Clyde is angry because somebody stole his carrots. He is determined to find out who it was and take proper action into his own hands... or claws, I should say.
Now hold on a second. Is Clyde sure that's what he is angry about?
He's not angry about his mouth being stuck open like he has some sort of orthodontic freakshow?
He's not angry that his head is completely bald as opposed to the rest of his body, much like a cueball wearing a sweater? He's not angry that all those Bunny Brewskies finally caught up to him?
Perusing some of the older submissions I came across this. At first I thought it was just some weird polymer head with a goofy grin and funny eyes.
Then I read the description and choked on my water then spit it all over my computer.
Someone owes me a clean computer.
Heed the warning, people. Heed!
From the listing...
This is a strong mama & not for the timid. She is crowning in a deep squat, known to be an optimal position for birth, utilizing both gravity and a wide open pelvis to bring her baby strongly into the world. She refuses to be drugged, cut open, or forced onto her back in a pose of subservience. She takes charge of her birth & she's doing it HER WAY. She is as anatomically detailed as I could manage, complete with labia, nipples & clitoral hood.
Holy feminist Batman!
Guess that makes me a push over man servant. Ah well. Can't win 'em all, can we? No sense in getting my labia all bunched up.
I will not make her less detailed.
How's that for standards!?
"She never uses this one. I bet she won't even notice it's gone... This is going to be so awesome! She's going to love it. This and the cutlery from the china cabinet? She hasn't used that in forever! So amazing. I'm brilliant!"
"Honey! Have you seen my tea pot? The Jones' are going to be here soon! I need the good tea pot. I can't serve Betty tea is this old thing. I'll be the talk of the euchre club. - Speaking of the tea pot, all my cutlery is gone too!"
"Nope, sweetie! Haven't seen them."
*whispers* Ah crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!
CraftZine recently featured this banner with slogan "No Theory, No Cry" (for which I have no explanation for unless it's about not having to write theory and being happy about it? Meh.)
Reader Jen can only see one thing:
"It looks like the girl is crying raisins."
I'm not sure how one would go about crying raisins unless they had some sort of fruit drying machine made with sunshine behind their eyes but then wouldn't the sunshine hurt your eyes? I mean, even if you wore sunglasses the sun would bounce off the inside of your sunglasses and back into your eyes, especially if they were the super cheap kind of sunglasses made by little kids in China, but if they were the good kind made wherever good stuff is made then you would be protecting everyone else. In which case, you would be a hero. This is a lot like that drunk conversation my husband had with his best friend when we were at a pool bar in Mexico and the two of them planned to buy all of Mexico and put a dome over top of it and that way no one would have to worry about sunscreen anymore.*
Of course according to my great-grandmother (may God rest her soul): "There was no problem with that ozone layer until the astronauts went up there and broke the damn sky!"
*They also planned on moving the Dallas Cowboys and the Miami Dolphins there to play against each other live, every day. Silly boys.