Check Out This Shit I Made Tuesday - My Haunted Blackboard!!!

 Ok,"Check Out This Shit I Made Tuesday"  is not my idea.  Obviously.  As most of you know by now I am a Quitter.  But I was over at The Bloggess today and realized that it was "Check Out This Shit I Made Tuesday."  Then I realized it was Wednesday so, you know, once again I fell a little short//behind/cuz I was drunk   I was a bit late.

But it doesn't matter, because,  let's face it, no one is going to beat the Shit the Bloggess Made as it is a HAUNTED DOLLHOUSE.  Ok, included on my list of favorite words, is Haunted and Dollhouse - as well as Shit, so I absolutely love and want this dollhouse, and obviously I had to participate in "Check Out The Shit I Made Tuesday" even though it is Wednesday.

So before we get off track, I'd like to just show you this,

The Shit I Made.

No shit, I made it myself!!!
(it's a black board.) 

There is a story, surprisingly.    You see, once up on a time, not so many years ago, we moved from a far away place where the angry gnomes lived.  We had to move a lot of stuff, stuff we didn't even know we had, and as it turns out - stuff we didn't have.  You see, thanks to the brilliant marketing department at Ikea International, everyone now owns the exact same nightstands.  When the movers brought ours upstairs we had three instead of the two we thought we owned.  Yes, one of them was not ours, and the movers took it away to give back to the people who had one nightstand instead of two, and then everyone lived happily ever after until the nightstands fell apart and were thrown away ( all at the exact same time.)  The End.

But wait, there's more.

Later,after all the stuff was pulled from boxes and all the things were hung on the wall and put in the drawers, we found a "painting."  I had never seen it before. Dave hadn't seen it before  I thought maybe it was in the house when we moved in, as it looked like the type of painting someone would want to forget.  This was a painting that wouldn't even sell in a yard sale.  So, yes this painting could have come with the house.

As time went on and no one missed this painting, I was convinced that it was left behind on purpose, and maybe it wasn't just because it was UGLY, but that it was haunted!!!!!  So I decided to do something with it, something to take the evil stuff off it, or hide it, or give it a nice dark room to stay in so it wouldn't bother me in the middle of the night.   So I painted over it in chalkboard paint, which as it turns out is really just flat black spray paint. (Thanks, snarky little store clerk!) .    And that's what I did, and when I'm not writing my shopping list or other things I need to remember on it, I clean it off with a wet sponge, and then I stare at the darkness and wait for a message from beyond,  which for those of you without any occult knowledge whatsoever, is called SCRYING.  Yep, like crystal ball gazing and stuff.

So that's the shit I made - a Haunted Blackboard.

However, just so you don't get the urge to come back to this blog from time to time, with some unrealistic expectations such as finding more pictures of  shit that I made, I will now show you some of the shit that I haven't made, because, as I have said many many way too many times, "I am a Quitter."

The Shit I Haven't Made 

and Probably Never Will.

I was going to make an apron.  I didn't even cut out the pattern.

I was going to make a costume.  I don't even know why.  Doesn't matter

because I didn't even open the package.

I was going to knit.  Oh yeah, was I ever going to knit!!!

 Nope.

So as it turns out, the stuff I didn't make is actually more scary than the thing I did.  I mean, nothing is scarier than  having lots of crazy stuff, - especially collections of  things you never use, or never even opened or touched, stuff that has spider webs all over it or finds its way into a dark attic and gets creepy water stains on it and is all yellowed and mold grows on it and it smells funny.  But you still keep it, thinking that someday you'll make that apron and maybe you'll give it to your mother, the one who is dead and is  upstairs covered in spider webs sitting in her favorite rocker. 

Or not.