Yeah, I know, It’s Monday. And I know that I’m in the middle of switching Crazie pills again. AND I know that I am in NO MOOD to cook dinner tonight because my anxiety is like a living parasite that’s sucked out my ability to have any perspective on even the most minute life issues and is now trying to bore its way out of my skull.
It really wanted a cheeseburger and onion rings for dinner, so I caved and went to the diner. I’m hoping that the new Crazie pill is working and this is the anxiety’s final throes, like just before the exorcism finally works. I’m waiting to hear the death rattle and/or experience the projectile vomiting.
That’s why I need kitchenware shaped like dogs (and/or dog-like Egyptian deities). But not in a twee way.
Awesome Shit the First That I Want:
I love tea. I don’t love my teapot, because I burn myself 89% of the time I try to pour the hot water out. I also love weiner dogs, but I don’t actually want to own one because we have enough back problems in my family. Also the digging; I like my garden. And the high-strunged-ness. And the 
fact that I would probably trip over it, risking injury and death to both of us. But Brian really wants one, so I figure this is a fair compromise.
Granted, I don’t think the creator meant to make a teapot shaped like a weiner dog, since the description states “teapots don’t get any more modern than this,” not “teapots don’t look any more like weiner dogs that this.” I say, accept what you’ve made and roll with it. Because this teapot? Totally looks like a weiner dog.
“Sorapot is a simple, modern teapot. Its architectural shape and simple functionality bring tea’s quiet beauty into sharp focus. Made from 304 stainless steel, borosilicate glass (Pyrex), and food-grade silicone, it articulates the ritual of tea making in a thoroughly modern way….AND it looks like a weiner dog!”
See how much more fun it instantly becomes? And it makes the $200 price take much easier to justify.
Awesome Shit the Second That I Want:
Who’s your favorite Egyptian diety? Unless you’re some kind of total square, its Annubis, the jackal-headed Lord of the Underworld.
I love this item not just because it references Annubis, but because of its deceptively simple yet cryptic description: “Annubis, container.” What, do you not get it? That sounds like a personal problem to me.
Not a lie: I lived with a close friend my senior year of college and we both thought it was HILARIOUS to reference Annubis, the jackal-headed lord of the underworld in inappropriate circumtances, in only the way enormous nerds can. For a brief period, our answering machine’s outgoing message was, “Hello, you’ve reached the home of Annubis, jackal-headed lord of the underworld. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” This shows that (1) I was an even bigger nerd than I myself suspected and that (2) I am ANCIENT, because who the fuck has an answering machine?
Bonus fact: There’s a statue of Annubis in one of the Vatican museums. They’ve chosen to place it in front of a wall painted with a tropic mural, so it looks like death’s taken a holiday to Club Med. It cracks my shit UP.
Tomorrow night: Cheap Ass Tuesday Dessert, to make it up to you.
ONE YEAR AGO: Boston I: Fine Burgers of Beantown
Thursday Night Smackdown 
I already knew you were cool, but nerdy too? Ohai, soulmate! For the love of bacon, please tell me you’re a Lost fan too?! The Anubis container is so awesome-shit-that-I-Want, and so on point…
I still have an answering machine. Because I don’t have a cell phone. And NO, I am not Amish. Just stubborn and cheap.
The copy writers that come up with this advertising copy have just got to laugh at themselves while they’re writing shit like, “Its architectural shape and simple functionality bring tea’s quiet beauty into sharp focus.” I hope they laugh, anyway, because that’s the effect it has on me.
Awesome-shit-that-I-want would include a kitchen with enough space to KEEP cool shit like the Annubis container and the doggie teapot. (Although I think I liked the little bowls with hats better.)
More fully embroidering on your whole “dog-shaped teapot, Anubis, I am such a nerd” theme–our kids, when somewhat younger, decided to name our new puppy “Anubis” (the kids were deeply, deeply into Egytology the way only elementary school kids can be–but then again who doens’t love stories of hooks-used-to-remove-gray-matter-through-the-nose-prior-to-mummification?). Downside to my story–he’s not a weiner dog, but he is the dorkiest yellow Labrador I’ve ever met (and this is a massively dorky breed) and couldn’t be further from “lord of the underworld” in his personality–for heavens sake, he stands in the corner with his nose to the wall any time the bossy 9-year-old female beagle barks at him(OK, actually it turns out she’s a hermaphrodite–I know; how have you gone this long without knowing me and my crazy animals, but I live in the middle of absolutely nowhere USA and really only lurk out here in blog land). Love the teapot, love how you worked “Anubis” into your life, love the blog.
Re: Your parasite, I offer the wisdom of Jack Handey: “I hope some animal never bores a hole in my head and lays its eggs in my brain, because later you might think you’re having a good idea but it’s just eggs hatching.”
Re: The teapot, I can think of much sexier ways to drop two bills. But that’s just me (and several dozen of my teabaggin’ GOP pals.)
rachelle, sorry to disappoint: i could never get into lost and don’t really like it. if you watched eureka, though, this relationship could still be saved.
kristin, but how do you function in the world without having a phone number dedicated to your specific person? it’s like you’re a non-entity.
kay, word to that. and yes, the hat-bowls were better than both of these, except for the costing $700 part.
laura, that is an awesomely inappropriate name for a yellow lab.
peter, i don’t ever want to hear another reference to your teabagging GOP pals.
Not only do you not have to have a phone number assigned to your own person therefore allowing people to know where you are at all times but an answering machine allows you to never pick up the phone. Which is very restful. (And is also very thrifty which is helpful when you have been laid off.)