Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
I Am So Bummed
So today was the annual Halloween contest at Baby Girl's daycare place. As you may recall, I was stressing over her costume because last year she won and thus set the bar VERY HIGH. Well I my brain was churning and working away when BAM, thought I had a GREAT idea. An idea so fantabuolous, Dogbert was sure to win again. Not that I am that kind of mom or anything. We'd totally be okay if she was only in the top three. I mean, the dog was a bum and you don't always expect greatness from a bum.
But it turns out, bums aren't winners and they aren't even runners up. Now I don't begrudge the winner.
A weimaraner confederate soldier? With his own gun. He totally rocked. He deserved the win. But a doctor ...
I don't think so. Maybe it's sour grapes, maybe it is because Baby Girl is MUCH cuter, or maybe it's the fact that this year there were actual judging criteria this year other than "pick your favorite," but Boo and I are thinking (rationalizing) that Baby Girl was automatically out of the running since she won last year. I mean, come on. How could this sweet little bum not be in the top three?
Fortunately Baby Girl is a good sport and didn't seem to mind the loss. In fact, she seemed a little relieved that she wouldn't have to spend the day in the spa. Cat was also relieved, and grateful, for surviving another year un-costumed.
But it turns out, bums aren't winners and they aren't even runners up. Now I don't begrudge the winner.
A weimaraner confederate soldier? With his own gun. He totally rocked. He deserved the win. But a doctor ...
I don't think so. Maybe it's sour grapes, maybe it is because Baby Girl is MUCH cuter, or maybe it's the fact that this year there were actual judging criteria this year other than "pick your favorite," but Boo and I are thinking (rationalizing) that Baby Girl was automatically out of the running since she won last year. I mean, come on. How could this sweet little bum not be in the top three?
Fortunately Baby Girl is a good sport and didn't seem to mind the loss. In fact, she seemed a little relieved that she wouldn't have to spend the day in the spa. Cat was also relieved, and grateful, for surviving another year un-costumed.
Monday, October 22, 2007
She Wasn't Kidding
So I've been chewing on this whole Halloween costume thing for Dogeralla, and I must really be stressed over it because last night I dreamed about the dog's costume. There are so many other good things I could be dreaming about (Brad Pitt, strawberry shortcake, remodeling my kitchen), that it was kind of a bummer. If was even a bigger bummer because the dream costume was a dud. I had dressed the dog as Mary from Mary Had Little Lamb and tied a stuffed lamb on a rope to her collar so that every where that Dogeralla went, the lamb "was sure to go." Except instead of walking in front of the judges, she kept chasing the lamb and chewing on it. ix-Nay on the ary-May costume.
Moral: Don't tie things to your dog.
I was explaining this to Kay and somehow the conversation morphed, as conversations are wont to do, into a conversation about people Halloween costumes and Kay shared with me an idea she recommended to her best friend. It is perhaps the worst costume idea I've ever heard, so I though I'd share it with you ...
Her: So I told her she should dress up as a tulip.
Me: Huh?
Her: You know a tulip? Wear a pink shirt, green pants, and tell people you are a tulip.
Me: That is the worst costume idea I've ever heard.
Moral: Don't tie things to your dog.
I was explaining this to Kay and somehow the conversation morphed, as conversations are wont to do, into a conversation about people Halloween costumes and Kay shared with me an idea she recommended to her best friend. It is perhaps the worst costume idea I've ever heard, so I though I'd share it with you ...
Her: So I told her she should dress up as a tulip.
Me: Huh?
Her: You know a tulip? Wear a pink shirt, green pants, and tell people you are a tulip.
Me: That is the worst costume idea I've ever heard.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Weekend In Review
5 - The number of friends on our Rhinebeck voyage. Also the time at which I had to wake up to ensure I was on time for our Rhinebeck voyage. A time in the morning in which I do not like to be up.
2.25 - How many hours is took to drive to Rhinebeck via squiggly windy back roads. Squiggly windy back roads with lots of pretty scenery like horses and um, other stuff.
200 - The number of dollars I spent in first twenty minutes, at the first place we visited. Damn you The Fold and your Socks That Rock! I haven't even used my STR from last year's Rhinebeck voyage and yet you pulled me in and now I have more.
4 - The level of bedlam, compared to last year's, trying to get to the Socks That Rock. This, honestly, could have been because we arrived about thirty minutes earlier than we did last year. Or, it could be that the novelty and orgasmic enthusiasm surrounding the STR seems to have abated.
6 - How many skeins of yarn you can get for $200, two of which consist of 995 yards of a kid mohair, silk, nylon blend. I may have been worried that 995 yards would not make the bee shawl that I wanted and it may be that this isn't even the yarn that I was looking for and that I had a colossal, and expensive, brain fart.
1 - How many times someone in our group saw the Yarn Harlot. This was unusual compared to last year when we saw her a gazillion times and she may or may not have been stalking us. It was also funny because a newbie who wasn't there last year wanted to try to find her again so that she could see her. Had we seen her again, this could have help balance the stalking karma from last year.
2 - The number of people I saw at Rhinebeck that I know in real life. Excluding their entourages, because that would bump me up to like 5 people that I know, and that would make me seem MUCH cooler than I am.
3 - How many bloggers (with sites where I lurk) that I saw.
4 - The number of people that giggled at Baaahhhb, The Talking Sheep Puppet. "Hi! My name is Baaahhhb. Where is my wife, Baaahhhhbette?"
1 - The number of creepy dudes interested in Baaahhhb, The Talking Sheep Puppet.
1 - The number of Baaahhhb, Jr. talking sheep puppets that came home with us.
1 - Number of vomiting pumpkins I saw.
4 - How many times I had to use the Rhinebeck loo and did not have to wait in line. Which was totally awesome. I hate to have to wait in line, bouncing from foot to foot, hoping my bladder does not prematurely explode.
0 - The number of rows I completed on my knitting while at Rhinebeck. I thought I left my pattern in the car, which it turns out I did not, I had it with me, but I digress. I couldn't make the pattern work as I didn't have enough stitches. I tried to knit the same row four or five times and then just gave up since I couldn't check the pattern and figure out what I was doing wrong. Boy was I amused to find it in my purse, in the sock knitting bag, the bag in which I had stored my sock and had removed it from to try to knit on.
5,000,000 - The number of rows completed on the knitting of my compadres. Compadres who did not forget their patters or have brain farts.
2 - The times I stopped for carny food. I love me some carny food.
2 - The types of carny artichokes I ate.
2 - The number of items our gang purchased that read "NON-INFLAMMABLE." And, just for the record, does this mean it IS flammable?
30 - The number of dollars I gave my husband when I got home and realized I forgot to put gas in his car after driving it to Rhinebeck and back.
10 - The level of my gratitude, on a scale of 1 to 10, that my husband did not tell my to drag my tired ass back to the car and fill it up so that he wouldn't have to this morning on his way to work. Especially in light of the fact that, had the situation been reversed, I might not have been as cool about it. I hate to put gas in the car and might turn into a raving lunatic if someone drives my car and gives it back to me with anything less a full tank.
0 - The number of football picks I made this weekend. GODDAMMIT! There goes my hope of winning!
12.5 - The hours of sleep required to recover from Rhinebeck; the consecutive number of hours I spent sleeping Saturday night to Sunday morning.
100 - The percent of love I have for the new goodies that came home with me (and the boy and critters to whom I came home).
2.25 - How many hours is took to drive to Rhinebeck via squiggly windy back roads. Squiggly windy back roads with lots of pretty scenery like horses and um, other stuff.
200 - The number of dollars I spent in first twenty minutes, at the first place we visited. Damn you The Fold and your Socks That Rock! I haven't even used my STR from last year's Rhinebeck voyage and yet you pulled me in and now I have more.
4 - The level of bedlam, compared to last year's, trying to get to the Socks That Rock. This, honestly, could have been because we arrived about thirty minutes earlier than we did last year. Or, it could be that the novelty and orgasmic enthusiasm surrounding the STR seems to have abated.
6 - How many skeins of yarn you can get for $200, two of which consist of 995 yards of a kid mohair, silk, nylon blend. I may have been worried that 995 yards would not make the bee shawl that I wanted and it may be that this isn't even the yarn that I was looking for and that I had a colossal, and expensive, brain fart.
1 - How many times someone in our group saw the Yarn Harlot. This was unusual compared to last year when we saw her a gazillion times and she may or may not have been stalking us. It was also funny because a newbie who wasn't there last year wanted to try to find her again so that she could see her. Had we seen her again, this could have help balance the stalking karma from last year.
2 - The number of people I saw at Rhinebeck that I know in real life. Excluding their entourages, because that would bump me up to like 5 people that I know, and that would make me seem MUCH cooler than I am.
3 - How many bloggers (with sites where I lurk) that I saw.
4 - The number of people that giggled at Baaahhhb, The Talking Sheep Puppet. "Hi! My name is Baaahhhb. Where is my wife, Baaahhhhbette?"
1 - The number of creepy dudes interested in Baaahhhb, The Talking Sheep Puppet.
1 - The number of Baaahhhb, Jr. talking sheep puppets that came home with us.
1 - Number of vomiting pumpkins I saw.
4 - How many times I had to use the Rhinebeck loo and did not have to wait in line. Which was totally awesome. I hate to have to wait in line, bouncing from foot to foot, hoping my bladder does not prematurely explode.
0 - The number of rows I completed on my knitting while at Rhinebeck. I thought I left my pattern in the car, which it turns out I did not, I had it with me, but I digress. I couldn't make the pattern work as I didn't have enough stitches. I tried to knit the same row four or five times and then just gave up since I couldn't check the pattern and figure out what I was doing wrong. Boy was I amused to find it in my purse, in the sock knitting bag, the bag in which I had stored my sock and had removed it from to try to knit on.
5,000,000 - The number of rows completed on the knitting of my compadres. Compadres who did not forget their patters or have brain farts.
2 - The times I stopped for carny food. I love me some carny food.
2 - The types of carny artichokes I ate.
2 - The number of items our gang purchased that read "NON-INFLAMMABLE." And, just for the record, does this mean it IS flammable?
30 - The number of dollars I gave my husband when I got home and realized I forgot to put gas in his car after driving it to Rhinebeck and back.
10 - The level of my gratitude, on a scale of 1 to 10, that my husband did not tell my to drag my tired ass back to the car and fill it up so that he wouldn't have to this morning on his way to work. Especially in light of the fact that, had the situation been reversed, I might not have been as cool about it. I hate to put gas in the car and might turn into a raving lunatic if someone drives my car and gives it back to me with anything less a full tank.
0 - The number of football picks I made this weekend. GODDAMMIT! There goes my hope of winning!
12.5 - The hours of sleep required to recover from Rhinebeck; the consecutive number of hours I spent sleeping Saturday night to Sunday morning.
100 - The percent of love I have for the new goodies that came home with me (and the boy and critters to whom I came home).
Friday, October 19, 2007
Socktober Is Here
I've been diligently working on the green sweater. I pseudo-kitchenered up the shoulders and mattress stitched up the sides (taking Mr. Puffy's advice and starting in the middle). I picked up the stitches for a sleeve (twice, because I may not be so smart and not know front from back) and have been working on a sleeve. And despite all of this hard work, and a block of about six hours of knitting time between now and tomorrow, I realize that I will not be able to finish my sweater by the time I leave for Rhinebeck. I do believe this is the first time procrastination has bitten me in the ass. It could be because I had no real do-or-die incentive (e.g., failing a class, getting thrown out of court, etc.) or it could be because this sweater is just huge. Like afghan huge. Like afghan-bedspread-for-an-extra-tall-and-wide-king-sized-bed huge. Or it could be because I cheated and started on some Socktober socks ...
I know! I know! I said I wasn't starting anything until I finished the kangaroo beast, but I couldn't help myself. This cheery Lana Grossa was calling out to me from the yarn room, begging to be knit. Mind you, the Socks That Rock yarn, the yarn I waited for a gazillion hours in a million person line for, the yarn that was the Holy Grail of my Rhinebeck trip last year, it still hasn't been touched. Not at all. Well I guess technically it was touched when I put it away in the yarn room, but it hasn't been touched in a knitterly way. So once I finish the kangaroo sweater, and the Socktober socks, then I'm pulling out the STR. For real. Unless something else calls my name. Like tomorrow, at Rhinebeck.
I know! I know! I said I wasn't starting anything until I finished the kangaroo beast, but I couldn't help myself. This cheery Lana Grossa was calling out to me from the yarn room, begging to be knit. Mind you, the Socks That Rock yarn, the yarn I waited for a gazillion hours in a million person line for, the yarn that was the Holy Grail of my Rhinebeck trip last year, it still hasn't been touched. Not at all. Well I guess technically it was touched when I put it away in the yarn room, but it hasn't been touched in a knitterly way. So once I finish the kangaroo sweater, and the Socktober socks, then I'm pulling out the STR. For real. Unless something else calls my name. Like tomorrow, at Rhinebeck.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Boo!
Being that it is the season for all things spooky and scary, I wanted to scare you all. I thought about telling you that I had started another sweater, ha! Or showing you spooky pictures of Dogbert all dressed up in her Halloween costume, but then I decide on something totally different. I thought it was time to come out. I've come out to all of my "real life" friends, and now I'm coming out to you ...
Ha! You thought I was going to renounce my heterosexuality, turn in my NRA membership, start taking T, develop a deeper voice and a fondness for square dancing? Nope, nothing quite so ... I was going to say, "nothing quite so drastic," but hello? There is a person GROWING INSIDE of me. Pretty fucking drastic. Also pretty fucking fantastic. Next month when I am posting every single day, I'm sure I will run out of interesting things to share with you and end up regaling you with tales of my neurosis over this whole pregnancy/baby thing, but for now I'll tell you that we are:
1) having a baby;
2) said baby appears to be human (though the ultrasound makes that seem questionable as the baby looks like a cross between Skeletor and Beavis.);
3) said baby is GROWING INSIDE OF ME; and,
4) said baby is due on April 5, 2008, but because I suck at remembering important things I have decided that its birth will be occurring on April 6, 2008. This is really for the baby's sake as I'm much more likely to remember 4/6/8 (who do we appreciate?) as a birthday then 4/5/8. 4/5/8 is forgettable and I know any kid with 23 of my chromosomes is so going to want presents on its birthday and for that to happen, I need to be able to remember the birthday.
Ha! You thought I was going to renounce my heterosexuality, turn in my NRA membership, start taking T, develop a deeper voice and a fondness for square dancing? Nope, nothing quite so ... I was going to say, "nothing quite so drastic," but hello? There is a person GROWING INSIDE of me. Pretty fucking drastic. Also pretty fucking fantastic. Next month when I am posting every single day, I'm sure I will run out of interesting things to share with you and end up regaling you with tales of my neurosis over this whole pregnancy/baby thing, but for now I'll tell you that we are:
1) having a baby;
2) said baby appears to be human (though the ultrasound makes that seem questionable as the baby looks like a cross between Skeletor and Beavis.);
3) said baby is GROWING INSIDE OF ME; and,
4) said baby is due on April 5, 2008, but because I suck at remembering important things I have decided that its birth will be occurring on April 6, 2008. This is really for the baby's sake as I'm much more likely to remember 4/6/8 (who do we appreciate?) as a birthday then 4/5/8. 4/5/8 is forgettable and I know any kid with 23 of my chromosomes is so going to want presents on its birthday and for that to happen, I need to be able to remember the birthday.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Ghetto Seaming
As you may recall, I decided to kitchener the shoulders of my sweater closed but ran into a slight problem with undoing my cast-off. Well you will be pleased to know (or maybe you won't, but I am sure you are too kind to tell me otherwise) that I solved this little problem and now have both shoulders seamed. And neatly seamed at that. Huzzah!
And now, a photo essay on my journey into 'making it work' kitchener style. All photos can be clicked on to make bigger, not that it helps, but there ya go. In order to fudge the kitchener, I first had to pick up my stitches on the row underneath my undoable cast-off row so that I had live stitches. I got out my size zero needles and picked away.
This actually took some thought. I had to make sure I was picking up the same side of the stitch all the way across. I decided to pick up the front bit of the stitch and said to myself, "on front, skip back," as I made my way across. I also had to count, recount, and then recount again, to ensure that I had picked up the right number of stitches. Counting is hard. I no good at counting.
Once I had the stitches on the needle, I had to figure out how to orient everything so that my kitchener would work. This also took some thought.
Once I thought I had it right, I started kitchenering away. "Knit off, purl on, purl off, knit on."
I did a few and then checked to see if it looked right.
It looked right so I kept on going. And going. And then, voila! I was at the end.
For the most part this was a huge success. The cast off row gives the seam some heft, but not too much. My only issue is that I seemed to have aligned my stitches slightly differently on the second shoulder so that it aligns half a stitch off. On some other project, this would drive me nuts. On this one, I just don't care.
And now, a photo essay on my journey into 'making it work' kitchener style. All photos can be clicked on to make bigger, not that it helps, but there ya go. In order to fudge the kitchener, I first had to pick up my stitches on the row underneath my undoable cast-off row so that I had live stitches. I got out my size zero needles and picked away.
This actually took some thought. I had to make sure I was picking up the same side of the stitch all the way across. I decided to pick up the front bit of the stitch and said to myself, "on front, skip back," as I made my way across. I also had to count, recount, and then recount again, to ensure that I had picked up the right number of stitches. Counting is hard. I no good at counting.
Once I had the stitches on the needle, I had to figure out how to orient everything so that my kitchener would work. This also took some thought.
Once I thought I had it right, I started kitchenering away. "Knit off, purl on, purl off, knit on."
I did a few and then checked to see if it looked right.
It looked right so I kept on going. And going. And then, voila! I was at the end.
For the most part this was a huge success. The cast off row gives the seam some heft, but not too much. My only issue is that I seemed to have aligned my stitches slightly differently on the second shoulder so that it aligns half a stitch off. On some other project, this would drive me nuts. On this one, I just don't care.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Thunderstorms
This weekend the weather at Yarnbeck is suppose to kind of suck. Somehow I doubt that will slow the masses.
Rookie Mistake
I went to a doctor's appointment this morning and left my knitting (and my book) at home! On the flip-side, I am now well versed on the human papilloma virus thanks to an informative free periodical.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Call Me Merriam
Yarnbeck (noun) yärn-bek
1: Formerly known as Rhinebeck;
2: the New York State Sheep & Wool Festival
I'm quite proud of this new word I've created. Maybe it will one day catch on and end up in the Urban Dictionary between Yarn Balls (which are NOT what you think they are) and Yarn Gargler (also NOT what you think it is and totally NOT related to knitting. AT ALL!).
And, holy crap, Katy bar the door! I can add my own words to the Urban Dictionary. Woot! Woot! Please hold while I delve into the world of narcissism and memorialize my dorkedness ... So I just totally submitted Yarnbeck to the Urban Dictionary folks. I'm not sure they will take it as it is not exactly hip slang and my definition and sentence were anything but sexy, but we'll see. I'm suppose to check back here to see if it is accepted.
And to return to our regular programming ... I have made NO progress on the sweater. Despite the gaping neck/head hole, of which I have not made a decision about what to do, I did try to seam up the shoulders last night. It was, um, not pretty. Or rather, pretty fugly. The variegation in yarn thickness melded together to make a really horrible lumpy seam. S'no good. So I undid the seam and decided to heed the advice of those smarter than me and undo my cast-off and then kitchener the shoulders together. Which is great and all, but I can't seem to uncast-off the back piece that I finished sometime in 1983. Not sure what I did there, maybe I was high at the time, but it is not coming undone whatever it was. My latest brain storm involves faking the kitchenering by picking up the last row of stitches before the cast-off and using those with the front stitches and then seeing what happens. This could totally be crafting gone bad.
Not related to knitting, or my plan for the disastrous sweater, but equally cockamamie, is NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) and my voluntary participation in same. Often I subject to you my babble, having to write every single day for the month of November is going to result in me subjecting you to a hell of a lot more of my babble. Prepare to enjoy (or cringe)! Should you be interested in participating (which I really hope you are because I could use a lot more stuff to read during the day and further my procrastination), you can look here for last year's info, prizes and whatnot and click on the box in my sidebar to sign up and see this years info.
1: Formerly known as Rhinebeck;
2: the New York State Sheep & Wool Festival
I'm quite proud of this new word I've created. Maybe it will one day catch on and end up in the Urban Dictionary between Yarn Balls (which are NOT what you think they are) and Yarn Gargler (also NOT what you think it is and totally NOT related to knitting. AT ALL!).
And, holy crap, Katy bar the door! I can add my own words to the Urban Dictionary. Woot! Woot! Please hold while I delve into the world of narcissism and memorialize my dorkedness ... So I just totally submitted Yarnbeck to the Urban Dictionary folks. I'm not sure they will take it as it is not exactly hip slang and my definition and sentence were anything but sexy, but we'll see. I'm suppose to check back here to see if it is accepted.
And to return to our regular programming ... I have made NO progress on the sweater. Despite the gaping neck/head hole, of which I have not made a decision about what to do, I did try to seam up the shoulders last night. It was, um, not pretty. Or rather, pretty fugly. The variegation in yarn thickness melded together to make a really horrible lumpy seam. S'no good. So I undid the seam and decided to heed the advice of those smarter than me and undo my cast-off and then kitchener the shoulders together. Which is great and all, but I can't seem to uncast-off the back piece that I finished sometime in 1983. Not sure what I did there, maybe I was high at the time, but it is not coming undone whatever it was. My latest brain storm involves faking the kitchenering by picking up the last row of stitches before the cast-off and using those with the front stitches and then seeing what happens. This could totally be crafting gone bad.
Not related to knitting, or my plan for the disastrous sweater, but equally cockamamie, is NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) and my voluntary participation in same. Often I subject to you my babble, having to write every single day for the month of November is going to result in me subjecting you to a hell of a lot more of my babble. Prepare to enjoy (or cringe)! Should you be interested in participating (which I really hope you are because I could use a lot more stuff to read during the day and further my procrastination), you can look here for last year's info, prizes and whatnot and click on the box in my sidebar to sign up and see this years info.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Hell & Damn
Well I remembered to bring the monstrosity sweater to work today to take photographic evidence of my progress. Which, it turns out, was both a great idea and a terrible idea. With the magic of a timer, I figured I could take a few pictures of the sweater on me. So I binder clipped the top of the sleeves/shoulders together and, voila! Except, crap!
That big gaping neck? No good! No where in the directions does it say anything about picking up stitches at the neck, or doing anything to the neck which means that this is the neck unless I work some knitting hocus-pocus. After I saw that picture (and the panic of knitting this little bitch months and months on end for naught receded), I figured that maybe I just needed to adjust the bits and make sure they were evenly spaced front and back. So I did that. And lo and behold the stupid little shit looked EXACTLY the same.
This is when I started to say fuck. A lot. I guess I am going to move forward. I mean, what have I got to lose? Don't answer that. I am going to try to remain optimistic. I haven't blocked it, I didn't have enough binder clips to hold the sides together (and asking Office Manager for a box of binder clips is a sure fire way to give up the fact that I am doing something other than work behind my closed office door), and the hood might just be the knitting hocus-pocus that pulls this baby together. Right? If all else fails, maybe I could pick up some stitches and create a smaller head hole. You know, do extra work. Because I love this sweater so much, I just can't work on it enough. Grr.
That big gaping neck? No good! No where in the directions does it say anything about picking up stitches at the neck, or doing anything to the neck which means that this is the neck unless I work some knitting hocus-pocus. After I saw that picture (and the panic of knitting this little bitch months and months on end for naught receded), I figured that maybe I just needed to adjust the bits and make sure they were evenly spaced front and back. So I did that. And lo and behold the stupid little shit looked EXACTLY the same.
This is when I started to say fuck. A lot. I guess I am going to move forward. I mean, what have I got to lose? Don't answer that. I am going to try to remain optimistic. I haven't blocked it, I didn't have enough binder clips to hold the sides together (and asking Office Manager for a box of binder clips is a sure fire way to give up the fact that I am doing something other than work behind my closed office door), and the hood might just be the knitting hocus-pocus that pulls this baby together. Right? If all else fails, maybe I could pick up some stitches and create a smaller head hole. You know, do extra work. Because I love this sweater so much, I just can't work on it enough. Grr.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Razzle Dazzle
I finished the front of my sweater! I did! I did! But, I finished late last night and I immediately ran to bed so as to avoid inevitable end of the Yankees season and the bellowing of "This is BULL SHIT!" that would follow. In my hurry, I forgot to take a picture of the greatness that is, well, um, a large greenish rectangle. So, to distract you, I thought I would share a picture of the absolute worst color nail polish for someone with my skin tone.
The picture is a bit blurry and the color is not spot on, but I think you can see that it does not look as if I painted my toenails, but instead it looks as if they have contracted a particularly virulent strain of funk and are planning to rot right off me feet. Sexy!
The picture is a bit blurry and the color is not spot on, but I think you can see that it does not look as if I painted my toenails, but instead it looks as if they have contracted a particularly virulent strain of funk and are planning to rot right off me feet. Sexy!
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Cake
I love me some cake. I've always loved me some cake. When Boo used to travel two to three days every week during football season, I would buy a one person cake the day he left and savor it the entire time he was gone. Lately, I can't seem to get enough cake. I think it started with BeFri talking about wedding cakes and progressed from there. Last weekend I even had cake, some really good cake and some kinda bad cake, yet it didn't really satiate my need for cake.
So I haven't really posted about Crazy lately and my insane job (and yes, this will tie into cake, just you wait and see) because though the insanity level at my workplace is still hovering around Red Alert, Give me a Gas Mask and a Straitjacket, the insanity has not been Crazy driven. In fact, for the last few months she has basically ignored me which is a wonderful, wonderful, thing. The silence on her part was a total blessing and I am totally kicking my own ass for messing that up (and yes, this will tie into cake, really, just have a little patience).
You see, on Tuesday, Crazy left some magazines on my desk. And instead of ignoring her like any smart person would do, I decided I was classy or honorable or some dumbass thing, and as she was walking by my office and not looking at me, I yelled out, "Thanks for the magazines!" And yes, I see the incongruity of all ghetto yelling "thanks!" while claiming to be a classy well bred broad offering my thanks but let's not talk about that, m'kay? So I shout my thanks like the ghetto girl I am and instead of a nod or a grunt she full on stops, comes into my office, and speaks in her little girl voice about how she wanted to say "Hi" to me but thought we weren't doing that because she said "Hi" to me twice and waived to me once and I totally ignored her. Oh, and in addition to using a baby voice she is doing this weird little girl dance that was totally disturbing.
So, she delivers her soliloquy and I say, "Well obviously I didn't hear you or see you because I would never rudely ignore someone on purpose." Which, for the record, is a total friggen lie. I would ignore, and have ignored, people, including her, on purpose. But though she has me beat in the crazy as hell department and lies more than anyone I know, I have her beat in the ability to lie well. Not that it necessarily was a lie, I don't remember ignoring her, maybe I really didn't see or hear her, or maybe I did. Either way, from that point on she got it into her head that we are friends which is bad, B.A.D., bad. Unlike cake which is very, very, good, and going to be tied back in. For real.
So on Wednesday Crazy came in and told me about a dream she had where the two of us were at some fancy outdoor ball/picnic where there was a shoe and fashion show. Now aside from the fact that I didn't want to hear about her dreams because no one ever wants to hear about other people's dreams because they tend to bore, I didn't want to hear about this because ew! Yuck! And, ick! She kept talking about it and I kept nodding my head wondering if she would go away and for how long would she stay away once she was gone and though she kept coming back to talk about her riveting dream, I left at noon and kinda blocked it out.
Which brings us to today. And cake. The fuckin whack job corners me on the stairs this morning as soon as I walked in the door and told me she brought me a cake. Since when did we have the type of relationship in which we bake cakes for each other? NEVER! We have never been, and will never be, cake exchanging friends, or even friends for that matter. Well turns out I must have had a look of horror on my face because I learned that she didn't bake me a cake, she got a free one last night from KFC and Crazy decided to bring the cake in and give it to Receptionist and me because we're "those people that eat cake." Um, "those of people"? People with mouths? People with tongues? People who like light fluffy sweet foods? What does that mean?
I rejected the offer of cake being that I still hadn't reached my desk, it was 8:00 a.m., I had a warm egg and cheese sandwich in my purse, and I was totally freaked out. So five minutes late she brings the cake into my office and puts it on my desk. I had had a few minutes to regroup so I again rejected the cake, gave some excuse about having my own breakfast and then mentally decide that I was going to stand up for all of "those people" and not eat her stinking cake. So there! Take that you wacko cake pusher!
Well wonders of wonders, at lunch time guess who walks by my office, with a piece of cake? Yep, Crazy. She is one of "those people" too! Ha! And she says, "It's not bad, not real good either, but not bad. It may have chunks of chocolate in it." And with that, my moral indignation of behalf of all "those people" went down the crapper. Because hello, chunks of chocolate! When I later finished my lunch, I had a slice of cake and it wasn't very good. But it was cake and so I'm not going to complain, even if it was Crazy cake.
Notwithstanding the cake, all of this buddy-buddyness is not working for me. I told Boo that I couldn't take this whole you-and-I-are-pals thing any more and that I was going to snap and do something to get back in on the silent treatment. But then he reminded me that I'm going to be needing something from her in the future and so I need to suck it up until then. So I will keep my mouth shut a little longer and hope that the next cake is vanilla. Or red velvet. I love me some good red velvet cake.
So I haven't really posted about Crazy lately and my insane job (and yes, this will tie into cake, just you wait and see) because though the insanity level at my workplace is still hovering around Red Alert, Give me a Gas Mask and a Straitjacket, the insanity has not been Crazy driven. In fact, for the last few months she has basically ignored me which is a wonderful, wonderful, thing. The silence on her part was a total blessing and I am totally kicking my own ass for messing that up (and yes, this will tie into cake, really, just have a little patience).
You see, on Tuesday, Crazy left some magazines on my desk. And instead of ignoring her like any smart person would do, I decided I was classy or honorable or some dumbass thing, and as she was walking by my office and not looking at me, I yelled out, "Thanks for the magazines!" And yes, I see the incongruity of all ghetto yelling "thanks!" while claiming to be a classy well bred broad offering my thanks but let's not talk about that, m'kay? So I shout my thanks like the ghetto girl I am and instead of a nod or a grunt she full on stops, comes into my office, and speaks in her little girl voice about how she wanted to say "Hi" to me but thought we weren't doing that because she said "Hi" to me twice and waived to me once and I totally ignored her. Oh, and in addition to using a baby voice she is doing this weird little girl dance that was totally disturbing.
So, she delivers her soliloquy and I say, "Well obviously I didn't hear you or see you because I would never rudely ignore someone on purpose." Which, for the record, is a total friggen lie. I would ignore, and have ignored, people, including her, on purpose. But though she has me beat in the crazy as hell department and lies more than anyone I know, I have her beat in the ability to lie well. Not that it necessarily was a lie, I don't remember ignoring her, maybe I really didn't see or hear her, or maybe I did. Either way, from that point on she got it into her head that we are friends which is bad, B.A.D., bad. Unlike cake which is very, very, good, and going to be tied back in. For real.
So on Wednesday Crazy came in and told me about a dream she had where the two of us were at some fancy outdoor ball/picnic where there was a shoe and fashion show. Now aside from the fact that I didn't want to hear about her dreams because no one ever wants to hear about other people's dreams because they tend to bore, I didn't want to hear about this because ew! Yuck! And, ick! She kept talking about it and I kept nodding my head wondering if she would go away and for how long would she stay away once she was gone and though she kept coming back to talk about her riveting dream, I left at noon and kinda blocked it out.
Which brings us to today. And cake. The fuckin whack job corners me on the stairs this morning as soon as I walked in the door and told me she brought me a cake. Since when did we have the type of relationship in which we bake cakes for each other? NEVER! We have never been, and will never be, cake exchanging friends, or even friends for that matter. Well turns out I must have had a look of horror on my face because I learned that she didn't bake me a cake, she got a free one last night from KFC and Crazy decided to bring the cake in and give it to Receptionist and me because we're "those people that eat cake." Um, "those of people"? People with mouths? People with tongues? People who like light fluffy sweet foods? What does that mean?
I rejected the offer of cake being that I still hadn't reached my desk, it was 8:00 a.m., I had a warm egg and cheese sandwich in my purse, and I was totally freaked out. So five minutes late she brings the cake into my office and puts it on my desk. I had had a few minutes to regroup so I again rejected the cake, gave some excuse about having my own breakfast and then mentally decide that I was going to stand up for all of "those people" and not eat her stinking cake. So there! Take that you wacko cake pusher!
Well wonders of wonders, at lunch time guess who walks by my office, with a piece of cake? Yep, Crazy. She is one of "those people" too! Ha! And she says, "It's not bad, not real good either, but not bad. It may have chunks of chocolate in it." And with that, my moral indignation of behalf of all "those people" went down the crapper. Because hello, chunks of chocolate! When I later finished my lunch, I had a slice of cake and it wasn't very good. But it was cake and so I'm not going to complain, even if it was Crazy cake.
Notwithstanding the cake, all of this buddy-buddyness is not working for me. I told Boo that I couldn't take this whole you-and-I-are-pals thing any more and that I was going to snap and do something to get back in on the silent treatment. But then he reminded me that I'm going to be needing something from her in the future and so I need to suck it up until then. So I will keep my mouth shut a little longer and hope that the next cake is vanilla. Or red velvet. I love me some good red velvet cake.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Hello There Sexy
I love October. My husband, he loves September, but me, I love October more. I like the chilly October air, the turning leaves, and the chance to put up dust collectors holiday decorations. This October though, it is giving me stress.
There are only 18 days until Rhinebeck and my sweater is only two rows closer to completion! That being said, I am vowing to knit my little fingers to the bone this weekend. I have SnB tomorrow night and then some down time Friday afternoon. Then I have the three hour drive to and from New Jersey this weekend. My goal is to finish the friggen front of my friggen sweater. That then leaves me two weeks to knit two sleeves and a hood, seam up the entire thing, block it and get it ready for wearage at Rhinebeck. I think this is a reasonable goal. I also think Kennedy was killed by the magic bullet. Okay, that last part was a total lie used to illustrate my point. My point being that my goal is um, slightly unreasonable. But it's all good.
In any event, and not withstanding my sweater's status at the time of Rhinebeck which I am sure will be done and worn because I am going to knit that sweater like nobody's business, I am starting a pair of socks the first knitting minute I have after Rhinebeck. It's Socktoberfest people!
There are only 18 days until Rhinebeck and my sweater is only two rows closer to completion! That being said, I am vowing to knit my little fingers to the bone this weekend. I have SnB tomorrow night and then some down time Friday afternoon. Then I have the three hour drive to and from New Jersey this weekend. My goal is to finish the friggen front of my friggen sweater. That then leaves me two weeks to knit two sleeves and a hood, seam up the entire thing, block it and get it ready for wearage at Rhinebeck. I think this is a reasonable goal. I also think Kennedy was killed by the magic bullet. Okay, that last part was a total lie used to illustrate my point. My point being that my goal is um, slightly unreasonable. But it's all good.
In any event, and not withstanding my sweater's status at the time of Rhinebeck which I am sure will be done and worn because I am going to knit that sweater like nobody's business, I am starting a pair of socks the first knitting minute I have after Rhinebeck. It's Socktoberfest people!
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