ALL CRAPPY GIFTS
Browse our complete collection of hilariously terrible gifts. From useless gadgets to weird pet accessories — we've got it all!
FunWares Porta Potty Shot Glasses (Set of 2)
Two miniature portable toilets, scaled down from the construction site to the coffee table, each one a fully functional 2oz shot glass. There is no plumbing, no blue chemical sloshing inside, and critically no smell — just a tiny plastic outhouse you drink out of, repeatedly, on purpose. Perfect for the bachelor party guest of honor, the retiring plumber, or anyone whose personality can be summed up as 'laughs at bathroom stuff, unapologetically.' Durable enough to survive a night of questionable decisions, though the manufacturer recommends hand-washing, because apparently porta-potties are delicate.
Original Poop Knife - Bathroom Humor Gag Gift
Finally, a tool purpose-built for a job nobody asked you to do. The Original Poop Knife is a sturdy, silicone-coated blade engineered to 'assist' with oversized bathroom deposits — because somebody looked at a butter knife and thought, 'this, but worse, and dishwasher safe.' It comes in its own gift-ready case, which somehow makes it more unsettling, not less. Deploy it at a white elephant exchange, slip it into someone's stocking, or leave it on a houseguest's bathroom counter and never, ever bring it up again.
Potty Fisher Toilet Fishing Game
Sitting on the toilet is nothing but wasted fishing time, and the Potty Fisher finally fixes that. Clip the tiny tank to the bowl, drop in four plastic fish that are contractually forbidden from ever biting, cast with the included mini rod, and hang the 'Do Not Disturb' sign so nobody interrupts your indoor angling session. No bait, no skill, no actual fish — just you, the bowl, and the quiet dignity of pretending this is a sport.
Witty Yeti Funny Shart Survival Kit
A pocket-sized tin for the moment your body betrays a promise your mouth made. Inside: wet wipes, a pair of disposable underwear, tissues, and a badge — an actual cloth badge — commemorating your survival, because apparently this deserves commemoration now. It is marketed as an "emergency kit," implying a level of institutional preparedness for a problem that, statistically, should remain a private matter between you and your intestines. Hand it to a coworker at the white elephant exchange and watch three decades of professional rapport evaporate in real time. The tin is reusable, which is either a thoughtful design choice or a dark joke about how often you'll need it again.