My Hobby Lobby Experience

So when I logged onto Squarespace, I was distracted by the ad that popped up on the homepage talking about how Keanu Reeves built his website with Squarespace. I was like, My ass Keanu Reeves built a website! then proceeded to watch two minutes and thirty-two seconds of Keanu sitting in front of a campfire, waxing poetic about his damn website while eating roasted marshmallows and howling at the moon. Two minutes and thirty-two seconds. That’s two minutes and thirty-two seconds I’ll never see again. Nice going, me.

Anyway, the point of this post isn’t to talk about Keanu Reeves. It’s to talk about my first visit to Hobby Lobby. For years, I avoided the place, because the people who raved about it the most were the people who enjoyed “crafting.” You know the type. The kind of people who think making sequin Easter eggs constitutes an enjoyable afternoon. Get out of here with that shit, Grandma. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Or, at least, I don’t. 

I’m instantly turned off whenever I’m invited to a “crafting party.” It’s like being turned on by a really hot guy who then says or does something so unsexy, your vagina turns into the Sahara Desert. But instead of my vagina drying up, it’s my brain, as well as my interest in your so-called “party.” Invite me to bake shit and drink wine, and I’m there. Invite me for a girl’s night in where we paint our nails, do each other’s makeup, and braid each other’s hair like we’re fucking thirteen years old, and OH GURL. WHERE SHOULD I PARK MY MAKEUP CASE. But a crafting party?

               That's a whole lotta nope.
              That’s a whole lotta nope.

So, yeah. Hobby Lobby wasn’t my jam. Or so I thought. Because today I walked in for the first time…

…and HOLY. MOTHERFUCKING. SHIT. 

It’s like Michaels, JoAnn Fabrics, TJ Maxx, and Homegoods all had a baby. And by “baby,” I mean a majestic land of sassy coffee mugs, inspirational quotes on signs, and whatever the hell this is: 

         J/K, I know it's a wine stopper. 
        J/K, I know it’s a wine stopper. 

Where has this place been my entire life? Apparently, RIGHT UNDER MY GODDAMN NOSE. Seriously, this store has everything: 

Cute furniture!

Stationery!

Totes and throw pillows!

Need a picture frame? Choose from the MILLIONS Hobby Lobby has to offer!

Think your home needs more flamingo shit? HOBBY LOBBY’S GOT YOU, BOO.

Or maybe you have a blank wall somewhere in your house and thought to yourself, “Gee, a gigantic clock would look PERFECT there! But wherever will I find one?” 

                                     BAM!
                                    BAM!

THEY EVEN HAVE MASQUERADE MASKS FOR WHEN YOU HOST YOUR FIFTY SHADES OF GREY-THEMED PARTY.

Actually, don’t tell them it’s for your Fifty Shades of Grey-themed party. That store is super Christian, and you might end up on a lot of prayer lists. Although, between you and me, the biggest sin in those books is the writing. HEY-O!

I’d never thought I’d be one of the basic bitches exclaiming, “OMG, HOBBY LOBBY!” but, OMG, YOU GUYS. HOBBY LOBBY. As I was wandering through the store, I had visions of myself enjoying a cup of coffee out of my, “But first, lipstick” coffee mug while sitting at my homemade wooden table in a kitchen with signs that say things like, “Farmer’s Market” tastefully hung about. I WANT THAT DREAM. 

Of course, I couldn’t walk out without making a few tasteful purchases:

And you thought I was kidding about the coffee mug. 

 

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