Showing posts with label the bin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the bin. Show all posts

Monday, 8 November 2010

Stuff You (Maybe) Never Knew About PMM


I love looking at the word searches people do that land them on PottyMouthMama, because basically I have no other hobbies other than internetting.

Here's a quick look-see at keywords that draw the punters:

- camel toe image (you classy broad, thanks for dropping by! here you can find a heck of a lot more images to tickle your fancy) BTW - technically I don't think the Alicia Keys camel toe is actually a camel toe. Just saying.
- enima kit (sic); french vintage enema bags; vintage enema bag collections
- oprah the soup bigger than new york (say what?!)
- what does it mean to sleep like a donkey? (if you find out, will you tell me too?)

Apparently my vintage bag enema kit COULD have brought me a pretty yield on eBay. Alas I tossed it out. Please stop searching my blog for enema kits. Or even French vintage enema kits. Yes I have no enema kits. I have no enema kits today.

image completely unrelated.

Wednesday, 12 August 2009

Something I Found In A Bin


It's been almost a year since my epic affair with someone else's bin, and so it seems only fit that I show you something else I found in a bin. A long time ago, but I've never mentioned it, until today that is folks.

Would you believe someone had tossed this little beauty out?

Along with this, I found a bag of fabric scraps, which was intermingled with a whole bunch of panty-hose (fancy crafty bank robbery anyone?) - which I declined to hold onto for fairly obvious reasons, a letter dated August 1971, and an awesome child's armchair which has gone to my brother-in-law in the hope that he might one day find some time to reupholster it for me, because damn fool, it's positively darling.

Tuesday, 2 June 2009

I Don't Get Out Much Pt 2


It's been months since I last scavenged some rubbish from the side of the road. Some readers may think I've gone into rehab, but I'm just starting to get the cold sweats. Hallucinations (is that a Parker sideboard in the park?!). I'm wearing tracksuits twenty-four-seven. I haven't washed my hair in weeks. Make-up..? What's that?

The cold hard facts are people, that even the rubbish has been hit by the recession.

No one is throwing anything out these days. Not even the rich people. Not even the people who inherit stuff. They're just shoving all the excess up their un-used chimney flues. They're sewing their old teddy bears into clothing. Pretty soon previously fashion-savvy business men are going to start wearing teddy bear couture as opposed to Zegna. And what about the crockery? I used to find mountain loads tossed out. Now what are they doing with it? I hate to think they're... using it. I'm blocking my ears at the very thought.

Times are tough, and you know who's feeling it the most. Me.

People. I need your rubbish. It gives me unexpected excitement. Cast your mind back to the days when I'd wait for rubbish night to go rummaging through the bin. Baying at the moon. Those were the days my friends, I thought they'd never end.

I'm like a wild hyena sniffing around in the bushes with no fresh furniture carcasses to haul back home. What's going down? What's a gal to do for fun?

I've been continuing my decluttering phase and taking some of the bin paraphernalia to the op shop. Maybe this will set things right again in the world and I will stumble across the next big haul.

PS - Image totally unrelated. Since so many of you* have been asking about the Doctor's scarf I started six years ago, here it is. Getting more scarf like by the minute. Oh and a small vintage belt buckle that I found (in a shop - doesn't count) a few weeks ago. You can't see here but a tiny, tiny, dainty diamante is in the middle. Love that inky blue.

* Read... no one. Ok ok, no one has asked about the scarf. I shake my fist!

Thursday, 22 January 2009

Would You Like This?


I'm clearing out my house. It's a sort of liquidation sale, except I'm not liquidating, I'm just getting rid of stuff.

If you live in Sydney, you're willing to pick this basket up, and you want it - let me know, it's yours.

It's one of the bin finds. I was holding onto it for my sister, as I kind of think it's a little creepy. But don't let that stop you. It's cute. From a distance. The only thing I find creepy is that it's those fake plastic flowers that people sometimes put on graves. Anyway. You might like it. It is cute. It's definitely vintage. And if you want it. It's most definitely yours.

Wednesday, 19 November 2008

Get Your 'Butt Over Here: Giveaway - Kimya Dawson & Friends

So I told you a while ago that I'd be running a giveaway. You might have been thinking, yes, well we'll see what she wants to give us. Maybe you thought it was going to be a banana skin from the bin? Perhaps that creepy little Laura Palmer doll that has now taken up residence at my sister's house (though she doesn't yet know it)?

Nope. You're wrong. Wrong. Wrong again.

This is such an exciting giveaway.

My good friend over at Popfrenzy has given me six copies of Kimya Dawson's: Alphabutt.
If you don't know about Kimya Dawson, well you really should. She's super good. Clever. Witty. A funny, talented, guitar strumming chick. Perhaps you recognise her name from this movie?
Alphabutt is a great mix of songs to please your smalls and make them laugh (and yourself - hey I listen to it all the time).
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For a chance to win one of the six CDs please leave a comment on this post. In your comment please tell me what your favourite song was when you were small.
Mine - Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite. Well I had many, but this one always made my imagination go wild.
I'll be drawing the winners on Tuesday 2nd December. Plenty of time for you to enter, yes? Alas my dear readers, this is for Australian readers only (sorry).
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Psssst! Pop on over to Popfrenzy for plenty more musical inspiration - you might just get some cool Christmas ideas.


Friday, 7 November 2008

It's Over


You're the first to hear it. It's over. It's been a long time brewing, but finally, officially, we've called it quits. It's been so hard to do, but really, I think it's best for all of us. Family life was flailing, it was a terrible strain, and finally we've decided there's really no commitment there. It was a short fling. Coming up to Christmas makes it even harder but it was something that needed to be done, instead of dragging it out. We've decided to go our separate ways.

The bin and I are over.

I forgot to mention that the bin's house is on the market. Yep, all 6 bedrooms and 6 bathrooms of it.

Needless to say, the bin is moving on to greener pastures. But really, we all know I initiated the split. It came a week ago when I decided I just didn't want to go out and see it. I'd seen the signs, literally. The real estate agent had staked his claim on the bin's abode.

Breaking up is hard to do. But let's remember, I dumped the bin first. Not the other way around. Yep, I hold the trump card.

So last night I went out. Just for one last hoorah. I wanted to explain to the bin that 'it's not you, it's me'. Plus I thought they might as well be throwing out the family silver since they've thrown everything else out. Or maybe a nice vintage silk eiderdown jammed into the bin? Perhaps some lovely hand pieced quilt tops?

But guess what... The bin wasn't even there. Didn't even want to flirt with me. I couldn't even see it peeping out from the driveway.

I drove home. Despondent. Sad. A little shattered. When was I going to meet another bin like this one? This was like the sugar daddy of all bins. I know I play hard to get, but so does the bin, all's fair in the game of love and garbage, right?

Anyway, I just thought you'd want to know. We're over. We had some great times together. Even when the bin played the spider gag on me. I might have thought this bin was 'the one', but it wasn't to be. I know there are plenty more bins in the sea, but what if I don't find another one that's right for me?

Don't be concerned for me. I won't go cut my hair, get trollied and go dancing, spend the monthly wages on new shoes and eat chocolate 'til the cows come home. No, just a sensible step back into regular family life will do the trick.

It's sort of a relief. Now I can focus on my wonky sewing finesse. You'll see. Something good will come of it. But of course, I wanted to let you know first.