Bling Bling Bitches: a super Yellaphant giveaway with Cut Out and Collect

A few weeks ago I was all "hey yaaaaa'll, who wants to be my bitches?" (this might be paraphrased) and I actually got an e-mail from someone who does. In this e-mail, Cheyne from Cut Out and Collect was all "F YES, I would be a perfect bitch, mostly because I rock and I make awesome things and let's make out and I'll bribe you" (this also might be paraphrased). And I was like "Cheyne, Cheyne, Cheyne. I don't take bribes. Unless they are in the form of money or presents." And then I got this in the mail.


And then I kind of squirted in my pants a little bit. Because have you ever seen anything so AWESOME? I've pretty much been carrying this zippy pouch around with me everywhere because it's PERFECT for things like keys and change and makeup and a camera and tampons and receipts and hand sanitizer to protect you from STDs.

And also, in the short time I've had this zippy, I've become completely obsessed with the phrase bling bling bitches and I've pretty much been finishing every sentence with bling bling bitches for the past 24 hours. Like last night at the Phillies game, whenever someone hit the ball I was all bling bling bitches. At work, whenever I finish a task I'm all bling bling bitches. And at home, whenever B says anything I'm all bling bling bitches. B thanks you for my new tagline, Cheyne. He's just jealous he doesn't have his own phrase to say every five minutes and I won't let him use mine. And you are so annoying doesn't count as an awesome tagline. Bling bling bitches!

And in case you didn't know, Cheyne MADE this. With her HANDS. Because that's what she does. She makes beautiful and awesome things which she sells on her online store, Cut Out and Collect and on her Cut Out and Collect shop on Etsy. Cheyne has an array of fantastic one-of-a-kind bags, wallets, and more created from bold and energetic patterns. You love octopus? How about an octupus zippy? Really into scooters? She's got the perfect wallet for you. Got a 'tude? She will cut you.

Just browsing the Cut Out and Collect gallery puts me in a good mood, because how can all of these fun patterns and happy colors and not lighten your mood a bit? Plus, her eye for design is fantastic, and I'm kind of all hung up on the fact that she whips these adorable pieces together with a needle, thread, and probably sometimes a little booze.

Naturally, I e-mailed Cheyne and was all, "marry me?" and she was all "I'll bring the wine," which is how we got to this little Q&A. And keep reading to see how you can enter the Cut Out and Collect giveaway.

On your website, you say Cut Out and Collect "began as your attempt to avoid graduate school, jobs involving fax machines, and other acceptable adult endeavors." When did you know you wanted the needle and thread to be more than just a hobby, and what specifically was the alternative? As someone who does work at a job that involves fax machines, but doesn't yet know how to use one without creating an office-wide paper jam and then having to hide in the ladies room for 20 minutes with nothing to do but stare at those pictures of Jeff Goldblum that I taped to the stalls so no one suspects it was me again, I just want to know, tradesies?

Well, I graduated with a BA in Art History/History which is basically a one-way ticket to either an art gallery or graduate school. My gallery internships slightly resembled your job description, except if someone was taping pictures to the bathroom stall doors, they'd include some totally smarty-pants art joke that only two people in the world would understand which is way less cool than "Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop" posters, because those are apparently funny to at least three extra people. AND! I was terrified I would never be allowed to start a sentence with a conjunction or write run-on sentences, which I love doing, if I continued onto graduate school.

The flip side of all of this? I'm my own boss and my own employee which kinda makes you feel like you have multiple personality disorder. I'm also a freaky perfectionist... so I end up working very long hours alone in my studio, cursing out my employee and muttering under my breath about what an idiot my boss is. But man, company parties can get preeeeetty crazy! Still wanna trade?

What do you look for in fabrics? What is it that catches your eye?

I love bright colors and cutesy prints. If you look at a piece of fabric and wonder "why the hell did someone put that on fabric!?" I want it.

What is the process you go through when creating new designs? Are you usually listening to music? If so, what? Do you have any quirky rituals that you go through before sitting down to create? Underwear dancing? Voodoo? Heavy petting?

Hmm. Give me some coffee along with loud music and I'm good to go. I do my best against deadlines. I'd like to think that I'm witty and creative and think of things like "tweet tweet bitches " all on my own, but I'm pretty sure it's just sleep deprivation.

I love love love Animal Collective, St. Vincent, TV on the Radio and Arcade Fire. I like to pretend there's a dance party going on in my studio but I don't actually dance. When anyone is looking.

Are there any artists who you find most inspiring for your work? Where else do you find inspiration?

Do lolcatz count as art? Oh shit, I already told you I actually have a degree in art history.

What is your number one, must-have, would-not-even-leave-the-house-during-the-Apocalypse-without accessory?

I have a tiny little zipper pouch than can hold my cell phone and my ID. Don't mess with my access to text messages or alcohol.

Where you drunk when you wrote these questions? Because I find that weirdly charming.

The answer is usually always yes. Do you feel like you're cheating on yourself when you use a bag or wallet designed by anyone else? Do you ever even do that? Feels dirty, doesn't it? Kind of like waking up on the kitchen floor in your underwear without even brushing your teeth the night before? Not brushing your teeth is the worst.

Nobody likes cheaters, Bridget. I mean, haven't you ever seen that show? That host guy totally got STABBED by a cheater. So I stick with my stuff.

You know what is almost as gross as not brushing your teeth? Bringing up that show, Cheaters, in an interview.

When you're at a party and someone asks you what you do for a living, do you ever tell them you're a "bag lady," and then cackle and pull a cat out of your homemade purse? THAT would be awesome.

When you show up at parties with a bunch of bags with cats in them, people first stop asking you what you do for a living. And eventually stop talking to you, altogether. Believe me, I know.

I always ask Yellaphant Featured artists to name their style. If you had to name your artistic style, what would you call it? "Stab you with my scissors cute?" "Okay, I guess?" "As adorable as a fat, smiling whale?" (which, by the way, is flipping adorable).

"I Am Cute and If You Disagree, I Will Cut You"

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE. Because Cheyne is so awesome, not only did she answer all my questions, but she offered to do a CUT OUT AND COLLECT GIVEAWAY. Cheyne's offering up a $22.22 gift certificate to her shop, so you can choose which adorable piece you want to adopt. You could totally get TWO zipper pouches with that, if you wanted to one up me or something.

To enter, all you have to do is leave a comment and tell me what your tagline would be. Tweet the link to this post with @Yellaphant in the tweet, and you double your chances. The contest will be open until midnight on Thursday, June 4, and I'll announce the lucky winner on Friday, June 5. Bling bling bitches! Tweet

On eating rich people's food and the possibility of VD

As you probably know, B is a tennis pro at a rather fancy country club in the Philadelphia area. And in case you didn't know, fancy country clubs attract fancy rich people. And at this particular club, there are quite a few members of the local Philadelphia elite. And when you are the wife of one of the Philadelphia elite, you flock to the tennis program. Just like in that movie. The one with the rich people. And the tennis pro? With the dancing? Also I'm pretty sure there was a lot of sex. And possibly a fight scene in the middle of the woods, but that might have just been the drugs. Anyway, I can't remember. But the point is, B spends his days correcting the backhand of many of the region's most well known names.

And when these women gather to play matches, they bring with them trays of homemade food. Since many of these women usually drink their lunches with an olive and a side of Prozac, B has taken to bringing home the leftovers, which is awesome because now as we pick through the trays of homemade goods, we try to guess if the women who brought them actually made them or if their minority house servants did. But really, it doesn't matter, because the fact is, we're eating their food. And eating rich people's food is awesome. Because it's almost like being rich. Or not at all. But it's at least a few steps up from eating out of their dumpsters and don't act like you've never eaten anything out of a trash can before.

Speaking of dumpsters, I hit my head on one today, which is worse than hitting your head on pretty much any other hard surface, because most other hard surfaces don't smell like shit. I was jogging with Rooney early this morning before work. And because Rooney loves being a dickhead, he wiggled out of his collar a few blocks from our apartment and started sprinting up and down the street like some kind of lunatic. And the worst part was, he was smiling the entire time, like a little asshole.

He ran circles around me barking and jumping and ducking out of reach every time I got near him like some kind of wombat on crack. And when I finally cornered him behind an apartment building, he did this bob and weave move that I'm pretty sure not even Lebron James could have shut down, and my head went into the side of the dumpster. It didn't even hurt, it was just fecking disgusting and I'm pretty sure when I'm chasing my dog around the neighborhood the last thing I want to feel on my face is trash juice. And can you get an STD from dumpster juice? Because now I'm kind of paranoid because I don't always know how these things work and I'm still totally wigging out over the fact that there's more germs on my desk than a public toilet seat. Also, I know Lebron James probably isn't that great of a defender, but there is a possibility he'd be better at catching a dog than I am, and also when I Googled "best NBA defender" I didn't recognize any of the names so I figured you probably wouldn't either, and LAY OFF ME I don't even watch basketball and anyway I'm too busy wondering if I have VD now. On my face. Tweet

Drunk History: George Hamilton is an actor who was in Zorro the Gay Blade

One of the many fabulous things our friend Brendan showed us this weekend -- besides his mind-blowing seven-minute interpretive dance to "I'm Bossy" -- was Drunk History. Since I spent much of my weekend in a similar state, I don't have the brain power to write about anything witty or even almost-funny today. So instead, I'll let the drunks to the job for me. Per usual.







And also I'm not sure what it says that I remember more from drunkenly watching drunk people talk about history than I did in, like, eight years of gradeschool history class. Or as they liked to call it in Catholic school, social studies. And now I'm sitting here wondering if the pope was trying to keep all our little malleable minds away from books with the word history on the cover just in case we ever came across something that suggested that God didn't create the world in six days and then rested on the seventh. It was George Washington. And then he discovered America. And then I saw him at the Phillies game. And then I slept with Paul Rudd. Just kidding on that last part there. Still trying to bag that stud muffin.

Tweet

And ze vinner ees ...

A big thanks to everyone who participated in the Beth Retro Photography giveaway! I think it's kind of obvious that I'm a big fan of things that are totally random, and that includes Yellaphant giveaway winners. This week's totally random winner is seven. Congrats, seven! You are so random! The print you selected, "I love the world at night," will be on its way to you soon.

If you didn't win, you can still get your hands on one of Beth's beautiful images. All of her photos are for sale, so if you see something you like in the Flickr stream that isn't in the Etsy shop, just send Beth an e-mail, and she'll take care of you. Prices for most prints are listed below, unless otherwise noted in the shop.

6x4 print (postcard size): $6.00 + $4.00 postage.
7x5 print: $8.00 + $4.00 postage.
12x8 print (A4): $12.00 + $4.00 postage.

If you buy more than one print, postage for each additional will only be $0.50. Something that pretty for those prices? How could you not? No, really, explain to me, because I don't understand.

Thanks again to Beth who made this giveaway possible. And, as always, if you'd like to be a Yellaphant featured artist, mail me a pint of your blood and I'll think about it. Or just e-mail me. Tweet

It's still called Memorial Day Weekend, even if you don't remember all of it on Tuesday

photo by Bdan

I'll be there. With them, among others. Welcoming summer with open arms. While I'm gone, don't do anything I wouldn't do this weekend. And stay away from sharp objects and jelly fish. And people that talk too much. And people that alphabetize their album collections. And dogs that haven't had their anal glands expressed recently. And people that watch Dancing with the Stars. And most especially, sharks who wear sunglasses. They are not as friendly or as cool as they want you to believe.

And while you're loungin', don't forget to enter the BETH RETRO PRINT GIVEAWAY. That's one thing that is definitely safe to do while under the influence. Throw down a comment, and if you're selected, you get to choose one of Beth's awesome prints for keeps. Tweet it, and you double your chances. The contest ends Monday at midnight, just like the fun. Tweet

A collection of thoughts that don't make sense

I have all of these random thoughts sitting in draft and taking up all this space in this blog, so I figured I had better get a few of the at least the half-baked ones up. I'm using half-baked as a good thing here, and if you know me in real life, I'm sure you understand that it is a huge accomplishment for any of my thoughts or decisions to be well-thought out, which might or might not be the reason for the unfolding of many of the stories here on the blog. So if something is half-baked, it's at least half way there to a reasonable, cognizant thought. Maybe it's even been considered for more than .8 seconds. Which says a lot. For me.

Anyway. I'm going to just throw all these little thoughts together. Like, is there a word for blogging about twittering? Because I'm totally going there. I'm about to blitter.

1. The other day I was eating lunch on my front stoop so Rooney could enjoy some sunshine before I had to go back to work. I wasn't paying all that much attention to him because I was reading this really interesting New Yorker article about lazy peacocks and sex with good looking people or something like that, and when I went to pick up my glass of milk, Rooney's entire snout was in my cup, lapping up the milk. Now, if I wanted to get a new glass, I would have had to go all the way upstairs and blah blah blah. And really, I just couldn't handle that at the moment, so I drank it anyway. And then I found it kind of funny that Rooney and I were totally splitting a glass of milk but no one was there to laugh with me, so when I got back to work, I twittered that shiz. And I was all "Fact: caught Rooney licking from my glass when I wasn't looking. Totally kept drinking from it anyway" and then I giggled because oh man, can't wait to see what mah tweeps think of this one.

And @holaolah was all You're officially ready to make the leap to motherhood! which kind of made me nervous. Does that mean that because I'm too lazy to get myself a new glass of milk, when I have a baby, I'll inevitably be picking through it's vomit to see if there's anything edible because I don't feel like getting up off the couch and I'm hungry? This is a distinct possibility.

And then @bsweichsel was like His mouth is cleaner then yours anyway. He was doing you a favor. But then I had to remind @bsweichsel that Rooney licks his butt. So I kind of licked his butt now too. Which, let me tell you, stinks. And also did you know that you're supposed to get your dog's anal glands expressed? Because before recently, I had never even heard the words express anal glands all used in the same sentence in my life. And now I'm really hung up on it. It's also my new favorite threat for B. So help me gah, if you don't pick up every last dirty sock in this apartment I am going to come over there and express your anal glands. B is less enthusiastic about this discovery.

So then I sent a message to my friend Monica that was all "I will pay you $10 to come over and express my dog's anal glands" and she's all "totally," which I think says a lot about our friendship.


2. The other day I had to get another suspicious skin mark removed from my body. I go to the dermatologist twice a year every year because skin cancer runs in my family. So even though my favorite place in the world is in a chair on the beach, I'm always sure to lather on the lotion and pay my doctor a visit every so often. I've had cancer before and once is enough for me.

So this time, my doctor found something suspicious on my neck, which is not alarming, because she usually finds a new suspicious mole every time I go, and so far, everything has been benign. And this one was too. But it is another scar on my body, and this one in a more obvious place.

The first time I had a mole removed, it was on my left butt cheek, which is hilarious because when I showed all of my friends, I told them B put a cigarette out on my butt. The second scar is on my arm, which only became obvious to people at a formal company dinner when I was wearing a strapless dress. It had only been a week or so after the biopsy, so I still had my scar treatment patch on. Everyone assumed it was either a birth control patch (they have those?) or a nicotine patch (I've never smoked a day in my life).

Right now, I'm wearing the patch on my neck. And I keep waiting for someone to ask me what it is so I can tell them someone at the office went postal and stabbed me in the neck with a pen before jumping out the window, but at least I saved the life of Suzie the intern.


3. I know this video has been all over the Web for weeks now, but have you seen it? Because it's INSANE. I don't even have anything to say about it. Except wow.




4. I just got really upset because I thought I accidentally deleted this entire post. I didn't. But we'd all probably be better off if I did. Tweet

UPDATED: Wednesday's Song of the Week

I've had a quiet relationship with Jose Gonzalez for a few years. Ours is a casual love. I don't get all hot and heavy for him. But his voice can put me at ease in a way that very few artists can match.

B and I saw him when he was in town last year, and it was probably the calmest live show I have ever seen. Gonzalez paused for just a few seconds in between each song, and seemed too self-conscious to make much conversation with the audience. But his quiet stage presence suited his delicate and, at times, heartwrenching acoustic plucking.

This is one of my favorite Jose Gonzalez songs, very possibly simply because of the way the words ever so delicately drop from his tongue.

We were in love.

This song whispers nostalgia and sticky summer nights. Hello, summer. It's about fecking time.





UPDATE: For all my music snobs out there, have a listen to the original "Heartbeats" by the Knife, WHICH I'M SURE YOU ALREADY KNOW ABOUT. Tweet

Because writing an entire post about the weather is totally awkward

You know what two words are pretty much my worst nightmare? Butt plugs Record low. As in, isn't it interesting that this week the temperatures have hit a record low? NO IT ISN'T FECKING INTERESTING. It's horrendous. In case you didn't get the memo -- because apparently Ma Nature hasn't been checking her e-mail recently -- it's MAY. I'm SUPPOSED to be rolling around in the grass in my bikini right now. Instead, I'm pulling on another sweater, kind of like your grandmother does in the middle of July because my, it's a bit chilly in here and have you seen my teeth?

And every morning when my alarm goes off I'm all "Too. Cold. Can't. Get. Up." And B's all "Aaahhh it feels WONDERFUL" because he's an asshole from New England and I guess it's usually like negative 12 up there for most of the year. And now I'm a little nervous for this weekend's weather forecast because B and I are spending the weekend at the beach with our friends and so help me gah the sun had better be shining because Monday is the first day I have off this entire year, I have been looking forward to this three-day weekend for a VERY long time.

Speaking of which, people have been asking me about wedding planning. Wedding planning is easy. You look at a bunch of pretty things and pretty places and you make some choices and blah blah blah and also sometimes blah. What's harder is hoarding all of the vacation days I need for the wedding and the honeymoon. It's not that bad now, while it's 50 degrees in May, but it will be when it's a perfect 88 degrees in July and I would give my back left molar for a long weekend down the shore, kind of like when I was six and I tried to trade my little brother for my neighbor's new puppy. That bitch.

People have also been asking how I made all of these decisions that needed to be made for the wedding. Beer. Magic. I just did. And also I might have been drunk. But seeing all these questions come in made me think, maybe people are asking questions about the wedding because they want to know things about the wedding. Or something like that. And also I just realized that it's probably super awkward to write an entire blog post about the weather but everyone loves weddings right? Or at the very least, every one loves free booze. And surprisingly, the wedding isn't something B and I talk about very often with our friends. So there are some things that even the people I hang out with don't know, which I realized some time last week when NONE OF MY FRIENDS EVEN KNEW THE DATE.

B and I are getting married on September 26, meaning next week marks the four-month countdown, meaning holy shit. The ceremony will be at my gradeschool church in the town right outside Philly where I grew up, and the reception is at the Hyatt Regency at Penn's Landing in Philadelphia. There are two reasons for this. The Hyatt is perfectly situated in the Delaware River making it easily accessible, but only steps from the heart of the city, giving me the city wedding I've always wanted. And it's a hotel, with a bar, making it the ideal location when the open bar has been exhausted and did you really think my wedding wouldn't be having an after party? Which also means that once the booze and the revelers have been exhausted, we're all only an elevator ride from our beds. Because if there's one thing that should never be underestimated, it is the quantity of booze that will be consumed by friends and family.

Flowers? Gerber daisies. Colors? Shades or orange and fuscia. Bridesmaids dresses? Smokin'.

Menu? Yes. My dress? Holla. Guests? Wow. And is anyone still out there? This is why I don't talk about the wedding all that much. Because I get terribly nervous that it might bore people. Because there are so many other interesting things to talk about. Like the weather. Tweet

I TOLD you Snuggies were for derelicts

This is not a real post. But Keiti sent me this article, about the New Jersey teenager who tried to rob a grocery store with a screw driver while wearing a Snuggie. Obviously, there are two nefarious elements at play here: Snuggies and New Jersey. And this is the part where B's mom reads this fake post and orders like 10 more Snuggies to send me just to watch me convulse, and JerseyShoreJen thinks about punching me in the face for bringing New Jersey into all of this. But it was already there, Jen. It was already there. In related news: I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. It's cool, I had Mexican last night. Tweet

HOLY MOLY! Another Yellaphant giveaway: Beth Retro Photography

A few weeks ago, I happened across Beth Retro's Flickr photostream and I was instantly smitten. It should be noted that colors get me all sorts of worked up. Kind of like how mockingbirds get all uppity about shiny objects, anything with bright colors -- from fireworks to photographs -- instantly gets me excited and happy. I can literally feel the color as it hits my eyes and seeps into my bloodstream. The bolder the better. It has occurred to me that perhaps, this puts me on a stimulus level somewhere near a small child or borderline aggressive laboratory monkey.

Naturally, I love surrounding myself with hues that pop, which is why I knew I needed to pick up a few of Beth's prints. I reached out to Beth, who sent me to her Beth Retro Etsy shop. And I think we all know what happens when I find myself in Etsy shops. As I've said before, some people black out and wake up with strange men in their beds. I black out and wake up with Etsy bills.

Beth also graciously mentioned that if there was something not listed in the shop that I took a liking to on her Flickr page, she'd be happy to make those prints for me. Beth's portfolio is filled with interesting, mesmerizing, and dazzling photos. The more I combed through her sets, the more I fell in love with her delicate style. Some photos are fun and poppy, while others are contemplative and calming. And of course, I love her experimentation with nostalgia.

I spent a good 24 hours clicking through every single beautiful photo on Beth's site, until I landed on the perfect three. And in this case, whittling my choices down to just three was less than easy.

"I feel it all"

"everything stands so still when you dance. everything spins so fast..."

"daydreamer"

I adore these photos, and can't wait to have them framed and hung on the walls.

During our back-and-forth, I also asked Beth if she would like to be featured here on Yellaphant, and she generously agreed to to do a PRINT GIVEAWAY. WOOT WOOT. I'm finding that artists are generally very agreeable people. Especially when you stalk them.

Last time I asked you to describe your style. This time, all you have to do to enter the Great Beth Retro Photography Giveaway is leave a comment telling me your favorite Beth Retro photograph from either her Etsy shop or her Flickr sets. If your name is selected, the print is yours for keeps. And if you re-tweet or link to this post, you'll be entered twice. Make sure you tell me if you do! The contest will be open until next Monday, May 25 (Memorial Day, ya'll) at midnight, and I'll announce the winner on Tuesday, May 26.

If you're anything like me -- which I assume you are because why else would you come back here after listening me talk about poop -- you'll be spending a long time pouring over Beth's work. In other words, I totally just gave you something to help you waste away your Friday afternoon at work. You're welcome. Happy browsing!

Beth also agreed to answer a few of my questions, because after pouring over her photos, I definitely wanted to get to know that adorable British gal behind (and in front of) the lens a little bit better.

Your photos are all about color. What color inspires you most?

Colour is very important to my photography. I think the use of it can evoke so much feeling in a picture. I do appreciate some photographs more in black and white, but mostly I am drawn to colour images. I find that the colour red has inspired me the most so far. I’m not sure why, other than the fact that it’s such a strong colour and full of passion.

Where else do you find inspiration? It seems like you find a lot in the color and beauty of the English countryside. I've never been to England but one of my college roommates grew up outside London. She was loud and obnoxious and awesome, so naturally she fit in really well in America.

Inspiration can be found in the strangest, or equally the most simple, places. I find inspiration everywhere. You just have to look in the right way, if you know what I mean. The world is full of great things waiting to be photographed, but our surroundings often seem too familiar. To find the potential for great photographs it is necessary to look at the world with fresh eyes everyday. The biggest inspirations for me are music and literature. To me, there is real magic in the union of music, lyrics and images.

Speaking of music, so many of your photos are titled after songs. Which comes first: Do you hear the songs and envision a photo, or do you see the photo and hear a song?

This process can work for me both ways. Although I find the usual way is for me to take a photo and then suddenly realise that it reminds me of a song. There are exceptions, such as “Erase and Rewind,” which I took recently. That picture was one hundred per cent inspired by the song. I had the idea in my head for days before shooting it.

What's your favorite song of all time? Wait let me guess. "Enter the Sandman" by Metallica. Your photos scream Metallica.

Haha. I haven’t heard that one. But I’m not a Metallica fan… I’m not sure I could choose one favourite song of all time, but some favourites would be “Bluebells” by Patrick Wolf, “Common People” by Pulp, “There is a light that never goes out” by The Smiths, “Can’t stand me now” by the Libertines, “80’s Life” by The Good the bad and the Queen, “With or without you” by U2. There are so many more…

What does a typical day look like for you, and how much time is spent with your camera in hand?

To be honest, I use my camera as much as I possibly can. I take photos everyday now. Whatever my schedule looks like, my camera will always make it into my hands at some point. My favourite days are those when photography can take over from everything else. I am definitely at my happiest when I can take photos for hours, uninterrupted.

What types of cameras do you shoot with, and which one is your "baby?"

I’d have to say that my “baby” is my canon DSLR because that’s the only real camera love I’ve experienced thus far! The only other camera I use is a Polaroid, and due to the price of film I don’t get to use it as often as I’d like.

Who is your favorite artist? Any medium. Any time in history.

Probably Gustav Klimt. Although I find it hard choosing favourites!

If you could name your artistic style, what would you call it? I'd call it "Soul Shattering" or maybe "Rainbeautious" or how about "Better Than Yours." Definitely not "Retro" though. I don't know who ever told you that.

I’d like to consider myself an artistic photographer, because art is my main inspiration and focus point. I don’t think I could really be more specific and I feel like I’m still developing my personal style at the moment. It’s something which changes with time.

Thank you so much, Beth. Your photographs are beautiful! And these readers don't like them, we can skin them and hang them from my wall too. I know where they sleep. It puts the lotion in the basket.

And don't forget, if you're a maker of pretty things and want to be a Yellaphant featured artist (helloooo who wouldn't?), holla at me. I'll be gentle. Tweet

TFML: Texts From My Life

(610): Peed my pants at the bar last night. And then stayed out until closing. New low.
(412): Wow. Got arrested last night for disorderly conduct. Slapped an undercover cop.
(610): You win ... this time. Tweet

If you think pooping AT work is bad, what about pooping ON work?

Considering all the comments, e-mails, and re-tweets flying around about my post on pooping at work, it seems like it's a pretty hot topic. Even more interesting was the incredible amount of incoming Google searches that brought people here regarding the topic. My favorite being "so i pooped at work," which I totally expected to be followed with WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?

People, I have news for you. Pooping in semi-public toilets is the least of our problems. Apparently someone has been pooping on our desks. According to a new study by Glamour Magazine conducted by an ACTUAL doctor, the typical office desk harbors around 400 times more bacteria than the average toilet seat. 400 TIMES. Which essentially means that even if we lick the toilet seat after pooping at work, it'd probably still be better than licking our keyboards, which after reading this, I will definitely stop doing. And now, I'm really left wondering what IS safe to lick at work. Who cares about swine flu when you've got poopie keyboards?

So when I Twittered this little fact yesterday, wondering if someone had actually been pooping on office desks, @parkview was all DUH. Like a boss.



Needless to say, I'm a little flustered. And it's a good thing celebrities don't ever have to sit at office desks, because I bet if they did, we'd see a whole new outbreak of poop desk gloves, which are kind of like swine flu masks, but for your hands.

Tweet

Now watch me solve all of your design problems like a really smart baby solves the triangle, circle, square puzzle. And by that I mean EASILY.

People are always telling me, "Bridget, who made that amazing Yellaphant logo? I like it so much I would make out with it if I could. And also if my computer screen tasted a little bit better." And I say to them "People, people, people, I have one name for you: Julita Ehle. And with a little sweet talk, she will probably make out with you if things don't work out with the elephant."

Julita designed the Yellaphant logo in a flash, and her eye for design always amazes me. Earlier this week, Ju decided to give the header a little pizazz, and as you can see, it came out wonderfully. And I'm willing to bet that I wasn't the easiest person to work with. I wanted to maintain the simplicity of the original header, but add a little bit more flair. I was nervous to change too much. And she nailed it.

And here's where you come in. Ju recently launched her own design company with her friend Mario, j&m creative. Alone, Ju has mastered the art of print services. And now, with help on the back end from Mario, she's expanded into Web services at a price that will be hard to beat. Seriously, just ask for a quote, and when you do, I hope you're wearing your Depends. If your in need of any type of design -- for you or your company -- contact j&m creative.

So this my Ju shout out, which is a lot better than the time I tried to shout at Ju in the dining hall freshman year of college by calling Ju! Yo, Ju! Over here, Ju! which, apparently, was interpreted by most diners to be Jew! Yo, Jew! Over here, Jew! And let me tell you, if it wasn't for the staggering number of brain cells most students destroyed freshman year, it might have been really hard to shake the reputation as the little blonde anti-semite. Tweet

Wednesday's Song of the Week

When I went to visit Mojo last month, her dad, otherwise known as the the King of All Music Past and Present, had carefully compiled a perfectly crafted mix CD for our visit. This CD is chock full of amazing songs spanning the past 30 years or so, many of which I had never even heard of. It comes as no surprise, as this is the man that introduced us to the Damnwells, the Decemberists, and the Brazilian Girls many years ago, with a note attached that said we better damn well like 'em.

I'm never not in the mood to listen to this mix. It's kind of like when your high school boyfriend used to make you mixes and you spent all day every day listening to these CDs because oh my gah mom, like seriously, they are the soundtrack to our lurve what do you MEAN I'm grounded? STOP TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE.

This particular song, Kingdom of Rust by Doves, has been playing on my local independent radio station for a few months as well as my mix CD, but I still love it. I've been a fan of the Doves for a while, but this song has launched them up quite a few steps in my favorites list in a single move. From my experience, this song best enjoyed played loudly, in your car, with the windows down.



Tweet

And the winner is ...

Thanks to everyone who entered the Great Suzzanemade Etsy Giveaway! I entered the number of comments into my interwebs hat, otherwise known as Random.org and let what I'm sure is very high tech and complicated process pull a winner for me. And that winner is Shelley Greenberg from The Spotted Duck! Shelley, you may now shit your pants. Again. And yes, if you've been paying attention, that is TWO totally awesome things that Shelley got for being a fantastic blogger and Yellaphant readers in the past TWO days, which just proves that knowing me is pretty much the best thing that will ever happen to you.

Congrats, Shelley. Your $25 gift certificate to Suzzanemade is on its way to your inbox.

If your name isn't Shelley Greenberg, don't despair. There's more Great Yellaphant Giveaways up my sleeve that you can comment all over coming soon. And since you've all been asking, bribery is always welcome, but will not make your chances of winning any better. And in the meantime, head on over to Suzzane's shop to find something that you simply MUST HAVE. Because I can tell you from experience, there are few things more squeel-worthy than coming home and finding the jewelry that you ordered waiting for you in your mailbox. No one else is sending you mail anyway. Except maybe the bank and also possibly the electric company, but you can just ignore them. Trust me, it's totally fine. And Suzanne would be more than happy to send some love your way.

If you're a maker of pretty things and would like to be featured on Yellaphant, drop me a line and we'll make out. Tweet

On shooting dead chickens

A few weeks ago the lovely Chatham from My View From the Bell Tower honored me with the Zombie Chicken Award. Yes, there actually is an actual award called the Zombie Chicken Award. I Googled it. And I got it. Chatham was supposed to give this award to bloggers who believe in excellence, grace, and persistence and blah blah something something. Which is pretty accurate because I totally believe in excellent beer, looking graceful while dropping F bombs, and persistently making sure my fiance knows I am going to get EXACTLY WHAT I FLIPPING WANT AT THIS WEDDING, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? There was also something about my readers willing to brave a pack of zombie chickens to be able to read my inspiring words, which is nice until I realized that killing zombies is totally easy because all you have to do is shoot them in the head and bitch, please I've seen all those zombie movies and don't think I'm not ready for the invasion.

If I had to make my own version of this award, it would totally be the Job Award because don't you HATE it when your job prevents you from reading all your favorite blogs all day? I mean, how dare those people? There's a lot of awesome stuff I could do at my computer all day, like seeing how many comments I could write that include the word boobs and sexually harassing Dooce and watching reruns of 30 Rock on Hulu, but then I'd have to deal with all those questions about why I never hand in any of my articles and who made all those copies of Jeff Goldblum's face on the office copier and then hung them up inside all the ladies' room stalls. I just don't need those types of questions right now, okay?


But as part of the Zombie Chicken Award the Job Award, I get to give it to five other bloggers who I would shoot dead chickens for. And I would like to make it abundantly clear that I said dead chickens. Dead chickens that were trying to eat my brains. I don't think I could ever shoot a live chicken, even if it was a pretty awesome blog and even if it was a particularly mean chicken. I'd totally be like that Middle Eastern kid in LOST with the dad who said he wasn't allowed back in the house until he killed a chicken and my younger brother (Sayid, betches!!!) who has no problem snapping the necks of poultry would have to do it for me, which would only be a foreshadowing of the ease of which he will kill people in the future. And then I'd probably cry for days. You know what I mean?

ANYWAY. Zombie chickens. Because I had such a hard time narrowing this down to five and because defying authority always gives me a little thrill (I double dog DARE you to do a rolling stop through that stop sign), I'm going to list SEVEN bloggers who I've either recently totally hit it off with, who I love reading, or who never fail to make me laugh.

2Birds1Blog

Birdykins

SWOPE Files

The Spotted Duck

Your Ill Fitting Overcoat

Bradford Pearson

Betsey Booms

All this talk about dead chickens has made me totally hungry. Tweet

The great bedroom massacre and peeing your pants, which doesn't seem like it would be related, but it (kind of) totally is

In case you didn't know this, Rooney is a natural born killer.

His ability to tear off the face of any stuffed animal and spill it's cottony innards to the floor in record breaking time is mesmerizing. And bitch please, he doesn't care if you got Prince Frances Pink Bear when you were seven, he is going to chew his nose off and rip his guts out through his face before you can even say but it was a Christmas present from Aunt Bea.

And because gutting animals is Rooney's new favorite thing to do, we've stopped buying him stuffed animals because for every plush squirrel that I bring home, I'm bending over to pick up cotton for WEEKS and how the hell do they even fit all that fluff in there in the first place this is INSANE?

That's why when I came home from work last week and saw white fluff strewn across my dining room floor, I was a little confused. Had he torn apart a pillow? I took stock of the dining room, and nothing seemed missing. I walked slowly into the living room, where cotton blanketed the floor. I rushed to the sofa. Had he pulled all the stuffing out of the cushions? Everything was in place. And then I opened the bedroom door.

Our hardwood floors were carpeted with white stuffing. And on top of our bed was the biggest pile of cotton I had ever seen. ROONEY HAD TORN APART OUR COMFORTER. Our bedroom looked like some sort of frat house foam party. Only it wasn't bubbles. And no one was having sex in the corner. And you probably wouldn't get herpes by touching the walls. And the only one who was naked was Rooney but that hardly counts because he's always naked. The sorry remains of our comforter was reduced to a tattered sheet. And there, in the center of it all, was Rooney, wagging his tail and wiggling with happiness.

Which, really, is pretty funny because who do you know that gets that excited on a daily basis? I'm talking I'm so excited I'm going to whine and squirm around in circles because if you don't touch me right now I'm probably going to pee all over your floor and I totally don't even care that it's brand new hardwood. And can you imagine getting all hyped up over ripping the shit out of something? Like really tore apart this huge thing and my gah wasn't that awesome when the seams split and that stuffing fecking exploded all over, let's put it in our mouths and drag it across the apartment? Maybe you got that excited when you were six and your parents got you in the car to go to the dentist by telling you they were taking the family to Disney World and everything was okay because peeing your pants was still pretty socially acceptable. Today, a good pants wetting usually makes for a relatively uncomfortable situation, and to make matters worse, the dentist doesn't even give you one of those cheap plastic toys for being in the No Cavity Club EVEN THOUGH you've STILL never had a cavity. I mean, where's my reward, dude? Total bullshit.

So no, I wasn't mad that Rooney had decimated a critical piece of our bedroom decor. And when B got home later that night, he was equally impressed with Rooney's diligence in making sure that every last piece of fluff was pulled from that once fluffy comforter, because it was a relatively small hole, so he really had to dig around in there, and that takes some patience. So come on, everyone. Tear some shit up. Apparently, it's very therapeutic. Or something.

P.S. On second thought, you should totally not tear your shit up because DID YOU KNOW COMFORTERS ARE LIKE $100? If that dog pulls this shit again he is fecking dead. And by dead I mean he'll get a stern talking to.

P.P.S. But letting loose and getting all excited is approved. Go ahead and pee your pants. Doing laundry is cheap. And I promise I won't tell anyone. It's cool, I do it all the time.

P.P.P.S. I don't really pee my pants all the time, but I have done it. Oh yes, I have done it. And if you say you haven't, I challenge you. And if you really haven't, well then I'd just like to know how. Tweet

What Bridget wants Bridget gets

Last night while I was eating ice cream for dinner in front of the TV, I kept thinking about how B and I have been making an awful lot of adult decisions recently which, when you think about it, is scary as shit. I also kept thinking about how Amy Pohler is probably too annoying to have her own television show right now. And during one of our current decision-making conversations, which was probably about accent walls or doggie doors or or wedding invitations or brands of electric tooth brushes ...

B: Somethings I think you're incapable of processing the word NO, you're just singing "what Bridget wants Bridget gets" over and over inside your head and drowning out everything else.
(And it should be noted that he actually SANG it, and it was pretty catchy.)

Me: I have no idea what you're talking about I AM THE EPITOME OF DIPLOMATIC.

B: "What Bridget Wants Bridget Gets" is totally the name of your theme song, and your show's catch phrase is "BUT, B ..."

Me: BUT, B, an accent wall adds so much ZEST to a room.

And then we both broke into the chorus, what Bridget wants Bridget gets, what Bridget wants Bridget gets in really high voices, and even the DOG joined in with a few nervous barks so it really was just like a bad sitcom. And I was all my gah, B, you are so lucky you landed a star role in the "Bridget Show" and he was speechless. I think it's because he was so moved.

So then this morning, to emphasize that YES WE ARE PAINTING THE WALLS THAT COLOR, but in order to exercise my sharing skills, you get to choose the movie we go see tonight on date night, I told B that we could go see ANY movie he wanted, even one of those idiot comic book movies. And he was like what do you mean comic book movies? And I was like you know, like that X-Men thing or Star Trek or whatever, because in all honestly, sometimes I can be an independent movie snob, but other times all I need is a chiseled jaw line to look at and I'm content. But then B was all STAR TREK IS NOT A COMIC BOOK. STAR TREK IS REAL LIFE. STAR TREK IS THE FUTURE. And he doesn't know it yet, but that just totally eliminated all of his major decor decision making rights for the new house because surely, style cannot be trusted in the hands of someone like that.

What Bridget wants Bridget gets, mothaflippas. Tweet

UPDATED: The very first very Yellaphant giveaway: Let the pants shitting commence

We interrupt this regularly scheduled Wednesday's Song of the Week to bring you something way better.

One of the best things about having a blog is meeting new and interesting people in ways that never would have been possible not long ago. That's why whenever someone leaves a comment on one of my posts, I always try to click over to their own blog to check out the goods and return the love. And recently, when I had my first look at Suzanne's blog, I found lots of goods. Namely, jewelry goods. And before I even knew what was happening, I was filling in my credit card number and clicking "purchase" because OH MY GAH I CANNOT LIVE ANOTHER DAY WITHOUT THAT NECKLACE.

Some people black out and wake up with strange men in their beds. I black out and wake up with Etsy bills.

After spending some time on Suzanne's Etsy store, I knew I needed to spread the love. Because if my readers are anything like me -- borderline psychotic men and women of exceptional taste -- I also wouldn't be the only one whipping out my wallet and frothing at the mouth.

And in celebration of all things awesome, Suzanne has generously offered to give one lucky Yellaphant reader a $25 gift certificate to suzzanemade, where she sells beautiful one-of-a-kind jewelry, art work, handbags, magnets, stationary, and more.

All you have to do is leave a comment and answer this question: If you had to choose a name for your own style in just a few words, what would you call it? I'd call mine "BoHo in Yo Face" or maybe even "Punch You in the Head Awesome."

Last night, I asked Suzanne that same question, so have a look at our Question and Answer session for some inspiration and to learn a little bit about the fabulous artist behind the awesome art. And don't forget to take a good look at Suzanne's Etsy shop to see what you'd spend your $25 on.

You have a little bit of everything going on: jewelery, bags, painting, and photography. Who are your artistic heroes?

Yeah, that’s a bit of a problem for me -- I tend to want to make and do all sorts of things and I don’t know when to stop! I guess that’s why I usually make one-of-a-kind pieces, so that at least I don’t feel “stuck” with only making a few different designs/types of things. I like to have my hands in everything! I get inspiration from all over the place but I guess I’d say my top three artistic heroes of late would be Emily Martin (of The Black Apple), Elsie Flannigan (of Red Velvet Art) and Ashley Goldberg (of Kitty Genius) –- they are all super talented artsy/crafty girlies!

What are you listening to when you design?

Usually either my husband playing Guitar Hero or Rockband … that, or some sort of sports game on TV. But if/when I actually have a choice in the matter it would probably be 80’s music or “alternative”/indie rock.

Art is all about inspiration and passion. Have you ever had a terrible day, locked yourself in your room, and created a really angry, "I hate you" zippy pouch? Like your "Rainbow and Fawns?" Fucking fierce.

Usually if I’ve had a terrible day I will lock myself in my room, eat a ton of chocolate and drink copious amounts of red wine, gin, vodka, tequila … but I do like the idea of an “I hate you” zippy pouch … maybe I’ll make one next time someone pisses me off and that will be their next “you suck but happy birthday anyway” present.

What else inspires you?

Soooooo many things! Sometimes it’s simply the materials themselves that inspire me to make something out of them, sometimes it everything else -- books, TV, movies, architecture, photography, animals, trees, flowers, fashion, people, random objects, the beach, clouds in the sky, etc! There is a constant stream of new ideas popping into my head. I seem to have more ideas than the time to make them into reality so I tend to keep lots of lists and/or sketches -- mostly on post-it notes crumpled at the bottom of my purse, but on occasion they will actually make it into my notebook!

Where do you make your art? Do you have a special "space" for designing?

Oh yes, I have a very special place … it’s called my dining room -- the dining table to be specific. My husband and I live in a small apartment, so "space” is not exactly something I have a lot of. We do have a spare room, but it’s reserved for more important things like storing dirty laundry, dusty golf clubs, and hockey gear, a futon, and our clothes dryer (a.k.a. elliptical machine).

Do you ever get creative in your underwear?

No, but I’ve occasionally been found to be crafting in the wee hours of the night, in the dining room, in my pj’s and fuzzy slippers.

You were totally in your underwear when you made the jewelry I just bought from you, weren't you? Awesome.

Actually, when I make jewelry I prefer to wear my full Canadian-winter gear: snow pants, parka, ski mask, scarf, and mittens.

If you could name your artistic style, what would you call it? I'd call it "Earth Raping" or maybe "My Mom Would Probably Approve More If I Made Nice Things Instead of Wasting My Time Cursing On a Blog" or "Really Really Pretty."

Ah! I have no idea! ... I guess it’s a little bit whimsical, mixed with a dash of cuteness, a smidgen of femininity, a tad quirky, a bit of fun … with a touch of clean and simple.

Thanks so much, Suzanne, you've been a real delight to both buy from and bother via e-mail. I promise I'll stop sitting outside of your apartment at night now. And no, they weren't binoculars. Okay, they were, but that totally wasn't me who knocked over all your trash cans, by the way. Canadian raccoons: way fiercer than American raccoons.

I'll announce the contest winner next Wednesday, May 13, so comments are open until Tuesday at midnight, Eastern Time. And I'll use a random number generator to pick the winner, so there won't be any funny business. But there might be hanky panky.

READY SET GO!

5/13 UPDATE: Check out the winner at today's post! Tweet

Night of the living Dead

Last Friday afternoon two VIP passes to that night's Dead concert fell into my very lucky lap. And, just so we're all clear, it had nothing to do with bribery, blackmail, or sexual favors. For once.

B and I knew these were going to be good tickets, but it wasn't until we were handed our free t-shirts and posters, stuffed our faces with the VIP lounge's free food, loaded ourselves up with beer, and made our way to our seats that we realized exactly how awesome they were. On the floor. Ninth Row. Center. We were so close we could see the tendons in Bob Weir's wrists and the crows feet on Phil Lesh's face. Which is also about the time we realized, my GAH it must be awesome to be rich. Kind of like the time we were given Phillies Diamond Club tickets last summer and all B could talk about was food selection and all I could talk about was the view of Chase Utley's finely chiseled buns.

ANYWAY. The Dead. The great thing about concerts like this isn't just the music, it's also the crowd that comes with it. And this particular show attracted a crowd that we could have found walking through the field at Bonnaroo, swinging hoolahoops and blowing bubbles.

I'm also pretty sure we could have licked the Spectrum walls and we would have been tripping for days, which can be a little unsettling when you're packed inside a building and not rolling around in a field. Not that we lick walls and roll around in fields. That often.

Friday night was awesome. And I'm glad I got the chance to take in another of the Spectrum's very last shows. And that's when we learned this weekend's other life lesson: stay away from family rich people get better concert seats so we should probably start robbing liquor stores and/or your grandmother. Tweet

In my ongoing battle against the Snuggie

Late Line Special Report - Snuggies: Warm, Comfortable, Deadly? - watch more funny videos

Tweet

How to make horrible life decisions in three easy steps

Actually, I don't know about you, but to put on my bad decision pants, I usually only have to complete one step. And I'm sure we all know where this is going.

Step 1: Drink.

And after that, the rest usually falls into place.

This might come as a surprise, but I had actually been training for a ten mile race. And by training, I mean eating fried chicken, drinking beers, going to Bruce Springsteen and The Dead concerts (more on that later), while occasionally lacing up my running shoes for a good run. But with water stops every mile and thousands of cheering fans along the way, Philadelphia's Broad Street Run is actually one of the most pleasant, exciting races in the country. And these days, it's usually the only race I do each year. NBD (no bid deal, mom).

This year, when I heard 27,000 people had signed up for the race (compared to last year's 19,000 and 2007's 12,000) I got a little apprehensive. Last year, I literally had to sprint to the starting line because traffic getting to the race was so bad. And then I heard it was supposed to rain.

But I was committed.

Then I went to a family reunion on Saturday. I met cousins and aunts and uncles I never knew I had. I had a beer. Which turned into six because I didn't even KNOW these people existed who like to drink beer and take off their pants and wear their underwear on their heads the SAME way I do. Which turned into getting kicked out of a gay bar some time around midnight because my cousin walked into a wall. Which turned into me, waking up on Sunday morning well after the start gun went off and cursing myself for my weak, weak ways.

Which leads me to this weekend's life lesson: STAY AWAY FROM FAMILY. THEY WILL ONLY LEAD YOU DOWN THE PATH OF DESTRUCTIVE LIFE DECISIONS.

Or possibly maybe learn how to exercise a little self control for once in your bloody life. Whatevs. Tweet

UPDATED: Dear swine flu, get over yourself.

Everyone loves a little mass hysteria every once and a while, myself included, but this whole swine flu thing pretty much just makes me want to punch people in their swine flu mask-wearing faces.

Yeah I know, holy shit it's a fecking pandemic, but so is the regular flu, which ... wait a minute ... is the SAME EXACT THING. Let's take a look at the symptoms of swine flu: fever, cough, sore throat, body aches, headache, chills, fatigue, and if you're really lucky diarrhea and vomiting. Which is INSANE, compared to the regular flu symptoms: fever, cough, sore throat, body aches, headache, chills, fatigue, and if you're really lucky diarrhea and vomiting. HOLY SHIT, PEOPLE.

Did you know that in a year's normal two flu seasons -- we're talking one per hemisphere -- there are between 3 and 5 million cases of the regular flu, with up to 500,000 deaths worldwide (36,000 in the U.S. alone) as a result? So far, there have been 331 reported cases of the swine flu with 13 deaths (12 of which are in Mexico) according to CNN at the time this blog post was written.

But apparently the swine flu is so awesome even the celebs are getting a piece of it a la Heidi Montag and accessory Spencer Pratt from that show that was on MTV or something.

That said, B came home with a few flu-like symptoms last night after spending the day teaching a bunch of germy kids how to swing a tennis racquet and we were all IT'S THE SWINE FLU, MOTHAFLIPPAS and every time he coughed I was all I'd appreciate it if you NOT infect me with your nasty pig germs, but it turns out it was just a sunburn.

So you know what, swine flu? Get over yourself, you ebola virus wannabe. And for everyone out there wondering if you possibly have a case of the piggy cough, step away from the WebMD and may gah have mercy on your soul.


UPDATE: My office just went out and bought Purell Hand Sanitizer for everyone in the building to combat the swine flu. This is so annoying I'm actually going to go out, contract swine flu, come back in, and lick everyone's keyboard. I might even lick a few faces for good measure. WHAT NOW, HEALTH INSURANCE? Tweet