Buy this pillow and add a little more [moby] dick to your bed. Okay, that was just too easy…

Oh my. If I were this shower curtain I’d kill myself. And not just because I said “To Pee or Not To Pee,” but also because I saw you naked and seriously your curtains were more like drapes.

Instead of a menopause, why not celebrate the ebbing of your crimson tide with a meno-party. You’re too legit to quit just because your uterus did. I’ll bake you some meno-pies and we’ll get you a meno-plaque to commemorate the whole thing. But even though it’s in keeping with the theme, I’m not inviting the meno-taur. That is one mean mother shut you mouth.

Via Craftastrophe.

If beauty really came from the inside, I would probably look something like these dolls. Luckily, that is not the case and instead of improving myself as a person so that I can get into heaven I’m just going to buy some luminous foundation and a pair of false eyelashes.

I like this quilt because I like horses. Of course, I prefer them in the form of a gluestick, but that’s just because I’m a total bitch.

I’ve always preferred Old Testament God over New Testament God. Smite makes right, I always say.  But that was before I discovered New New Testament God. He’s not a vengeful God or a forgiving God. He’s a fucking bat-shit crazy God. No, no. This chef isn’t the Antichrist. Ronald McDonald still has that gig covered. Look at the lower right corner. That’s breast-milk cheese, the latest greatest thing in New New Testament God’s creation (i.e. Brooklyn). And don’t worry, according to this NYP article, it tastes pretty much like cow cheese. So, you know, the benefits are obvious. Don’t question New New God’s wisdom! Or the way he applied those almond slivers to that cheese ball. His cheese balling is beyond reproach. Amen.

Via Buzzfeed, The All-Knowing.

There are three bears in this bowl and one cougar at my desk. Seriously, lock up your ‘tweens. This kitty cat is on the prowl…statutory rape style.

I suppose I could have as easily titled this post “Boos and Don’ts,” but that wouldn’t allow me to point out that on the Frenchy-French site where I found these fantômes, they are in a product category labeled “Doudous.” I can only assume that doudous are exotic, sophisticated  albino poos and not something un-bathroom related that I’m too lazy to look up on google.

These cards rock my letterpress off. Why am I wearing a letterpress? It’s the new chastity belt, didn’t you know? Well, that and my pink puffer vest from Gap. Heeeeey.

P.S. I hate the Olympics. Completely unrelated, but I thought you should know.

We Southerners love our bold, straight-talk sayings as much cowgirls love pantyliners with extended wings. That’s why I’m thrilled to hear that at Subversive Cross Stitch you can mail-order a new cross stitch pattern book featuring Southern sayings like “Mean as a snake” that you can make your damn self. Of course, a few of my personal favorites didn’t make the cut. Like, “I’m not retarded, I’m just lazy,” and the oh-so-popular, “I can’t think while I’m hating you: please die.” Oh, I don’t want give short-shrift to “I’m mostly dead inside.” And my mom would kill me if I left out “Where’s the beef?”