Archive for April, 2010

Last night we were at my mother’s house and my daughter brought her this VHS tape to play.  I think (hope) my daughter thought it was a movie and did not realize it was actually the instructions to my parents’ new washer and dryer.

My mother told Shelby she could bring it home to watch.  I said I didn’t want it, I don’t even have a VCR.

That’s when my mom made her fatal mistake.  She said, “Take it and glitter it or something.”  So I did.  Boy, did I ever.

Yes, that is my mom dressed as a mermaid – complete with a puka shell bikini top.  The black things on the front are a school of fish that I fashioned out of the video tape.  The box it all sits on is the VHS cassette tape (or whatever that’s  called).

I think I’m going to call it “Mixed Media Collage” and try to sell it on Etsy for $153.99.  Free shipping, of course.

I wonder if this is a bad omen – WordPress will only let me upload one photo of this beautiful creation.  Hmmmm…




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That’s a catchy title, isn’t it?

Recently, I was looking at one of the metal lids off the top of a can of frozen juice concentrate.  Maybe because the can said “concentrate”.  Who knows?  Har!

So I was looking at this lid and the thought occurred to me that what that lid really truly needed was some mod podge and glitter.  Oh yes.  Here is what I came up with.

I took some of my kid’s artwork, shrunk it down on my copy machine, cut it in a circle, mod podged it to the lid and went around it with my trusty Stickles glitter.  Then I glued a strong magnet onto the back.  This is great for saving your kids’ artwork.  And having it displayed sure beats shoving it in a box someplace where you can’t enjoy it!

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It’s pretty much common knowledge that crazy people have a magnetic attraction to me.  Every.  Single.  Time.  I go somewhere, at least one weirdo approaches me and says or does something … well, weird.

It’s like I have a shirt on that says, “I Love Crazies!” but you can only see the writing if you are, indeed, slightly off your rocker.

My daughter recently had a diaper rash that wouldn’t clear up.  The pediatrician suggested rubbing Monistat on it.  Because I love my daughter so much, I went to Target to buy her some.  Do you think I went to the check out line with a discreet cashier who would simply ring it up and put it in my bag?

If you said yes, then you obviously skipped the first two paragraphs of this post.  Here’s how it went.

Cashier:  I always wait until the end to put stuff in the bags because my spine is messed up.  I got rear-ended the other day.  Well my spine was messed up before that but whiplash isn’t helping.

Me:  I’m sorry to hear that, I hope you get to feeling better soon.

Cashier:  [holding up the Monistat for all 4 people behind me in line to see] I don’t envy you this!  I used to get these all the time!  Like, even if I changed my soap I would get one.  But then I got an emergency hysterectomy and now I don’t get them anymore.

I just turned bright red, paid the lady, and ran out.  But once I was safely hidden away in my car, I suddenly discovered that I had a burning desire (excuse the pun) to know one thing.  What the heck does she do with her soap?!

A couple months ago I went to Texas.  I was just outside Houston (in Humble, maybe?) and stopped at a convenience store to get a drink.  Okay, and maybe a donut.  But just a small one.  Who should be in the donut department but some guy who was giving me a contact high from the pot fumes.  Finally, I made my way to the counter and who should be in front of me?

No, not the Target cashier.  But that would be funny!  It was some woman I don’t know.  She was telling the cashier at the convenience store that the floor mat in front of the door was a tripping hazard and if she fell that she was going to sue the store.

I would not have thought anything about that exchange (well I would have rolled my eyes at the drama queen) except I went outside, turned my GPS back on, and saw this:

Lawsuit Lane.  And, no, I am not making this up.  I am not nearly smart enough to Photoshop something like that, nor is my imagination good enough to dream it up on my own.

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