Tuesday Teaser [on wednesday, in keeping with the running theme]

This is far from done. I have big, big plans.

F'n son of a gun. . .

So, for those of you who don't know, I am a huuuuuuge Wizard of Oz fan. It was my favorite when I was little and I often like to tell people about how at age four I could say with 100% certainty that I was, in fact, Dorothy and I was going to marry Axl Rose. It's really a pretty sweet life plan for a four-year-old to come up with, if you ask me. And how thoughtful of me to match the color of my shoes to my husband's hair.

Anyway, last night, at a loss for what to do, a few friends and myself decided to sync up The Wizard of Oz with Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. i had tried this once in high school but we used my dad's vinyl copy of the album and thus had to try to pause the movie and flip the record. As I'm sure you imagined, it didn't turn out too well.

Well, this time around it went great and everyone was having a wonderful time. But then, as the scene just before the Flying Monkeys appear started, I noticed something unusual that I had never seen before. . .



HOLY COW! WHERE'D THAT GUN COME FROM?!?!

Does anyone else remember this part? I mean, I have seen this movie hundreds of times and I've never noticed that gun before. I didn't know they had guns in Oz. Quite honestly, it really changes my opinion of the place.

But what's even more curious is where does it go? He only has the gun in this one scene. In fact, mere moments later when the Flying Monkeys actually appear, the Scarecrow is once more unarmed. So, what was the point of the gun in the first place?

In any event, I think I feel an embroidery coming on. Someone has to celebrate the OG Scarecrow.

I was semi-productive today. . .

And just in case any of you had started to believe that I have any degree of needleworking or blogging ability, a picture proving otherwise:



That's right. It's all been a sham. Clearly, Bella has been doing all the work. I have merely been taking all the credit because, well, I'm an evil genius.



And evil is true because I am working her to sheer exhaustion. She's falling asleep on the job!

-------

On a completely unrelated note, I was watching Nightline tonight because its on during that awkward, mostly Family Guy chunk of Adult Swim I choose to avoid when there are no decent talk shows on yet since NBC stole my Coco and replaced him with Gay Leno [Bazinga!]

Well, I turn the show on a few minutes in only to find Martin Bashir, the super professional, super proper host of the program, throwing about the term "Juggalo." My immediate reaction was of course to laugh hysterically. Even Martin Bashir's perfect Queen's English could not make the term Juggalo sound even the slightest bit acceptable in adult conversation.

And then they began interviewing two of the actual members of the Insane Clown Posse. And then it got real.

Bashir: . . .people could call your lyrics juvenile and indecipherable. What do you say to that?


Random ICP Jackass: Well if they're like you, yeah they might because you sound smarter than a muthafucker right now.

Wow. Just wow.

But the story went on. Turns out it wasn't so much about ICP but about the many brutal murders and rapes being committed across the country by self-proclaimed Juggalos.

And all I could think was, how could people commit any kind of crime in the name of a "musician" who is thoroughly impressed by someone using words like, "juvenile" and "indecipherable?" Dude, did you even finish High School?

Oh wait that's right, you dress like a clown for a living. And not just any clown, but a clown who mistakenly believes he can rap.

Far Behind. . .

Well hurray for not making deadlines!

I know, I know. I promised wonderful little embroidered goodies for sale on Etsy by 2/20/10. It is now 3/9/10. I am fully aware of this.

I am close though. In fact I'm off all week for Spring Break and I plan on working on nothing but Etsy stuff. And, you know, homework. I guess that's important too.

But, on the bright side, I have a new computer!!! I'm working on getting Photoshop so I can edit and put together some embroidery patterns I've been working on. It's gonna be pretty awesome.


Now on to the craft porn!

Those of you who found me through the ever-fabulous Craftster have probably already seen this.



And this:



Well, they will both be for sale soon! In addition to a "Rugrats" version I'm finishing up and an "Alvin and the Chipmunks" version I have in mind.

And, for a real teaser, here is a sample of some of the patterns I'm working on.



Remember, that's just a teaser and very, very far from what I plan on the finished product looking like, but it gives you an idea.

And now I'm off to stitch and watch "The View." Apparently today they are going to detail the history of the Menstrual Cycle [no joke] and explain why cramps "are actually a good thing!" <---[a very excited, very male announcer made this bold claim.]

I am not convinced, male voice of "The View." I don't think anyone with a vagina is.

coming soon. . .

. . .to an etsy near you.

"If it's the ultimate game, how come they're playing it again next year?"

It's that time of year kids: Superbowl. A time of junk food overdoses where television ads are treated like cinematic masterpieces. I've already read several opinions on how this year's game will all go down, but quite frankly, I really don't care. I'm a Bears fan.

Therefore, I don't give one hot damn how this game plays out so long as, when it's all said and done, the Colts lose. Yep, I'm voting Saints all the way. Before you even so much as think about it, let me explain.

I dislike Peyton Manning. It's not because he's won and I think someone else deserves a shot. It's not because he's a lilty-voiced uber-dork. It's not because he's sold his sole to Oreos [I actually enjoy those commercials quite a lot, though Eli is clearly funnier simply because he seems so surprised by the fact that he is, in fact, speaking.]

It is because he looks like a fucking alien.

EX:


Just check this shit out! His head, for one, is enormous. Not to mention how bulbous it looks. Next, we see that there is no clear distinction, in terms of size or shape, between his head and neck. Is his neck enormous or are his jowls swollen? Is he part of a race of giant chipmunk people?

But wait, there's more. In fact, I'm just getting to the best part.

HE HAS NO SHOULDERS!!! His neck just slowly tapers off and becomes his arms without any indication of a joint connecting them.

See, this is how he has gone undetected for so long. The people on his planet, or as they shall henceforth be known in this blog, The People of the Deficient Shoulders [POTDS] sent him here to infiltrate our kind but he knew people would spot his definitionless upper extremities almost instantly. So he did the only thing he could: become an NFL quarterback. Guaranteed lifetime supply of shoulder pads. It's genius really.

But he didn't fool everyone. The truth was out there all along, I'm just the only one willing to see it.

So this year, as you watch the Superbowl, remember what it feels like not to be part of a race enslaved by shoulder-less aliens because if the Colts win, no one can be certain that isn't what we're headed for.



We'll have to do all their heavy lifting. Just sayin'. . .

Got some canvas stretchers for mounting John Wayne. Now I just need to finish him up.

This wood grain is killing me!!!