A Hot Glue Gun Mess: Funny Stories, Pretty DIY Projects
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In this beautiful paperback edition featuring French flaps, hugely popular lifestyle blogger, YouTube star, and designer Mr. Kate (Kate Albrecht) offers a stunning collection of step-by-step personal style and home projects—woven in with quirkily hilarious stories and anecdotes.
Do you dream of finding ways to infuse do-it-yourself projects into every aspect of your life and have fun doing it? From the quirky personality behind the Mr. Kate brand comes a not-so-average DIY lifestyle book that will make your dreams of creating unique how-to projects become reality.
Filled with 50 unique and approachable projects, along with hysterical, unfiltered stories from Mr. Kate’s crazy life, A Hot Glue Gun Mess will show how life can inspire art. Growing up with a high-powered Hollywood father and an oddball, down-to-earth mother, Kate Albrecht had a childhood that was anything but normal. From how her first period influenced her to become an artist to how her friendship with a high-priced hooker encouraged DIY beauty products, Mr. Kate’s stories are weird, wonderful, personal, inspiring, and downright hilarious.
Her love of self-expression inspired Mr. Kate to create her own DIY life and a social media platform to connect with young women everywhere. Her projects involve style, home design, and beauty, including DIY nail art techniques, upcycled projects for your old jeans , and watercolor curtains. You don’t have to be a seamstress, metalsmith, or expert at anything to enjoy these projects, all of which are doable in under two hours and require a minimal number of supplies. Now you, too, can become a DIY diva!
varying lengths between 12 and 20 inches. Cut the chains to your desired length with the wire cutters. 2. Use a little dot of glue to adhere the ends of each chain to the base of each comb and connect the combs. Keep in mind the direction you’ll be placing the combs in your hair so that the chains drape as desired. Chapter 10 A HOLE IN ONE Once upon a time, there was a girl who knew diddly squat about sports (still doesn’t) who found herself in bed with the world’s most famous athlete.
golfer who did a few commercials and won stuff. I had grown up around celebrities and had learned that they’re just regular people whose farts smell just like the rest of ours—ahem, Robin Williams, RIP—so I wasn’t particularly impressed with the idea of hanging out with professional athletes, but I’d never been to Atlanta, and who am I to pass up an all-expense-paid adventure with one of my besties?! So off I flew to meet Gretchen in the South. When I got to the hotel, Gretchen was in her usual
pony when he took off running. Ignoring my yanking on his mouth with the reins, he sped up, then stopped short and pulled his head down, causing me to topple forward and break my arm as my body hit the desert soil below. Fiona was standing in the middle of the horse ring “supervising,” and there I lay, with Mickey proudly nibbling a nearby cactus and my arm flapping in the breeze. Literally, I lifted it up and saw that my elbow was dislocated, causing my forearm to wobble in the air in a
request, and all eyes were on me as I got an exclusive tummy pummeling by the exploding nozzle. It was delightful. Once when my sister was in daycare, a three-year-old boy threw sand in her eyes. Tess told Granny, and the hit was out. The next day when Granny dropped off Tess, she sidled up to the boy, out of earshot of the daycare teachers, and whispered, “I’m a real-life witch, and if you throw sand at Tessie again, I’m going to turn you into a frog!” The petrified toddler was on his best
have kids, stay married, get a timeshare in Florida, eat fried pickles, and then die of cardiovascular complications . . . who wouldn’t want that!? Me. Riding across the country on Joey’s tour bus, we’d spend the long drives lying together in his bunk, finding out every last detail about each other and what we wanted for our futures. He told me how he imagined riding into his wedding on a donkey. Either that or swinging in on a flying trapeze—he hadn’t decided yet, but he knew it was going to