Candy Floss Sheep

Stoner Sheep HandIt struck me that telling anyone you’ve seen cotton candy sheep is some serious stoner talk (or possibly a line of dialogue from Roald Dahl’s Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory, which in a number of instances are pretty much one and the same.) A small tip from me to you, though: If you’re looking at candy floss livestock floating in a shimmery purple abyss dotted with pink and green stars anywhere but my nails, it’s time to put down the crack pipe. Although I’d say that’s probably just good life advice, period.

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I Miss Ewe

I Miss EweThese blank-eyed (actually, no-eyed) sheep remind me of a highly disturbing and counterproductive (more on that in a moment) painting my parents have hung in every house they’ve ever owned of two sheep standing in a mist-covered field. The unnerving stems from the fact that the sheep are completely dead-eyed and have been painted so they are standing in profile, but with their heads turned forward so they can level those thousand yard stares at you straight through the glass. Also, mist. And the counterproductive, of course, stems from the fact that for reasons unbeknownst to me, the demonic, mist-shrouded sheep have always resided in a bathroom, occasionally rendering necessary functions performed therein to be un-performed, because it’s really hard to pee when you’re being stared down by evil livestock. It just is.

It’s no mist, but I think these little lacquered lambs got the better end of the deal, perched as they are atop a bed of Enchanted Polish’s splendid holo multichrome, Across the Universe. Lucky sheep, which I think we can all agree is far preferable to demonic sheep.

Sheeps

Sheeps

The name of any animal, the plural of which is also the singular, is automatically made 59.7 percent funnier with the addition of the letter S. Sheeps. Mooses. Deers and mouses. Mices? Meeses? See, funny!

Here I revisited an early design, some blank-eyed sheep standing on a glittering, grassy knoll. The little guy on my thumb is dancing up a storm, boogieing to the tune of individuality (and Tom Jones, I think,) kicking up little bits of grass as he goes. What? Tell me I’m not the only one who makes up back stories for her nail art. Right? Hello? *crickets*