A Need and Not a Want, I Don't Care What You Say.

Have you ever been out shopping and seen something that was just so ridiculous, or so weird, or so hilarious, that you knew that you had to buy it? But then you didn't buy it because it was ridiculous/weird/hilarious and you know that responsible adults don't buy such things, so you walked away. And then for the next week you thought about that awesome hilarious weirdness and how much you needed it and so you rationalized the purchase, and went back to the store to splurge--only to find that your treasure was gone.

I've had such regrets.

Like, one time old roommate Cris and I were at TJMaxx around Christmas, and there was this 2 ft. tall stuffed cat, dressed as Santa, holding a scepter and wearing a crown. Cris and I stood in that aisle doubled over laughing for like 20 minutes laughing at that Cat King Santa.

Now is the part where I'd show you a picture of Cat King Santa, but I can't, because it was $35, and we didn't buy it because we were trying to be grown-ups. That was like five years ago, and every time I pull out my Christmas stuff, I think about that glorious opportunity that we missed, and I become sad. Time and again, Cris and I have lamented our poor decision, and every year when TJMaxx puts out their holiday stuff, I hunt for another Cat King Santa, but to no avail.

But I've learned from my mistakes. And that's why this weekend when I was at HomeGoods, I not only found, but also purchased, the greatest object in the history of mankind. (Except for maybe the KitchenAid mixer, but we can have that argument later.)

It's a porcelain roller skate.

Isn't it the greatest thing you've ever seen? It was $25, which is approximately $25 more than one should pay for a porcelain roller skate, but I don't care, because it makes me much more than $25 happy.

I mean, is this roller skate kidding me right now with its awesomeness?

Anyway, lest you think me irresponsible for spending $25 on something so useless, you should know that it'll make a great doorstop (it's super heavy), and that it can be either a groovy sculpture or a flower vase.

 It would also make a great bookend, or defense weapon in case of an intruder. I think I might even use it to store pencils.  Or to earn the respect of one Gloria Gaynor.



What else can I do with my roller skate?

Hell Yeah, HomeGoods!

I'm really cheap.

(Cheap like frugal, not cheap like skanky.) 

Whenever I need something for the house, I always check out HomeGoods first.  And usually, I can find what I'm looking for for a fraction of the cost of the exact item in a department store.  (If this sounds like a commercial, it's because I'm pushing HomeGoods.  But I am sincere about how much I love the place, too.)  I love HomeGoods not only because of the amazing deals (a set of king-sized 600-thread count sheets for $40!  a dutch oven for $24!  birthday cake scented candles for $6!), but also because of some of the hilarious weird stuff that I'll find.  Last year about this time I stopped in a HomeGoods and later posted about that visit.

Anyway, you can imagine my excitement when I got a complimentary $25 gift card in the mail from HomeGoods.  The idea was that I would buy gifts for other people (and then talk about it on the internet).  But here's the thing: I'd already completed my Christmas shopping.  So I decided that this gift card would be for Matt and me and our pretty little kitchen.  Here's what I picked up (all for $25!).

Awesome new box grater that grates right into a container. 

 This one was for Matt, who often gets stuck with the job of grating cheese (usually parmesan), and was growing tired of our little IKEA oval ones. 

A giant ice cream scoop. 

Why didn't I have one of these already?  I was planning on using it when we went to Hugh and Cassie's for Thanksgiving--you know, when I was supposed to make Mandy's Famous Pumpkin Cheesecake Ice Cream.  But I forgot to bring the ice cream maker.  I did not, however, forget to bring this giant ice cream scoop. 

And, finally, I got his new whisk.  I already have a whisk exactly like this but orange, so I was a little reluctant to buy this one.  While I was shopping, I had it in my hands, fawning over the pretty periwinkle color.  I was talking to Matt on the phone, asking him if it was really excessive for me to buy another whisk exactly like my favorite orange one (apparently I never had this conversation with him while I was on my "different-colored enamel colanders" kick), and he assured me that since I'd received the gift card for free, that, no, it was not excessive and that I should buy what I want. 

I love it when Matt encourages me to be frivilous.  I also love it when he grates the parmesan cheese.

What about you?  Are you a HomeGoods shopper, or does it stress you out?

WTF, HomeGoods?

Let me begin this by admitting that I am not the master of home decor. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I hate when things match, and I opt for comfort or function over appearance. My personal style of decorating is "the college dorm room, slightly matured." Another word for it may be garish, or mismatched. If we're using euphemisms we'll say that my style is eclectic. Really it's tacky. But I like tacky and kitschy, so it's fine.

Our living room, for example, looks perfectly respectable at first glance. . . And then you get a closer look. . . Why, is that a picture of Christ painted on black velvet? Yes it is. Is that a framed photo of the Obamas? Our cousins, the Obamas? Yes it is.

See what I mean?

One of the only sources of redemption in my decorating prowess is a good trip to HomeGoods. Often I can find a great deal on some kitchen thing I've been needing [wanting], or I'll get a great deal on a 600-count king sheet set ($40!!!).

It's not all good, though. Tonight's trip reveled some real, uh, treasures.

Oh, HomeGoods. . . Why? (Forgive the quality of the pictures. I was skulking around Home Goods snapping pictures, laughing, and trying to keep from being thrown out of the store.)

Why is there a magenta gargoyle demon? And what is the purpose of said demon?

But it gets worse. Look at this evil elf. It may be hard to tell from the photo, but this fiend is about four feet tall. I also accidentally knocked him over.

Here's a closer look at his face. By the way, this thing cost $100. I think I'd rather just set $100 on fire. Of course, it may be fun to place the elf by the bed of a child. You know, if you were involved in some sort of evil psychological experiment or something.

I'm probably going to have nightmares about this face.

Need a statue of a dog dressed in Christmas attire? HomeGoods is your place.

Need a figurine of a turkey holding onto two Native American mice things? HomeGoods.

Can't figure out how to spend that $15 that's burning a hole in your pocket? Need to buy a gift for someone you hate? At HomeGoods you can find this gorgeous angelic. . .thing.

What really kills me about this stuff is that not only did someone come up with the ideas, but someone else executed those ideas. Someone out there actually created this stuff. They said to themselves, "You know what the world is missing? A sculpture of a French bulldog dressed up for Christmas." And someone is going to buy this shit!

Not me, though. Unless, of course, I have to buy a gift for someone I hate.