well, shit.

I just wrote the best post ever. Fucking blogger. I'll try to recreate the genius soon, peeps.

oh lordy

I've been obsessively checking The Village Voice today for the updated Savage Love. Sadly, it's Monday, not Tuesday. I arrange my week around Savage Love (Tuesday afternoon) and Dear Prudence on Slate. com (Thursday mornings). They neatly slice up my little week into digestible bits. I like that I have something to look forward to every other day of my week, even if it's small and pretty silly.

I think I especially need those little markers because my weekend was, well, complicated. I had visitors - Mr. F's parents from South Dakota (of the newly infamous misogynistic laws - but don't worry, they're crazy liberal. Yay). They're nice people, but I have complicated feelings about them, especially towards Mr. F.'s mother. She's a nice lady in theory but something gets tangled in the practice. I could go into that with a lot of depth and fervor (which I'm sure would make great reading) but I just can't dissect Mr. F.'s folks in public. They're individuals. That's all that needs to be said.

I am knitting the lovely namaste from Knitty . com. It's knitting up beautifully. Mine is all purple cheap shit yarn. It kind of feels like I'm knitting with garbage bags. Eh, it's a fun knit and it's zipping along. It's a belated birthday present for my friend Liz. Lovely girl, lovely knitter, lovely yoga aficionado. I don't think she knows how to do cables yet so I'm sure this'll wow her completely. Chrimmeny I love that. It's so simple but I come off it so pro. Lovely.

my infinite grace and goodwill

Imagine, if you would, your upper thigh, preferably the widest part. Supermodels, think about a tree trunk. Now imagine your thigh/tree trunk wrapped around my left ankle. Add a lot of black and a little blue. E voila! You have my lovely sprained ankle!

As I was running for the bus on Wednesday, my already weak as shit ankle turned. After having my ankles spontaneously turn on me for 26 years at this point, I'm usually pretty quick to correct my balance. Frenzied running kind of made that impossible. Now, I'm a klutzy girl. I fall all the time (did I ever tell you about the semester in college when I had that inner ear imbalance? Bloody times, my friends. Buckets of blood and many pairs of ripped pants). Usually I just roll with it - the roll is very important in falling - brush myself off and jump back up red-faced. This time though I landed square in the middle of the street and for a brief, horrifying moment I wasn't sure if I could get up. I knew the fall had to have looked bad when people started getting out of their cars to see if I was okay. Um, embarrassing. I hobbled onto the bus where I got a good stare by everyone who could see out of the front of the bus. Thank god the driver waited for my sore ass. If he had pulled away from the bus I would have thrown myself in front of it. I mean really, what more did I have to injure?

The unexpected bonus of having a super sprained as shit ankle is the kid glove treatment of Mr. F (who already is weirdly nice to me. It's so strange being with someone who isn't, you know, a complete psycho asshole) AND I get to wear my ghetto sneakers to work!!! I can't tell you how the inner bum in me rejoiced when I realized that. Of course I didn't jump up and down or anything (oh we'll be having none of that, thank you very much) but oh, my heart was full of glee.

That said, I'm already bored with my injury. I'm done with it. Unfortunately it's not done with me. Bastard ankle.

if this doesn't thrill you, then you are no friend of mine

Chaucer has a blog, everyone!! High nerdery indeeded!!

I love it!!

Take the quiz:
What Musical Are You?

Once More With Feeling
You're Once More With Feeling! This isn't a real musical... It's the musical episode of BtVS. So, feel lucky to be one of the best shows ever! You're moody, and indifferent at times, but you're learning to be more of a people person.

Quizzes by myYearbook.com -- the World's Biggest Yearbook!

burn out

Occasionally, I get a raging case of job burn out. Today is such a day. Sometimes when my boss sees something he doesn't want to see from my research and raises a fuss, I just want to stomp my foot and slam the door behind me. Is that so wrong? I don't think so either.

I think I'm just not a financial researcher at heart. My job is a good job, great benefits, intelligent work, room to move and learn. All very good and well. And I know a lot of people would be delighted to die in this job. I am just not one of them. You know what I think gets me? I know I'm grossly underqualified for this job but I get to keep it because I put up a good front. I had no idea how important fronting was in the workplace, really, until I got here. Hi, I was a literature major. Hi, I don't like basic math. What the hell am I doing reading cash flow statements? When did my life begin revolving around balance sheets?

All I can say is that I hope for a few things:
1) I make it out of here unscathed
2) I make it out of here before they see through the front
3) I don't get fired and have to declare bankruptcy (that would blow)

This is not me (but it sort of is).

little golden books that never made it

a recent gift to me from my former 9th grade science teacher...

Little Golden Books that Never Made It


1. You Are Different and That's Bad

2. The Boy Who Died From Eating All His Vegetables

3. Dad's New Wife Robert

4. Fun four-letter Words to Know and Share

5. Hammers, Screwdrivers and Scissors: An I-Can-Do-It Book

6. The Kids' Guide to Hitchhiking

7. Kathy Was So Bad Her Mom Stopped Loving Her

8. Curious George and the High-Voltage Fence

9. All Cats Go to Hell

10. The Little Sissy Who Snitched

11. Some Kittens Can Fly

12. That's it, I'm Putting You Up for Adoption

13. Grandpa Gets a Casket

14. The Magic World Inside the Abandoned Refrigerator

15. Garfield Gets Feline Leukemia

16. The Pop-Up Book of Human Anatomy

17. Strangers Have the Best Candy

18. Whining, Kicking and Crying to Get Your Way

19. You Were an Accident

20. Things Rich Kids Have, But You Never Will

21. Pop! Goes The Hamster...And Other Great Microwave Games

22. The Man in the Moon Is Actually Satan

23. Your Nightmares Are Real

24. Where Would You Like to Be Buried?

25. Eggs, Toilet Paper, and Your School

26. Why Can't Mr. Fork and Ms. Electrical Outlet Be Friends?

27. Places Where Mommy and Daddy Hide Neat Things

28. Daddy Drinks Because You Cry

a great many things

So so so many things. So little time to blog.

1) I've taken up bellydancing and frankly, I love it to an insane degree. I've just finished my first eight week session and have signed up for the next eight week session! My very adorable teacher Kristina calls my friends and me "The Peanut Gallery" because we're so squirrelly. Example of said squirreliness? My friend Jess and I pretended to bellydance as if we were cojoined twins. Kristina just rolled her eyes, laughed, and walked away. She's a very patient person. A picture of the lovely hip scarf I bought is on the left!


2) Mr. F and I just had the most fabulous vacation ever in glorious Duluth (MN pronunciation: Doooo-lute). I was a little iffy about the cabin I rented for us. I thought, this place looks like it could be shoddy. And I really didn't want shoddy. Mr. F and I haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together because of his crazy schedule (school and work) and I can't go over there with my dog CW any more because he got some nasty hategram about "NO DOGS EVER" blah blah blah. So this weekend was really important to me.

Well, shiiiit, that place rocked. It was cheap as the day is long but so well-kept. So clean. And really, what more can one ask for? Our little one bedroom cabin had a full kitchen and a fireplace. The kitchen came in handy because we really didn't leave the cabin AT ALL. Yum. I guess Mr. F missed me too.

Here are some pics from the cabin's website - this is pretty true to form. But because it was February when we went, just add way way way way more snow.











It's so beautiful up there. God, that was the nicest vacation I've ever hand, hands down. No drama, no stress, nada. Just sex, food, sex, food, long walk, sex and passing out from exhaustion. The best.

3) The worst, however, is what's happening with my dog Chilly Willy. I never understood why everyone hated on her. I'd be all, "You just hate little dogs. She's my baby. Why do you hate my baby, hater?" And they'd be all, "Your dog scares the shit out of me. Ow! Ow! She's biting me! AHHHH!"

And I'd think, "Well, she wouldn't bite if you didn't provoke her. Stop moving/talking/breathing/looking at things so much. She doesn't like it."

Well, but I knew when I took CW in as a foster dog three years ago we would someday have to part. I want babies and I have zero doubt she'd kill any competition (babies included). That is not an exaggeration. I know she would gladly maim or kill a child. She's just that way.

So I started talking to a small dog rescue group in town and explained my situation with her. I told them the ideal person to take CW in would have the following traits/habits:

They'd either live alone or with one partner
They'd either work from home or have an abbreviated schedule
They'd keep a totally consistent schedule
They wouldn't travel
They wouldn't have people over
No children, no grandchildren ever
They'd be familiar with chihuahuas
They'd be familiar with aggressive dogs
They'd be willing to live with a very aggressive dog

Um, what? So basically a monk, a really gentle monk that didn't have his brothers around very much and had a lot of time to give to CW. As I went through the process of this I realized that I'm just not going to find that for her. And I seriously doubt I'd find anyone who would be as patient and nice to her as I am. Period.

So next Friday evening at 5:40 pm CW is going to go to the Great Farm in the Sky. I don't say that to be flip. I have this image of her cuddling on God's lap, which is trite and cheesy but it really helps. I'm going to miss her so much. The last three years have been hard - dealing with radiation and all my Grave's disease stuff, getting out of a bad four year relationship and subsequently dating a long line of psycho assholes, money problems, deciding against grad school. Granted all of these thing have ultimately been for the better but none of them were a treat to go through. She was the one constant, the dependable tail waggler, my little lap warmer. She always looks at me with pure adoration and I'm going to miss her little face so much. It's hard, but I know this is right. My vet said it best when I talked this over with her: CW is physically healthy but mentally ill. She bites everyone, including my dad and Mr. F (aka her pack). And dogs are hard-wired to not bite or fight with those in their pack. She's just off and is a dangerous dog. It's not a matter of if she maims/hurts/kills someone, it's a matter of when. That's a hard realization to come to about your baby. I'm so sad about it, I'm going to grieve, but I know it's right. My poor baby. We love each other so much. I'm going to really miss her.

Free to Stitch, Free to Bitch

Go to this site immediately and do what they say:
http://www.cafepress.com/saynotosfse/

I'm so angry about this. Some shit store (careful about that link; I'd hate to burn your retinas off) in New York is claiming the term "Stitch and Bitch" was invented by them and thus everyone is shitting on their intellectual property. My left foot! That term has been around probably as long as knitting needles and I know for SURE these losers didn't make it up. As it were, they've written cease and desist letters to CafePress and Yahoo! to stop people from selling/using that name. So, I've taken it upon myself to write my own cease and desist letter to these losers. Behold my righteous anger:

Dear Elissa K and the other fascists of Sew Fast Sew Easy,

Please consider this to be your cease and desist letter to stop being such idiot assholes. You are shaming the knitting/crafting community with your plot to horde the Stitch and Bitch title (or Stitch 'n Bitch, Stitch 'n' Bitch, etc.). Who do you think you are? You "invented" the term? Wow, what a coincidence, I invented knitting myself! Actually, I also invented the verb and noun "sew," so you should stop infringing on my intellectual property. I'll let you continue to use the term "sew" if you agree to license it from me for the low, low cost of GETTING OVER YOURSELF.

Seriously, knock it off. Drop your application, tell Yahoo! and CafePress that Stitch 'n Bitch is a term that belongs to the knitting community as a whole, and not to a select few asshats (that would be you, in case you're confused). You're embarrassing yourself.

Freely Stitch and Bitching,
Elizabeth

You can email them yourself at info@sewfastseweasy.com and/or store@sewfastseweasy.com.

Feel free to call the store to give them a piece of your mind!! 212-268-4321
I sure as shit called them, and I'm going to call until I can speak with a manager. What a load of bull.

Friday. Joy.

It's a lonely, lonely day today for no apparent reason. The sun has returned; it felt so good on my face as I drove into work this morning. And last night was fabulous - had sushi with Mr. F and some friends for our anniversaries (they fall on the same date, one month apart weirdly enough). Had cake. Had sex. Seriously, it was all so good.

But this morning was different. It was heavy, it was sad. Thankfully, I made lunch plans with Mr. F and found this site, which cheered me up enormously. Maybe I'm nostalgic for the dead of winter? Maybe I just needed to sleep longer? Either way, I woke up seriously Debbie Downer, chickens.

I think I need a little knitting therapy, kids. Stat.

I love tiny nutty dogs

Shades of my own little heart, Chilly Willy...

Officer on duty is bitten by Chihuahuas

Thanks to Yarnagogo for providing the link!

Happy New Year!

Ah, my triumphant return to The Law Firm, L.L.P. today - a truly busy day of personal email, knitting, and finding a therapist. The workload has dried up. Vanished. The first few days were great. I applied to law schools! I knit feverishly! I made lists! Now, I'm stuck in a windowless office on a grey day in Minneapolis with 6.5 hours stretched out in front of me. I'm going to knit, I'm going to have a marathon phone call with Mr. F. (a daily occurrence, actually, that's not contingent on workload or lack thereof. I just like talking to him), and other than that I really don't know what to do. I didn't bring my gym clothes because I was rushing madly this morning to leave the house (an aside - I was only an hour late! When you have no responsibilities or expectations at your job, the start of the workday tends to become somewhat flexible). A truly happy way to start the new year.

And thinking of the new year, I finally made my resolution. I really started making them two years ago when I pledged to see more live music. It kept it on my mind and that year I really did see more live music. Last year it was to see more art, which worked out too. This year's is a tad different - I really want to give myself a monthly breast exam. I think I can do that twelve times a year, right? Also a part of my resolution: encourage my friends to do the same. As far as resolutions go, this one holds way more weight than "I'm so fat!" and that typical shit. Above all else, I am secure in being smugly morally superior to all of my friends. That makes resolutions all worth it, baby.

Coming this week - pictures from my new digital camera! It'll be straight up hardcore knitting porn, chickens little. I can't wait.

Happy Halloween

Here are some lovely Halloween pictures from this year. I'd like to point out the badge was home made and distressingly, I already owned everything required for that costume to work.

12/29 resolutions

The internet seems awash with New Year's resolutions. Crazy Aunt Purl has an excellent list, but most seem pretty mundane a la "I wanna be skinner because thin woman = happy woman" and other such bullshit. Of course, I mock it but I'm sucked into it all the same. Mr. F and I are going to a big lesbo gala thing on January 7th, and frankly, it smells deliciously like a big gay prom. I'm stoked. I'm wearing this pretty dress:

But in this pretty color:

Frankly, I feel super hottt in this baby. It has a drape-y, Hollywood starlet back and the little sparkly things on the straps somewhat resemble snowflakes, which I love. I'm wearing the amazingly lovely ring and bracelet Mr. F. gave me for Christmas. I seriously cannot wait. I'm going with all my lovely dyke friends and it's going to be the best big gay prom/gala thing ever. Of this, I have no doubt.

So, while I don't have a New Year's resolution yet, I do have a 12/29 resolution. I am seriously going to try to go to the gym every day until the 7th. Clearly, I like my goals to be manageable. I feel so silly writing that - am I so brainwashed by the patriarchy that I can't just feel super hot in my pretty periwinkle dress? Must I go to the gym? Good work, patriarchy, nice job. Color me brainwashed.

Obsessing

All I can think about today is when I lived in Italy my class took a trip somewhere in the north. I seriously can't remember where. Near Como? Some other lake? Whatever. Anyway, there was a little old church in the middle of the little old town. Not too different than 1.4 million other little old Italian towns, right? Well, in the corner of this little old Italian church was a larger-than-life Jesus propped in the corner looming over the congregation. He was at such an angle that it eerily felt like I was getting topped by Jesus. Someone had, horrifyingly enough, put a brown wig on J.C. I've never seen such a bloody Jesus, such a huge Jesus, such a fucking scary as hell Dom Jesus.

I have no idea why that image keeps popping into my head.

high drama!

High drama this morning at The Law Firm LLP. A very nice, very tiny attorney brought in cookies his pastry chef sister acquired at a pastry chef cookie exchange. Sounds like heaven, doesn't it? That's what everyone on my floor thought until people started swelling and sliding into unconsciousness - three people are now in the hospital.

Of course, I had three of the scrumptious death treats. There were about ten different kinds to choose from, so I figure I still have a fighting chance in avoiding a trip to the ER. I'm all jittery - I just itched my hand, christ, does that mean I'm on death's doorstep? I'm kind of thirsty, should I alert my coworkers? I joke but I am rather on edge. From now on, I'll only imbibe prepackaged, fake, trans-fatty goodness here at work. None of this pastry chef bullshit from now on. Yikes.

OKC:
My mother's diamond lace shawl moves slowly, a little too slowly. I'm going to whip up some fuzzyfeet for her for Christmas; she'll get the stole after the holidays. My sister's handbag is done - it's lovely and the KnitPicks yarn felted beautifully indeed. My own design! Bitch better like it or we'll have words. I have a hat sitting in front of me for Mr. Fabulous' fabulous roommate, Miss May. I have nothing to do today at work so I have a potential of 7.5 knitting hours before me. What do I choose to do? Freak about potentially poisoned cookies and read the archives of I Blame the Patriarchy (a lovely read, I must say).

I just itched my elbow. Imminent death or dry wintry skin???

Brilliant, part 2

I just busted a gut at this little movie movie - go watch it now!!!

Christmas cards of the famous

Brilliant Christmas cards of the famous, generously provided by Mark Morford:

Infidels shall pay by the mighty hand of Allah! Saddam not returning to dishonorable courtroom! OK seriously, happy holidays and thanks to CIA for totally botching kangaroo trial. So funny! Saddam is way humored! By the way, Osama is living like a king just off Jersey turnpike on Karl Rove's dime. I have proof! By the way, I was brutal heartless dictator and even I ran my country better than U.S. Ha! "Nation-building" my big fuzzy butt! By the way, I know where WMD is located! Inside scary capri pants of Ann Coulter! Ha! OK, back to laughing in face of infidel judge. Peace out.-- Saddam

Yo my peoples. I been shot nine times. Please buy my horrible video game. Most overrated rapper of the year! But yo, I look mean and badass, yo! Can't dance like Usher can't sing like Kanye can't rhyme like Em, but yo I sure can gangsta bling cool! I been shot nine times. Check out my new line of custom-embroidered linens at Pottery Barn, in the Northgate Mall. I'll be there 'tween 3 and 4 signin' pomegranate-scented candles and Berettas, yo. Merry Xmas. Peace out. I been shot nine times.-- 50 Cent

It's funny because it's true.

I'm horrified

I saw this on Threadbared and found it so frightening, so heinous, so hideous, so truly awful that
I wanted to post it myself, too! Go read Threadbared's comments on this shit. Now. Trust me, it's hilarious.

work, etc.

This coming Thursday is The Law Firm, LLC's annual holiday party. I'm so torn - I went last year and the food, drinks, and decorations were amazing, but I was still obligated to talk to coworkers about non-work issues. I've come to the realization that I'm not so fond of my coworkers knowing anything about me. Actually, I'm weirdly secretive. I'm not in the firm's phone book of home numbers (somehow that's a deal here) and I avoid social situations with my colleagues like I would avoid ebola. It's not like I hate my coworkers, it's just that I have no idea what to say to them. I can shoot the breeze with a 45-year-old dyke with the greatest of ease, but what do I say to a 45-year-old straight woman who's wearing a sweater with reindeer, jingle bells and Santa exploding on it? I just look at them and think, I will never be you. Who are you anyway?

That said, I do like the food and drink and decorations. It is so wrong to silently drink the free wine and eat some shrimp in the corner table by myself? If anything, it'll just serve to bolster my rep here. And that's clearly something that needs bolstering.

Deja parle (sans accents, pardon)

I am the High Queen of Staticland. My reign is supreme and none doubt My superiority. Even so, I will generously give you proof of My staticness:

1. My hair is like Drew Barrymore a la Firestarter

2. I zap (Zap! Not shock. Zap!) everyone I deign to touch.

3. My clothes look like I have a full velcro bodysuit underneath and I've been in some unfortunate positions, hence, the clothing weirdness/cling.

4. My lineage is from a proud family of static-prone peoples.

All hail the Queen! Long live the Queen!

Statically yours,
Her High Royal Highness Elizabeth of Staticland

ugh. tuesdays.

So many people hate on Mondays, but aren't Tuesdays the very worst? At least on Monday you can warmly recollect the weekend's happy memories (or hazy, depending). But on Tuesday, you're in the thick of the work week - trapped. Wednesdays are Hump Days, Thursdays are the early start to the weekend, Fridays are the weekend. But Tuesdays are Trap Days. Ugh. Tuesdays.

Thankfully, I have St. Knitterifierous on my side. I'm knee deep in the holiday knitting. I've made the back and front of a handbag I'm eventually going to felt. However, I have 1.4 million other projects and the LSAT to study for. The next 20 days or so are going to be interesting, to say the least.

And two big trips are on the horizon: Aberdeen SD and Cancun Mexico. I like to mix it up. Aberdeen is this coming weekend. It's Mr. Fabulous' hometown. I've never been to South Dakota before (well, I went once when I was inchoate, so that doesn't really count). I'm excited.

Cancun is a fabulous dream - a friend of a friend owns a house there and is renting it to us for dirt cheap. Dirty cheap, even. Apparently this lady went down there this weekend to see if it was still standing and whatnot but if it's all clear, I'll be knitting on the beach in April! Whee!

In other things, Mr. Fabulous and I joined Weight Watchers together. It feels good to have control over something that seems so simple, like it should always have been in control. I think it'll go well - Mr. Fabulous is an amazing cook and is competitive like me about things like this. Although I've heard this a million times before, it really does help to have someone being annoyingly on target to keep you on track (and someone to feel morally superior to when they're off track).

p.s. Today's ennui and general sense of saturninity obviously makes my sentence structure very short. Weird.

yeah, what?!

quotation marks You scored 53% Sociability and 82% Sophistication!

There is a lot more to you than meets the eye. You certainly get plenty of "action," but you'd be happier if those who lusted after you were more selective. You hate being used as a general intensifier; haven't these people ever heard of underlining? Italics? And yes, you remember the cruel words Mr. Joyce directed at you. But you let none of this get you down; those who abuse you are destined for a "special" reward, sooner or later. You feel particularly warm toward periods, commas, exclamation points, and question marks, and usually wish to have them next to you. Parenthesis can sometimes trouble you.

shaft, by way of chaucer

enjoy, kiddies:

Wha be tha blake prevy lawe
That bene wantoun too alle tha feres?
SHAFT!
Ya damne righte!

Wha be tha carl tha riske is hals wolt
Fro is allye leve?
SHAFT!
Konne ye?

Wha be tha carl wha ne wolden flee
Whan peril bene all aboughte?
SHAFT!
Verray!

Alle clepe tha carl ane badde mooder-
SOFTE!
Speken of Shaft bene I.
THAN KONNE ALLES WE!

He be a man konne unnethes
Namo save is mayde konnes im.
JOHN SHAFT!

i am that weird girl at work

It's official: I am the workplace loon.

I'm broke (as usual) and in desperate need of a haircut. I also loathe split ends. So, for fun, I grab small chunks of hair, peer intently at the ends, and snip the split ends. I do this with the door wide open, people. People walk past my office all day long, and I have zero doubt they all note the crazy girl staring at her hair with huge office scissors in her hand.

I realize that because I'm fairly quiet and work with a limited group of people here at The Law Firm, LLC, my reputation is entirely based on my quirks. From cutting my split ends to laughing for an inappropriate amount of time at an inappropriate level at emails my (wholly inappropriate) friends send me. Think about that - I'm quiet walking around, but they all hear me laughing maniacally behind the closed door. And I'm always printing/photocopying knitting patterns. Actually, I'm also "The Knitting Girl."

Ah, the sad thing is that I really can't help it. It's so soothing to divorce myself from my split ends. Knitting keeps me sane. And as for the laughing, I just have funny friends. What's a girl to do?

vive shame

So I met Mr. Fabulous' parents this weekend. It went wonderfully - we picked apples at the apple orchard, got lost in the corn maze, ohh'ed over pumpkins in the pumpkin patch. Mr. Fabulous' dad loved me. I got a little q-t with his mom, and that went great, too. She bought me pumpkin butter. Seriously the best meeting-the-parents trip ever.

And then I puked. All over.

I had been feeling a tad iffy all day long. I hadn't eaten very much and taken some medicine that morning. When I thought I was about to pass out, my dear Mr. Fabulous bought me a brat. I had some crackers. I thought, okay, this will settle my stomach. I'm just starving from all the walking + no food. Okay, I'm good, I thought. I WILL be good.

Then we got into the car to go home. Mr. Fabulous was listing off the various places we could go to dinner ("Chinese, Italian, Indian, Mexican, Thai...") I looked over at him as he was talking and said, "I am very carsick."

He took one look at me and yanked the wheel over to the side of the road and I opened my door and retched into the grass. Retched! In front of his parents! While sitting in the front seat of their car!!! Thank god I didn't do it IN their car - they were driving from Minneapolis to Sioux Falls back home to their wee South Dakota town. If Mr. Fabulous hadn't pulled over, they would have driven in a Puke Car. And we all know that the puke smell never, ever comes out of cars. Ever. It's like cat pee - although I think I could argue puke is much more disgusting.

Thankfully, his mom is a nurse and his dad is a farmer, so they're pretty down with the throw up. They were totally nonplussed, which I appreciated more than I can say. Unfortunately, we went for seafood for dinner immediately afterwards. I'm sure I was more than a little green all night, but after some ghetto (but good) fish and fries, we went back to Mr. Fabulous' for some cards. It ended well, but I have zero doubt I'll forever be That Girlfriend Who Puked.

Sigh.

I suppose it could have been worse, right?

Yeah, I think not, too.

Ugh.

It seems grossly unjust to not have an unlimited amount of PTO time from work to knit at will. I realize that statement is both whiny and annoying, but a girl can (indignantly) dream, right?

In other minor (and whiny) news, boys are hard. Not a new sentiment, but it always manages to catch me off-guard.

Today's happy picture - a baby alpaca.

no.

Is it weird that Lion Brand patterns make me angry? Why do they insist on amazingly, shockingly ugly patterns?

I think Lion Brand secretly hates knitters. Sure, we're the hand that feeds them, but you know they just want to bite. Hence, their shitastic patterns.

you know what i like? cheese.

Well, besides cheese, I also like being in mad crazy love, and knitting until my hands numb. Mr. Fabulous, my plucked-from-the-depths-of-perfection genderqueer honey has been occupying my brain and my time, hence, blogging has sadly fallen greatly behind. I've been a knitting fiend, though, and although my fabbo new cell phone takes pictures, I have no clue how to upload them.

For those like me with overactive imaginations, here are some descriptions:

1. Waterfalls scarf
Knit length-wise in light blue new wool thick-and-thin yarn, I put in some shots of a darker blue randomly. The fringe at the edges have both colors equally. The overall effect is water running around my neck and down my back. I get a lot of compliments on this baby, and threats of thievery from my sister. I like that.

2. Rainbow/Kind of Gay-Pride-y Hat
Black 2x2 ribbing shifts into a variegated rainbow thick-and-thin yarn (yeah, I'm on a kick). The rainbow is a little darker, so it's more subtle gay pride, rather that I'm Gay! Yay! kind of hat. Not that I'm Gay! Yay! is a bad hat to have, but you know what I'm saying.

3. Baby Sweater
Dark green mercerized cotton with some sort of crazy cool border/bottom. It's a top-down raglan, but I haven't decided what to do with the bottom yet. Nicky Epstein's Knitting Over the Edge has some cool ideas, but I haven't committed to any yet. We'll see, we'll see.

4. Washcloth Bonanza
My sweetie was all jealous of my friend Liz's knitting for her gf Kim. I asked him, "Well, what do you want?" He paused, looked seriously, and shyly said, "I really want washcloths." What a weird, practical bunny. So I'm currently in washcloth no. 2. He's getting some dishtowels and possibly a double-knit hot pad too, because I don't just do washcloths. He doesn't know what he's unleashed. Bonanza indeed.

Of course, my self-designed sweater (that looks eerily like the sweater I bought in Eddie Bauer three years ago) is moving slooowly along. I'd like to front and be all, "that baby'll be finished before Christmas!" but I know it won't. The Christmas knitting is already a tad overwhelming. Hence, I've found great amounts of solace in this: 1-877-767-5648 (toll-free in US and Canada). I love the Yarn Harlot. I really do.

More on Mr. Fabulous: sexy, normal (NORMAL!), funny, and super, super hot. Did I mention normal? And hot? I'm deeply excited about being with someone who has friends and their own life and goals and I can bring into public without being ashamed. I'm super proud to be dating him. He's Mr. Fabulous! How could I not be happy? I'm going to start volunteering because I seriously feel like I need to pay back this karmic debt. It's a little scary to be so lucky.

AND two nights ago I taught him to knit. HE WANTS TO KNIT. Seriously, I think I just came a little bit typing that. He's really good and we're going a'shoppin' for circs and some worsted so he can do a ribbed hat. Yes, he's ready for that! Amazing, I know.

uber hot

why aren't today's knitting patterns presented in porn format? i feel cheated.