These thuper-cute Takeout Appetizer Plates are on sale for $1.95 each. I was gonna comment that they’re still a waste of money because no one eats takeout on plates, but then I remembered that my friend Molly used to fool me into thinking she had made delicious lunches for work, when in reality her masterful sleight-of-hand involved putting her Lean Cuisine on a plate. So I guess she’s the kind of classed-up, fancy broad who would buy these. As opposed to me, whose purchases are pretty much limited to cases of Mad Dog 20 20 and “care packages” from the Planned Parenthood clinic.

Today I’ve decided to post only lists because lists are the crappy writer’s… I don’t have the energy to finish this metaphor or use periods or capitalization anymore yes the world has finally broken me and also i have a headache and my keyboard is filled with cracker crumbs that make it really hard to depress the shift key so here is my list of newspaper headlines from the future when fish live in modernist condos:

• Wallstreet Fish Leaps to Death After Stock Market Crash

That’s the only headline because in the future the newspapers all went out of business. The end.

So, your cat called me last night and told me that even though he’s ignored you for the last six years and spends all two hours of his waking day staring blankly at the wall, he really, really fucking cares about the environment and wants to help out with this whole oil spill thing. I guess you can’t say he doesn’t have a stake. That tuna Fancy Feast, like Long John Silver’s, is likely made of the inferior, mutant fish of the Gulf Coast region. Anyways, what I’m getting at here is that your cat can help the environment without doing anything. You can donate all that hair you’ve been not sweeping to the clean-up effort because it’s perfectly designed for soaking up oil. Which means bye-bye expensive oil-absorbent make-up blotting paper; can I borrow your cat?

Via Shelterrific.

I call this shelf a Panty Dropper. That’s because if you drop your panties and put on your big boy pants, you can do it your damn self. According to Alan McCoy, who made this simple radness, the steps are easy:

1. Do not be an orphan. You will need a family for step two.

2. Invade said family’s shed, preferably if it’s “full of 60 years worth of crap.”

3. Find a cool looking board. Hopefully you’ll find it when you step on a rusty nail poking out of it and get tetanus.

4. If it’s dirty, spray it down with a hose. McCoy’s experience included doing it “on Thanksgiving in front of my family that was completely unphased that I was doing this.”

5. Mount it (hee hee) to your wall with L-shape brackets, “making sure to drill a deep gash in [your] finger that will hinder [your] typing for the next 2 weeks.”

6. Put cool shit on your shelf, like a picture of your Mom auditioning for a walk-on roll on The Brady Bunch and the same alarm clock that my boyfriend has, yet refuses to use, instead forcing me to set my alarm clock in the mornings so I can wake up first and then wake HIM up like he’s some kind of fucking Arabian sheik.

7. Mad boneage. Everyone knows slutty chicks love homemade shelving. (Second only to treating their yeast infections with the Monistat Egg instead of a messy topical cream.)

The Como Sofa looks like a row of teeth, so it’s no wonder it eats change! Get it? Eats change? Because it’s like teeth? In a mouth? Like the mouth of that high-dollar hooker you’re boning during your lunchbreak on said couch after your wife saved up for months to buy it? Where the frantic half-removal of your business casual Brooks Brothers pants shook the change out of your pockets and into the cushions? The couch where she’s going to make you sleep for nine months when she finds lipstick on your collar and herpes on your dick? Before stabbing you to death in a fit of rage after a restless night filled with nightmares of renewing your vows, only to have that slut stand up and give you a bj when the minister says, “Speak now or forever hold your peace”?

Yeah, it’s nice right? I think you should buy one.

slutty, slutty slut pants

via Breathe Modern

Guess what, farty faces? I love this. It was unveiled at this year’s Stockholm Furniture Fair and that reminds me I simply must get to Stockholm more often. Gee, I sure hope the airlines take Beauty Store punch cards as payment…

We’re not posting until Tuesday, ladies and gents. Monday is the holiest of holy days (President’s Day) and today is the rarest thing ever: a snow day in Dallas Fucking Texas. The biggest snow since 1964 means we’re ditching you kids and playing outside. C U Next Tuesday!

I’m allowed to like things for whatever inane reason I want. Therefore, I like this Shark King print because it reminded me that this exists. And also because of the awesomeness. But mostly because of the dick thing.

Don’t expect any posts out of us this week. We’re too busy over-eating and passing in-and-out of consciousness to entertain you. We’ll return next Monday, a few pounds heavier, with all the piss and vinegar we can possibly cram down your throat. Until then, just know that that clicking you hear on the roof isn’t reindeer. It’s us hacking through with a pick-axe.

These are the perfect hostess gift for the accident-prone gourmet. She’ll be serving up donuts and road kill and you’ll be leaving nothing but skid marks behind… in your underwear. Oh, come on. You knew I was going there.

Via Eat Me Daily.