March 18, 2004

• St. Paddy's day was interesting, to say the least.    After doing some Spring cleaning, my roommies and I thought we'd throw an impromptu kegger at the house: green beer, shish kabob, the whole bit.   (We really wanted to use the nearby park, but some sorority gals beat us to it.)    Groovy, except Mick, god bless his merry soul, had to go and invite the entire fucking school rugby team, and a most rowdy sort were they.   They not only ate all the food and turned the house back upside down in record time, but dumped half a pint of whisky and a pair of cleated shoes into the aquarium tank, killing half of Chelle's fish.    They were about to let to Maya loose on the boulevard  when I stopped them, revealing how her half sister had been stolen right out of the car during a 7-Eleven stop.     "Hey, that's a valuable pedigreed dog!"   So they settled for entrapping her in a circle of drunken serenaders trying to give her a contact high.    Luckily Bruce and a few of the bigger brothers were able to bounce 'em out before Chelle called the cops.   Woot!   The place looks like a herd of buffalo stampeded through it.    Just the right atmosphere for studying for finals.   I think half our CD's are missing, too.   Pina colada, anybody?    (All we had for breakfast this morning!)

  
  

  I just had the zaniest home business idea:    handcrafted hobbyhorses!    Not necessarily for kids (Mom:   "Oh, those.   They're now considered too dangerous; small children can easily trip over them."), but as objects d'ART to hang on the wall or prop in one's umbrella stand.    They're quite hard to find these days, particularly a nice suede one.    I made mine years ago in summer camp out of tan-colored felt, synthetic black wig hair,  and leather strapping; it was really ratty by the time Brett and Maya got to it.    June thinks it's a fantastic project; the materials are cheap, you can create loads of variations, and they can easily go for seventy-five bucks uptown.    If I'm good, they could be a collectors' item one day.   Maybe the girls will even go in on it with me.    Brett could tool the sticks; I could ask at least two hundred for one with a fancy carved stick like a candy cane.   I already hit the art store this afternoon and picked up a few wooden dowels and some cheap materials to practice on.    I was so brimming with ideas I could barely concentrate until I did.   

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