Nothing creative about that.
Then I remembered about this paint I bought in Maryland when I was comissioned to design a sign on goat skin [NEVER PAINT ON LEATHER!], for my psychic friend Zenobia. No I am not making this up.
Anyway, I bought some wood to paint on and went to retrieve these wonderful paints and prepared to be artsy. But when I dug up the bag of paint, I saw that the blue had spilled onto the other cans of paint, my brushes, my brush cleaner, and a few other art supplies.
I tried cleaning my brushes, but all but the mid-sized one is ruined. That blue paint acted like a superglue, so I couldn't get the paints apart from each other, let alone OPEN. But in the struggle to achieve this, I somehow sliced up the index finger and thumb on my right hand. SLICED, as in, "Ouch, I just crumpled up this can of coke in my hand and now my flesh is shredded and bleeding profusely."
OK, I'm exaggerating a bit, but it hurt! And now I don't want to be artsy any more.
boo hoo.









AGATB an ur postrs r so cool i love them
Much love for adding me to your watch
Jess
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my art account *away-with-the-fae
My photography account ~fae-photography
Thanks for
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brandtz
Audio & Graphic Shop
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Love me. I'm a weiner.
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Love me. I'm a weiner.
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Love me. I'm a weiner.
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