As mentioned in my last post, my parents came to visit over the Fourth of July weekend.  One of our projects was to organize our crawl space filled with Tupperwares of memorabilia and junk galore.  The junk seems to multiply and appears in disguise as everything from Christmas accessories to Elementary School yearbooks.  From Camping gear to Turkey roasting pans.  A plethora of nothingness to be used at our beck and call. Problem is, with many of these items, sentiment is the only reason they remain.  The items never see anything besides the black hole of the Tupperware, their home.  The items aren’t even RARELY used, they are NEVER used.  And frankly, I don’t think about the items until the next time I open up the tubs to sort through them again.  Ridiculous, really… With that being mentioned, we set out on our venture of organizing junk.

As some of you know, I am a huge fan of games.  Occasionally, I’ll find one for a steal at a thrift store and buy it just because.  One of those games called Pen Doodle Um was purged this weekend.  I bought this probably about 5-6 years ago at a thrift store in Indianapolis because I confused it with the old game we had played as children, Spirograph.

This was finally its time to make its exit from my life, forever.  But, before donating it, I thought I’d give it one last try to secure its spot back in the crawl space Tupperware abyss. 

As advertised, the beautiful drawings were supposed to look like this…

or this…

or this…

It’s a fancy set of plastic pieces that require an engineering degree to assemble it.  My dad is close to being that smart, so I stuck him on the task.  Thirty minutes later, a hot glue gun, a rubber band, a scale, and 3+ lbs. of pennies, we had ourselves a doozy of a contraption. 

It had ONE shot to make its impression on my life.  Unable to contain my excitement, I grabbed pen and paper and started those pendulums a’ swinging.  My precious artwork that has been in waiting for 5 or 6 long years was truly breathtaking.  Something so amazing that a 2 year old could even replicate its beauty…As you will be able to CLEARLY see, it’s just what the box claims ‘The Toy That Creates Designs…Like MAGIC!’  Check it out!

It looked like this… (Magical)

then this… (Awe Inspiring)

and this… (Truly Captivating)

I finally got the swing of things and created something slightly better…

My dreams of selling my artwork as stationery on eBay dashed faster than one of the pendulums swung under the table.

Although the laughs are almost worth the price, the verdict remains for this game: Out of its storage tub, and back to a life at a thrift store (waiting for another sucker who feels sorry for abandon games & gizmos).  If you are dying to have your very own, you can purchase this bit of beauty at the Wayside Christian Mission Thrift Store in Louisville, KY.  But if I were you, I’d just consult your 2 year old for a drawing that is probably twice as good.

Also, if interested, please make an offer on my Pen Doodle Um Original Artwork .  For the right price, I’ll consider selling (okay, kidding).  My drawings have also found a new home– my city’s recycling plant.

Remember those old Choose Your Own Adventure Stories?  Here’s a modern day Choose Your Own Blog Adventure written just for you.

 

Yesterday a lady informed me, “I am on the wrong planet and I have to get back to mine.”  At first I thought she was kidding, but alas, no joke here.  I had thought she had misspoken and was trying to give a crazy person the benefit of the doubt—but ALL benefit of the doubt was shattered when she used the same verbiage again “I am on the wrong planet and I have to get back to mine.”  She then told me that people were out to lock her up and put her in the loony bin.  hmm…wonder why?  She told me that she used to be bright and had planned to make something of herself by being a journalist until ‘they tried to get her.’  No further comments are necessary, your honor.

 

Verdict:

 

This lady is indeed crazy.  Maren was right to think that the martian woman was in need of a new rocker, because this lady is apparently off hers and her original rocker was undoubtedly obliterated by the UFO mothership.  Although Maren reserves the right to feel sorry for this woman, the poor martian woman is still crazy.  Please skip to page 77 by clicking here.

 

or

 

There is nothing remotely odd about this lady and she is nowhere near crazy.   Maren, you’re the one that needs to be admitted.  This poor martian woman was probably your neighbor on Mars…or is that Venus where women originate?  Please skip to page 66 by clicking here.