Tampon maxi art

Humans are creative and resourceful (ecologists would say, to the point of destroying the Earth). But in the minor scale, for a costume party one can turn that old blanket stolen from the airplane (from the time it was not considered a terrorist act to fly) and turn it into the marvelous cape of Count Dracula. When I was living at Playa del Carmen, two bricks and a plank made a fantastic coffee table and now my desk is comprised of several phone directories and a couple of shelves. Edigator the d.i.y.

However, because of some incomprehensible omission, the effective and wonderful use of hygiene products has been forgotten. I know that generalizations should not be made, for some crafty individuals, like Tamara Zeta Sanowar-Makhan from Ontario, are able to create a complete priest robe out of maxi pads 2(and some stuff about women, and church and the blood of christ… it was banned, of course).

Or a cute dress, made out of tampons and pads. And how it swirls when you take a twirl, like a a magic can can skirt. However, the downside is that if it rains it is ruined… ultra maxi absorbent.
Or some fine slippers, they keep your feet warm and dry…2
Of course, if tailoring is not for you, it is not necessary you desist.
Tampons are ideal for the USB 3(in sizes Regular, Super and Ultra, for the mega storage of data).
Seasonal decorations 1(cheap and recyclable, no more keeping boxes of Christmas ornaments, just wait for your next period and voilà, they are gone!):
Original and sensual jewelry 1(think about it, Valentine´s day is coming):
The Edigator, meanwhile, has crafted her own effigy.


Send us your crafts!

Sources 1, 2, 3

Submarine race

Source

Here piggy piggy!

I love beer. I love its taste, its texture, its foam, I love it completely. But I hate beer publicity. And when I say hate, do imagine the hate that has the torches, the picks, the mobs, and is chanting ouside the castle "burn burn burn".
Apparently, the people in charge of promoting its drinking, after careful market analysis and five digit salaries, believe that those who ingest this beverage are basically pigs.
If one studies its target audience it is easily spotted that the companies think the drinkers are brainless, sexist, stupid men whose ultimate desire in life (the loooong quest of existence) is limited to finding the remote for the T.V.
I see these ads and am repulsed (with the eyes rolling back and the foaming at the mouth) but people see them and laugh, and are able to take a joke juar juar juar, and buy and buy even more.
Is the edigator wrong?
Here are four videos from four different countries:
American Pigs.

Danish Pigs.

Mexican Pigs.

Irish Pigs.


Of course, it would not be fair if I did not do it, so... I also give you the opposite case:
Just Pigs.

Lord, help my poor soul

I can not imagine that 200 years ago, when he was born, his mother could have suspected that 40 years later the comatose body of her babe would be lying life-less on a ditch in front of a tavern. That mangy dogs and scruffy rats would jump over his inert body, but his repulsive smell would impede them make the traditional sniffing performed by such critters. That her precious son´s life, in practical terms, had been pathetic and miserable. And she never knew, for she departed this life when he was 2. A somber existence, it seems to be, an unfortunate marriage to a 13-year old cousin (who died at 15), zero monetary gains, no properties, gambling debts, addicted to various drugs, a complete and total loser… lying in a puddle besides the sidewalk, being soaked in borrowed clothes. His last four days would be spent in a hospital, amidst delirium and hallucinations, refusing even to drink water. And the causes of his death were inconclusive, either because of his abuse of alcohol, or rabies (he was probably bitten by a bat during his long hours of insomnia, or by any of his numerous dogs and cats he kept in his house), or syphilis, or suicide, or murder, or it simply does not matter. Alcoholic, gambler, unwell, pedophile, incestuous, good for nothing, disinherited, just like that, Edgar Allan Poe died.



Perhaps, the parameters we use to measure success are skewed.

Move those balls!

Use your mouse to start the motion.
Source: Newton´s Cradle

Mating Rituals

A friend of mine states that human mating behaviour is absurd and should be abolished. Instead of ridiculous courtships one should plainly state "hey, I like you" and the other should simply reply, "you know, I like you too", and then go out to leave a full and satisfactory life as if they were bonobos.

But this utopic idea is impossible to accomplish in this life, that is why we have fiction such as films and books. However, I would like to clarify that human rituals are no less strange than some of our fellow earth creatures.

The cichlid fish, for example, is an interesting critter. The female lays the unfecundated eggs and lovingly picks them up with her mouth. The male, on the other hand, has colorful dots near his special private area. When the female swims by, she (with her fishy tiny brain) sees the dots, believes that she has lost some eggs and proceeds to suck them. The male, then, splashes her in the face, bukkake style, and swims off in the midst of raucous laughter.

In the video you can see how the fishes repeat several times the scene, since they are professional porn actors and the take is not coming out well. It is well known (by wiki) that in order to have a successful heterosexual pornographic film, there must be one at least of these events (96% of them confirm it).

For the flatworms, the ritual is a bit more complex.

They find each other, they like each other, they approach each other, bat their eyelashes and then... since flatworms are hermaphrodites, the next step is to decide who will be the male and who will be the female. Since females must lose their sensual flat figure and remain with the flatworm kids until they are off to college, both want to avoid it. So the decision is made by penis fencing!

They literally pull out their dicks and proceed to clash and clang them until penetration is accomplished by one of them. The winner runs and tells his buddies and the penetrated starts knitting.

For a video of the penis fencing, click here.

And lastly, one of those cases that make you feel good to be human, even if that implies blind dates, having to buy the red expensive convertible or getting a boob job... the porcupine!

The male must be completely sure that the female wants to do the nasty or he will end up with numerous and painful piercings in his wee wee. So he approaches, smells around, rubs himself erotically against rough surfaces (probably trying to get used to the sensation) and then he stands on hind legs and does the macarena.

If the female has not run away by that moment, he will proceed to shower her from head to toe with a long, warm, foamy stream of stinky urine ! If the female does not immediately stab him, then he will continue his approach and let her use him as her prickly sex toy. He will never touch her. When she is done, they smoke a cigarette.

In the following video you can perceive how a redneck couple wrongly mistake a porcupine sex dance performed for their 5-year old daughter for something cute and funny... just seconds before being covered in a golden shower.





So, we can safely agree that our mating rituals, in comparison, are not all that sucky.

Monsters!

Monsters are those beings which go against the regular order of nature, however the concept of "regular" is yet to be defined. Also, monsters must produce terror, but then, is a monster any person who terrorizes? Are the idiots with the beeping machines in the airport monsters?
Monsters can also be associated to a place, if it is unknown it is frightful and fear brings along the gargantuan kraken, the fire-breathing dragons o the terrible penguins.
Today, we present a small bestiary of some of the lesser known monsters.

The Frankenpussy

"I am evil because I am miserable"

Supercunt
Defender of virtuous and virgin vaginas .

The Vamprick

Comes at night and flies away.

The Octopussy

Acuatic being, which by its actions resembles eight in one.

So long, traditions

It is chilling to see that now in order to obtain higher market values with industrialization and the mass production, old memorable customs are being lost. Even here, in this green hippy town where I live, it is extremely difficult to find freshly harvested spaghetti (or at least one without pesticides). Spaghetti reaped by a small family, one that had always maintained this practice.

Of course, you might say that the Wisconsin weather does not help the crops and that the dreaded spaghetti weevils are now more resistant to insecticides. However, there is this special zest that hand crafted items have that is invariably lost in Walmart. Maybe I am just excessively nostalgic.

Who would have known that the 1957 documentary of the Switzerland spaghetti harvest would be one of the last films about this honorable and familiar tradition.


Anyway, if things continue as they are, it will be more common to buy dehydrated water than to drink it fresh. At least here, the majority still prefers the old fashioned way.

Storms, pft!

So, they tell me a storm is coming. Beware, storm! State Warning, Storm! Classes cancelled, Storm! Be prepared, Storm! Someone Save Us, Storm!

My previous experience has prepared me to face a storm: if the storm has a name then you must prepare a survival kit of wine, tequila, beer and rum, cans of tuna and bottles of water. If the storm does not have a name, your survival kit is mostly liquor and crackers. So with this unnamed storm, I sat with my friend MCG to wait for the arrival of the help help storm.

And the hours went by between libation and monologues, I had even forgotten about the help help storm.

When her roommate arrived, covered in snow and hair, looking like a distressed yeti, I asked him has the storm had been postponed until further notice. He said, nay, it has been going on for the last hour or so. So I grabbed my coat and walked home. Snowflakes softly fell, in great proportions they floated down. Sound was muffled. I could hear my boots crunching as I walked, but that was it. No cars on the street, only glittery specks whispering down to earth.

This is definitely NOT a STORM!

Storms are fierce, vicious and brutal, full of sound and fury. They uproot trees, incinerate homes, hurl vehicles and cows through walls of concrete. This tender descent of endearing snow is more like a murmur than a roar.

Ok, for some a visual identification is clearer, STORM:

Not Storm:

So listen well, linguists, if there is no hollering and screaming and broken windows, no violent destruction of valued property… you need to change the name.

Storm, pft.