Eh, ghads.
Bodum.
There they go again with their fancy colored tea kettles. Not to mention the orange rubberized juice glasses. Ugh, kill me now...
Why? Because I can't help it. I have this thing for orange (and red and pink and green and black and specific colors of blue) and it makes me want to buy it- no matter that I've already got one whole room chock full of orange jibber jabber and 3 goddamn juicers; not one of them orange, mind you... therein lies the rub.
I'm all, fuck the Krups, see ya later Warring-Extractor and hit the road 1950's super-cute but crazy-loud juicer (actually you can stay... but don't tell the others) make way for Bistro Juicer and 2 matching Pavina Cups.
You came, you squeezed, ya gotta go. Why? Because, you are not orange.
I believe at some point in my life I was the victim of a tape recorded message that continually looped, telling me to, "Buy orange stuff!" played while I slept, in an attempt to make me buy (and most likely wear) all things orange. Naturally, I suspect my sister. She was after all the one who doused my pillow with an entire bottle of Tinkerbell perfume and peed in my bottle of Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific. Gee-zus, that was gross. Luckily for me I pour, as per directions, a dime sized amount of product in my hand before application.
Anyway, I'm just saying it's the kind of thing a younger sister might do... you know, like that girl in high school who convinced me I looked super hot wearing electric blue mascara. OK, I kinda did.
Wherever my orange obsession stems from, I don't mind. In fact, I embrace it shamelessly.
So, feel free to buy this for me. I'll even throw in a slightly used Krups.
You're welcome.
There they go again with their fancy colored tea kettles. Not to mention the orange rubberized juice glasses. Ugh, kill me now...
Why? Because I can't help it. I have this thing for orange (and red and pink and green and black and specific colors of blue) and it makes me want to buy it- no matter that I've already got one whole room chock full of orange jibber jabber and 3 goddamn juicers; not one of them orange, mind you... therein lies the rub.
I'm all, fuck the Krups, see ya later Warring-Extractor and hit the road 1950's super-cute but crazy-loud juicer (actually you can stay... but don't tell the others) make way for Bistro Juicer and 2 matching Pavina Cups.
You came, you squeezed, ya gotta go. Why? Because, you are not orange.
I believe at some point in my life I was the victim of a tape recorded message that continually looped, telling me to, "Buy orange stuff!" played while I slept, in an attempt to make me buy (and most likely wear) all things orange. Naturally, I suspect my sister. She was after all the one who doused my pillow with an entire bottle of Tinkerbell perfume and peed in my bottle of Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific. Gee-zus, that was gross. Luckily for me I pour, as per directions, a dime sized amount of product in my hand before application.
Anyway, I'm just saying it's the kind of thing a younger sister might do... you know, like that girl in high school who convinced me I looked super hot wearing electric blue mascara. OK, I kinda did.
Wherever my orange obsession stems from, I don't mind. In fact, I embrace it shamelessly.
So, feel free to buy this for me. I'll even throw in a slightly used Krups.
You're welcome.
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