#51. The ancient art of paper Band-Aiding.

Would it surprise you if I said I was actually really good at origami?

It would surprise me.

I used to do it all the time when I was but a lad. Cranes, ladybugs, boxes, you name it. I origami’d all the origami you could shake a finely crafted paper stick at. And then I remembered the very first day we learned about Project 54. That guy who made all the skulls. Secretly (okay, not so secretly), I hate him, considering that it was his skulls that led me down this point of no return. This point of no Band-Aid-shaped return.

But I remembered he made a papercraft skull. And he printed out the pattern and a whole bunch of people made it. My origami days came back to me. I knew what I had to do.

So I made a terrible, awful Band-Aid out of paper. It was huge, and uneven, and horrible, and it made me cry. I used printer paper, ‘cuz that was all I could find, and it was thick and clunky and I hate it.

So I tried again. This time it actually came out okay. I learned from my mistakes. Folded right where before I had only folded wrong. This time, my creation looks like a Band-Aid. it’s still printer paper. It’s still… not great. The important thing is, now I know that, in a dire situation, I can totally make my own giant useless printer-paper Band-Aids in less than eight minutes. It’s an important skill.

I will end this on two points.

Point #1. I forgot how much fun this is and I’m totally going to go out and buy a ‘baby’s first origami’ book so I can re-learn some of this stuff.

Point #2. I forgot to show you my paper Band-Aids. Here they are, in all of their majestic wonderment.

First times are hard. This Band-Aid is unquestionable proof of that.

Conveniently, though, I'm a fast learner.

#45. Moneyyyyyyyy… burns a hole in my… finger.

So a bit of background:

I totally play in a rockin’ band with my bestest rockin’ friend Alex. It’s not anything serious. We have no aspirations of fame and fortune. We simply wish to get together once every month or so and repeatedly violate Virginia noise level ordinances for an hour or two. It’s great.

Except that it’s not great. Rock and roll has consequences. Dire consequences.

Drug abuse. Late nights in crude dive bars, forced to entertain the shirtless-est bikers Richmond has to offer. The unimaginable agony that comes with a life lived in the spotlight, without a single moment of privacy. Also blisters.

And guess which one of those has to do with Band-Aids? I’m sure you already know.

Now, I’d show you photographic proof of my grotesque finger injuries, but there are some things mankind was not meant to see.

What I will do is spew my feelings through pencil and paper until I have a stunning, life-like representation of the grisly horror that is my right index finger.

Like so.

Looks just like the real thing, right?

More or less.

I mean, you’ll never actually know if it looks totally realistic, ‘cuz there’s no way in hell I’m showing a nasty finger blister for some kind of cheap shock value. But believe me when I say that my drawing is so realistic it’s being placed in the Louvre in 2013.

#37. Curly: Portrait of a Serial Stooge.

So this post is something I’ve been looking forward to for a long time now. What I’m gonna do, see, is sketch a picture of Curly. Curly the Stooge. And I’m gonna make it real good. Then (and here’s the kicker) I’m gonna watch one of those Three Stooges shorts, and every time somebody bops Curly over the head, I’ll put a Band-Aid over the same part of his ugly mug in the picture. A real great plan. No foolin’.

So what are you palookas waiting for?

Ok for the record, I am not a talented artist by any means, and this drawing took an hour and a half. Felt I should throw that out there.

But heeeeeere is the before.

There's something unholy in his eyes... Almost as if I didn't draw them the right way.

And heeeeere is the after.

If this isn't art, I don't know what is.

And so, the moral of the story is: If you find yourself with an opportunity to incorporate watching an episode of the Three Stooges into your homework… take that opportunity.

#33. What would you do for a Band-Aid bar?

Alright people. It’s crunch-time. In that I’d rather be crunching into a crispy creamy Klondike Bar, but we can’t always have that.

Plus there are Band-Aids to blog about.

Band-Aids that have spent 24 hours in the freezer (pause for hushed silence, then thunderous applause).

Let’s see how they’re doing.

I should... probably dust that table.

Sooooooo. No physical changes. But if I was to wear one?

As I unwrap my frozen treat, I realize the the outside of the package is a little stickier than it should be. And the actual sticky part is a little less sticky then it should be. But will this effect how well they stay on my hand?

Not really at all.

There was pretty much no difference from a regular one once I put it on. But will the wrapper-less one see some kind of incredible change?

Nope. To celebrate, I gave the camera a creepy-looking, uncomfortable thumbs-up.

 

Ok, so this idea kind of failed miserably, but that actually speaks well about Band-Aids. Clearly, they can withstand freezing temperatures for at least 24 hours, which, in the future could prove handy. But now I’m flooded with other ideas- what if I was to put a Band-Aid on my finger, and then submerge it in ice water? or, could you attach a room temperature Band-Aid to something  that’s already cold (for example, a Klondike Bar)? Would the cold, or, perhaps, the frictionless chocolatey surface of the bar prevent Band-Aid cohesion?

I’m not actually going to try any of those things… so the world may never know.