put down the glue gun

Y'all know I am nothing if not crafty, but lately I have seen a few things that go beyond craft and down a road not only less-traveled, but perhaps the road to crazy craft town. Do you know what I'm talking about? I don't mean the things your wonderful child brings home from school that's made with love (and glitter and popcicle sticks and macaroni) that you can in no way figure out what it's supposed to be. Is it an ashtray? Is it a trivet? Do I hear coaster? NO, I'm referring to the crafts that no one needs.

I'm thinking you need a visual.

When I saw this photo of the First Lady at Westminster Abbey, I thought, "interesting. I have that ric rac and trim in my scrapbook bag." For realz. Poor Michelle looks like she fell into one of my scrapbooking bags and came out with a skirt. And she's wearing two cardigans. Two. Now, I read that the tunic is designer. And just when I was going to call Mrs. O and tell her to put down the glue gun. Yeah, it's by Australian designer Richard Nicoll. That reminds me, I'm launching my new clothing line this fall. It will be very earth-friendly, as all clothing will be made from recycling embellishments from my scrapbook stuff. I will also feature a line of monogrammed cardigans with all the letters I have left after spelling titles. The cardigans will be a big hit with those of you with names that start with Q, V, W, and Z.

Speaking of recycling, I never know what to do with all my leftover felt and I'm always thinking of practical gifts for friends, but never did I think the two would meet. Lo and behold, my latest Etsy find: Owl Pasties! No, I'm not kidding. They're called "Check Out My Hooters" and here's the description: Bedroom Beauties pasties are a hoot as bachelorette party gifts (trust
me), and guys love them (trust me). Bring out your inner burlesque
beauty and show off those girls!

Wait a damn minute. Guys love them? There are men who get all hot and bothered by owls? Oh hell no. Now I have a new reason to count my blessings everyday — that I didn't marry a man with an owl fetish.

I may be going out on a limb here, but hell, if I don't say it who will? It's time to stop with the trophy heads. Now, I've never been a fan of the taxidermy trophy head hanging in a den or an office — I think it's creep city. My father-in-law had alligator heads in their old house and decorated the deer heads for Christmas and I just can't go along with that. Plus the alligator heads were freaky — they were upstairs and sat at the doorway of his office, so when I saw them I'd think, "oh crap, alligators! oh crap, how did they climb the stairs?!"

Anytaxidermy, I've noticed something of a phenomenon lately called Modern Trophies. They may be made of felt or other fabrics or in this case, resin and paper. The big boy to our right may be the best yet — a moose made with Amy Butler paper (I know, I have the scrapbook paper). I'm so confused and torn. I can't decide if it's a horrible craft gone wrong or a really awesome way to hang my handbags in my bedroom. Sure, it goes against every fiber of belief I have that animal heads do not belong on walls, but I'm kinda loving the moose. And I'm not against hunting, I'm just against hanging the dead things inside. I would have to put some big fake eyelashes on the moose if I bought it. Oh well.

I'm ending this post with the find that inspired it. I found it on Craftgossip.com and when I saw the photo I must have stared at it, mouth agape, for 10 minutes. There were several reasons for the staring —

there are some crazy ass people in this world.
seriously, wtf?
never have I thought, "oh, that would make a great finger puppet!"
so, this is what you would wear for special occasions?
definitely much better with crystals.
it could do without the eyes.
stop staring at me.

Okay, first things first — no, it's not real.

Yes, it is what you think it is.

Yes, it is a finger puppet.

No, I don't think it's available for purchase

No, I don't know how Stacyrebecca made it.

Yes, The Kerry Blog has sunk to a new low.

too many jokes…(or in which Kerry talks about boobs and vajayjays)

Y'all, seriously. I doubt other people experience this feeling when you hear something, often in the news, and feel as if your brain will explode from all the jokes you could make about it. Doesn't happen to you? Happens to me all the time. Usually when this happens I press my lips together as tight as possible so I don't say anything, because if I do, I will have to ask the question "did I say that outloud?" This would be a question I am quite familiar with.

Things like this have been coming up all week. Maybe it's due to my better mood, I'm not sure, but stuff is some kind of funny. Yesterday I simply could not contain myself when I read that Chastity Bono was becoming a man. Now, this is not a religious or political commentary — it makes no difference to me whether someone wants to be a man, woman, or Michael Jackson. But when I read about Chastity, I had a hundred things pop in my head — Cher standing in her wig closet wondering who she would leave all her wigs to now. And all the sailors (that I know she took home with her and hang out by her pool) from the "If I Could Turn Back Time" video — who will she leave them to? And hypothetically, if there were Chastity male impersonators, like the legions of Cher ones, what will they do now?

Then I read this morning that when her boobs are removed, legally she can change her sex to male on documents. This is just wrong people. I mean, hell, I've spent four days at the pool this week and have seen more manboobs than anyone should ever have to see. If boobs are what make a person a woman, then holy wonderbra, somebody needs to tell these dudes to sign up! And this is me saying this! I have ta-tas that could put an eye out if I'm not wearing a sports bra on the treadmill, so I know a thing or two about boobs. These dudes need to get to the Bra Genie STAT! There are children in the pool area! For the love of Double Ds, no one needs to see your hairy manboobs. Is there nothing worse than hairy manboobs? At least wax those puppies, or good grief, get some Just For Men's Manboobs and dye that gray stuff so you don't look like Grover's freakin' muppet Mammaw.

The other news item that got me this week is what is being called the Designer Vajayjay. People, if I may be so bold, wtf? At first I thought the article was going to be about the Betty dye, but oh no — it was about getting a nip and tuck Down There. Oh yeah, you can march right into the plastic surgeon's office and tell them you want a magic vajayjay and they will hook you up. By the way — Magic Vajayjay is going to be the name of my new band that I just made up. My backup singers will be the Ovarians and my horn section will be called the Totally FAB-loppian Tubes. Don't tell anyone until I get the t-shirt designs done, I want to keep it on the down low. Back to the Magic Vajayjay — seems women these days aren't content to have the one they were born with, no, they want everything all nice and shiny Down There. These women said it was ugly and wanted a Labioplasty. Now seriously, are you looking all up in there with a damn mirror, going "you know what would make this prettier? If this here were more symmetrical." Unless you're in the adult film industry, there are only a couple of people who see your vajayjay and maybe you should focus your attention on something that's, oh, I don't know — IN SIGHT. I'm not even going to mention the other sugery, 'cause damn.

I think people are just making up things to have nipped and tucked. We live in a sick society that wants everything all nice and shiny with their Magic Vajayjays, while I have to look at Chester's hairy manboobs over there. That reminds me, I need to make my yearly doctor appointment with Dr. B. and I better call my hairstylist for an appointment while I'm at it.

this will not stand!

People, I can only take so much. I am thisclose to what they used to call a nervous breakdown and I can't take much more. Believe me, it won't be pretty when they commit me, because I'm sure my iPhone will be taken away and let's not even discuss life without my accessories. Seriously.

As much as it hurts to type these words, I have to talk about it. This is not news I would want you to hear from anyone else or even worse, on the street. Twentieth Century Fox is remaking Girls Just Want to Have Fun, the 1985 classic starring Sarah Jessica Parker, Helen Hunt, and Shannen Doherty. For the love of leg warmers, I don't think I can take it. You do remember the movie, don't you?

Janey (SJP) is the new girl in her Chicago Catholic school and her dream is to be on DanceTV, an 80's American Bandstand, if you will. She becomes BFFs with Lynne (Helen Hunt) and they audtion for spots on the show. Janey is paired with boy-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks, Jeff, and they practice their dance at night when Janey sneaks out of her house. When her Army dad finds out about her auditioning, he loses it and goes down to DanceTV to put his foot down. Of course, when he sees Janey dance he realizes she is a star and Janey and Jeff win spots on the show. But really, the description is nothing compared to the first-rate acting, costumes, Helen Hunt's accessories (come to think of it, this movie may have been my introduction to accessories), and –hello– a pre-teen Shannen Doherty!

Here's your refresher course:

Sweet mother of Ogilvie Home Perms, that is pure 80's. It doesn't get more cheesetastic that that, my friends. GJWTHF is a period piece. It cannot be remade! Please, as if that movie could be made in this decade. It cannot be done. And who, pray tell will play Janey? So help me, if they cast Miley Cyrus I will go Crazy White Girl on Twentieth Century Fox. I'm not kidding. I would not kid about something like this. I'm sure one of the Disney tweens or teens will be cast and no one can hold a candle to SJP or Helen Hunt's character, Lynne the class clown who breaks out with "Day-o" in the middle of choir practice. I haven't even mentioned some of the best lines from an movie of the 80's.

When Helen Hunt does and outfit quick-change, "Velcro. Next to the Walkman and Tab it is the coolest invention of the 20th century!"

The DanceTV guy on the dance costumes, "Oh, I like this. Sort of Rebel Without a Cause meets Sound of Music… you're taking a fashion risk. I like that."

Anywalkman, I have little faith in the filmmakers attempting this remake. No good can come of this. I expect the new version to pimp out every Disney Channel kid wannabe in Hollywood to try to make GJWTHF into some High School Musical clone. And I promise, if they cast Zac Efron as Jeff — no, I can't imagine it. I don't have to tell you that makes me ill. My other thought is that they might try to make it a serious film. It's not a musical, it's not trying to be West Side Story, it's a fun movie for fun times. Speaking of fun — here's the best fun scene of the movie, when the girls make copies of the rich girl's sweet sixteen party invitation and give invites to some trannies, punks, female body-builders, and hot messes in general. Love that. Sure, the Cyndi Lauper song is bastardized, but I forgive.

but that’s my line

It's one thing to be ripped off by someone you know or another blogger (yes, it has happened, it is inevitable), but to be ripped off by a church?! Y'all know this has been my line for years.

It's bad enough a church is using my "it's not rocket surgery" line, even worse that Fail Blog doesn't get the joke and calls it a Fail.

Such a sad day in Kerry Blog world.

because some messages don’t even need secret decoder rings

To: You Know Who You Are

Love,
Me

http://www.someecards.com/usercards/someEcards.swf

what not to wear

http://www.someecards.com/usercards/someEcards.swf

I know what you're thinking, "Kerry, how do you do it? Style, smokin' bikini body, and sharp wit — how do you not tell people what's what on a daily basis?" Well, that would be my general disinterest in speaking to people. Trust me, it takes quite the amount of effort to feign busyness and preoccupation when someone is attempting to grab my attention or start a convo while I'm in a doctor's waiting room, as I was yesterday.

As usual, I was trying to appear engrossed in something so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone, this time I was playing on Facebook on my iPhone, then moved onto a game of SuperBreakout before updating my calendar. Apparently I did not appear busy enough, as a woman started talking to me. This woman asked my name, said she sees me everywhere, and that our kids go to the same Mother's Day Out. It was at this moment that I thought either I had a stalker or that maybe I need to pay more attention to my surroundings, because I don't recall ever seeing this person in my life. And so I was trapped in the waiting room having to talk to this woman until she was called back and she stood and flung her purse on her arm. This is the purse she was carrying.

People, this is atrocious. How many tiny round zebras had to die to make this purse? Now, I'm all for making a statement with accessories, but the only statement this bag makes is: yeah, the safari had great shopping!

We need to talk about choices for a moment. I don't know who started the circle-flappy purse craze, but I'd like to beat them over the head with every mall kiosk circle bag ever made. Certainly these were first made by a designer, but in the trickle-down to the malls the bag morphed into the ugly we have here. I'm going to give y'all some advice on this one. If you have to have a trendy bag and are getting a knock-off of the real thing, stay within the original color range the bag was made in.

Speaking of, if you have a fake Coach bag with random letters on it, do us all a favor and set fire to it right now. Go ahead, I'll wait. Done? good. We will not speak of this atrocity again.

Moving on to an atrocity so heinous I'm tempted to skip the subject, but something needs to be said. If you are out of college or are old enough to have a real job, you are too old for velour sweatpants with words on the ass.

This is not a good look.

Dear Woman in the Doctor's Office With Two Clingy Children,

There is nothing Juicy about your ass.

Best Wishes,

Humanity.

People, if you are in your mid-thirties and have had a couple of babies you will no longer be able to purchase sweatpants with words on them. Period. For the love of retail, just stop. If you are my age (thirtysomething) you are are not Juicy, Baby, Sweetie, or Pink. You are not an Angel, Cutie, Princess, or Spoiled. What you are is stupid and you look like a fool. Yesterday when I saw the mom paying her bill, wearing the pants in question, it took every ounce of restraint I had not to walk up and say, "Hi, I'm Kerry from my blog and I'm here to help. Let's go to The Gap and get you some pants, then we'll have a bonfire with the hideous cellulite-hugging pink things you're wearing. Don't worry kids, your mom is in the hands of a semi-professional who has seen every eppie of What Not to Wear! I'm like a chubby Stacey London!" I just need my Clinton Kelly.

the "this is my ass" image is from http://www.lanceandeskimo.com. thanks!

open letter to bad drivers, lane jockeys, and the like

Dear You Know Who You Are,

During my 5 hour drive on I-10 yesterday afternoon you made me glad for not being a gun owner. Yes, you in the gold Mazda sedan. I'm not prone to road rage, being that I am extremely easy going girl, but damn. It's a good thing I was only armed with my iPhone yesterday and not a weapon because I would have put a cap in your ass. You would have deserved it.

Let me explain something to you, Miss I Don't Know What Cruise Control Is. Normal people like to drive at one speed, being that there are these things called Speed Limits posted every so often along the interstate. I'm sure you're not aware of what Speed Limits are, being that you obviously received your driver's license from Ed's House of Driving and Bong Emporium, so I'll educate you on the subject.

Speed Limit signs tell you what speed you're supposed to go on a given road. That means you should make that speed a goal and stick with it. There's a dial on your dashboard called the Speedometer that shows you what speed you're going, you should consult that from time to time. There is also a wonderful magic button on your steering wheel called Cruise Control. Pressing this button makes your car travel at the same speed until you press the button again. You don't have to press the gas pedal or anything! Gnomes and fairies do it for you! Look into this. I speak for all of south Louisiana in saying you need to use Cruise Control or just stop driving. When the Speed Limit is 70, driving in a range from 65 to 85 is not acceptable. Seriously. There are other cars that have to drive behind you.

That brings me to another point you're painfully not aware of. You need to pick a lane and stay there. For the love of asphalt, I-10 is not the effing Indy 500 or the Kentucky freaking Derby. The left lane is for passing, or in my case trying to stay away from you. Weaving in and out of traffic and various speeds is not only annoying, it is dangerous. By the way, the bumpy area on the side of the interstate is called the shoulder, it's not a lane. But I'm not sure if you were aware of the bumpiness by the way you were chewing that wad of Bubbalicious. Again, not sure if you're aware, but other people can see you while you're driving. And I did think it quite humorous that you made your way to the exit touting "Acadiana's Best Boudin and Cracklins," but that's really neither here nor there.

Best of luck learning to drive properly,

Kerry

the awesomeness that is Sky Mall

Y'all know I love some shopping.

So, what's a girl today when she's on a plane for a while and forgets her newly purchased magazines, the book she's reading, and anything else she thought she packed to keep her entertained? Why the Sky Mall catalog, of course!

Are you familiar with Sky Mall? Sky Mall brings you products you never knew existed, much less need. At all. At any time. I love the Sky Mall catalog. Where else can you shop for pet products, Lord of the Rings jewelry, hammocks, wine chillers, and bizarre spa items? Bizarre is putting it nicely.

I never got into the finger-less gloves. I'm not sure if that's surprising or not. I've seen them in various stores and catalogs and on celebrities that really should know better. What I haven't seen are toe-less sock-type things. Foot gloves? No idea. Let's take a look.

The description says they are for hammertoes. I don't know what those are. Melissa sat next to me on the plane and gave me the impression said toes are not desirable, but this toe-less sock thing looks uncomfortable. I like that the toes are nicely painted. What attention to detail the photography director for Sky Mall must have. "No, don't use the model with the ugly hammertoes — get some pedicured tootsies for the Happy Feet toe-less socks!"

For some reason the Sky Mall people think those of us who travel by plane are quite the afflicted group. That's the only logic behind all the bizarre health-related products for sale. For instance, here's the home acupuncture thingamajig.

I don't know about you, but I'm an American medicine kind of girl. I'm not hanging around the acupuncturist's office/batcave. Call me crazy, but I'm just a little iffy on the whole needles in my skin thing unless I'm getting a shot by a nurse in scrubs who knows my name in a doctor's office with a diploma hanging on the wall from a university in this country. And I don't mean a correspondence school either. For realz.

Sky Mall even has something for the hypochondriac in your life. Or maybe that's you. I'm just saying. There's no judging on The Kerry Blog — just love and stuff. And a maybe a little judging. So, who cares if you think you have every disease known to man? Sky Mall cares. They want you to order this:

Note the tag line: A Guide to Self-Diagnosis for Hypochondriacs. And all this time I thought that was called WebMD. I would buy this for a couple of people I know, but I wouldn't want to encourage the crazy.

Speaking of crazy.

I'm all about comfort, but damn. When I was pregnant with Katie I had an extremely hard time getting comfortable at night and found a maternity pillow shaped like candy cane that allowed me to get some sleep. I loved that pillow. After Katie was born the pillow and I parted ways. There is nothing wrong with having a comfy pillow, even if it's shaped like a U. But sleeping with the long stem rose is just plain weird. And rose petals stain.

When it comes to sleeping, people have all kinds of weird quirks, don't they? I have to have complete darkness, my sound machine, 4 pillows, the ceiling fan on, and my bedroom has to be nice and cool — I'd have the thermostat at 60 if the hubs didn't freeze to death. So, yeah, I'm kind of high maintenance in the sleep department, but not on planes. I've never been able to sleep on planes. But I never had this either:

Seriously? It's an inflatable pillow for your face. Mr. Mustache here needs his beauty rest, so he brings his teal velour pillow onboard, spends an hour blowing it up and annoying the people next to him, then has a nice restful nap, just in time for the announcement to put your tray tables in their upright position and wake the hell up.

Don't tell me the pillow is a good idea or it's practical or convienent, because I'm not buying it. In fact, I'm not buying any of these either:

Why so many solutions for the common litter box? Is there some kind of litter box crisis going on in America that I'm not privy to since our cat ran away? Are cat owners rebeling? Do today's cats have needs beyond Tidy Cat Crystals and a scooper? Damn right they do. Cats today need a concealed litter box or one that looks like the space ship from Mork & Mindy.

But maybe you're not a cat owner and you're on a plane shopping for something unique. Maybe you've been thinking about taking the pink flamingos out of the front yard and tossing the garden gnomes in favor of something more edgy. You could go with either of these bad boys:

You couldn't go wrong with either monster. Personally, I would purchase both and put the zombie coming out of the ground to the side of Bigfoot as if Bigfoot isn't watching where he's going and is going to step on him. I have a couple of friends with birthdays coming up and I think these would be just perfect. They would also make a great housewarming gift. If you order these for a housewarming, have it delivered to your house, then under the cover of night go set them up on your friends' lawn so they can be surprised in the morning. Nothing says "welcome to the neighborhood" like a couple of monsters on the lawn.

Depending on how you look at it, this is either the best or the worst of the Sky Mall catalog. It's one of those "is the glass half empty or half full" things.

somebody better call freakin’ PETA

I'll get to Tunes You Need Tuesday later, this couldn't wait. You'll see why.

There are a few blogs I read everyday, from friends' blogs to scrapbooking blogs to more serious-toned blogs and one of my favorites is Manolo For the Big Girl, which I've written about before. Today I went to MFTBG and found a link to what may possibly be the wrongest (yeah, I know it's not a word, that's how outraged I am!) site I have ever seen.

Somebody better call freakin' PETA before I have a stroke. I hate it when I see dogs dressed up in sweaters, so this made me nuts.

WTF? Now, I'm all about expressing creativity, but damn. This is all kinds of wrong. There is no explantaion other than this dog groomer never got to play with the Barbie Make Me Pretty Head when she was little and it taking it out on her dog. No dog wants their ass fur turned into a sunflower! I can't believe I actually wrote "ass fur" on the Kerry Blog; I've reached a new low, people.

Groomer lady didn't stop with the flower, that dog has antenae! She turned the dog into a snail in a garden of hell.

Don't get me wrong, I love animals (cute furry ones anyway), but this is cruel. And just when I thought I'd seen it all I scrolled down and saw this.

Good Lord, now the poodle is a camel. This dog is going to have and identity disorder. For realz. And groomer lady walked like an Egyptian for the award ceremony. Poor camel/dog. You know when they go to the dog park camel/dog gets made fun of by all the other dogs. Even the chiauauas and those weird barkless dogs point and laugh at the camel/dog and tell all the other dogs to ask what King Tut was really like. This dog is the Rodney Dangerfield of dogs, no respect. The dog is thinking "someone help me. Michael Vick, anyone."

Then when I thought it couldn't get any worse.

Oh hell no. It's a damn Teenage effing Mutant effing Ninja effing Turtle dog.

People, shut the back door. Call the cops, it's all over. I feel so deflated as a creative person, I'm going to get my scrapbook supplies out after the kids go to school tomorrow and get to work on making Lucy the basset hound the most glittery, blingged-out dog you've ever seen. I may fold her long ears into some kind of origami — forget those cranes! I'm going for a damn helicopter or a bi-plane or something that will fly, 'cause damn if we're gonna be shown up by a poodle!

Stay tuned for further developments, I may have finally gone off the deep end since I've seen the camel/turtle/dog and a damn pink freakin' dolphin this week. Dear Baby Jesus, please let life start making sense or I'm going to check myself into the looney bin. Please don't tell me I'm seeing things, because that means either I'm on too many meds or not enough and I think we all know the answer to that one. Plus, it's National No Swearing Week and I tried my best, but there was no chance of that with Fluffy the dolphin and this travesty of the dog world happening in the same week. I'm going to head to bed before I see a damn unicorn in the backyard or a dragon circling the house 'cause no one invited them to this party, that is unless they do laundry.

it followed me home, can I keep it?

Okay, I've officially seen everything now. Damn. I'm glad I don't drink, because seeing this would be cause to stop drinking. There is an effing pink dolphin in Louisiana.

No, your eyes aren't deceiving you, that's a pink dolphin. It might as well have a Hello Kitty bow on it, it's so pink. It's so pink I'm going to catch it and mount it for my scrap/office.

I don't even particularly like dolphins, but I'm going to name this one Fluffy and keep it in my tub and play My Little Pony with it — remember the Sea Ponies? Fluffy will love the Sea Ponies.

Here's a link to the story on Fluffy. They say it's an albino, 'cause it has pink eyes and all and its skin "appears" pink. I'll see y'all later, I've got a line on a unicorn in Shreveport — I'll report on my findings later.