Orders placed on 3.14.10 ship on or before 4.4.10.
R-Rated Pottery
Before you enter this section of my site and wonder if I've I lost my mind, let me tell you about the origins of Swearware Pottery.
While I admit to having painted, photographed and posted this line to my site, this entire collection should be blamed on my brother, Russell. That's him on the right looking all laid back and earthy-crunchy. Don't be fooled. "What you need," he says "is pottery for guys. You know, with swears on it and shit." Ya right, I say, rolling my eyes. There's a huge market for that.
Fast forward a few months to Christmas 06. Once again, I have to figure out what to get for a 6'4" guy whose yard looks like a used car lot and who doesn't even own a kitchen table. Ooh. I know. Pottery with swears on it and shit.
So I make him six mugs, each featuring a favorite and well used profane expression. I'm laughing the whole time I'm making them because I actually feel naughty as I stamp out each letter ... F ... U ...
When they're finished, I show them to a guy friend who throws back his head, lets out a huge belly laugh and promptly buys Russell's FU mug. Hmmm, I say to myself. Maybe what I need is a line of pottery for guys. You know, with swears on it and shit?
Russell is single and living alone in a small town near Laconia, NH. While we've given up hope that he'll ever carry on the family name, we have been actively trying to marry him off for decades. He's smart, funny, plays a wicked guitar and sings like a fricken bird.
Read about my handsome and chronically single brother on my blog - (when I like him. And when I don't) where I've been shamelessly promoting his virutes for more amost three years. And seriously, with the glut of single women in the world, you'd think we'd have a sister-in-law by now.
While I admit to having painted, photographed and posted this line to my site, this entire collection should be blamed on my brother, Russell. That's him on the right looking all laid back and earthy-crunchy. Don't be fooled. "What you need," he says "is pottery for guys. You know, with swears on it and shit." Ya right, I say, rolling my eyes. There's a huge market for that.
Fast forward a few months to Christmas 06. Once again, I have to figure out what to get for a 6'4" guy whose yard looks like a used car lot and who doesn't even own a kitchen table. Ooh. I know. Pottery with swears on it and shit.
So I make him six mugs, each featuring a favorite and well used profane expression. I'm laughing the whole time I'm making them because I actually feel naughty as I stamp out each letter ... F ... U ...
When they're finished, I show them to a guy friend who throws back his head, lets out a huge belly laugh and promptly buys Russell's FU mug. Hmmm, I say to myself. Maybe what I need is a line of pottery for guys. You know, with swears on it and shit?
Russell is single and living alone in a small town near Laconia, NH. While we've given up hope that he'll ever carry on the family name, we have been actively trying to marry him off for decades. He's smart, funny, plays a wicked guitar and sings like a fricken bird.
Read about my handsome and chronically single brother on my blog - (when I like him. And when I don't) where I've been shamelessly promoting his virutes for more amost three years. And seriously, with the glut of single women in the world, you'd think we'd have a sister-in-law by now.
