Ingredients for this My Time: an elk horn, a whale abalone, 3 shaken vodka martinis, super glue, a hammer, shells (pref abalone).
Every elegant lady knows how to make a lot out of a little, but it’s finding that time to show such class in one’s home that is hard to learn how to do. This is why multitasking was invented in the 1970s (along with a widespread use of cocaine combined with a pre-AIDS/post-BirthControl era; indeed, there was much multitasking).
One of a lady’s secrets is how she manages to reveal her body to the world with nay a hair on her body below the eyelashes, and this takes time. However, the time is more sitting with items on one’s face/body or recovering from ripping items from one’s face/body, and thus is a perfect time for crafting, or what I like to call, for Gothic flair, “cocktail hour with dead parts of the earth”. First, brutalize your body with a hair removal method that leaves a part of your skin so red that you can’t go out in public, like the space between your eyes. This will ensure that you’re in the mood to get crafty with death!
Then, pour yourself martini number one. Look, it’s a vertebrae! Let’s do something with it!
What any 6,000 count cotton sheets need is a sharp accent to arouse one from a state of “deep sleep”. In fact, sometimes a “sleep” can be so “deep” with dreams of blue pills, no more bills, and avoiding window sills that you should probably put a larger “accent” on the bed. Look, an elk horn!
Now we’re really crafting here. Pour martini number two and grab your hammer, ladies. This is a great time to get some light cardio in as you craft, and also to weed out some pesky anger that is not comfortable for the world to see on women’s faces as they wander the streets at night, alone, AGAIN. Smash some things. I happened to have a bunch of shells, so I smashed them. Now, here’s where the crafting magic comes in. You can make *broken things* become *fixed things* in a snap. While a lady wishes she could fix so many of the more important issues in life, like the fashion industry, Ron Paul, kalishnokavs, men’s behavior, and irony (I’ve heard this thing is most important in the Pacific Northwest, where irony and sincerity suddenly cancel each other out in a single phrase: put a bird on it). Alas, you can’t fix that stuff, Honey. But you can put back together the pieces of everything you’ve broken WITH SUPER GLUE. Look, it’s a whole new high fashion shelf!
You’ve done so well putting your life back together. I mean, your items—your items—back together. You deserve a drink. So, instead of putting a horn on it, let’s put it in a horn and drink it! Crafting and drinking multitasking madness!
Pour martini number 3. Or 4. Whatever. Now, it has been a festive couple of hours of hair removal and crafting, and you didn’t even have to go to one of those knitting circles that women of the Pacific Northwest attend as ever-single-yet-still-boring-housewives-just-sexless-too-that’s-a-shame but with cute Anthropologie ideas and short hair, IRONICALLY, that they claim to fight against! I believe they are called Stitch N Bitches, and my Hungarian oracle, Sverkienk, told me they were originally created by straight men who began something called “dot com careers” and made a bunch of money, but still couldn’t talk to women, thus created such venues to herd them together like knitting cattle.
Now, what good craft is complete without testing out its effectiveness and craftiness? Since the asprin isn’t helping the place where you ripped the hair from your body, take something stronger, delicately pour the last of your drink down your little bird throat, and let the crafting do its work. You are so crafty, Honey. You can break and fix anything, and you will.
