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Sunday, February 28, 2010

I'm number one! I'm number one!

That's the post speaking, by the way. Not me. You would think for all the blogs I spend soooo much time reading, that I would have something to say here. However, I seem to be at a bit of a loss. I don't want to be pretentious, or boring, or talk about things that only interest me. I'll start at the beginning... I was born a poor boy, in the South... No. Wait. That's not it. I was laid off (from a renovation job) a few months ago, and decided to look at it as a bit of an opportunity to do something I'd been wanting to do for a while: make things to sell, instead of just as a hobby. So I started sewing. I sewed, and I sewed. Like a crazy person, some days. I've been working on building stock, and soon I'll be looking into how exactly to get things sold. But I'll talk about that when it's actually happening. Admittedly, I have a sickness. And the only cure is more material. Admitting it is the first step and all, but I don't think I will ever fully recover. See, this is what happens: I left here today with a list. I needed a few things, thread, some extra bobbins, and I was looking for some brown material to make log pillows for the couch (faux suede for $3.75/m, dark brown and beige; I call that lucky, punk). But then I get in there, and I wander around, and I fell head-first into the remnant bin, and this is what I left with:

I promise there will be pictures of these things I'm making eventually (I'm shy yet; bear with me).

Unrelated: I love tins. I like to put things in them and pretend to be organized. I also love zombies (braaaaaaaaaaaains. Which according to the Egyptian man on some horrible ghost show that I was watching for inexplicable reasons, "The thing about brains is they taste like creamy meat."Really? Is that something we want??). Anyroad, when I saw this at the Freak Lunchbox, I couldn't very well pass it by. The problem was, I think there was actual research that went into the "brain flavored mints". I opened the tin and immediately regretted it. It smelled like bad meat. Evil meat. And, God help me, I can't explain this, other than thinking, 'No. No, it can't be... it just can't be that bad,' I put one in my mouth. I imagine that's what it would be like to drink the sludge in the bottom of the dumpster. This morning, about 7 months later, I finally threw the mints out. The smell has permeated the metal; I sprayed it with febreeze, so now it smells like bad meat and dead flowers. I'm hoping for the best, but I may have to settle for a darling little tin that remains closed.

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