Pinterest, you led me astray.
Somewhere among the pictures of pallets upcycled into adorable storage units and pendant lights made from Mason jars, a recipe for cauliflower pizza crust caught my eye. Simple logic should have told me cauliflower and tomato sauce don’t mix, but people were raving about how crispy and easy and uncauliflowery the crust was.
So I tried it.
All I can say is, ick. It took me two days of candle burning to get the stink out of my house, not to mention the repeated washings of the dozen or so tea towels I’d used for the laborious process of squeezing the liquid out of the cauliflower. Easy, my eye.
Obviously I’d become unrealistically enamored of Pinterest posts and their promise of a hipper, better, more beautiful life. I’d lost all ability to discern.
Apparently a lot of other Pinterest users have, too.
Their comically misguided posts are the fodder for Pinterest, You Are Drunk, a website and associated Pinterest board that mocks good intentions gone bad. “Y’all are going a bit overboard over there,” the website declares. “I’m here to help.”
“I” appears to be “we,” a small group of bloggers who apparently collaborate on the effort. I tried to track them down, but no one responded to my emails. I suppose they want to remain anonymous, or as anonymous as you can be when your photo and name are right there at the top of a Pinterest board.
Too bad. I would have told them their site is a hoot.
Where else would I come across instructions for breast milk ice pops or cupcakes baked in eggshells? Where else would I find pictures of jewelry made from wisdom teeth or a knitted uterus inexplicably photographed on a piano keyboard? How else would I know how to decorate cake pops like the characters from Game of Thrones?
The best part of Pinterest, You Are Drunk, however, is the commentary that accompanies the photos. A few snarky gems:
• On a picture of an occasional table made from a table top attached to a pair of legs clad in blue jeans: “I don’t know what I find more troubling: the disembodied coffee table or that hunter green sofa.”
• On hot dogs cut into spirals: “Could hot dogs be grosser? The answer is yes.”
• On a photo of a man in a barber shop, sporting a haircut that looks like a gecko crawling over his head: “I guess I don’t need to ask how that job search is going.”
• On instructions for making reusable flannel toilet wipes: “My love for our planet has its limits. This would be it.”
Handmade goods seem to be a big theme. I’ve seen crocheted cake pops, a cable-knit chair slipcover, even a knitted fetal pig splayed on a dissecting pan. I have no idea why.
Shoes make a frequent appearance: flippers with heels, boots with tails, shoes that look like cow hooves. Gross food shows up a lot, too, notably graham crackers adorned like bloody Band-Aids and poo-shaped brownies served in a kitty litter box filled with chopped nuts.
And, of course, who doesn’t want a flower planter made from a bra or a sausage-and-sauerkraut creche?
Kind of makes the cauliflower pizza crust look reasonable, don’t you think?
Mary Beth Breckenridge can be reached at 330-996-3756 or firstname.lastname@example.org. You can also become a fan on Facebook at http://tinyurl.com/mbbreck, follow her on Twitter @MBBreckenridge and read her blog at www.ohio.com/blogs/mary-beth.