I have never made a secret of the fact that I'm going to hell. Pretty sure anyway. After this weekend, I am also heading to scrapbook hell. And I'm taking a few of my sisters(blood related and other)with me. Since the judgemental vein I settled into earlier felt like such a good fit, we kept that going whilst perusing the new scrapbook mags that we dragged down here to the land of crazy old people. We had nothing else to do since the aforementioned oldies had decended enmasse and made it impossible to venture forth without feeling our lives (not to mention our front quarter panels) were in danger. Turns out that my scrapbook snobbishness extends to the mocking of demonic looking kids, stupid looking husbands and squint eyed contributers that may or may not have eaten most of their supplies. Even though that did seem to be the most likely explanation for how she and her cards looked. I suppose the fault lies with me. Maybe I really feel my inadequacies and this is the only way I know how to deal with it. If everybody putting those magazines together thinks everything in them are stellar, then it really MUST be me. If I can't find the beauty in a layout featuring tissue paper flowers that resemble Oprah's va-jay-jay more than flowers, I obviously need to re-assess my scrapbooking priorities. If you start getting cards saying "you're the glue that keeps us together" or "He is Risen" cards that look like they've been sketched by a mentaly handicapped box turtle, just keep in mind that you're keeping me that much further from you know where.
No comments:
Post a Comment