A Walk through the Harriet Carter Catalog

If you've been my friend for any time at all (which you probably haven't.  I have 3 cats.  Not a lot of friends.) you might have heard me impart horror lovely stories about the mailman who used to bring the mail at my previous place of employment.  This mailman would look down my shirt if I was wearing a turtle-neck and would often bring me random catalogs.  These catalogs usually skeeved me out (free Victoria's Secret underwear?  Kosher.  Frederick's of Hollywood Holiday Edition?  Not so much.) until one day he brought me the holy grail of spam mail - The Harriet Carter Catalog.  Come along with me, friend.  You're about to encounter a land so awesome that Billy Mays couldn't even fathom such wonder after a three-day bender. 

Doesn't this look appetizing? Strips of bacon, made limp by thousands of micro-waves, hanging there like pantyhose on a shower rod. The description tries to sell the hapless consumer on this by saying it "reduces fat" but I have news for you. If you're eating bacon, you're eating fat. The only way to really make bacon healthy is to turn it into a carrot, and I doubt that will be accomplished with some plastic tongs and what amounts to a lingerie rack for pig meat.

I know what you're thinking. You're saying, "WHY don't I have one of these in my household?" I will tell you why. Because the maker of this product is a complete moron and anyone who buys this product is not only perpetuating moron-ism, but is, in fact, its newest member. I like how "breaks wind" is in quotation marks, because one wouldn't want the buyer of this product to actually think that gas is expelled from a butt-shaped piece of plastic you keep on your dresser. I would have liked to take the doobie that was inevitably being smoked in that little brainstorming session and shove it up someone's "fanny" when the idea of a butt-shaped bank that farts when you put money in the crack came to life. If this was a winning idea, just imagine the products that wound up in the ashtray along with the novelty product-inspiring roach.

This brings us to the "Insta-Screen" that can be installed in seconds. It might keep out bugs, but it is absolutely useless when it comes to barricading your home from women with bad haircuts sporting a sweatshirt that is literally screaming to be sent back to 1982.

These glasses are made to exercise your eyes, apparently with the thought that if your eyes are stronger you won't need glasses. Because I would much rather wear these glasses that look like Kanye West knock-offs than a normal pair of spectacles. I wonder if they help you see the gang of jocks that will come up behind you, give you a giant wedgie, and take your lunch money.

This is what I think is quite possibly the saddest, most depressing item EVER. It's a fake dog, Harriet Carter. You can sugar-coat it with it's simulated "breathing" all you want and throw in a free dog carrier, but in the end, it's a piece of fur-covered plastic that comes with a freakin' adoption certificate! What does this cerrificate say exactly? "Congratulations on financing my second house you sad, weird little person?" The icing on the desperation cake is the fact that it requires two batteries...yet only comes with one. So now the cherry on your "my life is crap" sundae has been placed strategically on top of your fake cat. Better hurry to the store - Muffin might need to go for a walk soon!

I just had to put this in here because of the look on this lady's face. It looks like she stumbled in at the end of the Butt Bank Brainstorming session and took whatever party favors hadn't been consumed yet. Either that or she's really going to need the absorbant night gown when she gets the cold sweats from crack withdrawals.

 

 I have absolutely no idea what this is, but I'm still going to make fun of it. It reminds me of a Chia pet on crack. You give it water, it gets big and bold and green, but when the water goes away, it shrivels into a useless ball of what looks like poo. My guess after a few times of this, the brown poo will start to steal from you and eventually wind up hocking your family heirlooms just to get a taste of that sweet, sweet "water." Buyer be warned on this one - this is an after-school special just waiting to happen.

For the low, low price of "whatever you pay for this is too much" you can have this lovely hat that looks like a badly-groomed poodle. I can picture the guy who came up with this one, "Let's see. I've got all of this fur left over from making weird fake pets for people and nothing to do with said fur. Hmmm...maybe I could glue it on these irregular tube socks and sell them as hats!" And bam, another entrepreneur is born by making people look like idiots.

I don't understand why this fellow isn't smiling.  At least he's not modeling the previously ridiculed faux fur hat.  Wait.  Shit.  Okay then, let's run down the positives of this shirt.  1.  It's "handsome."  2.  No one ever will attack you while wearing it because no criminal, however moronic, will chance the fact that you actually DO know tae kwon do risk getting a beatdown from someone wearing a shirt adorned with wolves.  Now, let's go over the negatives.  1.  Everything else. 

My Canada Tis of Thee

Wow.  I can’t believe I made it through another year…without shooting anyone!  What better way to start of 2011 than by a flurry of annoyances, brought to you by yours truly?  I’m sure you can think of several, but I would like to encourage you to shut up and continue reading.  Did I hurt your feelings?  Then I probably wouldn’t encourage you to read further.  Things aren’t going to get better. 

1. People who mark every e-mail as “urgent.”  If your e-mail doesn’t involve someone dying, losing a large amount of blood or a major limb, or the closing of my favorite bar, it’s NOT urgent.  Telling me that we’re going to lunch in 15 minutes warrants an exclamation point in the body at best.  It does not necessitate your e-mail arriving in my inbox with that blasted red exclamation point beside it screaming, “Read me!!  I must be very, very, very important!”  So, before hitting that lovely send (or in some regrettable instances, “send all”) button, stop and think for a minute.  Does the content of this message explain eminent, grave danger to the recipient?  Does this little message explain the inherent problems with the braking system on the recipient’s car?  Finally, if the recipient fails to read this message immediately, will the recipient, the recipient’s family, or the recipient’s job be in jeopardy?  If the answer to any of these questions is “yes” then go ahead and mark your e-mail as urgent.  If the e-mail goes into excruciating detail about the dangers of Coca-Cola products, has any sort of caricature of Sarah Palin, or tries to espouse the importance of carrying wasp spray to ward off the gang members that are hiding underneath your car waiting to slash your ankles, then step away from the “urgent” button.  You’re doing yourself, and your entire e-mail contact list, a huge favor. 
2. Inflatable mascots.  I watched the Indianapolis game the other night, shaking my head at the Titans, and saw the Colts “mascot” bobbing away like an ocean buoy in the end zone.  Aren’t mascots supposed to be furry, huggable creatures that inspire fetishes in some people?  These inflatable things are not only throwing pot holes into the roads paved by such mascot greats like the Philly Phanatic and Tennessee’s beloved Smokey, but they’re also encouraging inflatable Christmas decorations.  Neither of these situations is okay in my book so I’m calling BS on these stupid things and attacking the next one I see with the pocket knife I keep in my purse for just such occasions.  You’ve been warned, Peyton.  Keep that freakish, horse-shaped balloon thing away from me. 
3. Voicemails.  I absolutely abhor voicemails.  It takes me approximately 4 hours to get through my voicemail prompts and it goes something like this:

I press #.  Repeatedly.  I then have to listen to my voicemail lady saying things like, “Please enter your password.  Now enter your phone number.  Now punch in ‘867-5309’ while singing, ‘Jenny, I got your number!’”  After putting in every number, including the year in which I turned15, I get to the message only to hear you hang up.  Not okay.  Not even a little bit.  Why did YOU sit through the entire process of my stupid voicemail greeting and the other voicemail lady saying, “If you’d like to leave a message, stay on the line.  To page this person, press 5.  To hear this person butchering a Tommy Tutone song, press any button you like.  We were going to play it for you anyway” only to hang up?  Do us both a favor and just text me.  Or send a smoke signal.  Or an e-mail.  Just don’t mark it as urgent.  As we’ve already covered, that’s annoying. 

4.  Pennies.  I purchased something the other day and the total was something like $3.83.  I frantically searched my purse for 3 pennies in an effort to 1.  Get rid of the stupid things rattling around in the bottom of my purse and 2.  Not get any more of the blasted things to rattle around in the bottom of my purse.  This doesn’t happen with anything else EVER!  If someone offers you a pen, you don’t go digging around in your personal possessions in an effort to give that person a pen before you can receive their pen.  No one’s ever given Pat Sajak a car in an attempt to not drive home in a Mazda 6 Sports Sedan after winning the final Bonus Round, now have they?  I have a jar of pennies on my desk that was here on my first day.  I could take it to one of those Coinstar things, but it’s really not worth my time to go to Kroger, find a parking spot, figure out the machine, and walk away with $.87.  Pennies are the red-headed step-children of the currency world and I say it’s time to put them in their place:  the basement in a padlocked cage until Thanksgiving.   

And now, for a change of pace, the one thing that has made me inexplicably happy the past few days:

1.  Canada.  Without our boring neighbors to the north, we wouldn’t “hoser” in our lexicon!  And where would our world be without the cinematic classic, “Strange Brew?”  A place I don’t want to reside.  That’s where we’d be.  Canadians are have curiously cute French accents, they’re too far north to know we’re making fun of them, and most importantly, they have awesome health care, so they’ll recover quickly from whatever mental illness you incur from shouting, “Eh?” over and over.  And over.  And over.  Because making fun of Canada, and their bacon, will never get old.  They were smart enough to ship Celine Dion down here, so I’m hoping they’ll be smart enough to accept my work visa application.  I’m moving up there to be one of the cops who rides horses.  Those boots are uh-mazing.  And if you know me, you know I’m all about some cool hats.  Watch out, you Canucks.  This Southern girl has a passport, Canadian-laced dreams, and up-to-date vaccinations.  Get excited, you hosers.