Pottery Mausoleum | 2002-01-13 - 9:07 p.m.

Ever get one of those Pottery Barn catalogues in the mail? Imagine my surprise when I find, stuffed next to the unsolicited bail bonds mailers and credit card offers in my mailbox, a catalogue with a picture of bunch of fucking candles and dead leaves and crap all over this table on the cover. What's this? I ask, despistada. I start flipping through the pages, and the whole catalogue's like this, a bunch of candles and dead leaves and vintage urine sample bottle collections displayed on furniture that's been manufactured to look as though it belonged to someone in the last century when you know it was really assembled two weeks ago by some nine-year-old girl in Thailand.

Bizarre, I think. But the really strange thing is there's nobody in the catalogue. No people. No puppies. No babies. Nadie. It's as though a sonic bomb went off, wiping out every tio and tia in the Pottery Barn but leaving everything else intact.

And we're supposed to want to buy into this Pottery Mausoleum? Hah! At $20 per pillar candle, this is not an option for me, but even if I had the money, I wouldn't spend it on a Pottery Barn ambiente. My place is already empty enough, thank you very much.

pride and prejudice - 2004-09-07
wherein I become a Yahoo! Search Result - 2004-06-23
like 9-11 all over again - 2004-06-20
enough said - 2003-02-05
tirar por la calle de en medio - 2003-01-28

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