AN UNCONVENTIONAL TISSUE TO MOP UP THE TRAIL OF TEARS

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Let it be known that this blog entry is dedicated to the everlasting spirit of my former roommate's ex girlfriend, Heather Blackshear - may her heart of hearts eventually find the same comfort in eternal slumber as it did in being a complete psychopath. Amen.

A few weeks ago I took a trip to Hobby Lobby that, by my last count, ended up providing me with materials for 47 seperate projects (I guess I'll never again be able to say that the crafting disciples of Christ have never done anything good for me). Well get excited, because I'm pretty sure this little ditty is going to top the other 46.

While rummaging through one of their numerous 80% off sale racks (still waiting for someone to explain to me how this store stays in business), I came across this confusing piece of southwestern decor: A Native American's head on a stick. Fortunately this wasn't a grotesque decapitated head, but rather a stately (though visibly dejected) head perched atop a small wooden stand - a perfect decoration for the book shelf owner who wants to say "I love Native American culture, but I find their flabby bodies disgusting".



I have to come clean about something: The above image has been photoshopped. You see, I absent mindedly started working on this thing without taking a picture of it in its natural state, so I tried to replicate its original appearance via the use of... well, what appears to be the computing equivalent to finger paints and crayons. Damn.

To verbally articulate what I tried (and failed) to show by altering that picture, originally the Indian's headdress was colored with this very demure light umber sort of tone - very drab, very "don't worry, I'm not going to distract people from your hardbound copy of The DaVinci Code". Very unacceptable, if you ask me. So I busted out my trusty acrylics and laid into the sucka, creating something a little more interesting to gawk at:



Sassy, no? And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this gorgeous little fellow was missing something. Following a bit of paper manipulation, followed by a hearty bout of gluing (and an unanticipated though welcome huffing sabbatical), we ended up with...



Bingo.

I'm actually very pleased with how this little guy turned out, and I do think I'll be hanging onto him for a good long while (though you could say that about several thimbles I found in the 5th grade, so that really means nothing). My only regret is that I wish I could have had enough room to write out the word "for" instead of putting that stupid numeral on his sign... I mean, he's a grizzled old Native American for God's sake, not a 5 year old peddling lemonade on a street corner. Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.

All in all though, I have a hard time complaining about anything regarding this strange creature of the American plains... and hey, if nothing else, even the most staunch conservative would agree that the price was right.



And with that, I shall bid you adieu. Be sure to tune in next time when I'll show you how to make an invigorating facial scrub out of discarded asbestos.