I've been listening to a lot of Kings of Leon lately. I mean... A LOT. Mostly old stuff... Like songs from the Youth and Young Manhood and Aha Shake Heartbreak albums. I've been playing KOL at work, in the car, at home... The other night, whilst we were shopping at the Home Depot, I managed to completely miss a conversation that the man was trying to have with me... all because "Use Somebody" was playing on the store radio. It's becoming an issue....
Last night I had a dream that I was the lead singer of an all female Kings of Leon tribute band called "Molly's Chambers". There I was... up on stage... singing "Four Kicks"... Looking completely BAD ASS... Rocking it.
I literally woke up thinking that this dream was a sign. Like this tribute band was my true calling. Like "Build it, and they will come"... I was inspired. I was excited. I was ready to put on some tight jeans and an old band shirt, not shower for a couple days and replace the water in my coffee pot with whiskey...
There is just one problem. I can't sing. I mean... I can, but no one wants to listen to it. One could compare my singing to the sounds of a rabid raccoon in heat. It's not pretty. It's a little disturbing. Oh, and I don't play an instrument either. No guitar. No drums. Not even a tambourine. Hell, I never even mastered the recorder they gave us in elementary school.
After a little more thought about the situation and being a little more awake, I realized that these little "obstacles" put too much of a damper on my whole "lead singer playing the guitar with tons of groupies in a famous tribute band" dream. I had to let go... I guess it was not my calling after all. And I was really looking forward to having a reason to get tattoo sleeves...
I want you to win this adorable Lego Gingerbread-Man Necklace... because that's just how awesome I am. Here's how:1. Like Creativity is Messy on Facebook (if you don't already), and share this Post. www.facebook.com/creativityismessy
2. Follow me on Instagram @CREATIVITYISMESSY, re-post this pic of the gingerbread man necklace (originally posted Monday morning 10/28), and tag with #gingerbreadgiveaway when you share!
Do both and get two entries into the drawing!
I will randomly choose a winner on Friday morning.
(In my best deep, sexy voice...) Let Gingy be your gingerbread man... bow-chicka-bow-wow...
This is a tutorial I am reposting from my old blog. The holidays are coming and I thought I'd share this super-easy, super-cheap, but super-awesome gift idea with you all (again)!
This idea was orginally for a Father's Day gift for my Boyfriend, but I think it would make wonderful Christmas gifts as well! Especially for parents and grandparents!!
I have an Instagram account with many photos of my boyfriend, his children and his Chocolate Lab, Mattie. He LOVES pictures and is always asking me to "Print Out" the good ones. After much thought, I decided to make him magnets with some of my favorite shots of his family. It was super easy, so I thought I would share this little 'how-to" with you!
These are the "Materials" that I used:
- My Smartphone
- Instagram Account
- Diptic Account (other apps also work for this part. PicFrame is another of my favorites.)
- A place to print Instagram photos (if you don't want to print at home, Walgreens has an app for your smartphone that allows you to print direct from Instagram onto 4x4 sheets you can pick up at their photo center)
- Magnet Sheets with a sticky side
I first used my Diptic application. I chose the layout (under "classic") with 4 square frames equal in size. I selected 4 of my favorite pictures and placed them into each of the squares. Then I saved it as a picture onto my phone.
Next, I used my Instagram app. I chose the photo I had just made in Diptic, added a little Instagram flare, and them saved it to Instagram. I actually made 2 sets of four this way.
Next using my Walgreens smartphone application, I uploaded the two Intagram photos and had them printed at my local Walgreens. They turned out great by the way. Wonderful quality, quick turn around, and they were only .39 each.
Once I had the prints, I purchased magnet sheets at Hobby Lobby. I chose the sheets with one sticky side, so that I wouldn't have to glue the photos myself. I strongly suggest this. It obviously makes the whole process quicker and easier, but also you don't have to worry about the possibility of your photos getting ruined by the glue.
I simply stuck each photo onto a sheet, cut off the excess magnet, then cut each 2" x 2" square with a sharp pair of scissors.
The end result was a quick, easy and inexpensive gift that my boyfriend loved! I can't wait to make more!!
A little update since I first created this tutorial....
I've made more. In fact, I've made a ton more. Our refrigerator at home is litterally covered in the damn things.
But seriously... They are so easy and so inexpensive, yet they make such a cool, unique gift. Make some. Just do it. In fact, make a metric shit-ton and cover every single magnet surface you can find with them. They're little 2" squares of joy. You'll thank me.
This morning I had the great privilege of waking up early to spend some time at my local Department of Motor Vehicles office. See, because I recently moved from the state of Washington to the beautiful state of Idaho, I was invited to come down to the DMV, retake my written drivers test, and get the fantastic prize of a newly issued Idaho State driver's license. Oh... and they best part? Because I am a resident, but do not have a mortgage or rental agreement or any bills with my name on them (due to the fact that I'm shacking up with my boyfriend), my ever so willing sweetheart was obligated to tag along as my proof of residency. He was thrilled.
I've spent a little time at DMV offices before, and truthfully I would rather have my eyes clawed out by a herd of rabid cats than spend any time at any DMV... ever. Oh... and I heard the horror stories about this particular office. Everybody and anybody that knew I was heading down there had to tell me stories about how awful their experience or experiences were at that office. Needless to say, I was overflowing with restless anticipation.
So I walked into the office this morning, holding tightly to my boyfriend's hand. I don't know if I was holding him so tight because I was scared, or if it was because I thought there was a chance he might try and run.... but I definitely had a hold of him. He was not going anywhere. If I was going down in a government office, I was taking him with me.
Yeah, so there we were… just inside the door of the office. I immediately assessed the situation. Apparently Wednesday morning at 8:30 is the perfect time to go to the DMV. There were only about 4 non-employed people in the office, and all were being assisted at the front counter. However, I didn't get my hopes up. I started looking around for one of those number dispensing contraptions. I didn’t see one. I didn’t even see that lighted red number sign that lets you know that you are still like 150 people away from being helped. As I frantically searched around for something familiar, a non-abrasive voice from down the counter called out "I can help you down here."
WHAT?!? I walk in the DMV office and I am immediately assisted? Inconceivable! I mean, this is unheard of... right? Now I was confused, still scared, a little cold, but mostly confused.
At this particular DMV, the countertops where you stand to be helped are about "bottom of your tits high", but the employees all sit at standard height desks behind them. So I was unable to see the person until I walked right up to the counter. At that point, I think I was expecting a human version of grumpy cat or maybe even Roz from Monster's Inc. sitting at that computer desk in front of me. However, that wasn't the case. I had the most pleasant woman help me. She didn't bark orders at me, she didn't get irritated with any of my silly questions, and she didn't even roll her eyes when I told her my weight or hair color. Hell, she even laughed when she had to take my photo 3 times because apparently when I smile for the camera my eyes feel the need to try and close. In fact the entire office, including my boyfriend, got quite a chuckle when she had to tell me "Okay, now smile, but this time not so big!"
Yes, that's right. They allow laughter at this particular DMV.
All and all, the whole experience was pleasant. Dare I say... it was even pleasurable? It didn't take long, everything went smoothly, and we even had a few laughs.
Oh, and although I hadn't taken any sort of drivers test since I was 16 years old... and I had no idea about things like the laws when sharing the road with ATVs, horseback riders and cattle.... I still managed to ace my test.
That's right Idaho. I'm on the road and I’m legal, so get the hell out of my way. Beep! Beep!!
This is what happens when I am asked to smile "but not as big" as what comes naturally to me. I look like I'm scared... or I'm up to something... or I just farted and I'm trying to look natural as I casually walk out of the room.
And apparently I grew a double chin overnight...
I think I can see a vein sticking out of my neck...
My eyes are still squinty...
"Hey. My name is Messy. I'm in my 30's... and I play with Legos."
Everyone all together now, "Hi Messy."
I have always had a fascination with Legos. As a kid, Legos were little, colorful, assorted blocks of wonderment that assisted me in creating a land of miniature families, houses and non-aero-dynamic cars. Legos were a catalyst for my imagination, where little yellow men and little yellow women lived in perfect harmony... until my naked Barbie Godzilla with the bad haircut ransacked their villages, destroying their homes and vehicles, leaving a trail of horrific, broken Lego-Man dreams behind her. Bwah-ha-ha-ha....
Oh. Shit. Sorry. Got sidetracked....
As an adult, Legos are suppose to be viewed as little building blocks of expensive, messy, foot penetrating hell-on-earth that are marketed to our children with such a force, that the only way for us to have a little moment of peace and quiet is to shell out $120 for a 1000 piece set that will never be constructed to its original design, but inevitably will just end up being a huge tower of assorted colorful blocks reaching up the your kid's ceiling.
But the funny thing is, I don't feel that way. Yes, that's right... I still play with Legos.
Now, I don’t play with Legos like I use to as a child. I don’t spend a better portion of a day building an actually working commuter train with public transportation station, so that I can demolish all my hard work in one, quick swoop by some unattainable female body form with a bone to pick with her hair dresser.
No. I build it. Display it. And don’t you dare touch it or so help me….
I have also been using my business as an excuse to buy and play with Legos. I have purchased several Lego Mini-Figures in the past few months and they are now available for your “wearing” pleasure.
Another unhealthy obsession of mine is Wonder Woman. After all, she is a female superhero and an Amazon. I too feel like a superhero at times, and I am almost 6' tall... so yeah... I'm not saying I'm Wonder Woman, but I'm just saying that no one has ever seen Wonder Woman and myself in the same room together....
My daughter is always getting on my case about my language. If you read my "Home" page, you'll know that she is the adult in this relationship. Anywhoo, she is constantly hounding me about cussing in front of her. Not that I mean to... I just have a very colorful vocabulary. I contribute it to many years of working in the construction industry. It is not unusual to hear the f-word used as verb, noun and adjective all in the same sentence when dealing with contractors. None the less, she is right, and I should try to clean it up around her and the other kiddos.
So, being me, I've been getting creative in my curses. Yesterday when I was exasperated with a particular situation, I exclaimed "Holy forks and spoons!" I don't know where that one came from, but I liked it. It was very comfortable. It's definitely a keeper.
I've also began to use the word "Poop" a lot. "Oh poop!", "That's poopy" and "I don't give a poop" have become some of my "go to" phrases around the house. However, when I'm among the land of adults, I get some weird looks when I am constantly talking about poop. Which I do. Talk about poop. A lot.
I've also become fond of calling people "Dirty Hippies". I got that one from my man. One day I heard him say "Ahhh, you dirty hippie" and it just stuck. He's also fond of saying "Son of a buck" and "Poopy-sticks". There we go with the poop again. It always comes back to the poop.
I have a gal friend that likes to say "Fart-Knocker, Mother-Jumper", but that's too hard for me to pronuciate when I'm flustered or angry. I end up accidently slipping a swear word in there and then it just me sounding like I have tourrettes or something.
I really feel like there should be a thesaurus specifically to find synonyms for swear words. Or an app. Yeah.... there's got to be an app for that.
In the mean time, I guess I'll just stick with poop.