November 2007 Archives

To put all of your fears at ease, the turkey came out delish. It was moist and lovely, and we're still eating on it. We're still eathing all of the stuff we cooked Thursday. Why is it physically impossible to cook Thanksgiving dinner in small quantities? Seriously, we've made a dent in the food, and there's still enough for the rest of the week. I don't think either one of us will want to look a turkey in the eye until next year.

I'm thinking goose for Christmas.

On to bigger and better things.

Three weeks of school and counting, and since I'm so far ahead on my hours, screw Saturday classes and CEUs. I'll take more CEUs next year. Right now, my sanity requires I take Saturdays off for the rest of the semester. I went to St. Francis House (for homeless vets) and gave chair massage this last Saturday, and while I loved going this time just as much as I loved going last semester, I really, really wish I had just taken the day off. It probably explains why for the rest of the weekend I did nothing but sit on my big butt in front of the TV and play games on Xbox Live. There were things I was supposed to do, including ordering a massage chair, but I just couldn't bring myself to do anything at all. Yeah, it's time to just take it easy for the last bit of school. It's about to get chaotic nuts as we prepare for graduation and the impending Federation test, so I'm not going to push myself.

Besides, I have to save myself for our Las Vegas trip.

Yes, that's right, my lovely, wonderful, awesome boyfriend is taking me to Vegas to celebrate the achievement of my massage therapy diploma and license. It's going to be great. We're talking Cirque Du Soleil and Spamalot. We're talking New Year's Eve in Vegas. Yeah, baby.

We're going to play poker with all the call girl cards I'm going to collect.

I'm so excited!

Bring on the cold weather, fires in the fire place, and mulled cider! Woo!

We bought a whole turkey this year. Neither Todd nor I have cooked a whole turkey.

You know, I don't think anyone in the world should exist without a "turkey story". You know, the kind of tale where either the turkey was food for the gods or not fit to be a plank of wood. This might be our year for a turkey story.

We had intended to go to his sister's for Thanks giving, but his uncle is coming into town earlier that week, and leaving Thanksgiving Day. So, Wednesday, we'll be eating out. Thursday, we'll be cooking more food than should be legal for two people, and snuggling and doing not much of anything.

I think it could be very cool.

Unless the turkey turns out to be wood...

...which mean it could be very funny.

We'll see.

Tomorrow, I try to not kill a coworker, and at some point this week, we acquire the real Pennsylvania Dutch Egg Nog stuff that could make sailors giggle with glee.

It will be an interesting week.

So, I was supposed to go to class on Saturday. I opted out of it in favor of a continuing education class next weekend on fibromyalgia. I had a ten hour class on Reiki last weekend, and honestly, I couldn't do three weekends in a row, and the class yesterday on prenatal massage wouldn't have told me anything I don't already know.

And, some weekends, right now more than ever, I just need to be brain dead.

Which I was most of the weekend. I snuggled with my Todd on the couch and watched some John Waters and performed massive amounts of suckage at Guitar Hero 3 and cooked gumbo. I didn't do much that was constructive, and it felt really good. The most exciting thing that happened all weekend was eating dinner with some friends. It was nice to see them all. I can't wait until I get to see them a little more often.

Five more weeks.

All in all, it was very nice. When you exist in a holding pattern of work, school, home, work, school, home, work, school, home for nearly five months, sometimes you need to just break it up the routine by not doing much at all. That may not make much sense, but trust me, it's true.

Part of that not doing much was spending a whole lot of time on a website that has quite possibly the cutest little time waster games in existence. Seriously, ya'll, it hardly gets cuter than this.

I'm currently addicted to These Little Pigs. I wish I could play it at work during lunch. It's hard to have a bad day when cute pink piggies are involved.

Oh, well, I should probably be studying anyway.

Five more weeks.

Home stretch.

I'm ready for the next phase...

Way-back-when I ranted about crochet embarrassments and how any perfectly good crochet (or knit) pattern can be turned into something the cat wouldn't puke on if it were crocheted/knitted in a terrible color or yarn. Which is very true. You've all seen it. That sweater pattern that would be quite nice without the avocado green and harvest gold stripes or the bright orange pom-poms. There are some patterns that, with some love, care, imagination, and an exorcism, can be saved. (There are exceptions. See my post discussing the signs that a pattern ain't right. It could preserve your sanity.) Then, there are some patterns that should never have been hocked up from the bowels of Satan's Aunt Lucifina's personal pit. Darlings, there are some patterns that just can't be saved, and for all that's holy, should never try to be saved. If you see any of these patterns in the wild, nuke them from orbit. It's the only way to be sure. First, I would like to give credit where it's due: Some of these come from The Museum of Kitschy Stitches. Hell, they deserve to be mentioned just for the phrase "Can you hear the apples screaming, Clarice?" Beautiful. Most of the crochet horrors came from Groovy Crochet which is sadly only kept alive by the Wayback Machine because while they had some truly terrifying projects, there were a few that could be salvaged into something that wouldn't make you puke. A great deal of these are coming from You Knit What?! which was a truly wonderful blog I discovered a year too late. They no longer update, but the blog is still up for you to discover new horrors for yourself And, lastly, Berroco is the cause of a great deal of icky pattern headaches, and at least needs to be mentioned. Sad because apparently they produce some pretty cute stuff, too. You have to be careful with these guys. Some of you have probably seen some of these, but I don't care. Prepare yourselves, darlings, here they come: You know, there aren't enough margaritas in the world that would cause my mother to want to dress up like a demented clown. She admits to doing macrame, but not even the macrame owl measured up to these atrocities. Of course, I'm sure she would have found it infinitely funny to send my idiot father something this horrible. To think of it, I would find it pretty damned funny... (Don't ask, it's better you don't know.) Okay, let's step out of my own trauma to discuss why these are perfect cases for child abuse. Seriously. What kind of valium-laced acid trip produces something like that? Who hates their children this much? Were they so ugly that you had to hide their faces under something even uglier? Look, I've seen latex masks on Halloween that make me wonder about the state of humanity, but this...this would make Freddi Krueger scream like a little girl. There is a theory that demons aren't imaginative enough to come up with the kind of evils that humans inflict on each other. I believe them. This one has been floating around for a while. It's the perfect example of something that should never be done to a ball of yarn. The creator(s) can send me hate comments if they want, but unless they were trying to be funny, there is no excuse for this. Las Vegas hookers would laugh at this. Their pimps would probably beat them until they promised to wear something that would make money. You should be banned from picking up a hook for this. And, the flaming begins...now! And, you know, there are days when I think that it would be fantabulous to dress up like a granny square throw blanket! I mean, wouldn't it be awesome? Yeah. On Groovy Crochet, where I found this, they seemed very excited to have it. They really shouldn't be. Really, really shouldn't be. It should be recorded for posterity for what not to do with yarn. Unless, of course, you wanted to inflict it upon your posterity. Poor kid should have been collected by the state long before this happened to him. On this next one, let's start with the fact she reminds me of Mrs. Roper from "Three's Company"... You know what? Mrs. Roper and her Technicolor mu-mus were way more fashionable. At least, they were funny. While I would like to find humor in this, I mostly just want to bleach my eyes. I'm not sure whether or not I should shout, "Check your damn gauge!" or "Geezus, woman, if you wanted to dress up as a circus tent, you could have just asked Bozo the Clown for some tips." Wow. While 80's fashion have revisited us with all of their horribleness, (Have you been to the mall lately?) I'm hoping this is one that stays far, far away. You know, I'm not a small woman, but I sure as hell don't want to accentuate it by wearing a knitted parachute. I'm not quite sure to say about this next one... Remember back in the day when punk was in? Could you imagine try as you might, your hair just wouldn't give you the right mohawk, and your mother, thinking it would make you feel better, knitted you up the cutest little mohawk hat and insisted you wear it to your favorite club? The beating you received that night might not have been funny then, but I'm sure it's a laugh riot now, even as you look down at all of those people from the clock tower as you load your rifle... I have a friend who weaves who has managed to find an interesting and lovely use of fun fur or something similar. It adds texture and depth to the beautiful pieces she creates... This is just proof that fun fur in the wrong hands has yark-inducing results. I was never happy with the invention of fun fur to begin with, but to see it used this way reaffirms my belief it's the particularly favorite yarn of Satan's Aunt Lucifina. Sorry, Lara, but while you managed to tame some of the fun fur, it doesn't change its evil nature. This was billed as a "manly tank top": If I were to present this to my Todd at Christmas, he would laugh and ask where his real present was. If I couldn't produce one...well...let's just say I'm sure he would cry as he packed his bags, remembering how good we had it before I went completely out of my mind. I'm not even sure what to think of these knitted...things... As if that's not bad enough... Lara, tell me that doesn't look like Brianna and Tiger. I know they have better taste than this. I know they do. I don't believe they'd wear this crap. I don't believe they'd wear this crap. I don't believe... God, do I feel this woman's pain. Imagine it, you're a worker for the Humane Society, and you're called in to investigate possible animal abuse. You go to this nice suburb, and you walk into a house of unimaginable tastelessness. Dozens of animals dressed in knitted outfits. And, there's this one poor lump in the corner... It's okay, Mr. Kitty. We'll get you out of this. We will. Oh, I'm so sorry this has happened to you. Don't worry. You'll make it. Oh, why do people have to be so cruel? Speaking of the Humane Society... ...they need to find out who the asshole is that skinned the poor sheep dog for this coat and put them away forever. Poor thing probably had no idea what was in store for him. It wasn't even for good fashion... Okay, look, I know the 80's have returned. Being a child of the 80's, I'm allowed to be horrified by its re-emergence. But, you know, there are some things that the 80's hath wrought that need to stay as weird quirks of the past. Leg warmers are one of them. Okay, I admit, when I was young and stupid and had no sense of what was right and wrong, I wore leg warmers, but I now know that unless you are a dancer - and I'm not even sure if you are a dancer - these should not come within a hundred feet of your wardrobe. Not even if you have leopard print heels. And, on that note... It's not any cuter on your arms! Arm warmers?! For the love of... Just stop, people. Please. Just stop. Looking for that perfect knitting pattern for the slut in your life? Well, do we ever have something for you! I'm not sure how to describe this other than if you want your wares on display, this is the perfect outfit for you! Especially if you're at a sci-fi con! You'll have the unwashed nerds drooling all over you asking "Are you that chick from Serenity?" You know you want it... I...um...I.............wow..... I honestly think if knitted patterns like this existed during the life of the Marquis de Sade, he would have used them because honestly, only a true sadist could appreciate their potential. And, lastly, if you ever wanted an example of a Technicolor yawn, well, here you go... Why do I picture this woman walking into the big tent of a circus and all of the clowns screaming and running away? I imagine someone thought this was art or something. Nope. This is either colorblindness in action or a definite example of what happens when cousins marry. And, the flames begin...now! And, there you have it. Your after Halloween horrors. Look, I haven't gotten to knit in months, and I only got to crochet for a couple of hours on Friday. I feel the need to share the pain. I still love you guys anyway. Really. I do. I would only inflict this stuff on people I care about. Only they would understand... You can find more of these horrors on the sites mentioned. Off to study and not knit...