Tag: strange

Shave And Play Barbie Doll

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Shave And Play Barbie
Damn Barbie. You really let yourself go! Shave and Play Barbie is hairy as hell and ready for a trim! I thought this was a wolfman doll at first. Or a limited edition sasquatch Barbie. Or an Oregon hipster wife Barbie. Nope, just Barbie going all natural and letting that hair grow. And grow. And grow. It comes with a razor included to make her all silky smooth. She’s got a beard, neck hair, chest hair, leg hair, probably even some butt hair.

She did it Fur Ken. She wants to be fur-ever yours. Damn Barbie. You live in a Malibu beach house so I know you can afford a razor. Seriously, SHAVE and PLAY. In that order. Do not PLAY and SHAVE. This beast needs to be dealt with right now! Even Bigfoot be like, “What? Girl you crazy.”
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Creepy Clown Mug

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Creepy Clown Mug
This Creepy Clown Mug is not going to help with my Coulrophobia. That’s fear of clowns. I didn’t know what it was either until my doctor diagnosed it and prescribed me a bucket full of Quaaludes and anti-clown meds. At the pharmacy, they handed me a KFC sized bucket that looked like a race car cuz it was sponsored by so many drug companies.

Actually I fear anything in makeup. I’ve been known to freak out in stores when I accidentally wander into the makeup department. This clown is creepy as all hell. He looks like he has real teeth and I want to punch them. I’m not afraid of you. Do you hear me? You’re just a mug! Besides, you’re not the boss of me. I can be brave! No don’t set it on the table! *Runs out the door screaming.*
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Monster Valentines Day Cards

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Creepy Valentines Day Cards 2
Don’t be a monster. Treat your girl or guy right this Valentine’s Day. Give them these Monster Valentines Day Cards. The real monsters are the ones that show up empty handed during VD. These remind me of those fun cards everyone was giving each other in school when I was a kid. Well, I wasn’t getting any. Not much has changed. I’m all grown up and still not getting any.

It’s cool, I usually buy myself 5 pounds of assorted chocolates and lock myself in my room for the day. It’s just like what I imagine the life-cycle of real love is like: A whirlwind romance, with a lot of time spent between the sheets and before you know it, you wake up cramping and not being able to poop for a week. Just guessing.

Anywho these monster valentines are pretty cool. They feature various horror monsters carrying a girl off with a heart behind them. And the girl doesn’t even look that scared compared to that time I tried it and ended up in the Police Station overnight until they decided I was too stupid to be the local serial killer. Unless I was a copy cat. I was like, “no way, I don’t copy. I’m 100 percent original in what I do.” For some reason that made them change their mind and I stayed much longer.

Praying Zombie Hands

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Praying Zombie Hands
Praying Zombie Hands! Dear God, thank you for this bounty of brains on my plate. Thank you for making me a rotting undead corpse who shuffles more than walks. Thank you for making all living humans fear me, even though I get my brains from the local research laboratory. Thank you for those people who shot at my head today and missed.

Could you please moisturize me a little though? My skin is really peeling off lately. Not that I question your wisdom. And please keep me safe guys with shotguns. I can only move so fast, cuz I’m friggin’ undead here. Also, yesterday my pee-pee dried up and fell off. Anyway I could grow another?

Amen.

Retro Nightmare Print

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Retro Nightmare Print
It’s the 1950s. Your wife has just brought you your pipe and slippers. Your daughter just expressed an opinion so she’s on time-out sitting cross-legged on the floor. Life is good. Even if Betty Crocker over there did manage to burn the casserole. Looks like it’s whiskey for dinner. Again. You turn on your radio for an exciting night of imagination fun-time, when suddenly killer mutant spiders attack. They enter through the fireplace and even bring a large mutant housefly. For some reason, your daughter is playing with one. What do you do?

Apparently you just turn the volume up on the radio and try to tune it all out as you knock back a few glasses of whiskey. That’s just how you deal with stuff in the 1950s. Happened to my folks all the time. I was the kid playing with the spider. By playing I mean screaming in terror and asking daddy why he doesn’t help.

I wasn’t nearly as brave as that girl in this Retro Nightmare Print.