As we make our collective final steps out of 2010 and into 2011, it’s only natural to begin reviewing the past 12 months.  What did I like?  What did I dislike?  Which things should I bring with me into the New Year, and which should I let fall by the wayside?

It’s come to my attention recently that a certain thing has begun to grow in popularity.  It’s been present for years, but it’s remained on the fringes, a staple of children and Burning Man fanatics, sure, but nothing you’d see on your mom, or your best friend; never so front and center that I’ve begun to see it in nearly every store window I pass.

I’m talking about adult animal hats.

No, I don’t mean raccoon tail Davy Crockett hats.  Those are fine (as long as they also stay on the fringes…).  I’m talking about these things:

Come on, dude.  You are a grown man.  You are not four years old.  You’re 30!  And you’re wearing a PENGUIN FACE on top of YOUR FACE!  How is that okay?

This is my open plea to everyone that we eradicate adults in animal hats by January 2011.

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I don’t know what it is about Thanksgiving in particular that makes crafters lose their minds.  Maybe it’s the general weakness of the turkey as craft imagery.  Maybe it’s a result of Halloween over-crafting.  Maybe it’s just too much food.

Whatever it is, I hope for the sake of small children everywhere that the holiday is over quickly, and with less pain than this kid on the right is feeling.  I’m with you, Dakota.  What the f*#% is your mom thinking?

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Dear Human,

I have a fur coat. I wear it with some frequency. In the summer, when you are in your wee bitty little bikini, floating around cooly in the pool. I am stuck in this rank ass fur, sweating up a storm. But, in the fall and winter? It is delightful to be a dog. I have nature’s most perfect insulation.

So listen to me. LOOK AT ME. No, look at me. This crap? Has got to stop. I do not need a raincoat, a scarf, a jaunty little cap, or one of those stupid little hats with an umbrella attached. I sure as hell don’t need whatever this thing is and I think I may be having some allergy related reaction. Because, that’s right, I am ALLERGIC TO SHAME.

I’m warm enough. I am cute enough. Please stop making me wear the leftovers from your yarn stash.

Love,

Buster

P.S. That little treat in your underwear drawer? Expect that every day until the torture ceases.

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flutter has never made her dog wear anything made of fun-fur yarn. She promises.

I kind of want to buy this just for the look of horror on my boyfriend’s face when he takes off my clothes.

What, honey, you don’t want to peel off my felted “taste me” thong?

Cheshire Cat pasties not doing it for you?

Man, I thought for sure you’d go crazy when you saw the hand stitched hookah smoking caterpillar.  My bad.  I guess next time I should figure out what sexy is before I drop $160 on a knit storybook corset.

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Renee gets her underwear in a three-pack.

I hate it when an Etsy artist has already come up with the best possible name for a Craftastrophe.  Forest Gimp?  Brilliant.  And mildly awkward.  Like Forest himself.  Especially if Jenny had caught him in this getup.

I would have thought this would have been more Lieutenant Dan’s scene, frankly.

Who knew bondage dolls could be so adorable?

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Elly Lou would like to be a bird so she could fly far, far away from this thing.