Well, okay, it's just the one thing. And she's probably already seen it. But the fact of her having not POINTED to it on her blog or on twitter or on her sex-blog or on her advice column or ANYWHERE AT ALL is what I was referring to. If she hasn't mentioned it yet, it's fair game.
(So help me, Jenny, if you have mentioned this already, I'm going to find you, and I'm going to BUY YOU ONE OF THESE TOOLS OF MAYHEM AND GARDENING USEFULNESS.
Just you wait and see if I don't.
I know. You're right. I won't. I'm much too busy analyzing the disproportion of my gray hair to the size/number of my stomach folds and inciting them to a duel to bother seeking out the purchase of what is probably a HIGHly overpriced item that doesn't even function after you've installed the batteries wrong that first, crucial time, you know, the one where you've gotta leave the paper inside the body of the apparatus because otherwise all the settings won't work properly and instead what you're left with is one measly, weak setting that barely seems to --
I should stop now, shouldn't I.)
I need to just show you what I mean.
(Ripped ruthlessly and with nary a nanogram of compassion from the terrifically obscure site Wired, who ripped it in equally ruthless fashion from slightly-less-obscure kittyhell.com.)
It's breathtaking, non? An explosive combination of cute-meets-tool-of-horror (which is probably more or less on par with the hello kitty vibrator, but that's kinda old-school because it went around in viral email form around nine or ten years ago, when everyone still used yahoo, so big WHOOP, hello kitty vibrator and NO, I wasn't referring to that when I was speaking in an aside to Jenny, The Bloggess, regarding batteries and insertion and oh, good lord, I think I just experienced a verbal orgasm.
A thing I highly recommend.)
You know what else is cute-meets-horrific? No. You don't. But you should. And so I shall show you.
*starts digging under piles of folders*
*tumbleweed drifts aimlessly by*
*gang of tumbleweeds thunders past and proceeds to assault first, harmless tumbleweed who kind of resembles the meatball, only it's not called a meatball, it's a meatbox? no. meatload? heh, no. heh. um. hmmmm. *taps finger to lips, recognizes interruption to interlude involving tumbleweed gang-bang, stops tapping* MEATWAD. yes. um, so, tumbleweed badasses roll up on meatwad-ish tumbleweed, who's all cute and innocent, and bum-rush him. poor meatwad-y tumbleweed. let's name him. let's name him T.Meaty. makes him sound tougher. maybe he'll have more confidence as a tumbleweed who doesn't look like all the other tumbleweeds, but who still goes on to have a successful tumbleweed career. as a tumbleweed. let's hug him and give him some snacks for the road. g'bye, T.Meaty! we lo-- we like you! as a friend! watches as T.Meaty rolls off, cheeky grin on his little, weedy face, while, without knowing, he carries a long span of toilet paper attached to his lower tumbleweed appendage(s?), which doesn't bode well for our hero*
*more tumbleweeds, but totally insipid ones who don't remind us of any adorably off-beat cartoon characters headed for ultimate disaster rolled in a fine coating of shenanigans*
HERE. I WAS NOT STALLING. LOOK.
Clockwork Mice T-Shirts. Because I would never steer you wrong when it comes to being pressed into a state of freaked-out preshus. Cute Overload? Watch your backs.
(Not actually threatening the purveyors of Cute Overload. Who would threaten people who give us that much cute? Only a major asshole. I am not that asshole.)
(I'm still kind of an asshole. But I am not that asshole.)
(In the same way that that's not yogurt.)
My God, I love you.
And I've never seen that chainsaw. I want it though.
Posted by: Jenny, bloggess | February 16, 2010 at 12:16 PM
Very Nice!!
Posted by: EB | February 22, 2010 at 02:58 PM