Today I'm grateful
for Regretsy.

Need a poncho for your chicken? A felted vagina necklace? A “real” taxidermy unicorn? Or my personal favorite, a painting of an amputee with a kitten’s head? Eat your heart out SkyMall, there’s a new Mecca for those of us on a crap-shopping pilgrimage, and it’s called Regretsy.com.

The brainchild of April Winchell and the devil, Regretsy.com lampoons the overly-precious crafting site Etsy.com where self-proclaimed artisans (and others I’ve proclaimed crap-isans) hock their masterpieces to the unwashed masses. This site begs the question, is it mean spirited to showcase crafts where the creator has obviously invested large amounts of time, money, and Psyhcotropic drugs? Hell no. In a textbook Paris-Hilton-sex-tape-example of no publicity is bad publicity, here are a few links to items featured on Regretsy.com that’ve actually sold.

Fairy toilet – SOLD

Squirrel blood necklace – SOLD

Misspelled Sarah Palin glass ornament – SOLD

Prairie dog foot necklace – SOLD

Woolen tampon keychain cozies – SOLD

Corn poo soap – SOLD

Cheese grater clock – SOLD

Masturbating dinosaur – SOLD (more available)

Sadly, the aforementioned chicken poncho is gone as well. However, my beloved amputee kitten painting is still for sale at the bargain price of $99,000 – I’m looking into cashing out my IRA. Arguably, while there are some beautiful items on Etsy.com, not everyone is a talented artisan (even if everyone in their trailer park tells them that they are.) I’m grateful for Regretsy because we need someone clever enough, and snarky enough to be the Simon Cowell of the crafting world. Regretsy.com illustrates the primordial adage, one man’s trash is another man’s Starbucks bottle cap wreath (which not surprisingly, is sold.)

That’s why I’m grateful for Regretsy.




Forget about rainbows and unicorns, I’m grateful for double martinis, single men and pretty much anything covered in chocolate or cheese. This gratitude journal is anonymous because the stuff that tends to fall out of my head and land on the page makes HR departments cringe -- and guys lose my number.
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