Sleeping on the job.

They don't make garden gnomes the way they used to.

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Dear BHLDN,

I know I was a Weddingbee and have a penchant for crafting.

But I also know that I'm not the only one who thinks it's absurd to charge people $14 for 20 toothpicks topped with slivers of lotka paper (which even the outrageously priced Paper Source sells for $3.50 for a 20 x 30 sheet).

Ribbon tailed pennants

It is even more ridiculous to charge people $32 for 5 tissue poms.  You know, as I know, that all it takes to make these ubiquitous poms is 8 sheets of garden variety tissue paper, which goes for $1.  One dollar!

Paper pom set

And these paper dot garlands?  For the $18 you charge, I can buy a circle punch and enough paper to make you 20 garlands.

Polka dot garland

Don't even get me started on the pinwheels or the kraft paper pennant garland.

Between you and me, though, what I really want to know is the name and contact information of the silly people who WERE willing to shell out $$ for their faux-DIY wedding.  Because I've got quite a number of things I'd like to market to them . . . .

Thanks.  That's all.

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Passover, Google-style

Courtesy of my Aunt Cheryl.

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"It's me! I'm the bobblehead!"

Every once in a while, I get an idea so genius, so monumental, that I can do nothing but be in awe of myself.  I was searching for a gift for my husband for our second anniversary, and kept coming up with only lame ideas.  But one night we were watching reruns of "The Office" -- our favorite show -- and the idea practically smacked me in the face.

A personalized bobblehead!!   There's a hilarious episode of "The Office" in which Angela gives Dwight a bobblehead -- of him! -- for Valentine's Day.  His reaction to the gift is awesome; it's one of those scenes that we watch over and over because it's just that great.

I ordered the bobblehead from Webobble.com, and I couldn't be happier with their service.  I submitted three headshots of my husband, and they sculpted the head in a matter of days.

They allow you to suggest changes at each stage and don't progress to the next phrase until you approve the proof.  The first head they sculpted got the mouth and smile exactly right, but the nose was bent the wrong way and the hair wasn't curly enough.

I made a few suggestions, and the next day they had a new proof for me to review.  Once I okayed it, they proceeded to bake the doll and and paint it.

A few days later, they had the baked and painted proof ready for review.  I thought the eyebrows weren't thick enough, the shirt color was a little off, and the eye color was a bit too green.  A day later, they made the changes I suggested and shipped it off.  It arrived at our house two days later.  All the way from Shenzhen, China.  (Which of course means I could have gotten it for about a quarter of the price had I gotten my act together and ordered it from Shenzhen when I was there over the holidays.)

I paid about $140, which included extra charges for the customized body (you can choose from a zillion standard bodies for no additional charge, but I wanted the bobble to be wearing my husband's usual uniform of yellow tie, blue shirt, and khaki pants) and for rush production and shipping.

My husband loves his bobblehead, but probably not nearly as much as I do.  It's standing on my nightstand, bobbing yes to any and all questions I ask of it.  It's so much more compliant than my actual husband!  Just right now, I asked my bobble husband whether I'm awesome, and it just nodded yes, very vigorously. Bobble husband is so wise!

Are you a fan of "The Office"?

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Dear Reem Acra,

Lady Gaga and Andre Talley called.  They want their caftan back.

But seriously?  Seriously?  Who wants a caftan in gold lamé?  Who wants a caftan, period?  And who wants to spend $999 to look like a giant condom?

That's all.  Thanks.

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Reason #830 my sister cracks me up

Your eyes are not deceiving you: that is one GIANT bowl of pho.  My sister accompanied four of her friends as they took on the Pho Real Challenge, which apparently involves eating a trough of meat and noodles in under an hour.

I love pho, but I've vicariously had my fill after watching these guys.  That's right . . . my sister documented the insanity on video.  Watch with an empty stomach.

Read the play-by-play at her blog here.

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Dear Snow,

It took us a really, really long time to shovel out this car.  And now we are tired.  You're pretty, but please go somewhere else this week.

That's all.  Thanks.

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Not your human's food truck

My sister, the intrepid reporter, has a new expose out on the newest addition to the food truck phenomena: mobile treats for pets.

Go check it out and tell her how awesome she is.  Also, Jellyby would like an ice-cream sandwich.

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Conversations with my husband

Here's a typical conversation with my resident physician husband when he's post-call.

Me: Dear, wanna help me dig my car out so I can go visit friend X?
Him (groggily): She's hemodynamically stable.
Me: What?
Him: Snore.

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Albus

This is Albus, Jellyby's boytoy.

The two of them have a very complicated relationship, which consists of Albus trying to hump Jellyby and Jellyby ignoring or growling at him.  (She's been taught well: no nookie without at least dinner and a movie.)

But while Jellyby spurns his advances, Albus is a very, very handsome boy.

Which is why I took these glamour shots for him to post to J.Date.  Or Match.com.  Whatever the internet dating site of choice is for dogs nowadays.

"Hey bitches, for a good time, just bark and I'll be there in two shakes of a tail."

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Dear New York Times,

Some of your recipes should really come with a "not safe for idiots" label.

Gratuitous shot of Jellyby

That's all.  Thanks.

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Dear Anthropologie,

2001 called.  Brit-Brit and Justin already found their denim ensembles and won't be needing you to dress them after all.

Draped Denim Dress

Thanks.  That's all.

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Dear One Kings Lane,

Giant gold-leaf lawn ornaments?  For $19,999?  Are you for reals?

Also, balls-lacking peeps who actually purchased this, answer me this: WHY?

Nevermind.  I just answered my own question.

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Dear Anthropologie,

Peach and Ivy got kicked off "Project Runway" because their designs were fug.  And yet you seemed to have hired them to collaborate on this:

Lunar Mum Crops

At least you appropriately titled them.  Because only someone who is cray-cray enough to want to look like a PTA mom would actually purchase these.

I'll be getting my own pair at Chico's.

Thanks.  That's all.

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Blah blah blah. Make it work.

Kids reenacting "Project Runway."  Watch it.  It's genius.



Go go go.  Auf wiedersehen.  Air kiss, air kiss.

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Love the Daily Swatch

Thanks to Laura Bennett's hilarious Project Runway blog, I discovered the Daily Swatch.  That's where Mood employees costume Swatch, the store mascot, with bits of trim and photograph him for my amusement.

Image Source

Jellyby would never put up with this humiliation, which is really too bad, because I really think she'd look rather fetching with a straw hat:

Image Source

Oh well.  Thanks Swatch.  And thank you Mood.  You guys are cray cray, and I love it.

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You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright.

My husband is a very unwilling photo taker.  He loves to take copious random, out-of-focus, completely unflattering shots of other people, but getting him to agree to being in front of the camera . . . for hours . . . while a photographer tells him to act like he's in love (with his, ahem, hot wife no less) . . . was a task of Herculean proportions.

If only his idol were to have stumbled into our engagement shoot . . . .

Kella McPhee via Blogness from the Edge of Town

Yeah, these lucky soon-to-be-weds were taking their engagement photos in Jersey when who should just happen to amble by but the Boss himself.*

Who then proceeds to serenade them.

At sunset.

On the beach.

Given the obsession my husband has with all things Springsteen, if this had happened to him, he quite likely would have shoved me into the ocean, whispered sweet nothings into Bruce's ear ("'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run."), and proposed marriage to him instead.

Instead, the only mofos who photobombed our engagement shoot were a pack of Chinese tourists, who seemed disgruntled that we were blocking their shots of the John Harvard statue.  (You might not want to get too close to that statue, dude, the drunk kids pee on it.)

Who do you wish would have photobombed your engagement or wedding photos?

* Special thanks to our friend Laura, who taunted us with this story.

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Dear Anthropologie,

If I wanted to look like an alpaca

Icing Age Jacket

or a sasquatch

Irina Cardigan

I wouldn't have bothered shaving.

Thanks.  That's all.

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Who knew my people were so stylish?

Rickshaw as art piece?  Check.  Bird cage as light?  Check.  Jens-style chair covered in a chic, vaguely Anthropologie-esque fabric?  Naturally.  Would I go as far as to use the same fabric for the curtains?  Probably not.  But still.

Home and Decor via Desire to Inspire

Contemporary Singaporeans, it turns out, have whimsy and style.  And a love of mid-century.

Which comes as a surprise to me only because the last Singaporean house I remember was ours.

It appears that my mom thought a lovely damask couch would be a perfect complement to the austere colors and simple lines of the wall covering.

On closer inspection, it also looks like the wall on the right is covered in flocked wallpaper.  Because there wasn't enough going on in the room already.

Do you see that look of fear on my face?  And the fact that my mom had to put mittens on my little hands to prevent me from clawing my eyes out?

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Dear Anthropologie,

You know the adage "Don't beat a dead horse"?  Well, it's just as rude to tack said horse on a sweater and charge someone $328 for the privilege of wearing the nightmare.

Poni Cardigan

Thanks.  That's all.

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