Nothing says ambiance like a nod to crushed, burning corpses. Now if only the manufacturer had the foresight to make these candles scented…

Turns out the light’s not at the end of the tunnel… it’s in the corner of your bedroom, right in front of the camera your landlord installed to watch you have sex. Needless to say, he shut off the camera feed long ago and now files your rent checks under “Penis Repeller.”

Not only does this roller fork make eating pizza much easier, but it also greatly improves the efficiency of wiener-based cannibalism.

I can’t decide if these make me want to decorate for Halloween (time-consuming!) or just go the easy route and get pregnant with “accident-prone” Albino quadruplets.

My lifestyle is artsy, my craft friends would agree
So much tape that wrapping paper don’t faze me
Hot glue gun, DIY? Done.
Groupies on my Pinterest for some homemade fun
Craft blog is booming, internet zooming
Known around the web for my sick yarn looming
Martha Stewart’s teacher, DIY feature
Got some raw wool in my pantry waiting for me to bleach her,
Too many thrifts, turned into gifts
Give any crap from Goodwill a supercute facelift
Crease and tape it like a champ, never have to glue it
Cuz wrapping  ain’t easy; but somebody gotta do it

While we’re very accustomed to breaking other people’s bones, our promises and children’s spirits, we’ve never taken a break from blogging. So we’re packing up for a couple weeks to stave off the impending carpal tunnel and take part in summer activities like hating people while sweaty and being lazy as fuck while sweaty.

Try not to ugly-cry your face off. We’ll see you kids in September!

These unborn fetus models are the only things that have ever made me regret my abortion. Just kidding! My body is a hostile environment that can’t support human life. Just kidding again! I was born without reproductive organs. Okay, I actually had them removed so I’d look skinnier. My goal is to weigh slightly less than a fetus.

I’m not using Treat Stick for my non-existent dog. I’m using it for myself. Just as soon as I figure out how to get two Oreo Cheesequake Blizzards up in that bitch.

This portable play mat is for the fancy-pants baby who’s too good for the floor. Well, baby, let’s hope you’re not too good for boarding school. Or the black market.

Nothing says “I’m still a bachelor” like a stadium seat that makes it look like you’re pissing yourself and drinking your own urine. Newsflash: your seat may be camouflage, but we can clearly see that you’ll die alone.

Via Caleb, who’s a poet blog contributer and didn’t know it.