Take That, Pinterest!

You may remember that I’m not on Pinterest. I have my reasons, and the rest of civilized society has theirs for not wanting me there. I’m about to give you another one.

Recently, I flew the friendly skies. “Friendly” is a bit of a stretch; more like a-little-TOO-friendly-and-with-very-poor-personal-boundaries skies. Other than a quick pat-down and an agent freak-out over the rice sock I brought to soothe my sore knee, my travels were uneventful. I even managed to fit a souvenir for the kids into my carry-on.

Imagine their delight when they were each presented with their very own airsickness bag. The Padawan was so overcome with emotion that he had to leave the room. Or maybe he went to play the Wii. He was gone for a long time. I’m pretty sure it was emotion, though.

Motion discomfort bags (or as Squish calls them, “barf bags”) are the perfect gift for any child, prompting hours of dramatic play. Squish walked around all afternoon pretending to throw up in his. Think of how well-prepared he will be for a life of travel, and as an added bonus, when he moves to the top bunk, I can just hand him a bag and he’ll already have his aim down pat. Or he could learn to pack his own lunch. Barf bags are waxed on the inside to prevent spillage. So many possibilities in one small bag.

Our favorite use, though, is for craft time. There’s something for everyone. Look what one small motion-discomfort bag can do for you and your family.  Click to embiggenate.

Look at the joy on that young face! There is nothing like quality time with family.

Building concentration and focus.

Pride in workmanship.

Even teens enjoy these activities.

How do you put a price on creativity?

Airline ticket: $400

Barf bag: free

Quality time with family: $400 + $100 food costs + $20 gas to airport + $36 long-term parking

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Decorating With Heather

In the market for a new centerpiece for Spring? So were we. And here you are.

You know you want one. Admit it.

What is it? I’m so glad you asked.

Yeah. They’re bullfrogs. Because it’s me.

New pillows? New centerpiece?Just call me Martha Stewart.

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Conservation note: These are captive bred and will not be re-released. It’s illegal here to take animals out of the wild, and there’s a fatal fungus that can be transmitted to wild populations if they are released into a local pond.

Priorities: Or Why You Don’t Want Me On Pinterest

I haven’t owned a hair dryer in over a year. Okay, more like three. I’m a wash and wear kind of gal. Nothing fancy here. I know that comes as a shock to everyone. I just can’t see putting a lot of effort into *this* ‘do when there’s so little hope of a good outcome.

Every winter, I begin to question whether or not I should make the purchase. On days when my hair freezes to icicles walking my son to school, it seems like a good idea. But then it thaws out again, and I forget. Or I decide that rather than buiying an item I’ll use three months out of a year, I’ll just quit washing my hair altogether. My bathroom cabinet space is a valuable commodity, after all.  So drip dry it is. Or was.

That’s right. I now own a hair dryer. I bought it about three weeks ago. Have I used it? Yes. For the purpose for which it was intended? Um, no.

I went out shopping all wired up and fired up to find a dryer. Because it had a purpose! I needed one. The selection was daunting. It has been so long since I’ve bought one that I wasn’t sure which extra features were the most important. Or why. Good grief. A dryer is designed to blow air. Hot, cold, fast, slow. What else do you need? If I’m going to pay $50 for a hair dryer, it had better dry my hair, fold my laundry, and file my taxes. I bought the $10 model. And it works just fine.

Oh, wait. Maybe I forgot to mention why I needed it. For snake sheds, of course.

Reptile skin doesn’t grow, so the animal gets rid of the old skin as they get larger. Some snake folks I know find sheds that would normally be discarded and give them to me. I laminate them and use them when I give talks about my snakes.

Recently I acquired the discarded shed of an enormous eastern diamondback rattlesnake. It was heavy with sand from the animal’s bedding and couldn’t be laminated in that state, but it was too fragile to simply shake the dirt loose. The solution? A hair dryer. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve spent the last three years drip-drying every morning, but my snake shed sent me straight to Target. I have my priorities in order. It was a spectacular shed, after all.

And this is why I am not on Pinterest. If I were, this is the kind of craft project you could expect from me:

 

How to create a beautiful memory creepy craft

Be sure to clean off those belly scutes! They’re heavily keeled, so you’ll have to pay close attention to get the dirt out.

 

Be sure to put newspaper underneath to protect your floor. What a great way to repurpose all that packing material from buying craft supplies on Ebay!

There’s loose dirt on the inside, too, because the snake took its clothes off inside out. For the best laminated shed, be sure to clean that, too.

 

Next, simply run it through your heavy-duty laminator, preferably using a carrier sleeve. Don’t have a laminating machine of your own? Loser No worries! Run down to Staples or Office Depot and use theirs. I’ll wait.

Tip: print a small photo of the snake and laminate it with the shed, along with the snake’s scientific name.

The final result:

Note the eye caps on the right. It’s difficult to find a shed with the head intact. We’ll add this one to our gold medal shed collection.

Well done! Now you’re ready to add it to your collection.

Your collection is growing! Way to go!

 

Stay tuned for the next installment of Creepy Crafts With Heather when we learn how to shellac an elephant turd!

I Hereby Declare Myself Queen of the Dictionary

So you can stop using these words and phrases. Like, now.

1) Epic. Talk about a dead horse beaten. It’s original meaning has been all but lost, and no good has come of it. I tried to get a neighbor kid to read Gilgamesh by telling him it was “epic.” No dice.

Suggested substitute: Epoch. Try the Pliocene. When you’re talking some smack, it never hurts to let ’em know you’re about to go all saber-tooth cat upside their mastadon.

2) Preggo. I hate this word. It sounds like an expensive brand of spaghetti sauce. And by expensive, I mean more than the store brand.

Pregnancy is a beautiful thing and should be referred to by the correct terminology: knocked up.

3) Baby bump. This may be the most innocuous phrase that ever tripped my rage button. It’s too cute, like talking kittens. Talking kittens might trip my rage button, too. Snooty little talking turds.

Suggested substitute: I have none. Just don’t refer to someone’s bloated midsection at all. They’ll thank you for it. I know I will. We don’t congratulate guys on their beer gut, after all.

4) I threw up in my mouth a little. I see this phrase everywhere. And every time come across it, I throw up in my mouth a little.

Suggested substitute: Um, how about just plain old “gross?” A little old fashioned, but perfectly serviceable, and this word doesn’t incline the reader/listener to reach for a barf bag of their own.

5) Chillax. This word puts me in mind of a refrigerated laxative suppository, which is, in my humble opinion, is not remotely relaxing.

Suggested substitute: Poop. Because everyone feels better after they poop, right? “Hey, man! You’re so uptight! You just need to chillax poop!” See? It speaks trippingly.

6) NE word constructed with a mishmash of letrz n numbrz cuz sum1 is 2 lazy 2 type them out. I hate me some text speak. Especially since I don’t own a cell, and you therefore cannot possibly be texting me.

On a related note, I additionally despise reading stuff dat is spelled all wrong like dis cuz it don’t make U sound cool. It make U sound sick, and not in da cool way. I mean, it sounds in my head as though you have a bad cold.

Suggested substitute: Learn to spell and speak properly.

7) Repurpose/upcycle. Repurpose (I know, spell-check, I don’t recognize it as a word, either) sounds all MacGuyver-like and all. Like you’ve made a bomb out of pocket change, duct tape, and a tampon. I find myself disappointed when I learn that you really mean that you’re using said tampon to clean the coffee out of the console of your car. I don’t like words that disappoint me.

I have yet to figure out what upcycle really means. The word implies that something has somehow risen above its station and is better than it used to be. Like the Beverly Hillbillies. I never understood the Hillbillies, either. Upcycle also puts me in mind of a bicycle that only goes uphill, right up into the sky. It makes my legs all hurty.  And since I don’t actually know how to land an upcycle, how would I ever come back down again? I am a little scared.

Suggestion: Stay off Pinterest. You won’t need these words at all.

What words and phrases send you into an apoplectic rage? Just me, then?

I Will Rule The World!

You may already know how I feel about Pinterest. And I can help you understand Facebook. I don’t have a cell phone, so I guess I can’t use Instagram. Which of course means that I now really WANT to. But I’ve discovered a new thing that I want make a part of my life. Klout.

Ever since I started on Twitter, I’ve seen mysterious tweets “So-and-so earned +K for pants-zipping (I’m pretty sure, but it might have been for blogging or dog-walking)! ” And I think “Yay for pants-zipping! And potassium!” Imagine my surprise when I discovered that +K has nothing to do with eating bananas, though there might be a category in there somewhere for best banana bread maker. It all has to do with influence. On the internet. Count. Me. In.

I discovered today that not only can a numerical score tell everyone around me (who follows likes klouts on me, or whatever it is you do) how very important I am, I can also get free stuff! Who wouldn’t want that? I can get stuff like this:

Person of Interest SCREEN WIPES! Person of interest here! SO interested! Is that a TV show?

And oh, my gosh!

Who wouldn't need these? Yes, it might slow down the consumption of my food, but they are FREE! And free is awesome!

I looked around, and there are some folks with a lot of Klout.

I want to be as important as these people! And with Klout, I can at least look like I am!

But it does make me a little sad that Lil Twist barely has enough Klout for those plate-toppers. Poor guy! Or girl. I have never heard of him/her, but there they are on Klout! And I am happy to live in a world where Cher packs as much klout as Bill Gates!

Influence is important, and it must be used with great care. How should I influence the masses? Pants-zipping is already taken. What is left for me?

Pin Me!

Maybe I’m trying to keep up with the Jones’. Maybe I’m tired of being left in the dark ages. Perhaps I’m looking for new vehicles to share my work. Or possibly a combination of the three. Either way, a site has recently appeared on my radar. I am naturally curious, but also a bit hesitant.But then a friend mentioned that the site is addictive. New internet addiction? That sounds like it’s exactly what I need in my life! Sign me up for Pinterest!

But it’s not that easy. You don’t just sign up. You have to request an invite. I requested one, sure that it was a formality. I entirely expected my invitation to appear in my inbox instantaneously. I hit “request an invitation” with more than a trace of smugness and waited for my email counter to go up. It was, indeed, instantaneous, but I was in for a surprise. It doesn’t contain a password or any sort of information to log in. It said “Thanks for joining the waiting list.” I’m not “in.”

And I wait. The email says that I can follow them on Twitter. Right. I spent my whole youth on the periphery, watching the cool kids but unable to join in. I don’t need that now. I will ignore them until they want me. And I know that they will! Times have changed. I’m no longer that awkward fourteen year old. I’m cool, right? Maybe I’ll just peek. For a minute.

I wonder if they’ll just send me information to log in, or if I will have to prove my worthiness. Will they run my undergarments up a flag pole? With me in them? Or make me push pennies down the hall with my nose? Or give me a swirlie in a filthy toilet?  Doesn’t matter. I’ll do it. I need in.

I must pin. I want to create a virtual bulletin board more than I ever thought I would. It’s more than that. I need in. Everyone else is in there pinning and creating. And laughing at me because I am not there with them.

Why haven’t I heard? What if I am not Pinterest material? I’m expecting to find a note pinned to my board that says “Sorry. You are so last-Tuesday. Go to Friendster. They are more your speed.” You might as well just stuff me in a locker and leave me there.

Wait. My email counter just went up. And there it is, a message that says “You’ve been invited to join Pinterest.” Really, guys? I just requested my invite exactly ten minutes ago, and you’re already letting me in? How desperate can you get? Ten minutes, and you’re already begging me to join?  Never mind. I’m going back to Subjot. That’s where the cool kids are.