Snooki and The Situation in 2038

In what is perhaps a fitting tribute to the Garden State, the guy does look a little like Silent Bob. If you squint. And drank a margarita out of one of those slushie machines on the boardwalk.

In case you were starting to miss summer and feel nostalgic for lazy days in the sand and cute swimsuits, let me remind that fall is awesome. Because when you go to the beach in the summer, you probably see more of the above than you care to admit. If these were fall themed figurines, this delightful couple would probably get to wear sweaters and go apple picking. They might be downright adorable.

Don’t get me wrong, I still wouldn’t buy these figurines.  Let’s not get crazy.

But this does raise the question, “Why does New Jersey insist on mocking itself?” It’s really not that bad. I spent my childhood vacations on the Jersey Shore and have nothing but great memories of playing on the beach and eating ice cream while grandpa made one hell of run at a blackjack table. Okay, maybe that is a little bit stereotypical Jersey.

And I’m not just assigning this couple the role Jersey Beach Bums. Some boardwalk shop went ahead and branded them – cheaply. After stocking their store with non-location specific ceramic beachgoers who make questionable fashion choices, they figured, “What the hell? Let’s claim them as ours.”

Tape your own city here!

So with that as a reminder of the inherent awesomeness of autumn, let’s let summer walk out of our lives until next year.

Fare thee well, whats-your-name and JWoww.

Just a little clutch to hide away your money, credit cards, lipstick, and fashion sense

Double your pleasure, double your fun with… two identical embroidered birds on your purse.

This was most likely designed by a young fashionista – and by young I mean eleven or younger – who had not yet read that memo women get about trying one trend at a time. This budding young designer opted for:

  1. fringe
  2. ‘ethnic’ style emroidery
  3. ribbons
  4. and pom poms on the zipper pull

I have no idea how she didn’t figure out how to work in a few sequins. I suppose then that would limit your options for using this bag. Sequins just scream out evening, and clearly this is daytime clutch. I like to assume that if it was meant for evening she would of embroidered some owls on there.

But as it stands this pocketbook was embroidered with some sort of mythical bird. Which means this might be the perfect solution to carrying your things while wearing a pair of pocketless unicorn pants.

Attack of the Big Headed Girls Part III – Polly, the White Trash Hillbilly Cousin

“Please buy my sunflowers so that I can afford to eat something other than the potentially poisonous mushroom behind me.”

The Crystal Gayle inspired braid practically begs for a shampoo.

 

 

They just keep coming! Three! There are three of these big headed girls in my closet now. I’m afraid that having all three of them together will open up some sort of hell dimension ruled Bratz dolls.

Polly gives us a chance to analyze hillbilly stereotypes.  The most disturbing thing about Polly, other than her very existence, is her braid. Her extra-long locks play into hillbilly stereotypes nicely, implying that she may belong a fundamentalist religion that does not allow women to cut their hair. She is also peddling flowers on the road, unlike her cousins Molly (who lives in a comfortable house in town) and Dolly (who, while slutty, is clearly of the more genteel variety of country folk). She is however the only big headed girl shown outside the home, so perhaps she is a feminist attempting to support herself through entrepreneurial  flower sales.

Oh big headed girls, your possibilities are endless. You expand the mind.

Mostly, however, you prove the extent to which your own minds have already expanded. Which is the second reason that braid is so important. Molly and Dolly have all their hair under their bonnets, so it is possible that they have normal sized heads and that their uncut hair is piled up under the bonnet making it appear enormous to the point neurological concern. Polly’s braid is not contained… yet her bonnet is still huge… you can do the math.

Yep, they are inbred ginormous brained country gals. Run for your lives!!

The Unholy Trinity of Molly, Polly, and Dolly. I have contained them in my closet to prevent the havoc they will thrust upon the world. You’re welcome.

Reduce. Reuse. Regurgitate.

Breakfast Club Dolly 2

Please note that the author/sweater girl, much to her dismay, is not Goth Dolly Parton.

Finally, an answer to the question “What would Dolly Parton wear if she went Goth?”

This sweater is not just a head-scratching combination of country music bling and teenage gothy rebellion, this thing is a whole body scratching combination of many different dead animals. Or an incredible example of letting no scrap of pelt – or rhinestone – go to waste.

How many animals were harmed in this production? (Vegans, now might be a good time to look away.)

IMG_6313

The care on the reverse reads as follows: Place in bag and give to Goodwill.

The Mrs. Roper Maternity Collection

Poorly Photoshopped Head

Please note that the author is not really Audra Lindley.

 

No, I am not pregnant in this photo. Oddly, I didn’t want to be photographed in this psychedelic loungewear during my pregnancy, partly out of self-respect and partly out of wanting to protect my unborn child from the polyester fumes. I still didn’t want to be photographed in this, nor does anyone, ever.

Then why do I still own this trippy little number that Amy gave me to celebrate my knocked-up-ed-ness? Theme parties. If someone throws a seventies party I am going, and I am going to be soooooo comfortable while all those other women are in go-go boots and miniskirts.

Craft-tastrophe – Holiday Edition!

Why donate boxes of pasta to your local food pantry when you can make this instead?

This stunning Christmas tree really stands out from the crowd in its combination of innovation and desperation.

While hideous, it is still impressive that someone was able to look at their pantry and their junk drawer and think to themselves, “If only I had a red cardboard megaphone from last night’s high school football game… then I could make a Christmas tree!”  After mugging a cheerleader and taking her megaphone, just for giggles they mounted it onto a base of… honestly, I have no idea what that white base is – a bowl?  Glass lampshade?

Seriously, look at this again:

Tree Details

There are more types of pasta on this tree than on the Olive Garden menu.

There are eleven types of pasta visible here.  There’s at least three more on the tree, but if you really are using this as a way to learn the shapes of pasta, I think you are on the wrong blog. There’s also a number of golf tees, buttons, bows, stickers, earrings, beads, a cinnamon stick, and images cut out of photos and cards.

Yes, images cut out of other sources.  So not only did this crafter make a Christmas tree out of everything available in a hoarder’s pantry, but then proceeded to decorate this thing with snowman cutouts.

This is where the desperation comes in. After all of this work (yes, work – just because it’s awful doesn’t mean it was easy to put together) the crafter went ahead and scotch taped the snowmen onto it.

Like there was a pressing deadline on this thing. Like Santa wasn’t going to stop at the house if this wasn’t next to the fireplace.

Or maybe the pasta was in lieu of cookies.

Meet Dolly, Molly Mobbie’s Tarted Up Country Cousin

Oh Molly Mobbie, just when I thought you were the most wonderfully kitsch thing I’d ever receive, Amy had to go and give me your cousin. Your country cousin with precisely applied jet black eyeliner and bright red lipstick, giving her a certain smutty adorableness. Unlike Molly, who is hiding her enormous head under a bonnet with a very trendy bow, Dolly has a simple polka-dotted ribbon adornment that matches her apron. While both Molly and Dolly have gigantic noggins and feline companionship, Molly – being the citified cousin – gazes appreciatively/psychotically at the grandfather clock in (presumably) the parlor of her townhome in the state capitol. Dolly is stuck spinning yarn on some barely settled prairie.

Luckily for Dolly, she was painted by a different Holly-hobbyist.  How do I know, aside from the obvious difference in quality? Once again, this creation was signed by the crafter. A crafter who had the ingenuity to add details using felt-tip pens. Dolly is actually very well executed artistically – she’s just still really, really tacky.

Were ‘paint your own’ Holly Hobbie knock-off kits a bit of a trend in the 1970s? Can a reader answer this? And by ‘reader’ I mean ‘one of our moms.’  How else can I explain that there are two big-headed girls currently residing in my closet?  And now that this is a potential trend in the ugly gifting world I have to keep them both for a few months just in case I have the opportunity to do a formal family photo later.

Baaaaaad Gift

What are you looking at? No seriously, which eye is the good one?

I think the most interesting thing about this mass produced ceramic goat is that it was mass produced. This implies a market for this item. Which means that somewhere along the line in America, a whole lot of people looked around their homes and said to themselves, “You know what would really perk this place up? A goat statue!”

Not content to simply get any old ceramic livestock, the purchasers of this cross-eyed, cloven-hoofed beauty could have also used this as a self-defense item. This is one pointy statue, and the horns are perfectly spaced to take out both eyes simultaneously. Most animal figurines tend to be cute and smiling. With its combination of pointy horns and evil smirk, this one seems to play up the popular culture associations between goats and devil-worship.

Tippi Hedren Called. She Wants Her Teapot Back.

Help! Help! Giant pink and white birds
are attacking the castle!

I take my tea with a squeeze of lemon, a little sugar, and unfortunately for this teapot, a smidge of dignity.

Many moons ago – okay, years – I got married. Amy was my Maid of Honor. A duty she very obviously took to heart. Not only did she consent to wear a light purple dress of my choosing (with matching shawl!) but she found, purchased, and beautifully presented this gift to me. In front of all the other bridesmaids.

Bridesmaids, mind you, who did not know about our passion for bad gifting.

The collective breath holding followed by plastered on fake smiles was priceless. I could practically see profanity-laden thought bubbles appear above their heads. When I responded with a genuine “This. Is. Perfect!” My other ‘smaids were unsure if I was the best actress ever or waaaay tackier than they knew.

Thankfully my mom chimed in with an “Oh, they know this is ugly.”

On the bright side I suppose I could construe this to mean that my husband and I are supposed to live happily ever after. At least until we drown in the boiling tea filling up our castle.

But now that the lovely story of its origin is out of the way, let’s dissect the tackiness that is this piece o’ crap.

  1. There is a tree bent by some force of nature crashing into the castle.
  2. The same storm seems to have ripped a turret astray.
  3. The paint is really uneven.
  4. Last, but certainly not least, the birds perched on the lid are the same size as the turret roofs.

And to think that most people have to wait until their 20th anniversary to receive fine china.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, It’s the Real Doomsday Clock

Such unnaturally blond hair, and WIDE eyes.

Such attention to detail, every flower in the basket behind her is painted.

The clock works. It keeps perfect time. But, this lovely little gift that I received for my birthday is about a year older than me. Conveniently the artist included the date in her signature. Yes, this piece of crap is signed. I’m sure in the mid-seventies this Holly Hobbie knock-off was the most awesome thing in some little girl’s room. The purple dress and bonnet even have a subtle sheen.

But what really creeps me out is the wide-eyed stare of Molly Mobbie. I keep expecting this ceramic resident of the village of the damned to solve a puzzle box and grow up overnight.

Needless to say she resides in my closet… until she can be set free at my local Goodwill. Then she can go live in another damned village.