katycrossen.com: Suicide By Crafts

Sometimes I think Michael's Crafts is the Fifth Ring of Hell.

Where Wal-Mart is the Ninth Ring, and Kroger's pharmacy line could be regarded as the First Ring, the crafters' mecca is firmly planted somewhere in the middle.

What with its melange of tempera paints and scrapbook paper and cake icing tips, Michael's Crafts has a way of bringing out the craziest crafters of all ages.

I am one of those freaks.

My glue gun is safely stashed in a bowl atop my refrigerator. I have a whole cardboard box full of sparkly trimmings, ribbons, paints, glues and other tools required for greatness.

The thing is, whenever I walk into Michael's, it's with the intention of accomplishing a specific mission. In this case, my explicit assignment was to go to the paper products aisle to buy some note cards and envelopes.

But I am always lured away by something else. In this case, it was the silk flowers.

Glorious blooms of every color of the rainbow, probably made in Chinese sweatshops by little children with tiny, tiny fingers.

(Ed. note: Dear Michael's Crafts - I am just hypothesizing and wondering here, and have no concrete evidence substantiating said statement, so please don't sue me. I really don't know what I'm talking about).

Behold, my moment of tiptoeing through the tulips.

I set out on a mission to find a flower that would make a great hair accessory. Screw the feathers that everyone else is sporting. I wanted big and blooming. This option is a take on a Bird of Paradise. Its sharp edges and vibrant colors are eye catching... but I'm afraid it could poke out a date's eyes as he went in for the kill.

Uh, no.

"Who, me?" Playing coy behind a pastel pink blossom that does not appear in nature (What the hell is it? a peony? A gerbera daisy cultivated in a meth lab?), I envisioned skipping and dancing and spinning arm in arm with the love of my life or a very fabulously gay man while wearing this option behind my ear.

I. Love. This. Flower.

Rawr. You look mahvalous. What is it with tango dancers and chewing on red roses? This was probably my most daring photo while traipsing through the aisles of the store. I was so afraid one of the clerks was going to see me gnawing on their $2.99 roses. Thankfully a lady at the check out counter had a wailing newborn and a very, very bossy five-year-old in tow ("But maaaaam, check the bay-bee's diii-per! This cryin' is driving me crayyyy-zeee.")

Thank you, little kid, for keeping the Michael's Crafts staff more annoyed than this 33 y.o. woman.

Did you know that some florists are inundated with requests to send black roses on Valentine's Day? Seriously. There are apparently some very, very bitter ass holes in this world who decide that a broken heart is not enough to inflict on a human being. Some of these jerks decide to seal the deal by sending dead or spray painted, morbid blooms to their exes.

God help the fool who does this to me. For serious.

Now, here's a great hair adornment. It's a wreath. It's a bird's nest. It's a shit show.

Boy, does it make a statement, but probably not the one I'm looking for.

What does Mary wear in the manger outside Sigfried and Roy's house? A plastic, glittery garland and a taser, ready to shine and battle any wild animal this side of Jerusalem.

Seriously. Who puts this junk up in their house? Martha's tacky cousin?

After wandering through the silk flowers a few moments more, I grabbed the big, pink peony/gerbera daisy and headed to the check out counter.

Next up, I'm ready to go to town on some rubber stamps and grosgrain ribbon.