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I can honestly say I will never need a Russian pickle puff.
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But I suppose it’s good to know they exist all the same.
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Shark slippers? I’m sure they’re great for scaring the crap out of sand crabs, but no.
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Do I need to drink my cocktails out of a bird’s ass?
I most assuredly do not.
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And if I don’t need a bird ass cocktail delivery system? I certainly don’t need an egg laying one. Trust me, this will not relieve my stress.
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We had an odd sun reflection in our living room last week.
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Strange coincidence … or alien targeting technology?
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Time will tell.
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Martin, I immediately thought of you. But, blech! It’s still a giant no from where I’m sitting.
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A few of my friends might get this for Christmas. You know who you are… but what makes it odd is the label. ‘Nice Stuff For Mom’. I don’t know about you, but I never tipped back half a dozen martinis with my mother.
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And finally, anatomically correct beer glasses. While I can almost see the appeal of the female version…. the hourglass figure makes for a good grip… the male glass is more than a trifle disturbing.
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Fashion is ephemeral. One day something is trending hot and everyone has to wear it/do it… the next day it’s passé. Here’s hoping this never catches on, because honestly? Eew.
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Sorry, but that just looks like five globs of mucus…. and if I don’t eat the slimy shellfish? I certainly don’t want them on the end of my fingers.
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I added the perfect glass to the man cave bar shelf yesterday. Because I do, to both.
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It’s official, I will be calling our vacuum the rollsuck supreme from now on.
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Yeah, because I need Dudley to stare at me more than he does already . Not!
And speaking of Dudley, for your viewing pleasure here’s a quick clip of him enjoying his latest hobby. Fly catching.
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And while it’s a bit disgusting he insists on eating them? On a positive note, our house will be fly free for the foreseeable future.
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When we travel and drink, the husband likes to get a glass from the bars and restaurants he’s enjoyed. Since we used to do this quite often… we’ve amassed a large collection of glasses. Some of them are in the house but most of them have migrated out to the barn. And though we’ve stuffed the freezer compartment of the beer fridge with frosty ready to fill receptacles….
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There was still a large portion waiting for a home.
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And a whole lotta paper destined for the fireplace.
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Sadly the husband’s aborted little two foot shelves don’t offer much useable space.
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And once the double tap kegerator is installed things will be even tighter.
Roy Scheider was right.
We should have built a bigger bar.
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Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.
While the husband was teleworking yesterday, I laid claim….
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And started bringing glasses and accessories out to the barn bar. Wine, whiskey, mule, margarita, pint and martini glasses… check! Shot glasses, strainer, muddler, shakers… check! Two more shelves need to be installed on the left, but I made a dent.
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And noticed the husband had beat me to the rubber mat and Marine Corps coasters placement.
No matter, I stashed my cheat sheets…
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And my favorite cocktail recipe books.
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And then I found a prominent spot for what I’ve been dying to add to the barn bar ever since my husband began sputtering about building one.
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No bar should be without one.
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The first one supposedly has merit in the fact that you won’t have to touch strange doors.
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Unfortunately, (or fortunately depending on your point of view) it also looks like a kinky sex toy.
Next is an electric wine aerator.
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Because Covid has us all at the end of our ropes and we don’t have enough patience left to let our reds breathe on their own.
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A wobble cushion to activate my core?
Just, no.
Isn’t that what husbands are for?
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Frozen shot glasses. Now we’re talking.
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I don’t bore easily and can’t see the need for one of these…. but our friends had one at their lakefront camp last year and said it was a riot.
Ya know, if frying insect life to a crisp is your thing.
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This first one is sure to be a favorite on Valentines Day.
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Because nothing says I love you like petrified beef.
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Good God, do these things still even exist?
Please, for the love of all that’s holy… no.
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For when you really want to throw down like Hamlet.
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This.
This is really what’s wrong with America. We’re too damn lazy to sit up.
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Pfft. I call foul.
Everyone knows Alfred Von Wigglebottom wouldn’t be caught dead on anything less than Danish Modern.
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I live in Maine.
We have terrible roads due to the high water content underneath and a never ending cycle of freezing and melting.
Frost heave is a separate season here….
And the potholes can be large enough to swallow your car.
So this made me chuckle the other day….
Mainers.
We’re an odd bunch.
With funny license plates.
I also ran across a strange product:
Are slipping nerd glasses really that much of a problem?
Apparently it is.
River's world..... 