I feel like we’ve posted a lot of boob pillows. But these are different. They’re extra lurid because they’re wearing stripper bras, being felt-up by Asian teens and hitting the Moscow club scene in chauffeured Euro-vans.

Plus, this particular pillow is also available in “Justin Timberlake.”

If I wanted to wake up in the car to the feel of penis pressing into the back of my neck, I’d go back to carpooling with Gary Busey. Zing. Your move, Busey.

Mr. Willy Pilly the car penis, $20.

If you use this pigeon bottle opener at your next party expect the bassist from Kings of Leon to have three drinks and then puss out like a little bitch. “I’m sorry party, but I had to bail. Also, sorry about all those songs we wrote except that one Sarah likes. That one’s pretty cool.”

I know it sounds crazy, but somehow all of these arrows are pointing at my vagina. On second thought that makes sense because this print is screened onto wood. It’s like one of those creepy paintings where the eyes follow you around the room. Except totally sexy.

I can only imagine this is the gym where that slag who threw the cat in the garbage can is bulking up to defend herself from hoards of innocent, adorable animals. God knows when an innocent cutie wittle bunny might need to be tossed in a wood chipper or a few fluffy wuffy foxies nonchalantly cast into a coal furnace. It’s hard work being a total cunt. And if you think the workout equipment is creepy, you should definitely avoid the macrobiotic juice bar. An entire pony carcass counts as “macro,” right?

This sofa looks pointy but it’s made entirely of soft, cushy foam. That means no sharp corners, stray nails or “do not remove by penalty of federal law” tags to terrorize your kids. So, give ‘em some blow, kick back, and, you know, just see what happens.

01Mathery is an ambitious blog project from a pair of young designers who’ve vowed to post an idea a day and, I can only assume, live in an endless pile of discarded VHS tapes, toilet paper rolls, used bolts and wine corks somewhere in the idyllic country side. Here are just a few of their inspired creations:

VHS toilet paper dispenser

nut vase

floating drink tray

I find their stuff so inspiring I decided to give this “idea a day” thing a try. So here is my contribution:

Just multiply that by 365 and we’ll call it a day.

Via Swiss Miss.

Normally fake food is a total let down. If I’m in an antique mall sifting through 15 booths of Faberge eggs and moth-eaten mink stoles with the heads and feet still attached and I turn the corner to find a table spread with more deserts and goodies that you could shake a dick at, I don’t hesitate. I dive in, arms flailing and teeth masticating. And if that food is made of poly-resin? Let’s just say I have a mouth full of crowns and a deviated anus that say the results ain’t pretty. Side bar: who the fuck buys fake deserts? Is it for masochistic diabetics? I don’t get it. But I do get this awesome birthday cake postcard. It makes it look like a drunk left cake in your mailbox and boy are drunks festive.

10 AM ladybug? Fuck that. 10 AM is praying mantis time at my house. Plus, every other line item on this list should be “whiskey.” Tell your  to-do list glassware it can’t tell me what to do, Fred Flare!

Thanks to the mind behind lolawesome (and behind my cubical wall), I have recently become aware of Zip Code Honey. The Dallas company places beehives in yards and on roofs around town – there’s even one on the roof of fancy-pants eatery Bolsa – and sells their citified honey down at the Dallas Farmer’s Market. This is fantastic news for me. If I had my own beehive, I’d train the bees to fly in the shape of a man and buzz in Morse Code. They’d join the police force and become the world’s best cop. And when they weren’t cornering bad guys on the mean streets of Dallas and oozing crime-preventing sticky stuff, we’d just sit around and chat. I’ve just been dying for some intelligent conversation on Middle East politics.