Happy Harriet Carter Wednesday! I sometimes wonder if Harriet dreams of me as I dream of her. I assume so. I also assume that the real Harriet Carter has been dead for over 314 years. She probably died of Diphtheria on the Nina or the Santa Maria. Anyway, this week Harriet’s rack lights up my room, Elvis chokes a bitch to to death, you can learn how to choke your own potato, and find a new way to get your kids ready for stardom. Let’s go!
Product # 1 – Hey there slutty Susie! Put on your best gown and, apparently, feathers and put down those school books because you need to start practicing being the next Paris Hilton! Sure slutty Susie is loving the camera, but she isn’t quite at celebrity status as she isn’t even looking at the little doofus taking the picture. Hey dumbass, the camera is about 4 feet south. Slutty Susie is looking about 3 feet north. Perhaps she is one of those cock-eyed brats. I tried to zoom in, but was unable to see if she was. Now, the little doofus who’s on his knees with his camera is actually more believable than slutty Susie. He’s definitely going to be a great paparazzo as he is desperately trying to get the perfect shot of slutty Susie’s “stinko-winko.” If only he had a mirror duct-taped to a broom stick he may have got the goods. Either way, he’s on his knees so by the looks of this kid that’ll come in handy for him someday. What? Oh relax. I just mean he’ll probably be a coal miner or one of those careers that you don’t know actually exists anymore, but definitely does in those white-trash kind of states. You know, sorta like panning for gold. I guess people still do that. Don’t they know they can just buy it? Anyway, not only do I digress, but I also forgot what I was talking about. Oh yeah, thanks Harriet for starting the skanks as young as can be on the red carpet. 
Product # 2 – Honey? Can you turn the boobs on? Yeah, the boobs. Turn them on it’s getting dark in here. It’s pretty hot in here too. Can you turn on the penis fan? Thanks sweetie! If these are sentences that you want to shout out to your husband and wife well then boy does Harriet have the classy product for you. Throw away the clapper because you’re getting the these lights on with a little “tune in Tokyo” action. Do you know how many times I’ve thought, “Hmmm this room could really use a pink rack-attack.” Class up your boobs on a stick lamp by simply placing pink roses in the background and a set of pearls on the table. Sure some people will think it’s tacky, but once they see those beautiful pearls they’ll forget all about the fact that they’re reading their book thanks to some knocker lighting.
Product # 3 – Do you love Elvis? Do you love sleeping standing up? Do you want Elvis to strangle you to death? Well if you’ve answered yes to 2 of these questions and “no” to 1 of these questions then you are in luck. Oh, and by “luck” I really mean “out of $19.99.” Clearly Elvis has strangled this bitch to death. I’m not too sure why you need one of these pillows around your neck while you’re standing, but then again I never really understood why so many people loved Elvis. Wasn’t he a pedophile? Regardless, let’s start that rumor. Moving on, that pillow doesn’t even look nice. It looks all faded and crap like it’s been in the backseat of a 1985 blue Oldsmobile Cutless Sierra since, literally 1985. It’s to the left of the faded tissue box and to the right of the 15 stuffed animals that Grandma won at Bingo. I bet it itches too and you know that the stitching around the seam is totally going to come undone and then all cheap cotton is going to be all over the place. And you know it’s not just cheap cotton, but the kind that was probably recalled because the country that it came from had a double mix of Typhoid and Malaria break out. Anyway, to sum up that pillow looks gross and that bitch is better off dead anyway. If that was my wife and she wasted our money on that she’d be dead anyway. I’m just kidding I wouldn’t kill her. I’d hire someone to do it. I do have manners after all.
Product # 4 – All finished choking your chicken, fellas? Well don’t stop there. Just strap on these “tater mitts” and start chocking your potatoes too! Who needs the brilliant invention of “the knife” or “the peeler” because we’re taking cooking back to the caveman days. I say really freak out the neighbors and bring your sack of potatoes and your tater mitts right out on the front lawn and choke your potatoes in front of everyone. Kick it up a notch and place one potato (uncooked) in your pants. Next simply put on your tater mitts. Then place your hands down your pants (which I’m assuming is probably khakis if you’re buying this product) and yell to the neighbors to check out what you’re doing. Watch them squeal with delight, like the pigs they are, when potato peels are coming out of your pant leg. They’ll think you’re penis is flaking off. Was that not clear? I felt like it was, but sometimes I lose things in the typed word. This was all basically penis and balls jokes. Yeah? Carry on.
Well that concludes another useless segment of Harriet Carter Wednesday. See you in hell!
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