This makes me exceedingly happy.

via sight unseen

The circle of life. And death. And annoying neighborhood kids.

I'm somewhat obsessed with images.  I collect them in folders on my desktop and cork boards and websites and in my purses and magazine holders and under refrigerator magnets and any place else I can stuff something.  Mostly I don't evaluate them I just see it and if it makes me pause for a moment - my Malcolm Gladwell Blink gut check moment - I rip it out or right click save it and dump it somewhere.  I just need to OWN it!!  When I go back to look I usually discover a pattern I wasn't aware of: my recent obsessions with swan chairs, a penchant for navy blue, rainbow unicorns.  You know, just whatever.  DON'T JUDGE ME!!!!!!

In the latest case it's round things.

via ffffound

via ffffound

This makes me squee.

Paul and Kate Studio on etsy

This makes me squee harder.  It's a bank!  Made of lava!!!  (it's not)

via but does it float

It's a... uh...  a thing!

via dethjunkie

Awww hell I don't even know...  Just admire its scientific roundiness.  It looks important.

Buy the button at I Love Femail Orgasm

Oops!  How'd that get there?    (But really, who doesn't?)

Christine Tillman via seesaw

here

This is an ancient bowl transcribed with Hewbrew/Aramaic prayers that people in olden times would bury underneath a house to trap demons.  The ModSauce Ranch totally needs a few of these.  Does it also keep away the neighborhood kids who keep trying to get me to buy shit for their school?   That's really starting to get on my nerves.

Ezekiel's chariot of ascension/Merkaba from here

It's like the fucking Da Vinci Code up in here!  Moving on...

Damien Correll

Is that Honeysuckle pink?

via ffffound

Jonas Val

via of fire and exhibition

via dispokugel

If those neighborhood kids would sell this I wouldn't need a demon trap to stop them.  I'd need buckets of candy on my doorstep to lure them in.  That's not as Hansel and Gretel creepy as it sounds.  But it's true.

via dvdp

Circles are EVERYWHERE y'all.  I think preschoolers should name it the shape of 2011. 

via Yay Everyday

Just kidding.  It would be the triangle.  

Tanya Johnston via seesaw

You get a twofer!!

There wasn't really a point to this post other than showing a collection of intriguing images, however as I was compiling them I noticed a pattern withIN a pattern:

via the absolutely amazing blog I'm a Woman (You are a machine) 

The small patterns of growing bacteria in a petri dish.

Bryan Nash Gill via tomorrow started

Print of actual tree rings.  (Want soooo bad!  Kids, I'd buy all your tickets to band camp for this!)

via dethjunkie

The moon.

Jewish lunar zodiac calendar via Moer Foundation

The stars.

Paradiso Canto

Dante's heaven.

via yeayeayeayea

And a map of Hades.  It don't get no bigger than heaven and hell.


It's like a just created the Madame Sunday version of the Eames Powers of Ten video but roundier.  


And more soul touching.  


Possibly more orgasms.  


But less kids.  


That would be wrong.

Oh you fancy, huh? Oh you fancy, huh?

I'm about to introduce you to a secret movement that started right here in the homes of Chattavegas.  It's probably going to change your life and you'll want to add your membership status to your driver's license right next to being an organ donor.  It's called the No Expectations party.  


Get ready for some shit that will light your soul on fire.


A NEP is when you want to entertain people like you did when you were 19 but you're too old for that now and it's embarrassing when you're a 30-something hostess with the leastest and everyone around you throws lavish dinner parties all the time but you have a kitchen that will give you gangrene of the eyes and no talent or motivation so you give this "idea" a name to make it seem legitimate.  

here.  Pretty, but I bet there were lots of expectations.

It's when you want to hang out with people but don't want to break out the fancy china that you don't actually own.  And you want to wear your favorite fleece pants and kitten tshirt and don't want anyone's gawddamn judgey eyes on you!  And there's probably a load of laundry on your couch that you'll have to scoot over (or use as a pillow if it's warm) and towels in the bathroom floor.  And you don't have any food other than peanut butter, gouda and vodka and if someone doesn't want any of that then they are free to bring what they'd rather eat even if it's a Big Mac.  None of that is important since you just need company while cleaning out your closet or want to watch a marathon of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills with a group because it's extra fun to judge other people.  

A great start to a NEP!  (not my hand.  I don't know who the hell that is but they're invited.)

It's about the people, not the expectations.  (I mean your friend people not the RHOBH people.  I don't even think those are real people...)   

Fuck that!!  The birth of the No Expectations movement.  It's BYOGB.  Bring your own garbage bag.

It's how you let your guests know that they don't need to worry about what casserole to bring (this IS the South ya know) or what to wear or psyche themselves up in case that other bitch they don't like is there.  None of that. No Expectations is the great equalizer.   If you're the type of person who sucks at domesticity (ahem...) then this lifestyle is for you.  Even if you attempt something nice and fail then just look at your burnt chicken and say "No Expectations!!" and everyone will laugh and laugh and laugh at the sheer wonder of it.   Feel free to include it on invites: Having some people over on Saturday for salad that may have brown edges on it and cheap wine.  No Expectations!  Whhheeeeee!!!  You're immediately forgiven of all possible failures and have renounced all responsibilities of providing a good time.  It's in gawd's hands now.  Pray for accidental fabulosity to rain from the sky like thousands of dead birds.

Once you entertain the No Expectations way it begins to move into all other areas of your life.  I have essentially become the No Expectations principle.  It's a No Expectations house, a No Expectations blog and a No Expectations madame.  I rather pride myself on my low maintenance and casual attitude towards cleaning up the cat hair tumbleweeds that forever blow through the landscape of the MS Ranch.  Oh you don't like doing dishes?  Well I haven't washed a dish in 17 days muthafuckas!!!  *middle fingers point to crotch*  It's kinda like Sunday every fucking day here!!! 


But sometimes I forget what it's like to NOT live in a No Expectations world.  Last month a friend of the Sauce surprised me with a free hotel room in Hotlanta at a swankified Buckhead establishment!  HOLLLAAA!!  I'm making the *raise the roof* gesture right now even though you can't see it.  It was a hotel with valet parking (that I didn't use) and multiple stars after it's name and no weekly rates advertised.   

My room.  Just kidding - it's the Buckhead Intercontinental.

I jumped at that faster than Camille Grammer jumps on a rich dick.  Imma take myself on a fancy weekend date!!  I drove down and spent the weekend Christmas shopping and drinking up big city life.  When my feet were tired and my credit card hot from all the action it was getting I retired to my cushy suite.  I had a nice dinner with lots of carbs.  A couple of gin and tonics with Sapphire NOT Seagram's because that's how I roll when I'm being fancy.  Pillows so soft I almost suffocated when I laid my head down.  Sheets tucked in so tight my feet lost circulation.  Pure heaven.  And then this:

YOU'RE SO PRETTY!  

My bath at home has tons of vintage charm and pitted chrome fixtures for "personality" and shitty lighting so I forgot what it was like to soak in a real bathtub.  *sob, sob, sob*  I'm gonna spend the night in this thing!  With these:

overpriced but worth it for the packaging...

And dessert:

I destroyed these.

Sweet baby jeezus in the bathtub this was awesome!  


Unfortunately I'm so out of practice doing nice things for myself that after 10 minutes in a super steamy bath after multiple cocktails, a giant meal and a pound of chocolate I was sweaty and felt like I was going to vomit.  So I dangled precariously out of the tub to open the door for fresh air and just hung there, draped over the edge of the tub, to cool off so I didn't spew chunks in the bathwater thereby wasting the deliciously overpriced dinner that I just treated myself to.  That would really have ruined my weekend.  And the maid's...

But I survived and smelled delicious.  Of course it wasn't all fancy sheets and lychee sugar cubes, the universe did remind me that I can never escape rednecks because at about 4 in the morning some dudes were in my hall getting into a word tussle.  I heard a lot of shouting and then "at 11 AM when we check out I'm going to kill you" followed by the weepy pleading of some woman.  I can only assume it was a threeway gone bad or someone was really upset over the SEC game.  Thanks for ruining my fancy sleep you white trash assholes.  I didn't drive two hours and pay for parking to feel like I'm living at home again!!!!

Murderous threats and almost vomiting aside, it was a pretty damn good weekend.  So good in fact that I think I'm going to make a point in 2011 to get some rich dick be nicer to the Madame.  I don't believe in resolutions because I'm such a rebel I don't even like to follow my own rules so I'll just make this a general theme.   I need to tap into my Jungian Madame archetype (I swear there's one) and explore my true inner fabulosity of being nice to me.  INNER is right because I'm broke so I can't do anything that actually involves spending lots of money like getting regular pedicures for my Flinstone toes or switching to Sapphire permanently (what am I a jizzillionaire???) but small things.  Think rich, act poor.  I'm going to use the fancy guest soap and turn the heat up a degree or two so my teeth quit chattering at night.  Burn the candles I like every day.  Perhaps while I'm taking a lychee sugar cubed bath!  I'll make nicer dinners for myself.  Use my nice $800 wrinkled sheets more rather than save them for some stupid reason.  Maybe I'll throw a party and serve dinner AT THE DINING TABLE!!!  *gasp*


I think I'll make this summer jam of 2010 my theme song but I'll be fancy in spirit only because I don't think my hair or nails will be done like the queen Mary J. Blige. A Madame can fake it til she makes it.

I'm also accepting theme names for the year.  Last year it was "Make my yard my bitch 2010" but I just haven't found anything with quite the same catchy ring for this year.  Feel free to make 20 'leven your "No Expectations" year.  It's my gift to the world!!  We should make badges and yard signs to announce our status!  How bout y'all come over Saturday night and we'll do dinner and crafts?  No expectations.

Final Destination: The TJ Maxx in the sky.

Crystal Dawn Tonya Beavers, also known as Madame Sunday but not to be confused with the Ms. Chattavegas Watermelon Queen 1997 Tonya Dawn Crystal Beavers, passed away unexpectedly on January 3, 2011 at the age of 30.  She was the sometimes sober yet always saucy creator of the "content" for the blog of infinite wonders you are reading now.  She will be missed.  If not already forgotten.


After descending to the earth on moonbeams and angel wings she was then born by crawling out from under the rock and raised on white bread and contempt in the inbred hills of northwest Georgia.   There was school, more school, a different kind of education involving happy hours and craigslist before she finally settled into a career of designing pretty things.  Or ugly things depending on who you talk to.  The Madame was a member of a local book club, the Ace Hardware rewards program and was a regular attendee of Friday Night Margarita Showdown.  She enjoyed eating queso, reading, shopping at thrift stores and bitching about all sorts of things.

Authorities have been able to piece together the series of events that ultimately led to the tragedy.  Apparently in an attempt to recreate the wood stuffed firebox [shut up] pictured below,

here

the Madame was attempting to chop logs in the backyard using a rusty handsaw.  At some point several fingers met the business end of that handsaw either accidentally or perhaps in a weird attempt to recreate the final scenes from The Piano.  It appears that she attempted to reattach the appendages with some duct tape and gauze after pouring some 'tussin in it.  None of that seemed to work and Crystal Dawn was found passed out by the mailbox from lack of blood where a neighbor found her incoherently mumbling about when the latest issue of Domino magazine would be delivered.  On the way to the hospital the ambulance sadly crashed into a tree trying to avoid a band of stampeding Unicorns.  Madame Sunday, the sole survivor, crawled from the wreckage only to be impaled by a rogue Unicorn racing to catch up with the pack.  Bleeding, fingerless and glittery she crawled to find help which happened to be a nearby liquor store probably because of the internal homing device implanted several yeas ago.  However, in a desperate attempt to flag down the store clerk a display of boxed wine was toppled over and buried her beneath an avalanche of Franzia.  Several crews uncovered her to find her barely alive (and drunk) but on the way to the hospital for the second time that day she finally went home to be with Michael Jackson.  The autopsy revealed she did not in fact die from any injuries sustained during the day but from an overdose of toxic glue purchased at the Dollar General that was used for a recent at-home vajazzling attempt.  "She always was a cheap bastard" said friends who usually get stiffed on the bill on Friday Night Margarita Showdowns.


Madame Sunday is survived by a (now relieved) cat Charlemagne and every Sassy Gay Friend in the tri-state area.  Services will be held on Tuesday at the Fuji House for dollar sushi night so diners can also pay their respects.  There will be no graveside service as the Madame's ashes will be scattered in the parking lot of TJ Maxx.


In lieu of flowers the family asks that you send donations to the "Stop piling dirty spider-ridden dead pieces of wood around your house" fund.  


It's a sad day on the interwebs.  Go read all the other obituaries in the latest Let's Blog Off challenge. 

Vroom, vroom.

This madame is still on vacation circa 2010.  I've been wearing the same "yoga" pants and haven't eaten a vegetable (other than salsa) for four days.  It's all been gloriously illuminated by the tiny lights of my Christmas tree that still proudly stands in the center of my living room.  I'm looking to take it down some time in February.  I can't be bothered to actually do anything productive yet and I'm still revving my bloggy engines but that affords me plenty of time to fantasize about what I want my new year to feel like.  I'm thinking this:

Just me sitting on the junk pile in my backyard.  Tired.  Plaid.  But insanely fabulous.  Emphasis on the insane.

Are there enough black eyed peas in the world that I could eat to bring me this outfit?  Head thingy included.  I'd rock the shit out of that.  

RAWWWWRRR!!!!

Why am I not more Asian for 2011?????!!!!!  (Note to self: buy a motherfuckin skull headband for chrissake!)

Notice the pink.  I'm totally foreshadowing future posts.  What other design blogger utilizes literary devices in picture form?  None.  NONE I TELL YOU!!!!!  I'm gonna be all writey this year and be waay smartier than last year (starting next week) and use big cuss words and, like, try and shit. 

I think there are going to be a lot of layers this year.  I'm really complex.  Try to keep up.  

And I'll definitely be using lots of looks just like that.  The "I'll-fuck-you-up-and-spread-you-on-my-toast" kind of looks.  They would be a lot more effective if my hair looked like that but you'll just have to read the intent in my dagger eyes.

Whatever this is I definitely want it in my year.  Turban, jean jacket, war paint and a horribly impractical dress probably because the walking dead have taken over after the zombie apocalypse and we're resorting to primitive tribal fantasies and Ralph Lauren commercials from the 80's to stay alive.

Vogue Spain via FGR

I'm totally going to be the queen madame of this tribe.  


As soon as I get out of my "yoga" pants.

This makes me exceedingly happy.

It's Christmas at the ModSauce Ranch!!  I figured I'd better put up or shut up about with regards to decorating my tree.  The topper is a bag of donkey dicks but I swear I will make it and the whole thing better next year.  This was my first year with this color scheme so cut me some slack GAWDDAMMIT!!!!

But next year, oh next year, we are going to KILL it!!  Just you wait...

Yeah I got it at Ace...

And then because I'd been such a good girl this year Santa sent me snow on Christmas morning!!  I wish he'd sent me a new fence too but beggars can't be choosers.  FYI - that stump in the bottom right corner was a giant cypress that fell from the big snow we had last year.  I think it was about two inches worth of white stuff but it proved to be too much for that FIFTEEN FOOT tree.  *eyeroll*  Pussy.  

SNOW FELL FROM THE SKY AND TOUCHED MY HAND!!  


IN TENNESSEE!!!!!!

Merry Christmas Y'all!!!

click to enlarge for maximum rainbow effect

Yeah. Just me, Charlemagne and Jesus hanging out.  I think Jesus is high.  I'm a little tipsy.  It works because we're gonna stare intensely into the lit tree until the LED lights blind us.


The ModSauce gang wishes you a holiday full of fabulosity, cheer and awkward family hugs!