And while assembling this beautiful creature will be no small feat, first thing's first. When something weighs more than a typical adult and has the potential to "kill you so hard," one must prepare proper accommodations. Thus, project CNC Table was begun. And trust me, this thing will survive a nuclear blast, and you'll hardly even hear the impact thanks to the Torsion Box of Destiny.
Here is your tutorial:
Step one: Scour the CNC forums, a delightful hive of knowledgeable nerds and only mild villainy.
Step two: Fool little brother, who just got a Master's in engineering, into helping. Promise him food and that "it will hardly take any time at all."
Step three: Buy SO. MUCH. WOOD.
Step four: Build a torsion box (as pictured above) so that vibrations and noise will be reduced, because science.
Step five: Be a dummy and get minor injuries throughout the whole process.
Step six: Give each leg three 2x4s and bolt those things to the torsion box like your life depended on it. (Because... it actually kind of does...)
Step seven: Create a storage deck with cross supports, plus leg supports. Make sure little brother can jump on it with no wobbling.
Step eight: Saw, saw, saw, bolt, bolt, bolt, screw, screw, screw, jump, jump, jump.
Step nine: Pose triumphantly on top of your hearty table to prove that it can hold an adult, that you know how to hold a drill, and that pictures of yourself actually do exist. (And don't worry, I'm about to become unaffiliated with that poor, broken elephant on my shirt :( )
And there you have it. It's too heavy to move, so I hope Chris doesn't mind parking in the driveway for the rest of his life.
And since there's just no good way to transition smoothly to this, I'll make this as abrupt as possible. Oh hey, look at these wire wrapped rings I made with my Activity Day girls. (You know, since this blog is about stuff I make...)
I still can't bring myself to wear jewelry, so they're up for grabs if I like you. (So don't even bother asking, Helen Hunt.)