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 an internet meme stitched on a pillow, I’d skip the double rainbow and demand Antoine Dodson. The rainbows are nice and all, but are they gonna protect you while they’re rapin’ errbody out here? I don’t think so. With Antoine under your noggin and your kids, wife and husband securely hidden in the panic room or corpse hatch, you’re free to sleep peacefully. Didn’t you ever wonder why “dream” rhymes with “meme?” Yeah…maybe you should have.

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.

Today is one of those rare days I woke up with absolutely nothing to be angry about. And since my metabolism can be sustained only by rage and Kashi cereal products, I was glad to find a little something on Etsy that does all my work for me. But don’t worry, I should be fine tomorrow. It’s nothing a good commute and a few hours at Walmart can’t solve.

I’m so BFABB-ulous, I’ve decided to start my own dance gang. We’re going to wear matching satin jackets and challenge you to a dance off. We’ll meet up on some deserted street with a lot of conveniently placed benches and metal trashcans that we can use as dance props, then jump on things and gyrate randomly until someone gives up or gets dizzy. So prepare to be served, but not dropped like it’s hot, because at the after-dance-battle pot luck these dance-themed dishtowels can double as pot holders. I don’t want you spilling any of your wack-ass casserole on my limited edition Air Force Ones.

I pretty much posted this Fornasetti pillow just so that I could use that post title. I intended to write a whole thing about using a pillow to muffle the notes of your Toot Suite, but when I was googling “fart suppressing pillow” looking for an actual fart suppressing pillow, I found this gem.

Don’t we all, random Yahoo question asker? Don’t we all.

I hate these optimistic pillows. Mornings are for getting drunk and smashing. Period. You know who was a morning person? Hitler. I’m just saying…

I bet the two BO-reeking hippies sitting next to me on the plane right now would just love this pillow couch. They’re both piled up into the kind of steaming, pretzel-shaped, bile-summoning sleep heap that only people with tapestry wraps, birkenstocks and beards can achieve. I hate them so much that I hope they’re reading this as I type it. Hey, space-wasters! Can I call you Sequoia and Chrysalis? I bet I can. Please barter your handmade dreamcatchers for this couch so that you can sleep like normal people for ten minutes before I smother you with enough pillows to choke a recycled Vegan horse.

When I tire of spending my tens of twenties at Anthropologie I occasionally like to throw some change at a local artisan. Like MaterialRecovery in San Antionio. Neat pillows. Neat lampshades. Neat way to not make the rent possibly ever.

Oh the irony. I have babies on my feet and shoes in my uterus. Ahhh…the life of a single gal. Cue “9 to 5″…