Month: December 2013

Never Question My Commitment to Sparkle Motion

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And by “Sparkle Motion,” I mean “my Christmas tree.”*

*What, do you not name your Christmas tree?

Sparkle Sparkle Twinkle

Sparkle Motion, Phase 1. Ignore the plastic base. This tree is totally real. I swear**.

**I’m lying.

For my whole life, my grandmother has maintained a tradition of giving every family member a hand-selected ornament. As a child, this was an eye-rolling pain – why get an ornament when wrapping paper should always contain a valuable toy? As an adult, I’m almost painfully grateful for this tradition. For one thing, I actually have a collection of ornaments to put on a tree. For another thing, most of those ornaments are so wildly unique that my Christmas tree is like no other.

Despite that glorious tradition, this is the first year in a very long time that I’ve had my own Christmas tree. Generally, I just sort of hurl lights all around my living space, call it festive, and eat cookies until Santa comes.*** This is a remarkably delightful life plan, but this year, I decided it was time to step up my game.

***Life Lesson 307: Always leave cookies for Santa. A story for another day.

So I rescued a box of ornaments from my parents’ house. A box that I was told was filled with ornaments that were mine. Only to discover that this was not quite true. Yes, many of the ornaments were mine.

But many of them were also my mother’s. 

Ever since my parents decided that fake trees were much easier**** than real trees, there’s been some fierce competition for space on their tree. This has led to some excess ornaments which sometimes are left neglected in the box. My mother has apparently solved this problem by giving me some of the more unique***** ornaments.

****Not full of spider eggs.
*****Ornaments I have hidden at random around her house, with malicious intent.

I thought it was a moose

Meet the BalletReindeerLabra. Perfect for lighting your home and dancing the Nutcracker

The mystical BalletReindeerLabra is a magical being****** that can bestow both candlelight and sugarplum fairy replacement on your holiday. She was gifted to my parents, but has perpetually been too heavy to live on the tree. Her strangely varied skills provoked endless smarmy storytelling from me over the years, which apparently makes her mine. Because my benevolent mother would hate to leave me uninspired, I’m sure. Thanks Mom.

******And actually a super expensive designer ornament, apparently.

She's blue because she's cold

The Christmas Mermaid combines both the fun of The Little Mermaid with the elaborate hair styling of Cinderella’s stepsisters. In your face, Disney.

Meet the Christmas Mermaid, a staple for Christmas trees on shipwrecks. She’s festive AND practical. Also, she’s blue because water is cold in December. Duh. She now lives on the toasty warm tree, pining for her frozen watery home*******. She’s my festive hostage, courtesy of my mother informing me that this was obviously my decoration, despite my memories to the contrary. Thanks, Mom.

*******To make her feel more comfortable, I put her next to my shark ornament. Do you not have a shark ornament? Oh, well, your grandmother must not be as cool as mine. Bummer.

And now we come to the greatest of them all.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Meet Santa fairy. He’s factually a fairy. He has wings. I swear. And delicate leggings. And pointy shoes.

Santa Fairy. Unlike the Sugar Plum Fairy, I confess: Santa Fairy kind of scares me. He has for years. Unlike the jolly fat elf of my childhood years, Santa Fairy has appeared “mysteriously” in random places around me ever since I confessed to my mother that he inexplicably scares the living daylights out of me.********

********I like to have really illogical fears. Besides, Lookit those eyebrows. Just LOOK at them.

He was in my ornament box. Because, you know, mothers want their kids to overcome their fears. Thanks, Mom. 

Christmas Dinosaurs

What, do you not have Christmas dinosaurs?
It’s like you don’t even celebrate the holidays.

All these ornaments********* (and so many more) have found a home on my tree, It’s the most unique tree in the world. I love it. Sometimes I am slightly scared of it, but the different ornaments are all memories, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Also, my tree has a fuzzy lion and a glittery flamingo. Does YOURS?

*********Except Santa Fairy. He is going RIGHT BACK where he came from.

Yeah. I didn’t think so. You’re going to have to step up your game, or I’m going to start questioning YOUR commitment to Sparkle Motion.

Oh Zoosk. I Just Can’t Quit You

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And I tried. Seriously. But apparently Zoosk is generally against me not being a part of its online community. It must be my innate charm. Or my photos that make me look like a deranged convict.

Incognito!

Go ahead. Just try and figure out what I actually look like from this helpful photo.

It’s probably the photos.

You may have gleaned that in recent times, I have had excessive practice dating. Well, I went on a hiatus. I tried to quit all of the online dating sites that were amusing me in my off hours. Amazingly, some of them refused my attempts to quit.* Ultimately this means that my profile still lurks the dark pages of the Internet, inviting messages that prompt email alerts and make a girl feel popular.

*By repeatedly breaking every time I tried to quit, until I got tired of the Internet and wandered off to watch The Muppet Show and eat cookies.

One of Zoosk’s unique site gimmicks is that they rank your popularity. Apparently, I am popular.

Ouch, Zoosk

Thanks, Zoosk!

And apparently in this context, popular means “dead in the middle average.” They have their own dictionary. It applies only to the land of Internet dating.

I would like to share with you the sweet seduction of Zoosk. These are the first messages people send me. We haven’t been conversing before. In fact, Zoosk only lets you send or read one message before demanding you pay them money and join their cult forever.** And, this one special time, I am going to also share with you my reactions to these smooth moves.

**Until you break down and marry whoever comes along, just to get the hell off the site.

Zoosk

Click if you would like to join the magical world of…really awkward messages.

Zoosketry
(Better defined as “Zoosk Poetry.” The dulcet words of potential woo-ers in the Land of Zoosk.)

“Hello, I’m a thief, and I’m here to steal your heart.”
(Hands off. I need that for circulation. But I appreciate your polite up-frontness.)

“Hi. Call <number redacted>. Mua.”
(What, for a good time? Is this a bathroom stall wall? Also, what is mua? Is that a kiss noise, or your name, or some form of Internet abbreviation I am too out of touch to know? I NEED ANSWERS.)

“I wanna practice wit u.”
(Practice _what_ exactly?)

“<Number redacted>”
(What, no instructions?! How will I know what to do with those digits?!)

“I’d love to go muddin’ with you.”
(I don’t…what…I…Get off the Internet!)

“First quality I notice in a woman is a beautiful smile. Yours has overwhelmed me in a wonderful way I never thought possible …”
(Oh crap. My smile is overwhelming?! I didn’t know. Have I been using this power for evil? NOOOOOO.)

“Wow u so beautiful”
(Thanks!)

“You don’t need a car to drive me crazy!”
(Oh, I see what you did there….)

“Wouldn’t we look cute on top of a wedding cake?”
(Oh, hey now. Hey hey hey. I haven’t even said hello yet. Now we’re going to go ruin someone’s wedding and stand on a ca-Oh. Oh. I see. That’s moving a little quickly, don’t you think?)

“Hi my is Jimmy and I.”
(…I don’t know where to go from here, Jimmy and I. I got nothin’.)

“I lost my phone number can I have yours?”
(YES! IT FINALLY HAPPENED! Someone ACTUALLY used this line on me!! And no.)

“I love cats.”
(Done. Done deal. Lets go get on top of a wedding cake. Just save me from this site.)

Now, you might think this is bragging. That I’m preening over how many people on the Internet have said nice things to me. But if you’re thinking that, then you have never been on an online dating site. First messages bubble with flattery and tales of your legendary beauty*** in the hopes of making a good impression – not because they actually think you’re pretty.

***Or handsomeness. I’m totally not sexiest. And I have no idea what the man experience is on these. Maybe women just send you messages that say “Meeee-yow!” and “Hey Hot Buns.” It could be painfully objectifying and way less flattering. It probably is, since none of you are wearing any shirts.

Also, in case you were wondering, Zoosk sent me a message today. On Zoosk.

Curly mustaches!

Apparently Zoosk allowed someone to pick the username Zoosk. Way to go, Zoosk.

The Internet is a land of lies. But there’s consolation in the universe. Like when your friend makes you ninjabread cookies and you eat them all while watching The Muppet Show.

Om nom nom nom

It’s a proven fact. Cookies that fight are the most delicious cookies, because only the best survive to consumption.

Happy Friday, you guys.

Let’s Talk about Teamwork

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Because it’s time for a feel-good moment on the Internet that doesn’t involve kittens.* We’re taking the web back, people.

*That’s a lie. I WISH this involved kittens. More things should probably involve kittens. Not that I’m a cat lady or anything.

One of my very favorite people in the whole world** recently got stuck in the unfortunate position of having to hunt for a “new” car. “New” is justifiably in quotes, because what it really means is “new to her and hopefully functional, because she’s in grad school due to being brilliant, but that doesn’t yield a lot of money.” So really, my usage of “new” is practically an abbreviation.

**It’s a fierce competition to be my favorite. There’s a whole point system and everything. It’s a pretty corrupt system.

The good news is, she’s a terribly inspiring person. And what she inspired among her friends and husband was this: teamwork. Teamwork to find her a new car.

And in the process, we pretty much solved all our financial problems.

I’d like you to meet the world’s most exciting limo service:

Best. Ad. Ever

Luxury to suite your survival-related or undead needs!***
Click for amazing source.

***Please note. This is courtesy of Craigslist, which as we previously discussed, has everything. But it is really important to note that all this ad says about a zombie limo is: “Great car. Nothings wrong. Come see it and make an offer.” Which, uh, kind of makes me think it’s full of actual zombies.

Shortly to be run by a conglomeration of very responsible people***.

***My friends and I. Go on. Trust us.

It’s going to be the best ride ever. We just have a few questions first:

  1. Why are there no inside photos of this vehicle?
  2. Does the inside of this vehicle smell like hookers, death and meth?
  3. Is this vehicle for the safe transportation of people AVOIDING zombies, or is it for the transportation of zombies from place to place? We have to know our market, people.

Either way, I’m pretty sure this is a lucrative opportunity. And it goes hand in hand with the complementary joys of the obviously necessary catering accomplice:

Craigslist is the greatest thing ever.

It’s zombielicious.
Click for source.

Because what’s the point in transporting people avoiding zombies/zombies who need to travel if you can’t FEED them along the way? I mean, if we’re transporting zombies, we can use this concession stand to lure unsuspecting people close to the limo, where they will thusly become food for the zombies. And if we’re transporting regular, not-rotty people, they will need to be fed.

Shaved ice is very nourishing, I hear.

This is only the beginning though, people. We’ve begun a plot to buy up all the zombie-related vehicles in the nation and do a North American food tour.

I now present to you THE PLAN:

Yes, this did have to be a picture

This is a really great plan, right? Totally financially sound? Ok then. Dibs. This plan is Copyright me, 2013. (That’s how copyrights work, right?)

It’s kind of the best thing ever, right? I mean, we’re ahead of the game embracing the career potential of the impending zombie apocalypse, AND we’ve found more than one vehicle for my friend.

The lesson to be learned here is: Teamwork Can Solve All Your Vehicular and Financial Problems****

****And also by the consolidated efforts of me, Max Power^, and K.B. Toys^^, with the willing participation of our car-shopping heroine, 

^Not his real name
^^Also not his real name

P.S.: Hey guys, guys! Canada and Bahrain and Australia and the UK found my blog! Bahrain! And look how much Canada! LOTS of Canada!

YAY

Like, A LOT of Canada. Hi Canada!

This is the best day ever.

A Tragic Tale of Missed Opportunity

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Remember when I told you I had weekend adventures? Well, I wasn’t lying. I went to a “Collectables and Antiques” show.*

*Hey hey hey, that kind of crass jealousy is uncalled for. I would have invited you if I’d known you wanted to go so bad.

And I stumbled right back into Regretsy territory when I found the single greatest, most flummoxing craft project known to man:

I totally didn't pose them like this.

I totally didn’t pose them like this, guys, but I really believe they’re doing a slow-motion chase scene for Jesus.

I’d like you to meet Buff and Spiff, the Steroid Angels of Christmas.**

**These may not be their actual names.

I found them on a table with a display of their compatriots:

I don't know what the front angel is doing.

Because fit Santas, buff angels, and ripped fiddle players BELONG together.

And I was speechless.*** I marveled at their strangely formed muscles, which were reminiscent of Tommy Wiseau in The Room****. I marveled at just how many of these decorations someone had taken the time to make. I marveled at who would put these in their home during the joyous time of the holidays.

***Ok, not speechless enough that I didn’t pick them up and invent stories about how they defended Christmas through the power of steroids and glue-on wings, but I did that all in my head, so TECHNICALLY I was still speechless.

****DO NOT GOOGLE THIS. Some things cannot be unseen.

And it was only after I’d walked away from the table that I realized that I would totally put them in my home during the joyous time of the holidays. And I would like to give them to all my friends.

So, obviously, I went back the next day.

Only to discover that the frustrated seller (who apparently had not sold a single ware, according to the seller with the table next to her) had decided not to return for the dismal Sunday sales. I was crushed.****

****I still am.

In my time of grief, I did what any rational girl would do. I turned to the Internet.

I’m going to be honest. I fully expected to find these on Etsy. I expected them to be on the front page, singled out for their amazingness. I mean, who wouldn’t want to deck their halls with the bulging pecs of plush angels?

Apparently it’s just me, y’all.

Because Etsy let me down. After hunting through 72 pages** of possible choices for “angel doll” and “Christmas angel,” I had to throw in the towel.

**Because I am super dedicated to giving everyone ripped angels for Christmas. I’m willing to sacrifice for my friends, y’all. Don’t you wish you were on my gift-giving list?

But I did find these precious gems.

1) The Nakedest, Flattest, Most Concerning Cherub

It's soo happy

That trumpet is _really_strategically placed.
Click for source.

In defense of this seller, this is apparently vintage. So, let’s all get concerned about our predecessors, people.

2) The Most Confused Angel Impostor

It looks so sad.

It’s probably so confused because it’s hanging by it’s head.
Click for source!

This angel appears to have been stricken by poverty, and hung up by her head. Someone buy this angel and get her a nice dress. And maybe a cheeseburger, And a bandaid.

3) The…Winkle

This really scares me

I don’t…I just…what….
Click for source?

I really want to say things about this, but I really just have no idea what to say. Other than I really, really hope that’s an elephant trunk.

4) The Gremlin in Disguise

On nom nom nom

Seriously. Don’t let it in the house, don’t get it wet, and don’t let it eat after midnight.
Click for source.

It smiles the same way after it eats your children.

So if you need me, I’ll be in mourning. But at least my Christmas shopping is done.

America Is Teetering on the Verge of Civil Destruction

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And it’s all going to end because of clothes.*

*Hyperbole? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ok, folks. I’m heading back into uncharted territory. Today we’re talking about fashion. No, I’m not talking about what’s walking down the runways at Fashion Week, or what Victoria’s Secret models are strutting around in. (They’re only walking like that because they’re trying to keep warm, people.)

I’m talking about what’s catwalking across the Internet on Kickstarter.

I’d like you to meet the “Hoodsie.”**

Now available in sexy gray.

Animal hat and random confetti probably included. Every Hoodsie is party-ready.

Source

**In fairness, I bet these would totally keep those Victoria’s Secret models warm.

First, the overall was invented. This was not the fault of America. These were pretty rampant across industrial countries – a practical garment to keep man and lady factory workers from finding each other attractive protect workers from dangerous materials.

Then came PajamaJeans***: “Pajamas you live in. Jeans you sleep in.™”

Perfect for the People of Walmart!

I’m just curious: WHICH designer are we talking about here?

Source

***I actually thought this was an SNL skit when I saw the ad. Truly.

You know. For the American who refuses to ever, ever get undressed. They’re for the lady-equivalent of Tobias Funke’s cutoffs.

And then there’s the onsie.

This isn’t a modern invention. This is old-school children’s pajamas. I confess. A few years back, I was desperate for footed jammies. A warm body-sock to flounce around in? Why yes please.

But at no moment did I ever think my onsie pajamas were sexy. Or anything other than pajamas. Specifically, my onsie pajamas were used for the following reasons:

  1. Pretending I was a superhero;
  2. Boyfriend deterrent, for when I was mad at the then-boyfriend;
  3. A cost-effective heating solution;
  4. A way to avoid getting dressed between “bed” and “making bacon.”

They are, in fact, so blatantly unflattering that I can only show you a picture of the sock-part of my footed pajamas.

Because what grown woman does not long for monkeys on her feet? Answer me that, dear reader.

Because what grown woman does not long for monkeys on her feet? Answer me that, dear reader.

But the makers of the Hoodsie disagree with this generally accepted fact. You know how I know this?

I don't even have words

When I put on my onsie pjs, I instantly think “Man. These would look great in the shallow area of the pool.”

Source

That man is really showing off the versatility and allure of what is basically a person-glove. This is a redefining moment for the onsie, y’all. They even confess it in the picture. It’s “the onsie for ‘adults’ “. I did not write that, guys. It’s what’s actually on the picture.**** The inventors of the Hoodsie are convinced you will wear this anywhere and everywhere.

****I also didn’t write “Shallow Area,” but I really think that’s what sells it for me.

And you know what? I totally see college campuses overrun with these:

I'll take 10.

It’s the new backwards frayed visor and popped collar

Source

Which basically means we’re all done with pants, people. Pants are over. It’s all downhill from here. Before you know it, we’re all going to be wearing shiny body socks, like the people in Wall-e. And that’s basically the end of the civilized world as we know it. First, it’s the decline of pants. Next, it’s replacing all food with nutrient goo and robots taking over the world.

It’s all over, people. The onsie has won.

Credit Where Credit Is Due: The source material for today’s post was introduced to me by the infamous Mr. L.

More Credit Where Credit Is Due: The Hoodsie is a Kickstarter Project, so it’s the brainchild of some people trying to turn their dream into reality. And, even though it’s clearly a sign that the civilized world is in decline, and we’re all going to start thinking sacks are sexy, I fully support these guys getting their funding – if only because otherwise, I never would have dreamed up a picture of a guy in an unzipped onsie in a pool. 

Give them money, get your very own onsie.