My old pal Ted is an industrious little bastard. When he forgot to bring a fork to his studio for lunch, he didn’t hurl his Tupperware container of  noodles in the garbage and slit his wrists with an exacto knife. No, yanked himself up by the bootstraps and fashioned this out of nails, plywood, a drillbit and tape. Now when you forget your utensils, The Spirit of Ted will inspire you not to resort to the hundred-year-old office sporks. You’ll do it your damn self out of thumbtacks, scotch tape, a pink eraser and an ink pen. Or The Spirit of Krista will inspire you and you’ll just flash your vagina for quarters in the conference room and eat a king’s meal out of the vending machine.

Sometimes we’re let out of our cages to terrorize the city. Or at least avoid the 112 degree heat index in an air conditioned bike shop.

There are two factors that’ll make us break our own rules and stand in close proximity to a bunch of fixies: talented friends and Texas summers. Seriously, Dallas, what the fuck?

By the way, I’m taking volunteers to dust my dashboard. Which isn’t a euphemism, but probably should be.

Anyspray, Nikki an I strapped on our bitchfaces and headed to Transit Bike Company to make like an underwire pushup bra and support the tits out of Connor Hill and Matt Brinker, aka The Magnificent Beard. They do sweet-ass shit like this:

So what are the morals of the story? The Beard on the left (Connor) is more talented than you will ever be. The Beard on the right (Matt) is also more talented than you will ever be. And, finally, if you’re supporting your friends anywhere near The Gap,  Nikki will bully you into buying half price t-shirts that you don’t even want in the first place. Fact.

First in a series – Fart Kiss

Up next – Queef Hug

P.S. We know these guys and they’re awesome minus one. You should buy something. For realzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Teach your bastard spawn that life isn’t all apples, rainbows and xylophones with these XYZ blocks from Fred & Friends. If, like me, you’re lucky enough to grow up in a scene from Pulp Fiction, the real world is graffiti, Afros and kick-ass karate. But if you’re unfortunate enough to grow up in Wal-Mart or Kentucky, it’s dentures, werewolves and sunburns. Which is a horrible combination, because werewolves who wear dentures can’t bite you to death, so they just chase you down and flick you really hard on your sunburn. What? That shit hurts.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled postgramming to shamelessly friend promote our dear pally Robin Callan of RoomFu fame. And now of HGTV fame! Wanna become newly ashamed of your futons, bean bag chairs and general lack of any semblance of taste? Just peruse Robin’s HGTV profile, marvel at her mad skillz and then hang yourself from your He-Man bedsheets in the shed behind your house. Oh, but before you commit suicide, please drag your hideous furniture out to the curb for bulk trash day. I can’t; I’m too busy drinking eleven bottles of champagne for breakfast. Then after that I’m gonna celebrate this HGTV thing.

I got to work today and there was a mail tube on my desk and inside were these two unbelievably awesome, best, most amazing prints ever. And they came from a photographer that you should know – Delaney Allen. And he sent them to me for free and that is seriously so nice, it just made one of my personalities cry. So if he’ll let you — buy something. And if not –  just send a blank check. I trust him.

More work here and here.

I’ve got opposite-poison running through my veins. It takes evil and turns it sweet. The only cure is a pint of vinegar, three of Hillary Clinton’s cankle hairs and a teaspoon of Martha Stewart’s backwash. You’ve been warned. I’m about to gush. But for good reason. You see, this girl I know (Anna Mitchael) wrote this thing called an entire book (Just Don’t Call Me Ma’am) and it’s really, really, really good and you should buy it. And no it’s neither home, nor garden, but you can read it in the pool and that’s in your backyard. Unless, of course, you’re a redneck and then you just have a septic tank back there, but then you can’t read anyway so what’s the point?! Buy the book!!

We have friends (non-imaginary ones) and some are even talented (most are not). One is named Chad. He draws boobs on things and sells them in his etsy shop (Titties & Toots). You should buy something, (don’t be an asshole) it’s only $10. Act now and he’ll include three whole pubes in your order (they’re red).

I haven’t actually spoken to my college friend Vanessa Michel in about four hundred years, but starting now I’m telling people that we’re three-chats-daily-besties so that I can ride her coattails to fame and fortune in the art world. Because clearly chasing fame and fortune in the blogging world is netting me exactly fuckall.

It’s time to attach myself to someone who has legitimate talent instead of trying to cash in on my embarrassing lack of self-awareness, accelerated typing skills, and stage four case of Adult Tourettes. Now let’s all bow our heads and pray that she’s set up vanity Google Alerts like, um, some people I know who aren’t me.

Recently our dear friend Robin from Room Fu was asked to compile her top-10 list of design blogs for blogs.com. Wait. Hold your damn link clicking horses. I ain’t done yet. BHG isn’t on the list. I know, I know. We had our acceptance speeches and nip-slip prone dresses all ready to go. But before we spitefully blew up her house and unfriended her on facebook we read the rest of Robin’s post and discovered we got an even more awesome shout-out anyways. So our sincere thanks to Room Fu for the love and for recognizing that we’re not top-10, we’re just 10s.