Using this pre-spattered knife to chop veggies while you’re alone will make you smile; using it in front of others (hello, neighbor from down the street who already thinks my yard is unkempt and my judgment is questionable!) will make you snicker.
Today has been a pretty bad day. Not Chernobyl or OJ hauling ass down the freeway bad (seriously, how are those two events parallel?), but I’m perversely soothed by thinking of these Buildings of Disaster as stationary monuments to trouble.
A kinder, gentler leather spike bracelet.
To a pregnant, libation-deprived woman, very few things are as sexy as carrying two bottles of wine on your hip.
I came across the shop Miso Funky when its owner, Claire, started following me on Twitter. And I thought: kismet! Claire is my middle name, and Misosouper (different suffix, same concept) is my alter ego.
Miso Funky features bitchy cross stitch samplers in flavors like “sniff glue, worship satan” and “in case of emergency, breakdance,” and coasters that proclaim “I Love Wine” and “I Love Vodka.” (You do? I do too!)
All of which are things I say ALL DAY LONG. Claire’s descriptions–phrases like “gone a bit tits up”–read like the Scottish slang I wish I said all day long.
Yeah, it’s twee. Just like Claire and me.
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