Didn't sell :(

Mojo's Favorite Mother's Sheep Collection, Volume 3

Bean Bag Easter Sheep!

Mojo's Favorite Mother also used to collect sheep. Not anymore. At least, this is what I gather, since she has given me a huge box full of things she once collected and now wants to get rid of. When I ask her why all she says is "I'm throwing things away." Mojo likes to think that it is her own influence, simplifying her life through the Craptacular, now rubbing off on her loved ones. But there is also the nagging suspicion that her Favorite Mother has just found an excuse to send her boxes of crap. Which is it? Only time--or an irate phone call from her mother yelling at Mojo for something she said about her on the Craptacular--will tell.

Attention Dusty Old Crate Fans!

I know you're out there! eBay is full of weirdos collecting all kinds of crap. Mojo knows this because Mojo is one of 'em! When I am not collecting weird crap I am doing other weird things. Like now. I was just now standing outside in the pouring rain just because it was pouring rain. Really pouring rain. It's something I try to do at least once a summer. Not when it's thundering and lightning, though. Mojo might be a weirdo, but she is NOT stupid.

But now that I am back inside and towelled off so I'm not dripping on the keyboard, here is one weird thing Mojo is NOT collecting and would much rather have it out of her house. It's an old Pepsi crate my Favorite Mother gave me. She had it in her sewing room, but don't ask me why. If there is one thing Mojo has learned in her life it is "Don't ask a quilter 'why' about anything".

If you force me to admit it, I will say I rather like these fellows. Enough that, should they not sell, I will probably keep them instead of hurling them into the garbage and eliciting a minor thrill when I hear them break, which is the unfortunate destiny of some lesser crap. The stuff that shouldn't be burned in a wood stove, that is. If it's burnable, it goes in the kindling pile to await a lighted match, but if it is not burnable and/or is indeed made out of some sort of toxic materials Mojo will just admire the taste and/or savvy of the eBay community and quietly throw it out. But these guys are keepers. Not keepers enough to jealously hoard them and scream "MINE! MINE!" anytime anyone comes within a half a mile of them, but keepers enough that, should they not sell, Mojo would not mind them catching dust on a shelf somewhere. Because these are one of those so-ugly-they're-kinda-cute things that would actually make an acceptable gift in Mojo's admittedly odd world.

Oh, my. Remember the Coconut Monkey God? If you don't and you wish to be in on the joke, just search for it over on the mojocrap blog. If you do remember and you are now angry with me for bringing up that screeching nightmare, I'm sorry, but someone has to speak of Unpleasant Things sometimes, and if not Mojo, who else? Some insensitive clod? No, trust me, if things need to be unpleasant it is better to have the bland politeness that is Mojo as opposed to, say, someone who swears a lot. Unless it is the sort of unpleasantness that requires swearing, which sometimes happens, even in Mojo's otherwise Perfect World. But my Favorite Mother reads this, and even if I got such unoriginal dreck past the eBay people (and as much as Bad Language people are really trying to SHOCK you, it's like, c'mon, SO dull and predictable...) I would then have to put up with the Maternal Lectures with titles like You Didn't Learn Such Behavior In MY House and I Must Say I Really Didn't Care Much For How You Chose To Express Yourself; Really, You Are A Better Person Than That And I Had Much Higher Expectations.

Loyal Craptacular readers know Mojo is not one to gush. Instead she enjoys picking things apart and finding hidden faults and crowing about them in public. For some odd reason Mojo's friends, if it can be said she has any, tend to react badly to this endearing quality, but as Mojo likes to point out, she does it with Love and Respect. Because Mojo loves and respects herself, you see, and when she criticizes others it makes her feel even better about herself. Which is all-important for her fragile Self-Esteem.

Toy Week continues here on the Craptacular with a new twist on an old favorite. Everyone who was anyone had a Magic Eight Ball when they were kids. Which is probably why Mojo did not have one. Sure, all her friends had a Magic Eight Ball, so Mojo could consult the spirits or Minnesota Fats or whoever it was that was conjured with the use of said Magic Eight Ball. But she herself never owned one. She wasn't deprived--at least not in this instance; just don't ask her if her parents ever got her a pony, though, or you're in it for the long haul--but she just never got around to buying one for herself or receiving one as a gift.