Just call me Ms. McGrabbyhands

I can't count the number of times I've literally hyperventilated over gorgeous handcrafted goodies or marvelous books that I've come across on the wonderful world wide web.  And since my boyfriend only acknowledges the existence of plushies when it's about our boys and all my girlfriends are busy being mommies or amazing career women, I thought it'd be a good idea if I shared my lovely finds with you... yes you.  

I guarantee you'll find something you're going to like (or maybe even love) too by the time you get to the last item on my list.

Best Hobo Bag Ever.

What can I say?  I'm a tunic kind of girl...

Because I do.. I really do.

Spock = Sheldon = ♥

Mmmmbrains.  Err I mean, tea.

Oh... sheets ♥

So... found something you like?  I will strive to do one of this as consistently as I can but it's common knowledge that I have the tendency to get distracted easil... oooh look at this:

Simply gorgeous, innit?

Yeah, yeah that's a dress.  There are days when I allow myself to be a girl.  Get over it already.  But yeah, anyway... my inspiration for this post is Mrs. French over at bliss.  Her I heart Monday posts are just overflowing with pretty, amazing things.  Most of the stuff I have here, I saw on her blog first.  I look forward to her posts.  I hope one day, you'll look forward to mine too.

There's always a first time for everything...

Ok.  So despite being teased mercilessly by my man and his sons, I'm going to stick with this color scheme for a bit.  I still maintain that it's NOT pink.  Only pinkish.  Big difference.  Although, now that I think about it... the background art looks like the Kool Aid mascot met a Rorschach test and they went buck wild loony on each others' asses.

I have a warped, warped mind.

Anyhoo... changing the blog design is the first step to a more difficult undertaking - changing the tone of this blog.  Until recently, most of my posts have been borderline manic-depressive.  Or just plain reeking of negativity and angst.  Well, this is a conscious effort to shift towards a more positive outlook.

Oh I'll still be the sarcastic, mean bitch everybody has grown to love (hate?) but I'll be making more of an effort to post about the positive things.  AND post on a more regular basis.  Which really, on top of the original plan, is a HUGE undertaking in itself.  

But, I shall persevere.  I shall move forward.  I shall revel in the pinkness of it all.

See?  Positive thinking.  I suspect I'll sound more sincere as time goes by.  Meanwhile, hold my hand and tell me I can do this, ok?

Two steps east of weird.

It's official.  I can't visit etsy without going into a mild Igottahavethis anxiety attack.  Everything is just so... drool-worthy.  My bookmark library is bursting at the seams with err... bookmarked etsy pages, crafting blogs and flickr profiles.  I spend hours clicking on links, right-click-saving-image-as on pictures of oh so wonderful things and mentally kicking myself in the ass for not paying attention to my high school Home Ec teacher.  Had I listened... sigh.  Hindsight is indeed a pain in the ass.

Some women dream of Mr. Right on one knee, velvet box in hand, sparkling diamond engagement ring inside.  I dream of Mr. It Took You Long Enough on one knee, velvet box in hand, Amigurumi Carnival Clown Cake engagement ring inside.  See the big difference?  Thing is, I would hands down, no doubt be happier than most women because my man gets me enough to splurge $24.50 plus shipping on a ring that I'd cherish more than any diamond ring in the world.

Still the same dream, only slightly skewed.  And tons better.

Some women dream of meticulously interior decorated condos, with modern impressionist paintings hanging on some walls and central air conditioning.  I dream of a studio loft haphazardly decorated with handcrafted plushies and modern flea market finds.  With a room specifically for my collection of Shawnimals (dagnabit that's a legitimate word! stop telling me it isn't!) that will undoubtedly be legion and amazing.

Again, the same dream, only slightly odd.  And loads better.

I'm never going to outgrow this intense love I have for all things small and just two steps east of weird.  And that is just fine with me.

Delirium. Madness. Rage.

Sometimes, don't you just feel like screaming at the top of your lungs?  For no real reason, if only to exhale.  Vent.  Release.

Do you catch yourself feeling as if you're churning with anger, literally seconds away from spewing venom that's been eating away inside of you?  

I know some people who could take their anger and channel it towards something positive.  Something beautiful and calm.  If you look at them closely, you could see them struggle and win over the rage.  Their expressions going from agonized to serene.

I'm different.  I take all that anger, all that negativity and just let it fester.  I don't let go of it.  I don't try and channel it into something positive and calm.  No.  I hold it in and I hold it in and then one day just let the fury unleash.  

And then some poor unsuspecting schmuck would get his heart ripped out because he misspelled my name or spilled a drink somewhere within a 2 mile radius of where I actually am or... I don't know... breathe.

I inherited the fury from my father... it lives inside me.  It didn't die along with him.  In fact, I think he left me all his unreleased rage and now I'm just a ticking time bomb ready to explode.