Tagged: depressing


Craft stores walk a very fine line between awesome and depressing. Yesterday I was wasting time in mine, looking at craft projects I’ll never do, and stupid stamps and what have you and I ended up in the scrapbooking section. That aisle(s) is like stepping into a new dimension of crazy lady that I’m not ready for. 

I mean I’m pretty sure I ran into Eleanor Abernathy, let’s just put it that way.
Scrapbooking in general just weirds me out. People scrapbook either the most monumental or the most ricidulous events. You think you’re not going to remember getting married or having a baby? Because if you need a book of overpriced stickers and weird paper to help jog the old melon, I think you have bigger issues, my friend. Note: the “as your baby grows” books or whatever are not the same as scrapbooking. Keeping track of your kid’s first boogers and whatnot is awesome, but it’s not the same as decorating a page with one picture on it and $50 worth of stickers and weird paper embellishments.

Then there’s the other kind of  scrapbooking. “Remember that time I cooked a whole chicken?!” (H2B: before you unleash jokes about how, for me, cooking a meal would fall under the category of monumental [ie: baby, wedding, zombie apocalypse] and not ridiculous, please read this).

What the cuss is this even for? Who needs to remember the time they cooked a meal? Don’t try to sell me on how you could use this to remember cooking your first meal with your kid or something because, Jesus, buy a journal and a pen, you dolt.

“Man, Vegas was crazy. We got so out of hand at the casino and whatnot.” No you didn’t. If you scrapbook about your vacations/themed party nights, I feel sorry for the people around you.

Also, you should feel pretty retarded walking up to the register at whatever store and paying $3-$5 for a set of fake playing cards and poker chips. If you have that kind of money to burn, I have time to register as a 501(c)3 and we can probably work something out.

Here’s the part where I get bummed out and quit calling you retarded and just lament for societal dysfunction (and no, I don’t have a picture for it because I thought I could Google image it, but Google is being a turd). There was a set of stickers targeted to moms who want to scrapbook with their little girls. The sticker set contained lipstick, a blow dryer, a cell phone, a dress, cupcakes, and other similar things in ungodly bright colors. I bought them; because I want my daughter to know she gets to grow up and focus all of her time on looking pretty, texting, and baking for people. And also that she was born during the 1950’s time warp.