I've been spending my non-existent free-time, of late, assisting Mr. Z and Miss O with school projects. I'm telling ya, you really can't truly appreciate the crafting of an elementary school project until you've been out of elementary school for say, oh, 33 years or so. I swear I could do this shit all fucking day.
Let's start with Miss O's project. She brought home this outline of a turkey on a big piece of white paper. The assignment was to disguise "Tom Turkey" so he doesn't get hunted down, slaughtered, baked and then ripped apart and ingested. Apparently Miss O's teacher's a vegan, I dunno. So, the Old Lady had some idea about covering the thing up with fur and having the head peeking out, but Miss O insisted on doing it her way. The nerve!
She gathered up a shitload of the crafts crap that we have shoe-horned into every fucking open space in every drawer/closet/cubby/receptacle in the house, and started placing shit on the picture where she wanted me to glue it. I had already broken out the hot glue gun for Mr. Z's project, so I was rarin' to glue. Can I just say, by the way, how mind-blowingly awesome the hot glue gun truly is. I'm a pacifist, mind you, but you can have my hot glue gun when you pry it outta my cold, dead hand. Greatest firearm ever invented.
Anywhich, we glued all the crap onto it and it was looking pretty intense. Miss O, however, felt it still looked too much like a turkey. I suggested that she maybe draw a t-shirt on the thing to further confuse any would-be turkey-assassins. When it was all finished and we regained consciousness after huffing the glue-fumes for a 1/2 hour, this is what was staring back at us:
I don't know what the hell that thing is, but A) it sure as fuck is not a turkey, and 2) it's all Miss O. I think if the gang over at PETA were really on the fucking stick, they'd outfit the 50 million turkeys that are on the chopping block next week with duds like this. But they're probably too weak from lack of complex proteins to properly wield a hot glue gun anyway. Oh well, at least Miss O did her part.
You know, this post got a little out of hand, length-wise, so I'll save Mr. Z's project until tomorrow. To be continued...