I'm all over it.
Yeah. Leslie, Suniverse and some awesome judges and sponsors over at The Bearded Iris are hosting "The Craft Whore Challenge." They caught my interest at "Craft."
They amused the hell out of me at "Whore."
In this competition, folks can enter unseemly, artsy-fartsy-type handmade items for a chance to win fabulous prizes! Prizes such as naughty-bit tissue boxes, vases. And toys! From the Garden of Eden! That may or may not involve batteries!
So, without any further a-don't, pimps and craft-hos, I present to you my 18" by 24" acrylic-on-canvas entry: "Happy Boy."
As you can see, unlike most of the AWESOME other entries, everyone in my piece remains - sadly - fully clothed.
But clearly, something tasteless could occur.
I've been badly painting vintage Fisher Price Little People, in unsuitable situations, for about a year now. I collect them and
Hey. You there - peering at the computer. Come over here. I'll tell you a secret.
I buy men.
Right off the Internet.
They are my playmates.
And I'll tell you something else: Size doesn't matter. My men are small, but firm, and they love it when I play with them. Often, they sport wood. Or plastic.
Some of my men are women. Oh yes. I'm liberal like that.
You want to see pictures, don't you?
"Hey. Can I get rid of these?"
The hell you can!
You toucha my vintage Fisher Price Little People, I breaka you face! Imma gonna go all gangsta up in here! And shizzle.
What? I know, I'm lily white, and not Italian at all. Or gangsta. I forgot for a minute. Shut up.
Apparently, my medium-ish box of Peoples, as I call them, takes up too much space in his 450-square-foot garage. The garage he is always trying to organize.
A couple of times a year, I have to rescue my playmates, their schoolhouse, their barn (with working "MOO!" doors), their airport and their parking garage from the trash. He simply does not see their value.
The hell? Some of them go for two...$2-fiddy on Ebay.
And Peoples make me happy.
I didn't have them growing up. As I mentioned before, we were poor. Much to my dismay, my mother had other, less important things to buy.
One day, when my own daughter was a baby and I was, oh, 28, I jumped, nay, LEAPT on my co-worker, Marty, who said he'd sell me his family's vintage Fisher Price Little People collection - for only $30. I couldn't wait to buy them
My appetite whetted, I began purchasing my men on the web. And so the
Oh yes. Peoples make me happy. Always have.
And since I didn't have them as a kid, there were always intense negotiations with Marshall the Neighbor Boy, Lucky Owner of Many Peoples:
Me, circa 1977: "I know, I know! Let's play Peoples!"
Marshall the Neighbor Boy: "Nah...we played that yesterday! And the day before. Let's throw the football."
Me: "Aw, come on. Please? ! I swear - I'll throw the football AFTER we play Peoples."
So it was that I spent
Oh yes. There was nothing like placing them in their schoolhouse chairs. Nothing like opening (MOO!) and closing (MOO!) the barn door. Nothing like riding them down, in their twee little cars, on the swirly-twirly slide of the parking garage. Good, good times.
Eventually tiring of my weird-ass little men obsession, Marshall the Neighbor Boy, Lucky Owner of Many Peoples, would wander off. Searching for someone with whom to throw the football.
He's probably still looking.
Poor Marshall the Neighbor Boy. Pimped. For Peoples.
Good luck to all the participants in the Challenge! Go, Craft Whores!