It's a scary starchy clown. It wears a billowy blue unitard and carries a bunch of plastic balloons. Its clothes are hard, like painted fabric. It's got a weird ring of fuzzy hair around its head, but has a shiny bald top. It must have had a hat at some point. I seem to remember it. I think it had ruffles.
I'm not sure where I got it. I have it in my head that my Godmother gave it to me. However I got it, I've had it as long as I can remember. When I was a kid it lived on my bookshelf. When I got older, it moved to the closet. When I moved to San Francisco, I took it with me. It sat on a shelf in the kitchen of an old apartment I shared with some friends. On the shelf, in the kitchen, it shared space with another clown; a clown called "Chuckie-Blue-Head".
I can't get rid of it. I don't know why. Hubby says it's because when my name was painted onto the platform on which it stands, our fates were sealed together. I don't think the clown and I share a "one can't live without the other" bond.
The question remains unanswered, however. Why can't I get rid of the clown?
Friday, July 30, 2010
Nice Pictures - Where'd you steal them from?
Some of the pictures in my blog were taken by a photographer called Julie Michele. Some of the pictures were either taken by me or someone I know. Some of the pictures were ripped right from the internet, mostly from google image searches from photographers to whom I may or may not give credit.
Rest assured I make no money from any of it.