Washi Tape? Die? What?
Yes. I almost died for washi.
How? Well. I've decided we'll blame it on MICHEALS. You know him- The Ellen Bee calls him Mike. He's a dirty son of a bitch. Oh my, the language. I hope that old biddy that called me out on my excitable spending isn't here, I'd hate to get on her bad side again oh what am I talking about? Sorry, I've been hittin' the box. Of wine. Franzia's Crisp White. To the rescue. At my side. Takin names.
What am I talking about?
That's right. I ALMOST DIED.
The ever-classy lady MIA, from scrapbook.com, let it slip that MICHAELS is carrying their own store brand of WASHI TAPE. A few years ago, washi was something barely known to the crafty world. I'd see it on etsy or high-class crafty sites and say, "Wow, if only I could overcome my objection to pre-paying for something and waiting, itchy-handed and heart full of longing at the mailbox every single freaking day after work for something I paid for eight days ago, I'd order some of this here WASHI tape up by the handfuls!" That's right. I hate ordering things, paying for them, and waiting- like an hopeful honest bride outside the mensroom door on her wedding day- for the stuff to show its dirty face.
What the hell am I talkin' about, ladies and gentlemen (Paul and Frank)?
Thank you. Washi tape.
Tim Holtz took some of the pain away. But she couldn't call it WASHI.
Mr. Holtz called it TISSUE TAPE.
Why? I don't know. Ask him.
But I bought it. Oh yeah, I bought it.
And right now, allow me to assure you- I talk like I type. Like a drunk telling a life-changing story.
I bought that tissue tape and I LOVED IT, all my dirty hands touching and I LOVED IT. (I so wish you could hear my line-reading of that line, it was hilarious.)
But just like the person I am- I wanted more.
Well, the ever classy Classy Lady Rushli and others on scrapbook.com sent me on a hot and heavy run throughout the big-box town, for tapes at Target and Wal-Mart. Yes. The big girls got they own versions of WASHI out, now, too.
But then, Lovely Mia. She told me the seductive tale of WASHI at Michaels. Yes. Ellen's boy, Mike. He had WASHI. His store-brand, RECOLLECTIONS- but WASHI, nonetheless.
I headed to my nearest Micheals.
But something caught my eye- they had the brand new, GIANT SIZE big-ass SMASH Books in stock! My heart fluttered (probably a symptom from past drug use). Where there's new SMASH product, there's surely the new SMASH tape, right?! Have you seen the new SMASH tape? The one I'm talking about is called SWATCH and it is sexxxy. That's right. Three X's. The way it's mean to be-
But no. No SWATCH tape. No CALENDAR tape- but-
They did have a tempting but empty hook ready for the CALENDAR tape.
Yes. Empty. My nearest MICHAELS is famous for not putting out their stock on time. Or close to on time. I swear that they must wait for the next stock to show up, then when they have no storage space left, they begin to put the stock out-
So I did what anybody in Oklahoma City with half a dream and a need does-
I headed to the SouthSide.
Yes. For some reason, the 'Good' Michaels is located on the South side of Oklahoma City. I guess it's true what 'they' say about urban sprawl.
I hitched up my truck and headed to:
I was rolling in riches! SMASH Calendar Tape! Tim Holtz Sizzis Dies (they had TWO left!) and more!
I grabbed a roll of CALENDAR tape- and then- why hello pretty lady!
There it was. The display of RECOLLECTIONS WASHI TAPE. Oh, I'm sorry, madame. Michaels calls you CRAFTING TAPE. But look at all the options:
I immediately set my eyes on the black and white sets. Because I'm classy that way.
But for realz- that tape with the birds, the sheet music, and the plain black?! Cool.
I also got the other set with the more graphic pattern in black and white.
I wanted to get more- but please, no fighting, there's enough fo'ty off coupons to go around!
Also, note the empty spaces around the display, Michaels executives. If *I* worked there, this mess would never happen. Want to hire me? I'm available. Yes, I have a great job, but if you want someone to kick ass, take names, and put your store in order, I'm your guy. I can also change flat tires in less than five minutes. More on that later.
I grabbed the SMASH Calendar tape, grabbed my selection of Michaels Recollections finest, and headed to the cashier- who was fast. Too bad the woman in front of me and her spaced out teenage daughter weren't as fast to LEAVE AFTER THEY HAD PAID.
Seriously- what's up with this? Pay, and move. Pay. Move. It's not pay and hang out, rearrange stuff in your purse/wallet, brush lint off your boob, readjust your belt, smooth your hair, pop your gum, stare into space as you scratch your nose imagine what you're gonna do with your new ribbon IT IS MOVE. PAY AND MOVE!
I paid. And moved. And left.
Drove straight across the street to Hobby Lobby. Da HobLobs.
I parked, dropped my wallet while getting out of the car, grabbed it, almost twisted my ankle, walked to the automatic doors and straight to the back where the scrapbooking magic lays-
And if I weren't wearing my shoes, I would've... I don't know-
Yes. I can spot new product in a craft store like a streetwalker can spot a Mercedes with a lonely driver.
There it was- new (For da HobLobs) 7 Gypsies stamps, new ANNA GRIFFIN stamps- and well, if this Miss Anna Griffin is half as classy as her stamps at da HobLobs, well...hello Anna! Hope that skirts as short as it looks!
I love her stamps!
Anyways. Just like a lady in a short skirt, I didn't know what I'd do with 'em, so I kept on hobbling (twisted ankle, remember? keepin' up?) down to the Tim Holtz section of the aisle-
Wait. What?! Distress Markers in PACKAGES?! I haven't heard one damn word of this!
As you can see, the middle and side aisles are EMPTY. Which means two things. Either the denim-skirt army of Hobby Lobby's stock-matrons haven't got all the stock up, OR- the Tim Holtz army has beat me to the punch.
I bought what they had left- two packs. Wait. My memory fails. I bought one pack and hid the other- only one forty off coupon. Five to a pack. 14.99. With a forty off coupon, that comes to about 1.80 each. Plus tax.
And have you used these markers, yet?! They are amazing. Amazing. You can 'paint' with the BRUSH tip and WRITE with the 'FINE' tip and color stamps with- yes, every bit as amazing as- oh wait, you came here to read about my near death experience, didn't you-
I'm not one to disappoint.
After buying my tape and markers and feeling like I was once again on top of this seedy world, I jumped back on the interstate and headed back to civilization. You know- the North side of Oklahoma City. Haha. As if- but anyways-
The car in front of me turns on its signal and moves over to the right- into an exit only lane.
Now, normally, my super-intelligent brain takes over and says, "Now, Kory, this person surely doesn't know what they're doing...watch out."
But my brain was pre-occupied with tape and Tim Holtz Distress Markers. I simply gave a friendly 'Welcome to the exit only lane' wave and continued on my way when SURRRRPRIZE!
The idiot- who was most likely the dumbass, in line, in front of me, at HOBBY LOBBY. The woman who, when I thought was done WAS NOT DONE AND PROCEEDED TO: YES! NOT TO PAY AND MOVE, but instead, to play with her hair and say, "This was s'posed to be forty off" and "this was s'posed to be on clearance." Which forced the cashier to say, "Yes, it was forty off, see the FORTY OFF ON THE RECEIPT?! SEE THE DISCOUNT ON THE RECEIPT?!" Yes, it must've been someone like that woman, who then, INSTEAD OF PAYING AND MOVING, played with her hair and the shopping cart, before walking SLOWLY and mindlessly towards her JAGUAR- YES- this ho, who believed her crappy forty off discount might not have been subtracted from her crappy low dollar artificial flowers, GOT IN FRONT OF ME ON THE INTERSTATE and, while still probably wondering if she saved fitty cent at da HobLobs, decided to get into an EXIT ONLY lane and then- to decide:
"Oh no, I'm too busy screwing around, I'm in the wrong lane- here, let me just SWERVE RIGHT BACK OVER A LANE!"
Yes. The idiot swerved BACK into my lane. Inches in front of me. And I'm not exaggerating here- it was INCHES. I'm still surprised they didn't hit me, but not as surprised by what happened NEXT!
I hit my brakes.
And I SPUN A 365 DEGREE CIRCLE ON THE INTERSTATE.
I ended up in the grassy ditch on the side of the interstate. Luckily, the grassy ditch broke my spin- or I'm sure I would've ended up UPSIDE DOWN- and luckily, nobody was close behind me and HIT ME-
but I did end up with a flat tire.
And that's where we get to the next best part of the story:
I got to change a flat tire.
I love changing tires.
I don't know what it is- but I love it. I even have one of those professional looking on-a-wheel jacks, that I keep in my truck, in the chance I get to change a tire. I've been known to put spares on for women I work with- one lady once gave me a bag of chips in exchange for changing her tire, when she found it flat at lunch. And I don't stop with my professional on-wheels jack. I also have a tire pump. I can air up your tires, too.
I'm sure it all fits together- scrapbooking, crafting, fixing flats-
but my glass is empty and I'm young. See ya.