More Mindless Stories on ‘harriet carter’

Harriet Carter Product of the Week: The Coke Purse

Well, well, well.  So we meet again.  If my math is correct it’s been nearly 14 decades since there was even a mention of Harriet Carter around here at the IBBB offices.  Well, times-they-are-a-changin’ because, uh, I’m posting one.  Was that not clear?  For those of you new to the site, check out the first Harriet Carter post here to learn more and get caught up on all the Harriet Carter product reviews over the years.  Yes I actually said it…years.  I mean who’s a bigger loser than me?  Crickets.   Anytrashbox, I’ve decided to highlight a beautiful coke purse that I know you’re all going to love and, well, mother’s day is right. around. the. corner.

The Coke Purse - Hey ladies, having a hard time keeping up with the latest designers for Spring Fashion Week in Milan this year?  I’m sure giving yourself a home perm over your kitchen sink is really monopolizing your time.  Well don’t worry about looking like yesterdays news when you’re heading out this Friday night to your local smoke filled Bingo parlor thanks to your very own sponsored Coke Can Shaped Purse.  Ooo la la, is that French?  And look at the way it really makes your denim jacket and cameltoe-high-waisted-mom-jeans pop!  I mean, this model could actually be Jay Leno for all we know and with some additional research I’m sure we could confirm.  Luckily this Coke purse is lined so you don’t have to worry about all the glitter and sparkles from your Troll Dolls hair damaging the fine metal craftsmanship.  Made in Taiwan?  You better your trailer ass it is!  And no need to carry this can-bag-o-horror everywhere you go by hand like an animal because it comes with a genuine shoulder chain that really classes this up especially when you have an important business meeting (at the Piggly Wiggly) or a romantic dinner with you and your husband (in the “dining room” at KFC).  So for the woman who has everything (that can be won in one of those stuffed-animal claw machines) finally something that yells class, sophistication, and truck-stop-blow-pig.  Even the description really sells itself by labeling it as a “whimsical accessory” and how you’ll soon be “ready to drink in the compliments.”  At last, something that matches your Betty Boop earrings and Hello Kitty puff-paint t-shirt that exclaims “Chicks Rule!”

“Pajama Jeans” Because You’re Not Getting Hired in an Actual Office Anyway!

Who’s going to fix the economy and add jobs to your city?  Who cares!  Introducing “Pajama Jeans” for when you’re just about ready to call it quits in life (pre-dirt nap).  Pajama Jeans are a mix of pajamas and wait for it….wait for it…wait for it…jeans or “dungarees” for those of you still using dial-up AOL right now.

Pajama Jeans can, apparently, be worn to bed, on an airplane, while pushing your screaming kid, and out for a night on the white trash town!  They even fit almost all body shapes from fat ass to flat ass.  And, ladies, don’t forget that Pajama Jeans are the only true pair of jeans that can really show off the cameltoe.  Ole!

And, if you act now you’ll even get a plain grey crewneck t-shirt, you know, just in case you land a big interview and need something to wear with the pants.  Personally I love how the women in the video are wearing their Pajama Jeans with a pair of high heels.  Ohhh la la have these been imported from France?  Why do I have a feeling if you wear these you’re also the type of person whose curtains flap in the wind outside of your home apartment window?

So remember, everyone, when you’ve basically completely given up on yourself, have had endless tea-parties with your cats Mr Meowenstein and Mrs Solar-Plexus, have run out of your 12-pack of Zima and Chambord, and got rejected from the latest season of Hoarders, then slip on some comfy Pajama Jeans and, well, just wait for sweet baby Jesus and his teen mom, Mary, take you into “the Heaven.”

*Kool-Aid mustache sold separately

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Harriet Carter Wednesday: Wipe Your Feet on the Whoremat Please!

Happy Harriet Carter Wednesday to you and yours. Some people have been emailing me and asking questions like, “But IBBB, why has Harriet Carter Wednesday sometimes moved to Thursday?” I answer in love and light by saying, “I ask the questions around here. Now cut the crap before I call the cops.” This week, Harriet gives whores a voice and makes peeing on your friends and/or enemies more fun than ever. Let’s go!

Product # 1 – How many of us have walked down the street, saw the town whore, and thought to ourselves, “Hmmm, I wonder what she’s getting at? Is she just sending me mixed signals?” I know I ask that to myself whenever I go whore-hunting. Well now thanks to the Harriet Carter doormat there is no need to try and decipher mixed messaging any longer. This doormat is clearly giving you a message that says, “Come inside….my box.” No really it does. I think it’s pretty polite actually. Sometimes you go to enter “a house” and you’re not really sure if you’re supposed to actually come inside or wait out front until you see a familiar face. A couple of times I even would have to come around the back just to see if anyone was home. And don’t even get me started that one time I was do drunk that I started to come inside but then started to fall asleep and never even made it inside the front door. Boy was that embarrassing! I once knew this girl whose parents were really Catholic and they never let anyone ever come inside her house so she ended up sneaking out at all hours of the night and got herself pregnant. Those Catholics. Geesh! They even try to convince you that surprising you up the back door is better than going straight in the front. Religion. It’s confusing. So anyway, folks, the next time you’re not quite sure how to end your “visit” just check the doormat to see if there’s an instructional message if you can come inside the box or not. Since we’re talking about boxes, this also make the perfect holiday gift for that homeless person who lives in one by the train station that you see every morning on your way to work. Oh and in case we weren’t all clear on the matter, I’m making 5th grade sex jokes. All caught up? Fantastic.

Product # 2 – Ready to make pissing a whole lot more fun? Do you think heading to your office bathroom is getting just a bit, you know, boring? Has your anger towards a co-worker almost gone from hatred to sexy boom boom? Well if you answered, “Teddy Ruxpin!” to any of these questions does Harriet have the item for you! Introducing the “Urinal Cake Photo Screen.” Ole! All you need to do is find a picture of your favorite arch nemesis (mine, of course, would be one Ms. Bindi Irwin) and then walk into your public work bathroom, use your hands to lift out the filthy disease-filled urinal cake holder, place it on the sink, whip out your picture, measure it, measure the urinal cake holder, cut it, take out some glue, place the glue on the back of the picture, press the picture firmly on the urinal cake holder, pull up a chair, sit and wait 45 minutes for it to dry, place it back in the urinal and then begin to urinate all while laughing for upwards of 45 seconds until the picture gets wet, starts to curl, the ink starts to run, and your fun ends before the minute is up and that one guy who takes loud sh*ts in the stall next to you awkwardly comes out of the stall, give you a nod, and then leaves without washing his hands. Phew, that was a mouthful! So this may make sense for a quick laugh if you, you know, had a urinal in your own private home but let’s face it, that doesn’t exist. So you’re forced to try out this new schtick at work. Should I alert HR of your firing now or just wait until you actually complete the task at hand? Wow. First picture urinal cakes and next thing you know women will be buying Tampons with Bin Laden’s head at the tip! I chose him because of, you know, the white turban and all. I thought it would just be a good fit, figuratively and literally. Thanks Harriet for even making pissing an all around hoot!

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Harriet Carter Wednesday: Sometimes Thursday is Wednesday Too

Happy Harriet Carter Wednesday. Even though HCW only comes but once a week I feel like I’m trash-bag-status enough for every day to be HCW. In fact, I’m currently writing congress to make this a national holiday. I’m not quite sure what any of this means, but what I do know is that this week Harriet sends mixed messages to your co-workers and helps even the dumbest skanks (and those who love them) find their “happy place.” Let’s go!

Product # 1 – Ever wonder why all these companies are shutting their doors after 50+ years of business? Sure some of it is because of….well….um…I don’t know…something the housing market did? I’m not quite sure as the majority of my attention over the past few years has been focused on The Hills and Jersey Shore, but I’m also pretty sure that it’s because “workers” are slackers in 98% of the cases. Introducing the “Cubicaller Doorbell!” So the next time you’re busy at “work” checking Facebook, planning your next trip, raising fake animals on Farmville, and reading IBBB you certainly don’t want to be taken by surprise so, clearly, you need Nosey Nicole who sits next to you to ring your new cubical doorbell. This gives you plenty of notice to quickly hit “Alt F4” or simply pull the plug from your sex-box-machine. Enjoy such fancy doorbell noises like, “bird call,” or “alien laser,” or perhaps even the popular “funky drum,” you know, whatever the hell that’s supposed to be. I’m hoping I can record some of my own sounds or phrases like, “I could care less that your kid is selling wrapping paper to raise money for their Catholic school tuition. I have my own financial mess to deal with.” Or maybe even something like, “Buzz. I know it looks like I’m sitting here working, but in reality I’ve been mentally checked out since we moved offices in late 2006. Leave a message. Beep.” And finally who can’t resist the most popular, “If I wanted to go to yet another office birthday cake celebration I’d be as big as the receptionist, fat ass.” Thanks, Harriet, for helping me find yet another way to, you know, not do work and just have fun at my desk. Every day is like a friggin fiesta with you. Trash heap.

Product # 2 – Hey ladies, is your husband/partner/dog (who tends to enjoy licking up peanut butter from odd places) having a hard time finding your “tender vittles?” Do you usually feel like you’re doing “the banging” with Lewis and Clarke and yet they still can’t find the great American West even though they brought along a map, Sacajawea and her infant son? Well if you answered, “I’m a slam-pig” to any of these questions the medical experts at Harriet Carter have finally invented a product for even the whoriest of whores. Feast your eyes (and possibly fingers) on the “G-Spot Stimulating Gel” that comes with the official the “Find It” Guide. I’m not sure what “it” is, but let’s all assume we ain’t (ai-not) talking about the pot of gold at the end of skanky rainbow. Who needs to even test this when right on the “guide” it has a ringing endorsement that says, “Ooooh! That’s it!” I believe them because they’ve used a lot of “o’s” and even two exclamation points. Apparently when you squirt this into your tropical rainforest a pink heart sprouts from between your legs. I’m not sure if that acts like a cork when you try to pee but, hey I’m no doctor and I don’t claim to be 76% of the time. According to the description, they’re bragging that this product is “Menthol free” so I’m pretty sure that means that it’s safe to smoke? Either that or it helps cure a sore throat. Again, not a certified doctor. You can use this product, however, a total of 40 times (or 20 times if your partner is as intuitive as Helen Keller). I have to be honest; I really want to see what’s in that “guide.” Is it like the map from Dora the Explorer? I’ll assume a “map to the G-spot” consists of a bottle of wine, diamond earrings, and compliments like “Did you lose weight” and “I really appreciate all that you do for me.” At the same time, who am I kidding? I could barely make it to the Oregon Trail (and I was a banker from Boston!) so I’m going to need that “guide” along with a video and, most likely, a 24-hour customer service hotline.

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Harriet Carter Wednesday: Leave it to Other People to Beat the Bag Out of Your Kid

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Yeah it’s Harriet Carter Wednesday, what’s it to you?  I’ve received a ton of emails over the past few months wondering where Harriet has been.  I typically answered with, “None of your business.  Do I come to your house and ask your mother where her looks went?”  Obviously that is the opposite of a rhetorical question.  Anyjunk, Harriet was probably vacationing in one of the Slavic countries, getting her face filled with mayonnaise and sugar water that’s been left out in the hot sun for two months, just so she can save on climbing Botox costs.  Where was I?  Oh yeah, this week Harriet protects your rack whilst driving and gives your son another reason why he’s getting the bag beat out of him during  5^th period math.  Let’s go!

Product # 1 – Since I model my life after one Blessed Mother Oprah Winfrey (of the Nazarene Winfrey’s) I’ve decided to bring her “No Phone Zone” pledge  to the next level.  As you know, the “No Phone Zone” pledge  is urging people to stop texting whilst driving.  Yawn.  I mean, who can’t do two things at once?  It’s called multitasking while endangering.  Ever heard of it?  Anyway, I’m in the process of writing to Oprah to bring, “No Saggy Boobs While Driving” pledge to the masses.  Thanks to the pathetic sick pervs over at the Harriet Carter Institute of Performing Arts (HCIPA), you can now make sure that when you’re driving your rack is standing at attention.  Basically, you’re driving with 4 sets of headlights, so you better get safe and get safe quick.   The poor floppy boobed woman in the before photo is so “saggin’ in the wind” that she’s actually getting struck by what I can only assume is lightning while she’s just trying to get from Point A to Point B.  In the “before” example she’s not taking the “No Saggy Boobs While Driving” pledge seriously at all.  However, she must have had a change of heart because in the “after” photo her rack is acting as her co-pilot (move over Jesus – don’t hurt me).  But, let’s face it.  During long drives your bobbies-aba-doolies are going to get tired and, well, they’re going to want to rest for a little bit.  Luckily this contraption also has a strap on the bottom that will hold your female companions in place like an illegal immigrant on the side of the road selling a wide, yet rotten, array of fruit.  I honestly have no idea what in the holy hell I’m talking about.  Anyway, join the pledge, write Oprah, and stay safe while driving.  Also, drive fast and take chances.

Product # 2  – Hey parents!  Are you afraid of giving your kid the beating of his/her life because of that pesky little rule that basically says that DSS will stop on by for tea, cake, and ownership of your children?  Well, worry no more because Harriet Carter is now making giving your kid a beating a lot easier and won’t even “dirty” your hands.  Introducing “Silly Straw Glasses!”  Little Herman will be taking punches from all the kids in his class once he starts sporting these shades!  Silly Straw Shades are just as silly and wonderful as they sound.  Simply put on these 5 pound plastic (probably shellacked with lead paint) glasses-contraption on your pimply face, strap it around your Dumbo ears, and then let the end of the tube sit in your high-fructose-corn-syruped-fruit-punch (fat ass) and enjoy your drink.  I mean, it should totally take you a total of 15 minutes to get ready to drink 8 ounces. (big friggin’ baby).  Little Herman didn’t make is bed before he went to school?  No worries, just pack these Silly Straw Shades with him and send him on his way.  The beating will be waiting for him by the time he shows up for homeroom.  And I’m sure all you parents will love having to clean this contraption as it comes apart in “5 pieces for hand-washing.”  Hand-washing?  Like a cave person?  Oh and you know a fight is totally going to break out when Little Herman is looking for “part # 3” and can’t find it anywhere.  He’ll have to drink out of the glass, you know, like a normal 10 year old boy.

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