Elastic & Plastic

Oh, man! This 80s era plastic stretchy bracelet would have been such a great X-mas gift for your tweenage niece. You know, the one who likes to wear skinny pants, brag about how much her new industrial piercing hurt, and sext with High School boys on her brand new iDroidberry. It's too bad I didn't post this last week. You're so bummed.

Since this bracelet also looks like sleek, colorful, ambulatory slugs following each other around and around for all eternity, it would also be a great gift for that special someone you happen to believe you'll be spending the rest of your life with at this particular moment, provided that person likes colorful plastic jewelry, has a relatively dainty wrist, and no arm hair. I think this thing would really elicit some "ouches" on some hairy arm skin.

$5

Scratch and Miff

Right before Thanksgiving this year, my son decided to reach up during bedtime story and give Mommy a big old scratch on her face. Then he laughed and I gave him a million kisses because he is just so cute! I had a fine pinkish scratch about 2 inches long on my jawline. No big deal, right? Wrong. One of my biggest pet peeves is when a person makes a comment to another person about something unattractive about their physical person that they cannot immediately change. Let me explain:

Acceptable: "Hey hot stuff, you have mustard on your lip." I can wipe that mustard right off!

NOT Acceptable: "Oh no! Is that a pimple?" Yes, it's a pimple, and you're a f&$*ing d-bag.

Acceptable: "You have one of one of those annoying prickly plant parts stuck to your coat. Let me get that for you." How nice!

NOT Acceptable: "What happened to your face?" What happened to YOUR face?

I had way too many people ask me what happened to my face. WAY too many. You can try to convince me that they were trying to be nice and were concerned for the well being of my face, but your efforts will be in vain. Vain, I say! Being polite means pretending that pimples, scratches, sores, eye redness, questionable fashion choices, signs of fatigue, unwanted facial hair, terrible names of unborn babies that have already been decided upon, wrinkles, blushing, sunburn, ingrown hairs, ugly tattoos, stained clothing, chapped lips, cowlicks, rashes, scars, amputations, etc. do NOT exist, and NOT commenting on them.

This object could be used for keys, jewelry, or scratching people who annoy me.

Sold.

Social Ladder

One day, when I was in Middle School, I decided I wanted to be in the popular group. I wasn't dissatisfied with the friends I had, I just... I was 13. I wanted to be friends with those other girls who someone, at some point, had decided comprised THE popular group, even though my class was so small that there were only two distinguishable groups of girls.

Still, I wanted to make the jump from just OK to like totally popular. I devised a plan. Pay careful attention, because it worked, and it could work for you, and being popular is of the utmost importance.

I thought to my hormonally besieged self, how can I infiltrate this group? I can't just walk up to them at lunch and ask if I can sit with them and eat my turkey sammich while we take turns reading aloud the sexy parts of Forever by Judy Blume. Oh, no I could not. I remembered reading a story as a child about a young warrior challenged to slay a big, scary dragon. The dragon had imposing scales like iron skillets that were impenetrable by any weapon. The young warrior ran underneath the dragon and noticed that a scale was missing, and he shot the dragon with an arrow right there, and the dragon DIED! And that's why we don't have dragons anymore, which is sad but less dangerous. Anyway, I had to find a weak spot in the forcefield of the popular clique. I decided that the weak link was, drumroll, the least popular popular girl. That's correct. She got the least attention of any of those girls. She was just an add-on. Soooooo, I paid her some attention. I befriended her. I was IN. My plan worked.

And then I lived happily ever after and found this collar-type necklace at an estate sale. It looks like a ladder, and it will definitely make you look popular.

$15

Choked Up

The face here will distract from your own. You're welcome. Jolly, jolly Friday.

$15

I Like Big Baubles

Are you into tiny little studs? Who isn't? Me. I like my studs large, in charge, and too big to fit into one of these minute holes, which is the same way I like all my other jewelry. Speaking of jewelry, shouldn't this blond chick be wearing some? She's in the jewelry display business, after all.

OK, I figured it out. She got home. She changed into her favorite comfy green outfit. She took off all her jewelry and hung it on her jewelry tree (not pictured) and is now talking on the phone with her best girlfriend, Mandy, while a serial killer hides in her closet wearing all the jewelry she just took off.

She glances over and notices her jewelry is mysteriously missing just when Mandy begins to tell her about a slew of local murders, where, you guessed it, the only thing missing from the home was the jewelry from the victims' jewelry trees.

DUN. DUN. DUN.

$5