How can something that rhymes with 'fluffy' defeat me?

Pluffy: 2. Me: 0. Final score.

This won't be another rant, like this one. Just a humble admission that sometimes I am stink-eroo at things that fall outside of my creative comfort zone. Amusingly, I received a few comments that people wanted to see pictures of my Pluffy ornament mishaps. I had already trashed them and had none to share, but now I do.

A coupla things first:  I was the kid who was not the most creative with modeling substances. I was really good at snakes and spheres--REALLY good--but that's it. Also--I would be the worst person at graffiti ever. My spray can technique leaves everything to be desired. I'm actually surprised I didn't end up wearing the paint. Finally, this whole thing is now out of my system and I don't think I will be mentioning again what shall hereafter be known as "The Pluffy Affair."

This time around I bought a rolling pin specifically made for clay. I cut it on a metal surface so it wouldn't stick. Things went along well. Until....the oven. I am convinced my oven hates me. These things looked fine going in and came out looking not so fine.

I couldn't even roll it out evenly--wavy bits, differing thicknesses--it's all here.

I created these very scientific drawings to highlight the best parts:

 

The one on the left is probably usable. We'll see.

 

This is one I really wanted to work out--the one on the right will be ok once I tie some ribbon on.

I don't think this one would have been great anyway--the words are too hard to read.

This is another one I really wanted to work out. Alas, it was not to be.

Bah. I couldn't even get this one centered.

The first set had fewer technical problems by far--but there were bubbles EVERYwhere. This set had fewer bubbles but everything you see above. My spray job doesn't even look like chrome. I want to throw them away, my mumsy wants to hang them from the trees outside. If that happens even the birds will be laughing at me.