This Handmade Baked Potato Bean Bag Chair with Butter Pat Pillow is only $200. I know what you’re thinking, “Money doesn’t grow on trees, wench.” And maybe it doesn’t, but seriously is the name calling necessary?
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I can’t decide if these make me want to decorate for Halloween (time-consuming!) or just go the easy route and get pregnant with “accident-prone” Albino quadruplets.
Friday, September 7, 2012
My lifestyle is artsy, my craft friends would agree
So much tape that wrapping paper don’t faze me
Hot glue gun, DIY? Done.
Groupies on my Pinterest for some homemade fun
Craft blog is booming, internet zooming
Known around the web for my sick yarn looming
Martha Stewart’s teacher, DIY feature
Got some raw wool in my pantry waiting for me to bleach her,
Too many thrifts, turned into gifts
Give any crap from Goodwill a supercute facelift
Crease and tape it like a champ, never have to glue it
Cuz wrapping ain’t easy; but somebody gotta do it
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Ewww. Sick. Regular heads are so stupid, but Hip Hop Heads are HOT. Buy these tiny trucker party hats/teenage pregnancy makers and make your head suck less. You can write on them, too. Just be sure to make the “p” in dope backwards. Why? Because it’s not just tits. It’s grandma tits. (They’re so gross they’re cool!)
I mock what I love. I want these so bad it hurtz.
Monday, August 6, 2012
I love this aluminum foil. I’ll never need it, but I love it. I prefer to keep my leftovers where they belong — rotting under the pillows of my…nemesises? Nemeses? Shoosh. Fuck pimpin’. Evil grammar ain’t easy.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
If you have a cut, you’re going to need these and if you don’t have a cut, call me. It can be arranged.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Your love notes are immortalized in toast thanks to this little toaster. Mine would say sweet things like, “Make your own fucking breakfast, you lazy fucknut,” “Please remove the dead hooker from the credenza. Your mother will be here in an hour and I’m not taking the blame for this shit again,” and “Honey, I think we’re out of milk.”
Friday, July 27, 2012
A coffee cup made of cookie? My pants just exploded.
And despite the pant-explosion reference above, can someone please tell this lady she’s eating a cookie cup not auditioning for a re-make of Saturday Night Beaver? Thanks.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I don’t know who you are, pleated-jeans.com, but I know who you’re going to be — the father (or other mother) of my unborn child (or adopted dog).