I’ve been trying to write a post about this stupid goldfish water conservation sink thing for the last hour, but I’m far too listless to function today. So I leave you with this thought:

Wait, no. I don’t even have a thought. Just a dull desire to commit suicide by flinging myself from the 34th floor, but not enough energy to get up from my chair and walk all the way to the window. So please pardon me while I alternately nap at my desk and try to choke myself to death on some 100 calorie pack crackers and a Special K breakfast bar.

Here’s the deal, forks exist. We have those now. So all you pretentious little fuckers can shove your chopsticks squarely up your ass. P.S. I hope you get worms.

Samurai Sword Chopsticks, $12.99

via Clint “Do they eat meat?” Martin

If you want to turn a chubby companion into an chubby ex-companion, give them this card. Or just continue to be yourself, it’ll wear on them eventually.

Mirror, mirror on the wall… Your ass is fat. That is all.

Fairest Wall Art, $24.95

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?

That’s it. I can’t live on this planet anymore. Hipsters are making old, used feather pillows cool. Call me old fashioned – fuck, call me old – but in my day, when we thought things were probably soaked in urine we threw them away. I don’t care if it’s made from gold and stuffed with Alexander Skarsgard’s pubic hair, this decrepit pillow has all the charm of the incontinent grandmother whose prolapsed uterus likely made those stains. And, by the way, no matter how “vintage” bodily fluids get they aren’t giving anything a “tea stained antique look.” Sorry Etsy, I love you, but pick a featured seller who’s products don’t carry Hepatitis A.

Even as a kid, Uncle Joey annoyed the fuck out of me. The silly voices, the constant hockey shirt wearing, the “cut it out” thing and, worst of all, Woody the Woodchuck. Nothing makes a 11-year-old pray for the sweet release of death quite like sitting through thirty minutes of wood puns. All I wanted was to burn that puppet to the ground and pop a squat over it’s smoldering remains. So, when I see a teapot called the “Wood You Like a Cup of Tea?” Teapot, I definitely don’t want a fucking cup of tea. I do, however, want to fantasize about braiding Uncle Jesse’s mullet. Have mercy!

These glasses aren’t labeled because I want more. They’re labeled so I can remember which one has the Visine in it. <–That would be really funny (hysterical actually) if anyone knew what that eff Visine does to you. But you don’t. So thanks a lot, WORLD, for ruining all my jokes!! *Door slam.* You’re not my mom!!

Whoa, it’s so beautiful. Buy one for the hippie in your life and hope that they stare into it in wonder until their dilated pupils burn out and that coating of patchouli oil fries their skin. Strike that. Stare into it until your pupils burn out. Then get one of those helper dogs and teach it to secretly snarl at children when their parents’ backs are turned. But if you’re blind, you can’t appreciate their looks of shear terror. Ah, fuck it. It’s not worth it.

Via the oh so mysterious FiPi LeLe.

Something smells like Sparks and Urban Outfitters in here. Must be this CRT television iPad dock. It makes your gagillion dollar minicomputer look like an old piece of crap. What’s next? A car dock that makes your car look like a fixie? A koozie that makes your Diet Coke look like a Pabst? A hat that makes your hair look like an unwashed, blonde rat’s nest? Chapstick that makes your lips look like mustaches?  Well, here’s a hint from Helloise: you’ll save  time and achieve the same effect if you just buy a giant douche bag and flop around in it instead.

Via the always delicious, SwissMiss.