I don’t know about you but anytime I’ve tried to use a sponge made out of this kind of super-aerated foam I may as well be dragging a Kleenex over what I’m trying to clean. In other words, this never would have made it home with me had  the three sponges that comprise it arranged into anything other than a piece of cake. Although it’s a little generous to call sponge #3, the strawberry, a sponge:

Barely over in inch high, it would be more appropriate to call it an all-too-tiny piece of foam that your cat or child could choke on.

I will say that the frosting sides of the two pieces of cake are more practical than the cake portion itself. Although the form underneath doesn’t give it much support, at least there’s a shot of scraping something off a surface if one positions their cake right.

As tempting as the sponge is to eat, it comes with ample warning:

I just noticed when reading the label that this is actually called the “Shortcake sponge”. I don’t know about you, but any shortcake I’ve eaten has a more biscuit-like texture. This is a stone cold plain ol’ slice of vanilla cake with strawberry frosting.

The slices are made by one of my favorite companies for these kind of products that at once make sense and don’t make sense. Made in China but produced for Japan by Daiso.


Some of my other favorite essential Daiso products include the sauna jacket

…the apple comb

the Mayonnaise Case

… the portable banana keeper

… and the Love coasters.

The designers at Daiso must’ve been so excited about the impracticability of the tiny pop-out letters of the Love  coaster that they decided to go for it again with that stupid strawberry.

But God love them for the kitsch they create like the good-enough-to-eat-but-not-good-enough-to-clean-your-dishes cake sponge.



I was so excited to use my new Japanese-by way-of-China Banana Slicer I ran to rip the package open as soon as I got it home.

But not before I enjoyed the rash of bad translations I always look forward to seeing on these kind of products that flood dollar stores here in the States. The cautionary bullet points on the back of the package are usually very helpful.

I promise not to use the Banana Slicer for anything other than slicing bananas. It doesn’t seem to be especially practical for use as a comb. I will not put the item on the side of a fire but how about in a fire? I also won’t bring it close but close to what? And what is a government divis? And the last time I had a brain in my head I interpreted “please keep this package” as the same thing as “without throwing it away”. I promise will have no trouble keeping the package without throwing it away.

I’ve never heard of a salad crêpe before. Seems like it might get a little soggy.

Is a crêpe the same as a crape?

I love how “Banana Slicer” is translated into so many different languages in case the banana shape of the slicer and the sliced bananas below the translations don’t make its purpose clear enough.

Now on to the actual artistry created with the Banana Slicer. First, position the comb I mean Banana Slicer over the banana.

Apply pressure and slowly push the slicer through the fruit.

Keep pushing.

Once penetration has been achieved, flip your Banana Slicer over to reveal the slices.

One would hope that the slices would just roll free but go wash your hands now as you must prod the fruit free from the teeth.

Look at the lovely banana slices!

Now, wash the Banana Slicer and keep it with your Portable Banana Keeper.

Thank you, aKitschionado windupkitty, for your generous contribution of one Banana Slicer to the personal collection of The Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch.

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This is one of the craziest and most spectacular products I’ve ever seen. It’s a Mayonnaise Case, made in Japan. You flip the little monkey head up by lifting the banana latch which is actually a little spoon to scoop and spread your mayonnaise with once opened. I’ve never heard of anyone carrying around mayonnaise, not to mention that a thimble would hold more than this case does, so I’m not sure what good spreading a dime sized dollop of mayo is going to do anyone anyway.  And I sure wouldn’t want it living in the bottom of my purse for a week, where it’s certain to fall because of its diminutive size.

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Some people get freaked out by mayonnaise. I love it. It’s the glue that holds so many sandwiches together.

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I know know that many of us here in America eat like pigs but honestly, the amount of mayonnaise contained within covers maybe too dainty bites. Thankfully, the package holds two mayonnaise cases.

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Lucky for us who are less familiar with mayonnaise cases, the manufacturer, Daiso industry, includes handy instructions though I personally could use some instructions for the instructions.

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I get not putting it near a fire or not using it in the oven but I wouldn’t even know how to use it “with” the freezer.  I perhaps might be tempted to use it “in” the freezer, though frozen mayonnaise has never appealed to me. And common sense tells me I would “never give it to the baby” though I would think that the danger would be the baby trying to eat it by mistake as opposed to “drinking by mistake”.

In a few days, I fly to Madison, Wisconsin to conduct the marching band at my alma mater, the University of Wisconsin, when they play several of my songs at the Homecoming football game. I always take some food along when I travel and that usually includes a sandwich or two. I must admit that sometimes I sink my choppers into a tuna fish sandwich and think, “Gee, I wish I had more mayonnaise”.  So I think these two little monkeys might just accompany me to see the UW Badgers. Of course, the big food in Madison is is bratwurst, sometimes referred to as “Wisconsin Soul Food”. I don’t suppose that spreading a little white stuff on them will diminish any of the funkiness.

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