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Clay is the only material that can make you feel both artistic and like a toddler simultaneously. One minute you're molding a sophisticated sculpture, and the next, you accidentally stick it up your nose. Picasso never had to deal with that.
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Clay is the only art supply that can make you question your life choices. One minute you're excitedly molding something, and the next, you're googling if there's a market for abstract blob sculptures. Spoiler alert: there isn't.
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I recently took a pottery class, thinking it would be therapeutic. Turns out, it's only therapeutic if you find frustration and existential crises therapeutic. My therapist now has a new client: my misshapen clay bust.
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Have you ever noticed that working with clay is a lot like trying to fold a fitted sheet? You start with good intentions, and by the end, you're just crumpling it up and shoving it in a drawer, hoping no one notices.
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I bought some clay to unleash my inner artist, but it turns out my inner artist is more of a preschooler with a vendetta against symmetry. I proudly present to you my latest creation: modern art or failed attempt at a snowman, you decide.
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Clay is like a magical substance that promises creativity but delivers frustration. It's the only thing that can turn a grown adult into a temperamental five-year-old going, "No, it's not a blob; it's abstract!
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Clay is like the chameleon of art supplies. It starts as a promising lump of potential, but halfway through, it transforms into an unrecognizable mess that makes you question your artistic abilities. It's the master of disguise, turning dreams into abstract nightmares.
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Trying to work with clay is like attempting a high-stakes game of Jenga. One wrong move, and your beautiful masterpiece collapses faster than my hopes of becoming a sculptor. I'm starting to think Play-Doh was invented just to spare us from disappointment.
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Buying clay is the adult version of picking a puppy from the litter. You think you're getting a well-behaved companion, but in reality, you end up with a misshapen mess that refuses to do tricks. At least the puppy can fetch; my clay can't even hold its form.
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