misosouper, a shopping blog

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.

I’m sorry, but being the asshole hostess that plants a plastic insect in her friends’ drinks never gets old.

So this might just be the klassiest object I’ve ever come across.  (And by klassy, I mean damn I wish I could use this.  If only I weren’t already well-endowed and, um, pregnant.)

Basically, the Winerack is a sports bra filled with wine, attached to a straw.  Fill ‘er up and head to the bar; I like the idea of dumping a liter of vodka in there, so you can top off all your friends’ drinks.  As if this weren’t awesome enough, the Winerack will increase your chest a few sizes–that is, until you drain your stash and deflate your newfound boobage.

Dear Thrillist,

I love you, I really do; but in this week’s missive on Makr Carry Goods, one of my town’s many laboratories of great stuff, you called us “Orlando of all places.”

That hurts, Thrillist.  We’re not just some humid cowtown full of yeehaws, airboats, and moonshine.  Let me list for you our innovations:  *NSYNC.  Orange juice.  The space shuttle.  The Kerouac Project (he lived here when On the Road was published, and typed Dharma Bums in a little house downtown).   EA Tiburon, which produces, like, every great sports video game every played.  Not one, but two mayors–take that, bureaucracy!  The best weather in the continental US.  An airport so clean and entertaining that you won’t mind when the flight back to your city, of all places, is delayed.

Oh, I could go on.  (Wayne Brady, anyone?  Not to mention Tiger Woods lives right down the street from me.  What up, T!  See you at Perkins this weekend.)

But you get it, right?  We may be barraged by hurricanes, plagued by terrible accents, and littered with strip malls, but that certainly doesn’t stifle our creativity.

We are smart, resilient, sweaty, and often drunk–just think of all the alcohol you can mix with fresh squeezed OJ!  Also, we excel at driving long distances on crowded highways.

So it’s no surprise that Makr is creating perfect leather goods right in our midst.  Come and visit; our roller coasters might rattle some sense into you.

xO,

Anna

I had planned on posting more “Keep Calm and Carry On” poster parodies, but I’m as exhausted of the phrase–and its spinoffs–as everyone else.  Can a dead bird have the last word?

Did I say last word?  Posting that suddenly made the phrase seem spoofable again.  Make your own ridiculous saying here–Shun Sausage and Eat Bacon?–and print it out for free.