STAMP REPRODUCTION LOL!!! HOW TRUE!!

I found this on here and just have to share it with you.

Confessions of a stamp strumpet

In my house we have a craft cupboard. It contains standard craft materials: glue, tape, paper, markers, crayons, etc. One day a couple of years ago, I threw a rubber stamp up there and shut the door. Then not long after, I threw in another one. This was when I was young and naive and knew nothing of the reproductive abilities of stamps.

I have since been educated.

Rubber stamps have a remarkable ability to multiply. No one knows precisely how it happens, because it always occurs in the dark privacy of a craft cupboard, but multiply they do. Their offspring push the lids off the cute little plastic cases bought to contain them, and demand more space. They invite their friends, the stamp pads, to join them in their riotous living, and soon you’ve got yourselves a bona fide stamp-pad-rubber-stamp-orgy going on behind those unassuming doors.

It’s truly scandalous.

But I don’t know how to stop it. And frankly, I know I’m to blame. I failed somewhere to instill in these rubber stamps the importance of abstinance. Instead, I wantonly peruse the stamp aisle at Hobby Lobby. I flirt with the new arrivals like a common slattern. And, when I discovered that an acquaintance at church was an actual stamp pimp distributor of rubber stamps via a certain company known as Stampin’ UP! well…I’m ashamed to say that I accepted a catalog. And looked at it. And ordered from it.

This acquaintance, sensing weakness, moved in for the kill.

“Would you be interested in hosting a stamp party?” she asked, in an innocent, casual way. “You could earn free stamps!”

The lure was too much for me. I was teetering on the brink between casual-stamping and full-blown stamp-harlotry. And then I succombed to the siren-song and flung my moral compass into the black void where my self-control used to be. May God have mercy on my soul.

“Sure!” I replied. “Sounds like fun!”

And so the deed was done. The date is set. On Monday I will play madame hostess to a group of friends who love me so much they agreed to come (and believe me, you never know who your true friends are until you invite them to an MLM party of any ilk), and we will dabble. We will sample. We will fondle the merchandise and create a few cutesy crafts.

Some will resist temptation. I only came to have a chance to visit with you! They’ll insist brightly.

But they will buy a token stamp or two. And I will smile inwardly at their naivete. Because I know that they, too, have a craft cupboard at home with doors that shut upon quiet and innocent craft materials whose very lives are about to be forever disrupted by the presence of the ribald rubber reprobates.

It’s only a matter of time before they come back for more. And who am I to refuse them? The joys of stamping are too seductive for mere mortals to refuse.

It’s too late for me. But perhaps my tale of woe can still serve as a warning to others. Be mindful, dear readers. Craftyliciousness drives a hard bargain sometimes.