the queen of arts and crafts
03.28.03 @ 10:57 p.m.
Today has been a grand success in terms of craftsy crap produced.
So, on the t-shirt front, not only did I find baseball shirts (thank heavens my mother suggested going to G.I. Joe's), but they were on sale. Life is good. I bought one with black sleeves to make into my Quadrophenia shirt (which rocks the casbah) plus a navy and a red one that I haven't earmarked for any particular projects. Perhaps a Maximum R & B shirt. Dad thinks I should put something on the back, and I'm thinking of putting an image of one of my Who buttons on the back, just below the neck. That would be cool. Huh. I just had an idea for a shirt with pinback buttons printed on it. That'd be cool, but I'll probably do something else with my other shirt. Seven dollars! I'm so happy. I guess I lucked out, longing for a craft project right at the start of baseball season.
The other thing I'm working on is painting this little hand mirror I have. I got it in Japan in 1998 when my host father won it playing bingo at our farewell party and gave it to me. It's plain and ugly, black plastic with white dots painted on the back, so I painted it blue and gold not long after I got home. It stayed blue and gold and coated in a thick layer of gloss varnish until last month when I spilled a can of Pepsi on my desk and the old paint job peeled up. Now I'm working on repainting it in some very subdued, Martha-Stewart type colors.
I have now seen Igby Goes Down three times. Wow, huh? My parents wanted something to watch and that was my suggesting. My father was very intent on trying to disect the message after the movie was over, but of course, he's been drinking a little and I wasn't really interested in talking about the message. I don't like picking apart movies (and yet I loved picking apart Shakespeare with Sanders). Anyway, it's isn't quite as funny as it was the first time. My dog kept snoring like Susan Sarandon in the first scene through the whole movie, then when she woke up and rolled over onto her stomach (she had been sleeping on her back), which stopped the snoring but then she started being, er, flatulent. Revolting creature. Somehow I found it absolutely hilarious when I picked her up and was holding her on my stomach and she just decided it wasn't worth the effort to struggle or anything, so she just laid her head down on my face, as if it was too heavy to hold up any longer.
I suppose that's enough for now. There are cinnamon rolls downstairs probably being eaten by my dad (who is edging from 'cool' toward 'bastard' as the night progresses) and I want to slap another coat of paint on this mirror.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
