In college I owned a lime green jacket made of vinyl. I thought I was the hottest thing around.

Yes. Vinyl. Lime green. I can’t tell you how badly I wish I had a picture for you.

It was 2001. Yes. I. KNOW.

My then (sexual relations) buddy thought it was amazing, HOT, and totally sexy.

He’s now my husband thankyouverymuch.

He was right about one thing. Totally hot. Like sweaty just breathing hot. Sweat dripping down your back hot. Don’t-even-bother-dancing-or-you-will-cook-from-the-inside-out HOT.

Kinda like Ross’ leather pants.

I can’t watch that without giggling uncontrollably.

I have no idea how to properly segue this so I’ll just say: Hot. Boobies.

What? It’s late. I’m tired. Suck it. *snort*

Um. Wha?

Uh. Okay.

Wait. Wait! It gets better! I swear!

A complete unitard of latex with inflatable bewbs.

Now that? THAT’S HOT.

(P.S. In the crotch area? There’s some metal-ish beads / pins / clasps. Don’t ask what that’s all about. I suspect some access point. You know? Like a spanx hole?

{source} — The shop has some um, other random fetish items if you’re so inclined. Consider yourself warned.

Clearly I am missing something here. Us? A guilty pleasure? I think it’s more like that trainwreck you can’t tear yourself from no matter how hard you try. Craftastrophe is the equivalent of toilet paper stuck to your shoe while you walk around the hottest most trendiest bar in the city. It’s the spinach stuck between your teeth when you smile at The Guy you’ve been crushing on For-Evah!

We’ve been a little slow around here (As if you haven’t noticed. Seriously? The emails begging for posts? So awesome!), we’ve broken our feed (Can’t seem to get that bitch back online. Feedburner is a red-headed step child. I’d so like to give it a beat down.), and yet you’re still here.

No I am not crying. I have something stuck in my eye. And I’m still sick, leemeealone.

So really, it’s not like I should even bother asking since you’ve done so much already just by hanging around while we get our poop together; but I’m going to. I’m going to ask you for one more teenie tiny little thing.

A vote.

Since we got our butts beaten so badly in the other award thingie. No matter. It’s not like we didn’t have some stiff competition – like um, ETSY! Seriously. No one has a chance against a gem like that.

Especially one that showcases beauts like this:

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I think of both a neti pot and tea when I see this: and that’s not very comforting. Not in the least.

Can I just say that I worry that the refuse from the nostril opposite the neti pot would drip in my mouth and I ain’t havin’ none of that.

{image source}

Um. What the what?!

That how you Craftastrophe lovers make my boogers feel. Like dancing.

Git down wit yer bad self.

So, if you have a moment, please stop by and vote DAILY for Craftastrophe at the Social Luxe Lounge.

Click the image at the top of the post (OR THIS LINK), or the one in the sidebar (OR THIS LINK) and help us beat the pants off those other wannabe Guilty Pleasures.

HALP!

HALP!

HALP!

First off, your comments on Guess That Mess! are hilarious! I totally love them, thank you for playing along. It was so great, we’re contemplating making it a regular feature here at Craftastrophe.

And without further ado, the Mess? Though I much perfer some of your answers, the jacket it made of synthetic doll hair, Spanish Moss, and jute.

I had to google the later since I have NO idea what the heck ‘jute’ is.

Okay, so I googled Spanish Moss as well.

A jacket? If the sleeves where only a touch longer they could be wrapped around the body and fastened behind to resemble another kind of jacket.

Justine’s comment made me spit coffee all over my computer:

Ummm – a horrifically misguided attempt at making fake vomit?

A sweater or coat made from shed dog fur? With nicotine-stained glue-gun applique?

A loofah and mucus sculpture?

A coat made of human hair? (Please don’t be pubic hair, please don’t be pubic hair…)

And you! to! can own this jacket for a mere $525!

Maybe for that price they’ll toss in the skinned doll heads? Hey, you could ask!

Or how about this?

I don’t know what’s funnier: the fact that I actually wretched at the sight of this or it’s title, “Not Yet Titled”.

Oh, and this one? $1,300. The Stained Industrial Elastic? $3,500.

Yes. Yes it is.

Why didn’t I become an artist?

{source: hair jacket, elastic band art, “Not Yet Titled“}

Know how when you’re working on something Top Secret, like your blog that your family or co-workers know nothing about, and you just want to keep it private? So you sit hunched over your monitor trying to block the vision of prying eyes. You glace around the room suspiciously scanning for those eyes which are peering in your direction and could maybe even read that address bar from across the room where by getting your blog URI and sharing it with all of Starbucks. The very same Starbucks that your sister-in-law is known to frequent and *gasp* may hear about your blog!?

Fear not dear reader, because this beaut can cure your fear of blogging in public!

Or how about that delish sandwich you picked up from the deli downstairs? You don’t want your boss to see you eating on the job, or gawd forbid a co-worker get a whiff of your scrumptious tuna sandwich and come over to talk about how great your lunch smells and then proceeding to hang around and watch you chew while they ask a MILLION questions even though they KNOW your mouth is full of scrumptious sangwhich.

Hide out peeps. Hide out while sitting at your desk while totally inconspicuous.

Ever not answer your cell because your hand gets cold while walking during those frigid winter months? Just think of the possible calls you could have missed? Dane Cook calling to tell you he wants to be your Baby Daddy? Matthew McConaughey calling to say he’s leaving Camilia for you? You won the Publisher’s Clearing House? How about a publisher wanting to take your tacky blog which makes fun of people’s creations and making it into a coffee table book?

Hey, it could happen. It ALL could happen.

But because your hand would have frozen to the core and you can’t lose your hand because then blogging at Starbucks would be far more difficult to conceal while pounding away at the key board with a stump frozen limb you didn’t answer the phone.

And what about those all too Top Secret passwords which open the gates to your online life? Imagine that Starbucks creeper, spying you from across the room and seeing the magical string of letters, number and symbols you type, then announcing it publicly to the Starbucks crowd at the location your sister-in-law frequents?

Seriously people, Teh Horror!

And instead of cupping your hand over the other while you hen peck out the Magical Password while peering around the room for said Creeper, you could be confident in your password’s safety.

Totally off topic.

What’s with all the Macs everywhere? The universe is taunting me people. UN. FAIR.

Thanks Nicole!

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P.S. Sternlab has some of the funniest and most amazing things. I LOVE IT!! Frankly I think Becky Stern is brilliant and I wouldn’t mind rubbing on her. Just sayin’.

Once in high school a friend and I were rooting through The Junk Drawer in her kitchen for something which I can’t recall. There was the typical crap – shoe laces, batteries, cards, et cetera, et cetera. I lifted an old birthday / holiday / something card and beneath it? A big ol’ set of dentures.

Is it still considered a set even if it’s only a top or a bottom? Because this one only one pallet of teeth.

After I recovered from the initial shock of Teeth! in a Drawer! I about peed my pants in a fit of giggles.

Why am I telling you about this? Because these reminded me how creepy I find dentures to be

Looks like an innocent pair of dentures, right?

Looks can be deceiving because these bad boys are SOAP.

*blink*

*blink*

*stare*

*blink*

*blink*

Yes. Soap.

*blink*

*blink*

Right now, you’re totally thinking about scrubbing your body clean with a set of teeth, aren’t you?

Yup. You are. I knew it.

What if you had dentures AND denture soap.

Now, wouldn’t that suck to toss this set of chompers in your mouth by accident?

Thanks Jessica!

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