What ever you do, don’t buy anything from Michael’s art’s and crafts store. They rip you off! I scanned so many item’s in their store using my iPhone scanning app, and found everything for half the price online. Literally, half the price! Today was Mother’s day however, and like always, I waited until the last minute to do my bidding. I had no time for frugal online shopping today, I needed art supplies ASAP.
I wanted to paint a picture for my mom before we left for dinner at 5:00.
I needed a few tubes of oil paint, paint thinner and a canvas. I walked out of Michael’s with my wallet weighing $100 lighter. $100!! Are you F’ing kidding me?
The woman tending the register eye’s all my dough and cheerfully says to me, “You came prepared!”
I gave a dry, almost sarcastic laugh while inwardly grumbling to myself and counting money out of my wallet. I wondered if Michael’s arts and crafts store was also responsible for the rise in fuel costs.
I’m a very cheap person when it comes to certain things. I’m cheap when I know I can get something for less somewhere else. I’m also cheap when I’m not certain my investment is a wise one. Today I had to deal with both of these thoughts. I knew that Blick’s online store was cheaper, and I also knew that I never stick to, or finish anything I start – is it worth the investment? Or more precisely, am I worth the investment?
So far my new hobby has cost me $300 in two weeks. And I feel that I still don’t have enough paints or brushes. I also need some sort of case to put all my new crap in.
I have such a headache. There’s paint everywhere – in my hair, my ears…..You should see my shower. I threw a mucky bucket of paint water into my shower not realizing I would need a bucket of paint thinner to wash it all off with. Oil paint is like sand. Once it’s in your life, it gets everywhere.
So anyway, I painted with Bob Ross today and failed miserably. I am NOT happy with my painting. Too much linseed oil perhaps? The canvas was too wet for me. The paint pooled together like mud, not letting me fix my mistakes. I cursed during the majority of my time painting.
Bob Ross was telling me to relax and have fun, “this world is yours to do what you like.”
I pursed my brows together swearing, “fuck shit FUCK!” Every time I made a mess of things.
I painted for a little over an hour before hitting the five o’clock deadline.
I went upstairs to show my parents what I’ve done. It was hard for me to show it at first. I had it turned around facing my chest.
Me – “Well, I tried. It’s a lot harder than it looks.”
Mom – “Let’s see it.”
I show her, and like a typical Mother, she loved it. Praised it. Then my Dad looks at it in astonishment and pride.
I turn it back around so I could look at it again. Maybe I missed something. Maybe it’s better than I thought? Nope, still garbage.
Me – “It doesn’t look like what it’s supposed to.”
Mom – “That’s okay.”
Dad – “Did you sign it? You have to sign it.”
Me – “I didn’t want to cause I don’t like it.”
Dad – “You have to sign it! It’s going to be worth money!”
My parents think I’m brilliant.
Mom – “You just whip stuff up like it’s no big deal. You go on like it’s nothing.”
I guess this is me making a big deal – by writing about it.
We picked up my brother, Fran, on our way to dinner. I showed him the picture I taken of my painting and he, like my parents, was equally astonished.
Fran – “Did you see the guy on Oddities that paints with his own blood?”
Me – “No, not yet. I want to, though.”
Fran – “It’s dark and morbid, but very good. You should paint dark and morbid shit. People like that stuff. People like to look at things and say ‘what the fuuuuck?'”
Mom – “Does he have aids?”
Fran – “I don’t know mom, jeeze.”
We were sitting in the back seat of my parents car, driving to the Chinese buffet in Southington.
Me – “I’m going to paint with my menstrual blood.”
Mom – “Well that certainly is morbid.”
Fran – “I’m going to paint in….my own shit. I’ll be known as Von Feces.”
Me – “I’ll be known as Von Menstrual.”
Mom – “You will be known as Von Menstrual and only paint periodically.” My mom laughs hysterically at her own joke.
Fran – “I’ll eat mexican when I need a little more variety in color.”
Me – “Corn is good for texture. Your first painting will be called “Toilet Salsa.”
Fran, in a snobbish deep voice – “Hello, yes, my name is Francis and I paint in my own fecal matter.”
Typical car ride conversation. Discussions always end in shit. Why?
It’s late, I have to sleep.