Friday, November 5, 2010

What a bed...


Sheets sidewalks that seem made of stone or cardboard boxes. It 's the provocative Snurk, a collection of bed linen designed by a Dutch couple to raise awareness to the plight of the homeless. The name says it all: The homeless and the Trottoir. But it's for a good cause: a percentage of sales is donated to the homeless, build shelters and make sure that especially the younger ones may have a roof over your head.

17 comments:

  1. I showed my friends your post and they enjoyed it! Keep them coming!

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  2. Wow, pretty good idea for a good cause.

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  3. if its comfortable, id sleep on it. nice post

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  4. That's what we'll all be sleeping on in the afterlife (in Hell) if we dont repent, dude. Dont believe me? Why does our Mother say only a few shall win Seventh-Heaven? Join me, follow us, wiseabove...

    What's your address in Heaven, dear? Dunno? Mine's 111 Rock-Solid-Ave, Milky Weight, Seventh-Heaven. My sub/dude, neon mansion? Mama mia. A grandiose, exquisitely detailed, 3-acre-stuccoish home in a cul-de-sac with mountain-bike-trails we may conform with our thots. Why limit Almighty God? Why not fire-ALL-cylinders in one-fell-swoop? My intimacy with women Upstairs? Subtle, stupendous, fire-engine-zeal: skiing, surfin, sailing, snorklin, smmmokin, savvy, sassy space travel -to- scarlet symmetry! elegant ostentation! potent intoxication! technecolor satire to snuggle and serve: slow, soft, supersonic Sunday School which is an eXcellent, eXcessive eXaggeration of our lives woven together that's push-button, point-blank improv; a plethora of high-degree, Newtonian-laws-of-major league, victory laps where one force of kick-ass, party-hardy, white-water-rawness equals every, single, evening with wild knights, phorNphood, avatars, tender faeries, cereal killers and symbiotic, front-row-seats (subject to unofficial rules). Yes, of course! Baby making is most certaintly an option! ...yet, I gotta wanna see how She feels sharing me. My many planets? Gorgeous girls? Gott'm. Gotta lotta'm. Gotta gobba IQ, too, withe K2 orchestra only accessable to those with adolescent behavior: TOTALLY YOURS!!! How??? Gotta accept Jesus, missy!! Gotta. Wanna. Or you're sooo out-of-order, toots. Therefore, let's accelerate to the Maximum POW!er; let U.S. 'populate' the universe with i2i loyalty to the Bright Son. Wanna join me in God's wild Kingdome?? Chop, chop, dear. Time's running-out for us in this wee, existence finite PS: Time, as an entity, is also mortal: while thar aint no time in Seventh-Heaven, dollface... yet, puh-lenty of time to love due to the superior-supply-of-summer...

    ...cuzz the only other realm aint too cool: sweltering, cramped and Fugly rotten; Pokemon sawing-off your cranium with a chainsaw; nasty darkness, eternal starvation, Satan lies like a Persian rug; o'er-the-Hillary profusely cakkkling for eternity, no purchase necessary. How purrrecious! sez Gollum. 'Nuff sed. Decide NOW. Make Your Choice -SAW.

    MyCrucifixIsMyFix.blogspot.com
    trustNjesus

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