If you don’t actually have shit for brains, you’ll save yourself $598 and make this Bubble Wrap Vase your damn self. Just use real bubble wrap, you dummy, or if you want to take up glass blowing, go right ahead. I hear you’re pretty good at blowing stuff…
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Friday, December 2, 2011
Your family can put funeral carnations in this terrifying seal vase after you die from it stealing your soul. Just FYI, from the look on his face, I’m pretty sure he’s also gonna steal your underwear.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Here’s a fun little trick you can do your damn self. Just remember that “jizz” is spelled with two z’s.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Fun fact: Rubber creates a family of vases.
Funner fact: A lack of rubber creates a family of trailer trash.
Friday, January 7, 2011
This vase is into grazing, poodleballin’ and funnel taints.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
I’m posting about this specifically so I can add ‘decorative barnacle cluster‘ to your vocabulary. I’ve seen something similar to this, but only during flare-ups and only in my pants.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Sometimes we’re let out of our cages to terrorize the city. Or at least attend a Blogger Social with Dallas’ bevy of design blogging bitches.
The three of us strapped on our socializin’ faces and attended the Post Blogger Social at Nest, a thuper rad Dallas boutique in a double-fab new location in the Knox-Henderson design district. It was hosted by Hello, Splendor and Fabulous K, sponsored by Nest Interior Design and had absolutely nothing to do with this.
Wanna see what you can buy us for Christmas? Boy, do you EVER!
Skully chairs for our bony asses.
This wax head made Nikki regret her last-minute decision not to wear wax lips. (Down there.)
The sock monkey was court-ordered to wear pants after an unfortunate incident involving a playground, a Girl Scout troop and tub of off-brand petroleum jelly.
These little skis turn almost any chair into a rocking chair. Just like how Sarah’s little fists turn almost any face into hamburger meat.
Are your eyeballs bleeding from jealousy yet? No? Then let’s keep on truckin’, shall we?
A moment on the lips is totally worth a lifetime on the hips, amiright, ladies? (Cuppycakes by Citizen Sweet)
Beautiful and poorly-photographed flowers by Bows and Arrows. Also by Bows and Arrows?…
Adorable boutineers on adorable boy-tineers. (Crisman and Adam, respectively, who probably hate being called “boy-tineers” since it makes no goddamn sense.)
And, finally, a chair that looks like a dildo version of The Noid. You’re welcome.
Ta da! This post was brought to you by the letters K, N, S and the number 666. Air kisses!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
These asswipes almost tricked me. It took me forever to find the ceramic high tops on their site, but alas, I did. And now I’m going to go catch some mad air with my shatter shoes. I just wish they came in a Pump. Or better yet, a British Knight.
I already know you love beautiful things because, duh, you love us. So it shouldn’t take much arm twisting for you Dallasites to scoot your booties down to Lower Greenville to visit Bows and Arrows. It’s a wee lovely space where you can feel like a kid in a goddamn candy shop (if candy shops were actually flower shops, you moron). But before we get to the flowers, let’s get to the ephemera. Which is not the correct use of that word, but HEY LOOK FUN STUFF:
But, of course, the real action is of the pistils and stamens variety. For anyone planning a fancy-pantsy event or (shotgun? arranged? greencard necessitated?) wedding, this is the place for flowers arrangements that aren’t half as stuffy as a mummified corpse locked in a trunk in my attic. Not that I know anything about that, officer.
They even offer classes! The only thing I can arrange is hits on ex-boyfriends, but you should try your hand at making pretty things. No, I’m sorry, you can’t make my likeness out of African Orchids, but I appreciate the thought.
Anyway, if you want your experience to be as lovely as mine, you’ll need to do three things:
1. Have your boyfriend accidentally pour a vase of water down your pants and into your shoes. (Subsequently: withhold sex for three days).
2. Have an oddly motionless Katy Perry dance party with small-to-medium amounts of shame.
3. Whore out your blog to darling boys who are possibly named Christman, which, if that’s right, just got 50 times cooler when I typed it and realized how Jesusy it is.*
*Okay, apparently it’s Crisman. Another day, another crushed dream. Thanks a lot, JESUS.