Dating is hard these days. People have a hard time communicating their wants, their needs, their feeeeelings.

These cards should take care of that problem. And probably the relationship too.

I think they’re fabulous…..

{source}

Kim is stocking up on stamps.

Imagery: A toothed vagina with an arm extending from it that is grasping a human heart.

Well, I’m glad you cleared that up, because I really had no idea what I was looking at.  A butt with a zipper?  Krumm for Aaahh!!! Real Monsters?  Some sort of Halloween themed nut cracker?

But now that I know it’s a vagina dentata, I totally get it.  I also totally get that you made it look “like an artifact” (see: old and crappy) on purpose, and that it’s worth all $500 that you’re charging for it.

Oh, wait, no–I mean, I totally don’t get it.  Feminist mythology my butt zipper.

{source}

Renee doesn’t bite.

Happy Labor Day!  Doubtlessly you’re already chilling the beer and forming the patties for this afternoon’s barbecue.  In fact, I bet you’re already exhausted.  Well never fear!  I’ve found the solution.  Sit right down on your Footstool and take a load off.

For little more than a c-note, you can plop your tired booty atop a pair of legs amputated just just below the knee.  And the shoes?  Those are honest to genuine Lugz.  Apparently I’m not hip enough to know what that means.  No, I must bow to the hipness of a person that chooses to embroider a pair of hamburgers on denim pants.

{Source}

Elly Lou plans on celebrating the holiday by trolling Times Square for sailors.

Yesterday my boyfriend and I were talking about the ridiculousness of the term “sex positive.”  If you’re unfamiliar with it (because you don’t live in the hipster-and-hippie-fied SF Bay) it can mean anything from “I have an open mind about sex” to “I’m a fetish crazy swinger with sex toys mounted to three of my four living room walls.”  Basically (as Oleg put it) “I’m not a repressed Christian zealot.” It’s one of those terms that’s inherently unnecessary–who doesn’t feel positively toward sex (apart from the aforementioned repressed religious types)?–but that people have decided they really, really like throwing around.  They also like to use it (as previously mentioned) to describe a stupidly wide range of attitudes, which is why it reminds me of another term I’ve come to loathe: objet d’art.

Literally meaning “object of art,” this term has been taken over by anyone and everyone that’s ever made something ridiculous and wanted to make it sound fancy.  And since it technically covers a pretty big group of things–any object that you can consider “art,” which is basically any object–people have thrown it around to the point that it’s been rendered absolutely meaningless.

How can I be sure it’s lost all meaning?  Because that’s how someone described this garish patriotic explosion, titled “handbeaded AH HA BARRETTE.”

A grown-up “conversation piece… you’re going to be talked about flaunting this “after one’s own heart” object d’art
(It’s classy by it’s own sassy self but it’s a swingy, beady eye catchy standout in a hairdo too!)

I can imagine what people will say when they mention my object d’art (way to know your terminologies!) and I’m guessing most of their statements will be made while giggling behind my back and will probably include things like aren’t there laws about flag desecration? and wearing that barrette does not mean we are going to call you Miss America.

I also love the parenthetical nod being classy.  Know what’s classy?  Simple shapes in basic shades–black, white, brown.  Clean lines.  Quality components.  Basically, things that are not made of shiny red plastic stars and Fimo clay.

And I can’t fathom what you’re supposed to do with this thing apart from wear it in your hair.  I mean, I’d never wear this in my hair because I don’t want to look like I’m vomiting stars and stripes out of my skull, but that write up seems to suggest that there are other options.  Am I going to lay it on my desk at work?  Should I hang it on the wall?  Or maybe it can be like those car testicles and dangle from the underside of my Nissan.

Whatever it is, I’d better be able to do something with it if it’s going to cost me a cool $50.

{source}

Renee kind of hopes somebody buys this.

Hermann Rorschach was born in 1884.  He started showing inkblot pictures to children and analyzing their responses around 1910.  In 1921 he published his book, Psychodiagnostik, that formed the basis for the diagnostic ink blot test.  From his work, John E. Exner created the Exner Scoring System, which is to this day used with Rorschach’s inkblot tests in criminal investigations and mental health facilities around the world.

The woman who painted this sign might benefit from some Rorschach analysis.

Call me immature, or maybe oversexed, but when I first saw this there was only one word that came to mind and it was not Halloween.

While I wish its creator was a brilliant, devious mastermind who purposefully painted this equivalent of a folk art Rorschach and then posted it on Etsy for $110, I don’t think that’s the case.  The rest of her work is whimsical and cute, and she sounds like a lovely, oblivious woman who has no idea that this piece looks like a 1970′s vagina.

I bet she also fails to see the irony of the “Welcome to Sleepy Hollow” sign.

{source}

Renee takes care to trim her sleepy hollow.