Screw a mural that glows in the dark and rotates amidst the ceiling mirrors.
I love that cosmic shiz so much… I want it in my bed. Especially after stumbling across this line of bedclothing that’s so ethereal looking, I’m still not sure if it glows in the dark or the designer’s just that good with white and neon contrast:
Is it gaudy? Yes.
Am I acting like I’m eleven again and furtively indulging my nerd habit at the Natural Wonders store in the mall with all the tiger stones and incense and rainforest cassette tapes? In between keeping my place at the plastics’ lunch table? And acting snotty?
Undoubtedly.
But now that I’m thirty and give zero fccks, I can revisit all the shameful corners of my youth, lose the Groucho mask, and have at my passions in an unbridled and carefree way. Can’t you just see me having an affair with my tea and books against the backdrop of this brilliant blanket – like Wall-E floating romantically through space with his robot lover Eva?
Doesn’t it make you want to buy it for me three weeks ago?
To give to me three weeks from now?
(Hint: Christmas?)
Just to clarify, not all of these are so cute. And since I’m always kind and considerate about outlining the parameters for any presents you intend to buy for me, I’ll go ahead and keep with that theme by doing it here and now. There are indeed a few hideous ensembles the creator threw into this collection, like an artist does with afterthought songs just to complete an album and get it on the shelves.
The following few are among the lamentable linen designs I want no part of:
This looks like my shih-tzu’s face through the filter of psychedelic eyesight.
Is this meant to look like a mutt’s mug? Because it makes you think of “dog” backwards? Which is “god”? Who could just be nothing more than the vast black vacuum of outer space, spat out from a black hole eons ago?
Whoah, man. Too much existentialism for my bed.
I need something less Higgs-y, thanks.
I get what they’re rendering.
But the result looks like a teenager who finally jizzed his way outta the stiffy Matrix twelve hours after taking the blue pill he found in his dad’s medicine cabinet.
Pass and a half.
Blah.
This one looks more faded than acid washed jeans and is about as cool as they are too.
Okay, the first couple of brilliant ones versus the last few godawful atrocities should give you some idea of what you should buy for me. Protip – if you buy it for me now (as an early offering for my awesomery), it will give me a chance to return it if it sucks. If you wait until the last minute, though, I’ll have no choice but to suffocate you with the egregious sheets that somehow made you think of me and stow your hewn body parts into the pillowcases.
I know you’ll make the right decision, though.
No pressure!