Hey party people! Just putting the finishing touches up for the mega-rager I’m going to be throwing tonight. I’ve got my Feminist Kill Joy banner up, the bras are crackling merrily in the fireplace, and the menstrual relief tea is brewing on the stove. Yep, it’s beginning to feel a lot like Post-Sexism Neo-Socialist Utopia! And don’t you worry about getting bored. I’ve got activities a plenty. First, we’ll be pinning the pubic hair on the vagina(I would have gotten witty with the game name, but using euphemisms for vagina steals our power), then we’ll be pushing real hard until our leg hair grows, and then we’ll be taking back the word “cunt.” Be there or be square whatever shape you want because no one tells you what to do!
There are at least a couple of good reasons not to have a hot tub installed at your home. Number one: it’s not the 70s. But if you just can’t resist the urge to soak in a warm vat of diluted urine and spilled wine coolers, not to fear. The Hot Tug is here. (Hold your applause.) Now you can take your show urinary tract infection on the road white-trash lake to remind your neighbors of the urgent need to circle-circle-dot-dot give themselves a douchebag shot. It a public service, really.
The only thing worse than my phone ringing is an actual human at my door. So, yeah, let’s add annoyance to injury with a mega-tool-tastic piano doorbell. Jam your Chopsticks or Heart and Soul or whatever other song you learned at Church Camp, then pray to your god that I’m in the mood to kill you quickly.
I was reading Apartment Therapy (don’t get any ideas, you keep reading BHG until you finish the whole site, young lady / man) when I ran across this photo of a candle app. I was like, “This can’t be an actual thing. Someone is making mischief in the Photoshop.” Wrong. I couldn’t be bothered to click through to read the whole article, so I googled it. It’s real. Owning this app should make you a leper. Like saying “OMG” out loud. You should be declared legally dead and escorted by a mourning procession of your friends and family to an isolated colony where you can live out the rest of your days in a cave reading The Bible by your precious candle app. Unclean!
This is one way to keep your coworkers out of your lunch box. Another way is to fill the lunch box with pirañas. Less practical, but very dramatic. A third way is a decoy lunch laced with ipecac. I find a few hours of violent vomiting really makes an impression.
A few weeks ago we posted about how Bret Michaels is designing his own pet-wear. It appears that Steven Tyler’s emaciated corpse wants in on that. Well, not S.T.’s corpse, per se, but Puppylocks, makers of fine feather weaves for your pooch. Which is great, because I’d hate for there to be a totally played-out trend that our pets can’t enjoy. And just because, here’s a picture of a 90s cheerleader bow the groomer slapped onto my wolf hybrid. It’s all fun and games until someone gets their face eaten.
[Badder Homes and Gardens] had me laughing uproariously, and totally wishing I could say half of what they say. Be forewarned that if you are offended by cursing... then take my advice and forget I even mentioned it. But if you like your snark pretty offensive with a little dash of design, read it and weep.
Badder Homes and Gardens is maintained by three whip-smart Texas gals [who have] a great collective eye for clever art and design, and a knack for describing beauty with bathroom humor, which is no easy feat.
The stereotype of the good housewife is old. Enter Badder Homes and Gardens. Their tips are more likely to make life hilarious than to get you a parent of the year award. If you’ve ever gotten nauseous watching Martha Stewart, then this delightfully sarcastic—yet still useful—site is for you.