A day no giraffes would die*

I knew going into the marriage that Tom Thomas had a thing for tearing apart stuffed animals from the D.I. and using their fur for—other purposes.

But does that make it any easier? Oh no. (Shudder.)

His first episode (documented, that is) took place many moons ago. A poor, unsuspecting D.I. animal (a teddy bear, was it?) met its heroic end as it was cut and maimed and turned into a last-minute makeshift sloth for a Halloween costume.*

Next he ripped apart a pink monkey on the balcony of my old Branbury apartment.* To my shame, I looked on in horrorbutmostlyfascination as patches of pink fur swirled above our heads and then hovered there for the next three weeks—reminding me of the appalling events that had taken place not so long ago. For what purpose? He hot glued the fur to a bowling ball—also compliments of the D.I. (such a treasure trove, that store)—and gave the furry 9-pounder (a masterpiece, I might add*) to a friend for his birthday.

But his most recent episode was sanctioned by one of his professors. (Shudder.)

Meet Geoffrey. Oooh, wait—you already know Geoffrey. Everyone does.

For one of Tom's classes he was instructed to purchase two identical stuffed animals with the intention of ripping one apart at the seams. We turned it into a whole family event...driving to Toys R Us...carefully assessing all the stuffed animals to find the perfect two who would be the lucky chosen ones...boy this is sounding morbid....and finally voting on two Geoffreys. The worst part is that we welcomed them into our home and for weeks the two chums sat on our bookshelf grinning at us, completely unaware that one was headed to the slaughterhouse. (Shudder.)

The good news—if any can come out of the fact that my husband has now found a career path that condones the mutilation of stuffed animals—is that Geoffrey is alive yet again! Digitally. He even walks now, and before Tom is through with him he'll practically be a super giraffe, which is more than his unharmed, stuffed counterpart can say.

Look for this guy in the 2012 Summer Olympics.

(For a super-easy and extensively detailed step-by-step process on how this was done, look no further than here.)

This, folks, IS a day that no (stuffed) giraffes would die.
No stuffed animals were harmed during the writing of this post.



* My title is a reference to one of my favorite books. Did you get it? Did you get it??
* All right, who removed Thomas' sloth picture off of Facebook??
* They say that pink monkey still haunts that Branbury balcony. Creepy, no?
* If your boyfriend/fiance/husband is ever cutting apart a stuffed animal and gluing its fur to a bowling ball, document it! Trust me. You'll regret it if you don't.