King Tut's Egyptian Throne: or, how to waste money and piss off friends

Oh Skymall catalog, we have been through so much together. It seems like every day you feature a new product that leaves me rolling on the floor laughing, trying to breathe. I know, I haven't always been kind, but never the less you always deliver: case in point, the King Tut's Egyptian Throne, for a paltry $895.
I love the idea of spending $900 on a (reproduced) piece of ancient history. There is just so much we can learn from this!
First off, obviously King Tut had no eye for modesty. In fact, had he lived in the present day, King Tut and Liberace would have had a head to head fight over who can have the more flamboyant decor.
Second, nobody can say for sure how King Tut died (the most recent theory is a leg injury, complicated by malaria and bone disease, source), but for my money it was lower back problems. There is a wafer-thin hint at a seat cushion on this "throne" and no lumbar support in sight. Maybe I'm crazy, but if I was king of the known world I sure as hell wouldn't be seated in something this rigid. A nice, plush recliner from Lazy-Boy or Pottery Barn sure, but a solid gold throne just isn't worth all that back pain.
And third, King Tut must have been a skinny guy. Just look at how narrow that seat is, there just isn't enough room to accommodate the girth of a properly plump ruler.
But hey, if you still want to buy this for you home, knock yourself out. But don't think your house guests won't notice how you serve Franzia at parties while sitting in a $900 conversation piece.

Facebook Places: or, Facebook stalking and you, a step by step guide to creepin'

Mid-August, Facebook rolled out a new feature for it's mobile platform known as "Facebook Places." In theory this feature will allow mobile users to alert all 521 of their closest friends and family to the fact that they just "checked in" to their school, the mall, or the opium den behind Crazy Eddie's Tattoos.
But what about those people who you added on a whim, who have never really met you, that guy who expressed a little more interest than usual in your music preferences? Well, "Places" is great news for your growing collection of pseudo-friends. They can have up to the minute updates on all your goings on. Don't be surprised if you are enjoying a sandwich and all of a sudden a man rushes up to you and says "Oh my God, Jeff, I thought I would find you here! You haven't sent me a Facebook email in months, man. How's that collection of Jimmy Eat World albums treating you?"
Oh, but everything is okay, because "Places" only updates to people that are included under your security setting. Unless, of course, you are one of the millions of people who still has security set to "everybody." In which case, you can expect a lot more "unexpected" run-ins with people you forgot you knew.
So then, happy stalking.

The Ped Egg Review: Or, Grate Your Heels and Cheese All In One

Are you tired of dry, callused feet? Are you sometimes embarrassed because your heels look like hooves? Then here is the product for you; the one, the only, the miraculous Ped Egg!
The "micro-files" on the Ped-Egg promise to gingerly shluf the dead skin from your feet, making you feel less like a dragon one layer of skin at a time. The creators of this product have even devised a nifty little trap for all the dead skin you saw from your feet, eliminating the mess. Now, instead of doing your feet over the trashcan like a Neanderthal you are free to groom anywhere; your couch, mid-morning traffic, the back of a crowded movie theater, an airplane, literally anywhere you would like to make people feel uncomfortable. As an added bonus, you can save your people-jerky-shavings to disgust/amaze friends and relatives.
True, there are many other pedi-files on the market that probably do a better job, cost less, and don't carry the risk of carving skin off your feet like a butcher on Thanksgiving but there is a hidden bonus to the Ped Egg... it is the only foot-file that doubles as a handy cheese grater for Italian night. The dead skin trap measures out the perfect amount of Parmesan cheese without letting half of it scatter over the table like traditional graters.