It wouldn’t really bother me to go as leftovers actually. I’ve never been creative at all and frankly, arts and crafts of any kind make me cry. I don’t cry easily, but if someone asks me to draw, paint or imagine something I start to sweat and hyperventilate. Needless to say, I failed geometry and dropped out of the Interior Design program on day two after I was asked to build a retaining wall.
My Dad on the other hand is a creative genius. When I was younger my parents made all of my brothers’ Halloween costumes and mine. One year, my dad made a popcorn costume out of a cardboard box, paint and cotton balls on top for the popcorn. It was awesome! I was the hit of the 4th grade Halloween party, except for that I needed him to take off work to help me put it on because it had to be lowered over my head and then when I was in it I lost total use of my arms because the box cut off just below the armpits- making me about as useful as a turtle. That year my friend went as a bag of M&M’s and we ran all over her neighborhood trick or treating. While we were running door to door I tripped and fell, please refer back to previous turtle comment, as I was unable to get up by myself because my shorty t-Rex arms wouldn’t reach the ground in that box. My M&M’s had to run back to her house and get her dad to come pick me up and set me back on my feet. Maybe that’s where my fear of arts and crafts started.
Cut to 7th grade art class when we started pottery. I thought this was going to be my thing. How can you mess up art when it’s all in the eye of the beholder (or whatever shit they say about stupid art class). I started making an awesome pot out of snake coils- you know, roll out a piece of clay really long and skinny like a snake and then stack it on top of another just like it and make a pot that holds, well….f*cking nothing. The teacher came over and asked me what I was making. I was kind of taken aback because it was pretty f*cking obvious. “It’s a pot” I replied. Immediately she took her palm and smashed it all back down to nothing! Smashed my clay pot…along with my childhood dreams. I ended up making a Jabba The Hut looking monster instead and hating art forever.
Next up- last year: a very good friend of mine from work, Bertha* (the name she wishes she had) asked me to accompany her on our lunch break to a store called ‘Color me Mine.’ I had no idea what this store was, but she said it would be fun and she was going to make her best friends some Valentine’s Day gifts. So whatever, I went with her. It was better than eating a turkey sangwedge alone at my desk playing spider solitaire or bejeweled for an hour (and let's be honest, I played those games all day...my lunch break was basically a time-out from those games). We walked into this store and it was all plain ceramic items that you choose and then paint! I almost fainted right there. I picked out a blank picture frame to make for my Valentine- we had plans to go to Vegas so I was going to write “Happy Valentine’s Day- Vegas 2010” around the frame. I pictured it in my mind (you know, all the greats use visualization before they take on a task) and decided it was going to be red (for love) and have all the writing in black (because that’s the max amount of creative I have). I started the painting and wasn’t having such a hard time with it, and then I got to the black lettering. I started first with Happy Valen- and realized my message was too big and long to fit across the top of the frame. So I repainted it red and started over with ValEnTineDAy.
I realized my letters were so uneven (not to mention misspelled) it looked like a mentally handicapped monkey had colored them on there. So I REPAINTED it again red, and started over…at this point I started to get tears in my eyes and thought about just quietly pushing the frame off the side of the table so it would shatter on the floor. In the time it took me to collect myself, Bertha had made like 89 pots, frames, hearts and other nick-knacks that were all awesome. Said frame became a big joke between me and my Valentine where we would hide it in each other’s belongings to try to get the other to keep it without knowing it. He won when he put it in my pillowcase and I didn’t find it until I went to bed that night. Oh and just to update you- when we broke up I chucked that piece of trash down the garbage disposal and listened to it completely shatter at the bottom! I also threw away the frame. OH ZING!
So there you have it- I will NOT be making my Halloween costume, nor will I be getting a job in the arts.
Jabba Da Hut -->
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