This is an OFFICIAL break up.* You suck. I really read up on how to do you. I swear. I friggen researched for fuk's sake. And, after careful consideration, I realized that most of the instructions were the same and that I had to do this. I understood. Made sense. Seemed easy. So I did it.
And I got that. Crap. A big, fat, rolling over, laying down, refusing to stand at attention picot bind off. What the hell? Upset, but not yet deterred, I ripped out your pointy little nubs and tried some different things. I knit some rows of garter stitch and re-bound off. Result? Rolling. I knit some ribbing and then bound off. Result? Rolling and some weird spacing issues. I knit you on smaller sized needles. Result? Least offensive rolling, but rolling nonetheless. I sewed some of your picots together at the ankle bits to pull you tight. Result? Fugly sides, tight opening to get my foot in, and picots pointing different directions.
So you know what Mr. Picot, I gave up. I have one semi-decent photo of my foot at a weird angle, forcing your picotness to as much as attention as possible, at least on half of the sock.
I'll look at this photo and think about what could have been been. And then I'll remember the shit you put me through last night and say KISS MY ASS!
Love,
The Girl Who Tried To Use You Eleventy Gazillion Different Ways But Then Gave Up Because I Am So Over Your Cute Little Points.
*Opa's sister dumped one of her boyfriends in a restaurant one night by screaming, "THIS IS AN OFFICIAL BREAKUP!" As she was screaming at him, she slammed her hands on the table with such force stuff went flying. Then she left. I find this to be awesome and if I ever have a break up, it is so going to be an official break up, not one of those namby pamby unofficial ones.
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