Is it too soon for Abe Vigoda’s head superimposed on Martha Stewart’s body again? Of course not. Don’t be stoopid.

I made a chicken planter this weekend.

This logo tells you there will be quality craftiness ahoy. No tasteful wicker balls here, I tells ya.

Strudel rootled through the clearance bin at Ye Olde Fred Meyer and came up with this little gem. I’ve been seeing these doohickies around because I think Martha featured egg-collecting baskets in her rag a while ago. I kind of wanted to fill it with Chicken in a Biskit (get it? It’s like meta), but then realized it would be an even better planter! Start your crafty engines, yo.

First, any craft project starts with painting the object in question gold. I have been painting everything gold lately. Silver is okay, too. That’s better already, isn’t it?

I went to the local bead store and got some big glass beads for eyes. I was going to get two blue ones, but I kind of like the two color crazy-eye look. Marilyn McManson, is that you?

In honor of your mismatched eyes, I shall call you Kate Bosworth, not Marilyn.

Comb!

I attached the eyes and the comb beads by knotting on some metal-coated thread. I figured that might stand up under repeated watering better.

Then I glue-gunned the comb upright so it wouldn’t look all wonky. Algebraic! What could be worse than being wonk-combed? NOTHING.

Is your head feeling a little empty there, Kate?

“Booock?”

That’s what I thought.

Then I stuffed the head, tail, and bottom with Spanish moss. Spanish moss kind of squicks me out, because when I was living with my grandma in Florida as a kid she always used to shout at me when I would get near it.

“LICE! There’s lice in there!”

Man, Florida was dangerous. Fire ants, sun, carnivorous plants, the other kids in the trailer park…I was scared to sit down half the time. So Spanish moss is on my squick list.

I decided to buy some, though, because I thought it would work well for my purposes. Because of this, I had at least a level five freakout in the gardening aisle at Fred. At my request, Companion snagged some off the shelf for me.

“Is it deloused?” I asked, not wanting to touch it.

“I don’t know,” he said, and threw it to me.

“AGGGH!”

Thanks, Grandma. I think I will see if I can make my children senselessly afraid of bottlecaps.

I told my friend about the Spanish Moss Incident, and she said, “Boy, your grandma really screwed you up.”

“You know she did,” I replied, “because I still love her SO MUCH.”

Done! I put an insipid geranium that most closely matched my hair in it. Companion promises he will snip off the handles, probably tonight, but I couldn’t WAIT!

Is your head feeling less empty now, Kate?

“BOOCK, yes. Please, I don’t want to do that Superman movie!”

Whoops. Too late.

I used to hate geraniums, because they are that dumb generic plant you see everywhere that is fricking ugly to boot. But then I realized I was Letting the Geraniums Win.

So now I live my life with the purpose of humiliating geraniums by doing things like planting them in smurfy chicken planters. TAKE THAT, FUCKERS.

In Other News

I am really sad today because my landlady called us and gave us some bad news. She called me a week ago and told us she was considering selling this duplex to buy a larger property, but that she would offer it to us first. She assured us she would honor our lease, which is up in March, and that she wasn’t planning to move on this for another one to two years. We did the math and figured out we could get the down payment together quite handily in that time.

Today she said she found a larger property and needs to sell in the next three months. It would be nearly impossible for us to get the money together in that time. So it’s a bummer. We got all excited about owning this place, and I feel like it’s been yoinked. I predict that the new owner will want to raise the rent, since we’ve been improving this place, and we will have to find a new place in March.

A good thing is that it’s motivating us to sack up and buy. The question is, where to buy? It would have to be a real fixer to buy in this neighborhood, which is where we want to be.

I wanted this to be ours so we could turn it into a freaky magical castle with a moat. Am I the only person who thinks that duplexes are evocative of castles? I was even going to throw some crenelation up on the roof and crap. FNIF.

I’m just going to listen to this until I feel better. Or until my brain melts. One time for every lost tooth of crenelation. Sorry, I love this. You don’t know me. I’m still a motherfucking mystery to you.

If you run into Jesus or a leprechaun today, will you ask them if SJ can borrow fifty thousand bone? KTHXBI.

PS: I heard that this commercial is playing during prime afternoon cartoon time on Nickel0de0n. Hur hur, and whoops! She’s on UR TV beein RLY knotty. Wouldn’t it make more sense to play this during CSI? I mean, everyone knows the daytime TV is a babysitter, so the parents are off doing something else. Talk about missing your intended audience.