••• Sunday, December 19, 2004

For all the kind words and healing thoughts and best wishes in response to my last post.

And now back to our regularly scheduled idiotic irreverance...

The Beafur Chronicles: One Last Poke at the Whiskers
I finished the Teddy Beafur Hoodie and I am not real excited with the final product.

That view is not so bad, but I'm not crazy about the look of the fur. For this I blame only myself. I suck at creative vision. I should have taken up taxidermy as a hobby. There's very little room for error in taxidermy. For example, a raccoon has only two expressions. The cute-as-a-bugs-ass-washing-hands-in-stream look and the middle-of-road-tippy-toed-classic-I-dare-ya-to-hit-me-asshole look.

In fact, I'm pretty sure the taxidermy field safely blew its collective, creative wad on the Jackalope. And for the record, I didn't know there was no such thing until I was in high school.

But I really digress.

So, from here on in, I follow the pattern. Period. Dot. Com.

This hood thangy has other issues aside from making me the droolin' spittin' image of my handsomely bewhiskered Aunt Ruth.

After I wore the hood for a few minutes around the house, it morphed into what seems to be its preferred identity. A bed pan from Ted Nugent's Fallen Hunter's Home Care Collection called Endanger This, Fuckhead .

I'm also not crazy about the side view. In fact, it scared the Dickens right out of me.

The tubular quality of the hood reminds me of a vacuum cleaner attachment known as The Behoover.

Of course, this post wouldn't be complete without the obligatory "not your mother's beafur" shot. I didn't ask my husband to take this picture, for obvious reasons.

Finally, there's...


Comments: Post a Comment