week on Tuesday. On Wednesday and Friday his World War II magazines and "Over-50 Mensa Society Word-Jumble Puzzle" come in the mail. He goes out to the porch in the morning, sips his coffee and watches until the mailman arrives and puts the envelopes into his Golden Retriever Mailbox. He waits a minute more. "Go get the mail, boy!" Softly at first. "Go on boy, get the mail! Good boy!" Louder now, the mailman back in his truck and rumbling out of range. "Good boy! Who got the mail? Who got the mail and is a good boy?!" Then he walks slowly across the lawn to the mailbox, takes the envelopes out of his cavernous metal dog, and in their place leaves a single doggie treat.

Oh, BIRD. Right, I knew that. You didn't really need to label it for me, I know a bird when I see one. I should also probably mention that I do not have any eyeballs.

Thursday 22 January 2009

I'll Take Alan Rickman For The Win

So apparently, I'm still getting traffic to this site from people looking for Alan Rickman. I would make fun of these obsessive loons, but hey, the heart wants what the heart wants. Besides, who am I to deny these strange, wandering souls the sexy of the Rickman? Speaking of which:

I'm so glad this artist managed to find such a handsome portrait of Alan Rickman to use as the focal point for this stunning piece of jewellery. Truly, Sir Rickman has never looked better. His enviably pale, sickly pallor and sultry, sunken, come-hither eyeballs really make me shudder with delight. And that sneer! Ooh, that sensual, disgruntled grimace of disdain is enough to make any girl, and even some men, positively slack-jawed with unease. And luckily, according to the jeweller:
"He's been sealed with a few coats of glossy varnish so that all his sexiness STAYS sexy!!!"

And this, my friends, is what Alan Rickman would look like if he were a fish with the face of Alan Rickman. Because why the hell not.

Wednesday 21 January 2009

It Tastes So Ugly

Sorry about the lack of posts yesterday, everyone. I have to be honest with you; I was far too busy being excited about the future of world (as well as drinking copious amounts of cheap champaign in honor of Amurrican freedom) to even begin to think about my small, inconsequential corner of it.
Today, though, is a new day, and in the name of all that is democratic and hilarious, even Obama paraphanalia is fair game for ridicule. Especially when it is this preposterously ugly and amusing.

This cake, for example, is wonkyness personified. It is entitled "The Taste of Hope", which I find not only amusing but also subtly ironic, as I personally really hope for its taste.
Just look at its ears, man, just look at its ears.

The guy on the left is obviously Obama. I'm okay with that. The guy on the right, though, appears to be deep within the throws of late-term jaundice. And, by the looks of it, mumps. And, judging by his lips, he's quite possibly been frozen for a very, very long time. The one thing he is not, though, is Joe Biden. Which makes the artists' comment all that more amusing:

"Help! I'm debating on this one....I'm not too sure if these earrings should

1. be just of Joe Biden?

2. would look cooler with 1 Obama on one ear, and Biden on the other?

What do you think? Would you wear earrings with 2 different "designs"?"

Well, while I think it's apt that the artist puts the word 'designs' in quotation marks, I also love the fact that their number 1 concern is that both earrings don't look like some random, deeply frozen, mumps-infested, jaundiced, strange-eyebrowed dude. Which is almost endearing. Almost.

I love this lil guy. I really do. I think that if Obama were running for the presidency in like, the early 80's, and like, had a flat-top, and made large gestures (like, ever), and had a sky-blue cardigan, this would totally be him. Like, without a doubt.
As is, though, it being 2009 and all, it's a touch ridiculous. Although I say that with love. After all, he does look so excited.

Monday 19 January 2009

What Shall We Name Him?

So I want to give a big "what what", and above-the-head-mid-air hand slap to mizz jk for that extraordinary post yesterday. I would encourage her to post more often, but frankly, she makes me look bad. That being said, her update yesterday was so freaking hilarious let's hope she never does it again. Seriously, Joz, cut it out.

It's almost a shame at this point to post this next picture I've had for a little while, as I'm not positive it matches the unparalled fugly that was captured so eloquently yesterday in JK's post. But, well, if I don't post it now, I'm not sure if I ever will. So let's all marvel, shall we, at today's Obamatrocity:

It is not without artistic merit. I'll give it that much. There's just something about his rather Blagojevichian hairstyle and close-together, George-Bushian eyeballs, mixed with the John-Kerryistic jaw-line and Perotastic ears, not to mention the ever-recognizable Palin pout, that gives the impression that this picture could be of almost any politician, and yet every politician, all at the same time.

Please, though, don't just take my word for it; in order to thoroughly prove my point, and not get called an exaggerating filthy liar, I have spent the last hour piecing together this handsome, handsome man, from said political figures:

He looks like a true leader, he does. I must admit, I found I also had to add Lincoln's nose and some Nader eyebrows, but I think they give him a stately air. A real sophisticated, presidential, understated je ne sais quoi. It's a face that just screams "Politiks! I can haz it!". It's the face of a man that looks capable of anything, as long as "anything" doesn't include being Barack Obama. It's a face that launched a thousand war ships, proverbially speaking. And, most of all, it's the face on that random kid's t-shirt.

Still not convinced? Still having your doubts? Still not sure you care? Behold, my highly scientific comparison graphic:

I think I have made my point. What that point is, I have forgotten. But I'm pretty confident I've made some point, and made it thoroughly.

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!

Sunday 18 January 2009

I'm Not Totally Sure If This Is Kosher

So I recently came across this bacon scarf (yes, that's right. A bacon scarf.) on craftster, and I had to think long and hard before deciding to post it. See, here's my problem with it: I made a point when I started this website to never post anything that's been purposefully made ironically, and lets sincerely hope that this has been.

After mulling over it for a few days, though, I decided to share it with you all because it reminded me of this one guy I used to see around campus sometimes at college. It wasn't that he looked like a bacon scarf, because he didn't especially. Instead, this guy had decided to grow a massively exaggerated and extraordinarily noticeable mullet, all in the name of some post-post-ironic fashion statement. He, and all of his football-playing buddies, thought it was totally hilarious and clever and I'm sure he got laid by lots of ladies who also thought he was terribly cool and hip and funny.

At the end of the day, though, the guy still had a mullet. And, at the end of the day, this scarf still looks like bacon. So, while I may be laughing, it's certainly not with them, which I have decided brings this crapft around full circle and back into the realm of postable images.

I think Alan Rickman would agree.

Ooooh, Shiny.

Everyone like the new look of the site? As I've been getting more traffic recently (Thank you, Alan Rickman*) I decided I might want to clean the place up a bit. You know; febreeze the furniture, push aside all the empty beer bottles, throw away all the dirty dishes, that kind of stuff. After hours of cutting and pasting and editing and cursing, I am proud to show off my ever-so-slightly-improved header! Granted, the end result comes nowhere near justifying the effort involved, but what else is a graphics-inept girl to do? Nothing? Just let my site continue on looking shockingly unkempt and unloved while the other prettier, more popular blogs start to make fun of it behind its back? Before it escalates and they steal its boyfriend because everybody knows that they put out on the first date and they just want to make my website feel as ugly and insecure as they do? Before they somehow manage to horrifically and spectacularly embarrass it in front of the whole school and the blog it has a crush on in the middle of prom? Cause lord knows I wouldn't want that to happen. That sounds horrible, and suspiciously like every movie made in the 80's.

I've also just noticed that only two of the images I've incorporated in the banner have been featured on the site yet. The rest of them are still in my "unused" cache of photos for future posts. So... that's something to look forward to, I guess.

*Evidently Mr. Rickman, or as I like to call him, "Alan", has a massive following, who seem to be devoted to him with such an obsessive religious fervor they end up googling his name all day like it's their job. Either that, or Alan has a lot of free time on his hands and compulsively googlebates with the best of them. Either that, or Alan secretly has a lot of extra money and really does pay people to search for his name online all day, which is actually such a funny idea I think I'll go with that explanation.

Saturday 17 January 2009

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.

Friday 16 January 2009

1000 Tiny Images Of Alan Rickman

I found this next beaut for sale on etsy under "about to expire".

I have to wonder why, considering the artist puts up such a good argument for its awesomeness:

"Discover the secret of a mosaic! The wonder is in the detail.

At a distance, you will see the image of Alan Rickman
Bring it closer, and you see over a 1000 tiny images of Alan Rickman
that come together to create the portrait of Alan Rickman."

And who doesn't love a good collage of Alan Rickman? Made up of thousands of other Alan Rickmans? I, for one, hadn't even realized beforehand how little Alan Rickman I previously had in my life: I can honestly say my life was utterly devoid of Alan Rickman. Too devoid of Alan Rickman. If only I had bought this tasteful mosaic of Alan Rickman in time, my lack of Alan Rickman would have been one less Alan-Rickman-related stressor in my life. Oh, Alan Rickman, maybe it's just not meant to be.

Update: The baby Jesus must be an even bigger fan of Alan Rickman than I am, and decided to ease my sobbing, for the eagle-eyed (and hilarious) G. Henry from goldfish broth has found this Alan Rickman mosaic on eBay! Now I weep for joy. As well as Alan Rickman.

Thursday 15 January 2009

Hello! Julia's invited me on board, and I have to say, I couldn't be happier. It's time the earnest and unassuming people of the world finally got what's coming to them. And that what's is AN APOCALYPSE OF SCORN, yeaaah. Knit yourself a scorn cozy.

Actually the truth is I have actually opened an etsy store of my own recently, and really embraced the handmade lifestyle. It's been an adjustment for sure. Selling crafts on Etsy is the most girly thing I've ever done in my life, and that includes menstruation. So clearly, while I am forced to be mostly earnest in my business dealings, I desperately need an outlet for these toxic levels of snark I am carrying. Hence: invited.

So check this out.

For Sale: beautiful sterling silver hostessing platter, hand-smelted by master artisans in the 17th century
Minor Damage: three and a half terrifying gingermutants. have tried scraping them, burning them, and dashing them with holy water. will not leave platter. on the plus side, the one with the sideburns and the firecrotch looks like Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords.
Price: I will pay you to take it away from me.

Wednesday 14 January 2009

So This Is What $170 Worth Of Bad Taste Looks Like

I truly have to applaud this crafter. They have found an ingenious way to not only completely waste 170 $1 bills, but in such a gratuitously ugly way that they have actually managed to decrease the value of their own money in doing so. How is that, you say? Because this bag is really, truly, obscenely hideous. And for $170, a girl could buy a bag that is not really, truly, and obscenely hideous. Nevermind terrifyingly stealable.

I'm Stumped By You

No, creepy-children's-overalls-stuffed-with-fake-ivy, I'm stumped by you.

Tuesday 13 January 2009

'Trailer Trash' Has Taken On A Whole New Meaning

I just found this before/after picture in a Craftster forum, and I believe, at this junction, I can only say 'wow'.

I mean, really, just wow. In fact, wooooow. Not only did this this crafter take a good long look at a used plastic grocery bag and think it was a highly underrated and completely child-safe material with which to wrap a small child, but they then went ahead and publicly posted this pint-sized butcher's apron as if it were an adorable little sun dress. All it's missing is a tin-foil bonnet and newspaper booties and lil' Cinderella here is ready for the ball.
I fear for this tot's future. And possibly her entire summer wardrobe.

Unless, of course, this crafter is actually demonstrating their nifty ability to physically manufacture adorable little baby girls out of used plastic bags. Because that would actually be quite impressive.

Sunday 11 January 2009

Bork Bork Bork

So, I guess, technically, this lovely picture of Mrs. Cox-Mohr (Or Mrs. Mohr-Cox, as I lovingly refer to her) doesn't exactly classify as a 'homemade hilarity'.

But, on the other hand, while her lips may be light on the "homemade" factor (which is arguable at best, let's be honest), I really do feel like the extensive "hilarity" factor more than makes up for it.

Maybe it's just that I was brought up adoring The Muppets, but I find her face way too damn funny, in like an "inflatable-rafting-trip-gone-wrong" kinda way. Or like an "I'm deathly allergic to my own lips" kinda way. Or even a "you shoulda seen what these puppies looked like before the silicone leaked out" kinda way.

Seriously, this crazy lady's one surgery away from Terrence and Philip. Which, I can hardly imagine, is what she intended when she set out with a vat of her excess butt fat in one hand and syringe in the other.

Saturday 10 January 2009

Like Spandex, Crocheting Should Be A Privilege, Not a Right.

I swear, one of these days I am going to literally bust a gut or blow out a sinus loling, rofling, and lmaoing my way through some of the quality crocheted finery I've come across in recent weeks. So much so that I am starting to think I need to come up with an extensive list of what should be, by my infallible estimation, the sacred rules of crafting. And then I am going to go to Kinko's and get it printed out on a high-quality yet moderately-priced kind of cardstock before I staple it to the forehead of anyone who has ever even thought they had any kind of discernible talent whatsoever.

Do you know what rule number one shall be for my new holy list o' rules? Because I do. It shall be, and repeat after me; NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS A COZY. I SWEAR TO GOD, NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE WRAPPED IN A COCOON OF TANGLED YARN, NO MATTER HOW FESTIVELY-COLORED IT IS.

Bottles of hot sauce, for example, do not need a crocheted multi-color sombrero cozy. Even though, I admit, it is kind of awesome.

Bathroom air fresheners, as well, do not need a crocheted wall-eyed-cat-wearing-a-dress cozy. Especially seeing as it is sooo fugly it defeats the purpose of its own existence.

Eggs, on the other hand, eggs definitely need their own crocheted, neon-teal, baby-buggy-shaped cozy. I say, go ahead and make 12, just so none of your eggs feel left out. Hell, make 24 just in case you buy a crate of two dozen in a frenzied moment of wild abandon. Go for it. I dare you.

Friday 9 January 2009

Googely Love

I've decided to start posting all the linked referrals I've been getting from Google, just for shits and giggles.

Today's Google referrals:
I'm #3 for reconstructing a pair of jeans,
#12 for if ur under 18,
and #1 (!) for god loves irony.

Wow. I guess god really does love irony.
And here I was just being all facetious about it.

Thursday 8 January 2009

There's Nothing Like The Smell of Burning Teeth To Start Your Day Off Right

Huzzah! At really freaking early o'clock this morning, I got up, went downtown, and bought myself a good old-fashioned root canal. To tell you the truth, it was way more extremely awesome than I could have ever dreamed in my wildest dreams. I never thought I'd feel this way about dental surgery, but it was honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, ever since that fabulous smoothie I had last Tuesday. From the topical anesthetic to the extensive toothal drilling to the drool still leaking out the corner of my mouth, I truly enjoyed every single magical minute of it. And, in the name of all that is pain-free and tooth-shaped, I give you today's gallery of crapfts, in honor of my new dentist, Owen:

This hot little number should be at the top of any fashonista's spring wish-list. Not only does it express a specific laizzes-faire approach to fashion, but it is uniquely able to proudly display the wearers affinity for excessive neon red plastic tooth accessories. Classy. And Sexy. Clexy.

This, my darlings, is not just any bracelet. It's a Vicodin bracelet. As in, a bracelet made out of play-doh Vicodin. See those oddly misshapen markings stamped into the side of the fake Vicodin? Those, evidently, say "Vicodin". As in, the highly addictive and wildly overused drug Vicodin. Perfect for any individual overly eager to publicly broadcast their unending love of prescription medications, such as Vicodin. And more Vicodin.


Personally, I find this molar-shaped, hand-carved wooden owl box perfectly charming and totally normal. This cute lil' guy has an expression of his face all like "Whoo". As in, "whoo wouldn't want such an adorable and totally chic molar-shaped, hand-carved wooden owl box?"
Whoo, indeed.
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