Bonsai have never thrilled me. But then, a bonsai has never provoked me to stand up on my chair and scream "Witch!" while batting my computer screen with a fly-swatter. The designer's behind the Air Bonsai claim that magnets allow it levitate like a damn banshee. Nice try, Japanese designers. Nice try.
I’m not going to get into how I found this out, but Amazon sells sex furniture. Not Amazon.co.uk mind, they’re a member of the Royal British Stereotype Preservation Society, but the American store. Of course, there’s no Irish Amazon so we can’t find out what they’d deem suitable for my compatriot consumers, but I suspect it would probably link to two single beds in a darkened room.
Anyway, the point here is sex furniture (or fornicature, to give it its correct name that I didn’t just make up) is a thing now. What do you think; modern romance at its best or an awkward situation when you have guests over just waiting to happen?
P.S. Because all you dirtbirds love this post so much, I've updated it for 2016.
Plants. Glorious, clutter-hiding, soul soothing/crushing plants. My track record of plant-care verges on the genocidal, but I'm slowly learning how not to kill so many. Or, at least, how to kill them very, very slowly.
Though notoriously shitty conversationalists, I love surrounding myself with houseplants, squeezing them into every nook and cranny of my apartment and office desk. Yeah, they're good for the air and the heart and such. But I'm a misogynist when it comes to indoor horticulture; I value them almost entirely for their looks. I'll share some pics of my own plants soon, once I teach them how to shut their whiny mouths and look pretty for the cameras. Until then, allow me to share with your some plants that've got it going on the looks department. Run, run I tell you, to the nearest plant shop. Cos they're not going to kill themselves.