We finally picked up all the pottery from Miss O's birthday party and it all turned out pretty well. Of course, we had to deliver it all to each kids' house, and by "we" I mean the Old Lady did it, so it wasn't really that big of a pain in the ass at all. Actually, it was quite painless.
So, I didn't bother posting pics of Mr. Z's and Miss O's pieces -- they did a dinosaur and a dog, respectively, and frankly, they were eh. It's not like they sculpted the fucking clay or anthing -- they just slapped some fucking glaze on a pre-made tchotchke and that was it.
The piece that really stood out, though, was done by one of these twins that Miss O knows. Now, I'm sure I've mentioned before the extent of my crippling twin phobia. And my ability to pick out a twin, even if I've never met them before and have no idea that they even have a twin? Have I mentioned that? Fucking creepy motherfuckers, twins. They always have that look like they never quite "finished" in the womb. Like there wasn't enough skin and shit to go around, so instead of one "complete" human, you end up with two not-quite-done humans.
The hair on the back of my neck just stood up thinking about it.
Anywhich, you might not have a problem with twins but you fucking should. They're like cats -- they steal your goddamn breath when you're sleeping. And they stare at you with those sunken baggy eyes of theirs. And, they paint horrifying clay abominations... LIKE THIS:
That, right there, is enough to turn your fucking hair white instantly, but remember... THERE ARE TWO OF THEM!!! AND THEY'RE EXACTLY THE SAME!!!!
I've gotta go. I just shit my pants.