Sometimes you just have to deface something.
What I’m talking about here is the legal destruction of something on your own terms, for your own artistic benefit (or outlet)—not, say, spray painting an overpass, as a redneck might do, to declare your love or defend your sister’s honor.
For example, we recently purchased a box of facial tissues that was way too “pretty.” I like pretty things—new books, lilies, a clean house—but this was just nauseating. It was a white box with very delicate-looking roses and whatnot on the side, resembling something in an eighty-year-old woman’s house. All that was missing was maybe a doily and a fat old cat.