Tiny Tea Party on the ceiling

I've always had a small fascination with doll house furniture and various other bits necessary to make a house. How do they make food so tiny? Can you actually open up and read the books? Where's their closet overflowing with plastic skeletons (that would be the model of my house)?

 About the only part I never cared about were the dolls and the house part. (I'm complicated like that).

Putting together my husbands new found clay making skills along with my "I'll paint anything at lest once" we threw our hat into the making tiny fake food ring.

We've made breakfast:

Chicken and a meatball sub

Some tasty desserts in the form of cherry pie, cherry crumble and strawberry shortcake.

A classic hamburger, hotdog and french fry lunch

Spaghetti and meatballs and lasagna for some italian fair

A cupcake, cup of coffee and muffin for the lighter lunches.

Pepperoni pizza

A steak dinner complete with green beans and baked potato

Finally a Taco Salad.

They're all around the size of a pinkie nail to about a quarter for the pizza. And if I am ever smart I'd take picture before I paint them but I am horrible at before pics.

We have a plan that has nothing to do with dollhouses but well we got distracted by shiny riffs and haven't moved much past the making the food step of our three part plan.

I will say one thing, it is incredibly depressing to have cupcakes dancing through your head as you paint one only to realize that you don't have anything in your house.

iRiff

If you can't tell by now when it comes to craft type projects I have more than just a touch of ADD (okay more than a touch, I'm practically at DaVinci levels).

There's the painting that I'd really only started a year and a half ago, there's the recently discovered soap making, when I'm tired of that there are halloween props that need sanding/painting/gluing/destroying. And now I've added a few new ones to the ol repertoire.

I'm currently trying my hands at making a compilation of myths about the Midwest (since the rest of the country couldn't give a crap about it) and there are other secret activities I've been churning out the past week that I shall share soon.

But the iRiff, the thing that drug you here. Right right. Quick backstory first, you know MST3K a bunch of robots (and the obligatory human) sit around making bad movies fun again. The show ended in 1999 and a few years back some of the original cast embraced the internet technologies with open arms.

First they would offer downloadable tracks to add to the typical blockbuster cheese that hollywood likes to chuck at us during the blistering months.

After a time they had an idea, what if we let the fans put up their own tracks to anything they like that they won't touch with a 10 foot pole (it's like outsourcing but with love).

Anyway long story short thanks to my computer update finally my husband and I can write and record our own Rifftrax. For our first victim we took on a simple short from the 50's about how to have a good party.

Here's a sample.

The entire thing can be viewed by going here. 

We've got another half finished short script waiting in the wings involving Benjamin Franklin and some freezers and more plans for a few obscure movies.

I've been doing written riffs of bad stories since I was in highschool. It's still wild to think I've got a short under my belt as it were.

Tune in tomorrow for that other craft that my husband and I have been working diligently as of late (oh and I have a super early birthday present I'm loving like crazy)

Same Introverted Time. Same Introverted Channel.

Get Yer Ball

We've come under a deluge of biblical proportions. Yesterday we were hit for three different thunderstorms each trying to outdo the previous by employing stronger winds, louder thunder and a few flying cows.

I'm guessing some evil mad scientist thinks controlling the weather in Nebraska will get him world domination (never ask when mad scientists are involved) or we've been ordered to return back to a Precambrian ocean. Either way it means we have to get a bit creative with our high strung puppy as she refuses to go outside when it's wet.

Last night my husband thought he'd try to see if she could get her ball out from under the laundry basket. What ensued was well you just have to watch.

We make her do goofy things and preserve them for posterity because it's the only way of getting back at a 3 AM I have to go out potty and run around in the backyard for 10 minutes eating sticks while you wait. You know the same reason parents dress their toddlers in the strangest outfits to embarrass them once they're teenagers.

Mmm, Fresh Squeezed Tornadoes

Last night we had a fairly typical June night in Nebraska.

It started in the high 80's/low 90's with a mugginess that clings to the bones. With your Nebraska skin freshly covered in scotch guard so the sweat threatening to bud up slides right off you a wind picks up out of the North/South/East/West/Heaven.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch these flowing across the sky like homicidal icebergs.

Holding your breath for a minute in case you accidentally fell into a sci-fi blockbuster and the alien ship is about to burst through the clouds you wait to see what the weather has planned next.

While you stand outside staring up like a turkey that swallowed a lead pipe the birds have a different plan:

Take to the high ground as the sky turns gray green and wait for your secret hidden bird bunker to open.

A few minutes later and the skies finally crack, sending a deluge onto the already over intoxicated land (we're about half way done with the arc but have no idea where we can get a pair of Minotaurs from).

The sky, getting tired of the grey goes for a nerve rattling green/orange/yellow:

The clouds book it across the sky probably late for another weather speed dating session (clouds are notorious daters) not bothering to wait to see if a funnel even bothered to touch down.

But the sun can't wait for the storm to abate and sets leaving behind this:

Finally you go inside to spend the light listening to thunder and lightning bicker over who does the damn dishes again.

It's the Twitpocalypse!

You may have heard that there was something bad that happened causing the other bad thing leading to twitter crashing more than a 5 year old getting into the halloween candy stash.

This then lead to me whipping up a little something and announcing that I am going to be leading the Twitter apocalypse:

That's right I am apparently the Twitter Anti-Christ. I had no idea but hard to argue with the horns and forehead tattoo:

Which then lead to me calling for my four horsemen so once I figure out exactly how these supposed Anti-Christ powers work and if I shall end the world by unleashing a horse of juggling emus upon it or rivers of flaming chocolate complete with gondolier gummy bears we can ride together.

Except you can't have four horsemen without cool pictures to go with them.

Coming in first, Big Red, the Destroyer of Prior, Himself to end Himself, WAR!

Complete with awesome head shot (pun possibly intended):

The Second horse man, The Pale Thunder, The Equalizer from Ecuador, The only thing that can stop him is a bad game of chess - DEATH:

For that up close skull look:

Our Third Horseman is better known as the White Rider, the Suspicious Lump, The Ooze from your Caboose, forty million fleas can't be wrong - Pestilence:

About the safest way to get up close and personal with her:

And last, but certainly not least, everyone's favorite Red rider, The Tummy Rumbler, Hankering for some Baconring, The Great Emaciator - Famine!

Famine turned out to be my favorite so I made two different head shots for him:

Now that we've got our line up let's ride onto the unending of the Internet.

What do you mean you don't have any transportation? What kind of riders are you?

Oh so you have a pogo stick at home do you War? And you have access to a unicycle Pestilence . . . can you ride it? Yeah I didn't think so.

Fine I'll get you all bus passes.

Fear the Four Dreaded Bus Riders of the Apocalypse.