I guess Marden's probably considers this "Americana." It took me a while to identify them as chickens. Evil, Yankees-pinstripe-wearing, triangular chickens that stretch even the broad definition of "lawn decoration."

The lovely Allison here is holding up a dress that's two parts unspecified female superhero and one part The Flintstones. Because why not slap some leopard-print cap sleeves on an otherwise unobjectionable dress? But that's not the point. Allison has a blog of her own on cooking, and it's cute and funny, and you should read it. It's called A Cup of Peanut Butter is A Lot, and you can find it here.

Allison's boyfriend is leaving tomorrow for a whole long weekend with our theater company, and I'm concerned that she might get a little lonely. So Allison, here's your challenge: make a nice dinner, just for you. You don't have to go the full Julia Child and make Coq au Vin or anything like that, but you have to make something creative--i.e., no recipe. Recipes are stupid and constraining, so just throw some stuff that you like in a pot or a pan and see what happens. Also, it can't be from a box. Or a can. And it must have more than three ingredients. And then you need to write about it, because I'm sure it will either be delicious or hilarious. Okay? Go!

In the bars in Boston, I used to play an improvised game with my girlfriends called Douchebag Bingo. Basically whoever spotted everything on a list of d-bag-related items (backwards hat, sunglasses indoors, wedding ring tan, shirt opened to the third button or more, neck tattoo, Ed Hardy t-shirt, Yankees paraphernalia, etc.) called BINGO and drank free for the rest of the night.

This shirt is a BINGO all by itself.

For when you want your torso to resemble a bad painting by an art student who was suddenly struck with inspiration by Picasso in his surrealist period. Although you could probably just hire said art student to throw paint at your torso.

Mom Pants Extravaganza!

It appears that a slacker employee with a penchant for crafting went nuts, because I last saw these patterns in the Marden's discount fabric aisle.

Another trend for summer, ever so slightly more bearable than the strapless rompers: satin scarves repurposed as casual wear.

I have this satin bathrobe that my ex bought me in Chinatown in Toronto years ago that reminds me of the shirt at the top. But you know what, I've never ventured out of the house with it. Though I inadvertently walked halfway to work in my fuzzy slippers one morning when I lived in Boston. I got all the way to the Dunkin Donuts on the corner before I looked down at my feet and laughed at myself. I hope it doesn't take that long for the person who buys this stuff to look down at their torso and recognize the utter ridiculousness of their attire.

Meredith suggested that these fabulous muppety shoes could be the makings of a Sexy Elmo Halloween costume.

And much as I despise the whole "sexy character from a children's show" oeuvre (see also: sexy Rainbow Brite), I'm kinda all over the Sexy Elmo concept.

Whaaaa......?

.......Ohhhhhhhhh. No, I still don't get it.

A lot of high school commencements are happening this weekend. Congratulations, graduates!

It's what you've always wanted as you head out into the world a newly anointed graduate: a frog with a mortarboard and a diploma!

By now I'm sure you've heard a half dozen inspirational speeches about how education is essential but will only get you so far, and common sense and practical thinking are just as important, and you have to be resourceful to be successful, and blahdy blah blah. Well this frog just graduated too, and he went in the nude rather than wear one of those hideous translucent robes that'll turn your skin funny colors if it rains during the ceremony. That's what we experienced people call "street smarts." Take note.

Oh my heck, these are the cheesiest and simultaneously most fantastic purses known to womankind:

The piano, the weird ball and bow, and the butterfly I can survive without, but none of you had better buy the owl before it gets marked down or I will hunt you down and steal it. It's $50, which I think is pretty expensive for a tiny purse that can barely fit your phone and a tampon (though I checked, and it comes packed with an expandable auxiliary bag for just such emergencies). But it's so amazing that my best friend and I actually discussed splitting the cost and sharing custody. I don't see why it wouldn't work--I mean, how many special occasions can you bring an ironic bird purse to without being labeled insane?

Dear Misguided Tween Who Will Inevitably Buy This Because She Thinks It's Edgy:

Kelly Kapowski called. Her Saved By The Bell wardrobe is missing a sweatshirt.

There is a very special subspecies of discount shopper (whose natural habitat is Marden's, of course) who will buy any shirt they can yank over their head if it's cheap. I fear that they've found their downfall.

You know those scarves they claim can also function as a shawl/turban/belt/tube top because they stretch every whichway? Yeah well, they made them into shirts. (No really, these are "Magic Scarf" brand shirts.)

For perspective, I set this one up against a pair of size 14 pants. It's labeled "one size fits all." It ought to be labeled, "This may be stretchy, but it does not fit you. Take it off."

Seriously.

Are you one of those people who remains unconvinced that Marden's has everything you could ever want?

Kablam! Lilly Pulitzer Special Edition animal crackers. You're welcome.

It's unofficially summer, and this summer has brought in a new crop of inexplicable juniors "clothing." The theme to this summer appears to be skanky strapless things. I have shirts that are this long:

And a tiered denim strapless dress:

I can't even.

Remember this frilly pink legs-and-a-skirt lamp from my very first post?

Poor thing. Look at her now. She's been de-skirted and looks so sad.

So I put a High School Musical lampshade on her to make her feel pretty again! There, that's better.

Parenthetically, I can't believe I didn't notice the lamp in the background as I was taking this picture. Luckily, I got it in the shot by accident:

Michelin Man or adult toy?

The tag just says "Prune Face Bobblehead." I really have no idea...but it feels vaguely racist.

Tiny hat! It's classy, it's formal, it's glittery, it has a little burst of white feathers...how can you go wrong? Plus it reminds me of Ron Swanson drunk on Snake Juice at the Snakehole Lounge:

Look closer--these ain't boots. They're thong sandals with gold lamé ankle cuffs. Two words: Claudia Kishi. That is all.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent an evening in the vicinity of the Bangor Mall. (I know, I know.) And from that experience, I just have to say: ladies, tights are not pants.



These are see-through, and thus definitely fall under the category of not pants.

Leggings are also not pants. Pants are supposed to cover your ass, not stick to it like a hungry leech. And nobody ever wants to hear the pickup line, "I can see the galaxy in your lady parts."

Or "you are the apple of my butt." Ferchrissakes, put a skirt over that shit.