Monday, November 14, 2011

The severed heads of Asian men will adorn my new home

I'm moving.  Did I tell you that?  Despite the fact that there's nothing sexier to men than a 30 year old woman who lives with her mommy, I have decided to venture out into the real world again and cultivate my own space.  This, of course, will end tragically.

My mother doubles as my own personal chef and live-in ironing wench.  When left to my own devices, I tend to set things on fire while cooking and slice gashes into my hands when wielding a knife. So for everyone's sake, I tend to nuke things instead.  My dinner guests will choose from a delicious menu of Lean Cuisine Mac and Cheese and Stauffer's Lasagna.  Because I care.  I am certain they will salivate like Pavlov's dogs.

And since I burn myself every other time I attempt to iron, I"ll end up just foregoing the ironing all together and wearing clothes that look like they've been languishing in a mountainous pile of clean-but-unfolded laundry for like 6 weeks. Because they probably have. My boss, in all her rigidly starched glory, will be so pleased when I start rolling into work looking like I just survived an F-5 tornado.

Aside from those unfortunate consequences, living on my own will be stellar. I've spent the last couple of weekends "unpacking" the mounds of bags from my old house (before I moved back in with my mom) that I stored in my garage four years ago.  And by "unpacking", I mean sifting through the random garbage bags full of crumpled-up shit I forgot I had and praying that spiders and bats don't jump out at me and that I don't stick my hand in something squishy.

I feel like my garage finds would translate well into a Christmas carol set to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas."  Don't steal my idea.  This will make me rich and then I will have the funds to pay movers to move all of my disgusting cobwebby crap.
 So far in my unpacking and re-packing efforts, I have uncovered:

* super-webby cobwebs
* like 20 sticks of deodorant  Guess I was a stinky woman 4 years ago.
* 7 melted Tootsie Roll Pops (Which, incidentally, are stronger than super glue. And they RUIN towels, FYI.)
* 4 dismembered spiders
* 3 cockroach carcasses
* 2 Janet Jackson cassette tapes (WTF?)
* and a partridge in a pear tree

Tootsie Roll Pop aftermath.

Anyway, upon assessing my *ahem* home goods situation, I realized that I need to do some serious shopping to buy some home decor and, you know, towels without melty, crusty, cherry Tootsie Roll Pops stuck to them.  Which is doubly sad because not only did the lollipops ruin my towels, but I really, really like cherry Tootsie Roll Pops and now they're all wasted.  *violins*

So I drove out to this backwoods home goods store called Val's Basket Warehouse because I insist on nothing but the finest furnishings and decor for my new abode. 

It's every bit as classy as it looks.

I was met with things I didn't expect.  Like this:

For all of your ceramic parrot needs.
Naturally, I was stoked to find such a fine flock of parrots.  Then, no sooner had I thought "Man, if only I had some giant, creepy toads to greet my visitors as they walk in," did I happen upon THIS:

 Ask and you shall receive!

Just when everything was going well, *this* happened:

This will haunt my dreams.
 They had an aisle of Asian man heads propped up on sticks. Let me repeat that: an entire aisle devoted solely to displaying these ceramic heads of Asian men impaled by sticks. Because sometimes just one severed Asian man head statue isn't enough. Sometimes you need an entire arsenal to really make your decorative statement.  I suppose the Asian man head aisle was for people who want Lord of the Flies-inspired home decor?

 *fetal position*  Please make it stop.

I've never fancied myself an accomplished interior designer or anything, but with the help of the fine folks at Val's Basket Warehouse, I think my new apartment is really coming together.  Pics of my new ceramic reptile family to follow...

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