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If An Offer Sounds Too Good

then it probably is. Sometimes, it even stinks.  You may argue that because this is  a gratitude journal, I should see these two cases in point  as events for which I should be grateful, but peeeyouuu!

First case in point: During the month in January, I vowed that I would buy art supplies at discount rates — this mean, if the art supplies were on “sale,” or if I could use my employee discount toward the supplies, I’d pick up the pens or markers or what have you.  In this fashion, I wouldn’t feel guilty about going ape shit   whenever I went into an art supply shop or sniffed around for art supplies on the Internet. While wearing my “Now let’s see what shit Walgreens is trying to get rid of” hat, I thumbed through the weekly flyer and saw Sharpie markers on sale. 3 markers for a buck, in fact. Because I usually don’t buy Sharpie markers, I have no idea whether or not it was a good deal, but at 33 cents or so per marker, what the Hell.  I popped off the cap and pee-youuuu. Are those markers suppose to smell like that? On the other hand, since I’m experimenting with the idea of homemade washi tape, then I’ll pinch my  nostrils and jump into tape design at will.

Second case in point:  Whenever I visited a local art store, I lamented that the store did not carry Sennelier watercolors.  At one point, the sales clerk, evidently tiring of my lamentations, told me that he had samples of the brand, and he would bring the samples to me (this before boasting that the store’s owner was on good terms with somebody or another who was connected with some sort of trade show for art supply retailers.  If the owner could not make the trade show, then he would give the ticket to  an employee. As a result, the lucky employee would attend these shows in which art supply companies handed out free samples of their wares).   I wasn’t above reminding the employee of his offer whenever I visited the store, but alas! After several reminders, the employee said he couldn’t remember where he placed them.  The guy had probably smoked so much dope, he forgot that he used the watercolors to express his pot induced madness some paintings back.  Maybe sensing my disappointment, he began to fish in a drawer and handed me a very small tube of  Holbein’s quinacridone gold. I had tried a Holbein brand of paint several years back, and was far from impressed.  Now he was giving me something called “quinacridone” gold — what the Hell was “quinacridone” anyway?  I thanked him as graciously as disappointment would allow,  but pee-youuuu. Oh well, like some art dabblers,   unless I absolutely hate the brand, I will try out a sample, especially  if the price is right. As it stands right now, though, quinacridone gold sits at the bottom of my art box (actually, it’s a box that once held mini corn dogs.  After noticing that some bloggers suggested decorating and painting shoe boxes and turning them into art supply boxes, I thought why not?)

Speaking of painting, that pic above is my attempt at painting a girl and not a hand from a photograph.

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