paper dolls, paper heart

I love paper dolls. As a child, paper dolls represented to me an uncomplicated intersection between art and craft (of which I was always engaging, in some capacity or another) and the over-dramatic roll-playing of which I was also quite fond.

So, imagine! My joy when I discovered these paper dolls:



yes!!! you too can own this

The jokes, the paper-doll-possibilities are endless! Why limit yourself to "I did not have sexual relations with that paper-woman" when he can also deny sexual relations with paperclips, staplers, that piece of cardboard over there that you were going to make in to something cool, the felt that you rescued from the craft box that your mum was going to throw out... amazing!



PONIES?! BILL CLINTON KNOWS A THING OR TWO ABOUT PONIES!!

YES!! BILL CLINTON AND PONIES?! AMAZING!!!





And this, because as a feminist, I (somewhat predictably) embrace Frida Kahlo as an icon of aggressively independent, creative and outspoken feminism... so naturally to me, these paper dolls are  amazing and I love them:

from here

 Amazing!

stupid food

from here

No bloody wonder I lost my appetite.

There was a cock in the noodles.

Or the noodles were cock flavoured.

Or the cock soup was really... noodly.
Yeah.

Anchorman Barbie

I don't think this is Kayla-the-lesbian-Barbie's girlfriend.

I think that's a different Barbie doll.

I think this is just Anchorman Barbie, whose name is Grace. She also plays jazz flute and has a penchant for scotch. She's also really in to punk. The sleeves cover her many tattoos of Vince Noir and other Boosh characters (such a sycophant!)

 I suspect my children are quite strange.

half naked Iggy Pop, child modelling and...um...social work...wait, what?

Wait, what?!
Oh, that's right. Facebook.



This photograph was taken by my extraordinarily talented friend Rodney. Who is also a Doctor. I call him The Doctor. Other occupations include, fastest man of 1 metre, purveyor of fine snow globes, wearer of slacks, gadabout.

At any rate, Rodney's many fine and varied talents are not the point of this blog post (an entire blog would be necessary) rather, Facebook...again. Bored PhD student, remember?

So like, sponsored ads + photographs of Iggy Pop = hilarity is sure to ensue.

Ad for a child modelling agency, ad for beer...  pictures of Iggy Pop.

Yeah.

Weird.

I guess that's the point of the ad with the tag line, "thinking social work" ... why YES. I was. I WAS thinking social work Facebook. Good call.

vegas, baby!



from certin.com via Trespass Mag

 My dear friends Oli and El are currently in Vegas, having what I hope is a mega-trashy, cliche, dazzled-by-the-bright-lights-and-cheap-champagne inspired wedding.

In fact, I hope it's a drive-through wedding with a cheeseburger as the wedding cake.




from some random blog


I love you guys.

Don't forget to bring me back a pony.

Or an Elvis suit.

Or a pony in an Elvis suit - the last one being so incredibly awesome, I am not even sure it exists. But you guys are awesome, and you exist, so it's possible.

Frankie says...

via red bubble

Courtesy of my mate Damien Mason, a great artist and wearer of fine hats.

cuuuute

Kip and Lil after a walk

  

Kip decided to take herself for a walk this morning. In to a neighbouring yard, and then shed. Fortunately, we were walking on a nearby oval at the time, so it wasn't the immediate neighbours (though she has walked herself over there previously).

Still. She's a funny dog.

Hence the need for a cute photo.

And another. As a matter of fact, Kip is modelling a Norwegian Forest Hat, as crocheted for a friend's Norwegian Forest Cat. Needless to say, Kip is such an awesome, hardcore dog that she immediately made the hat look like a pimp hat. But that's probably got a lot to do with the fact that she is a pimp dawg.

The pattern is from a hilarious blog called Spindles and Spices where the blogger heartily endorses knitted furmiliation of her pets. Which I think is only  reasonable, considering the amount of piss, shit and barking I have to deal with.

Did I mention I'm completely uncoordinated?

Because I am.

I fell off my bike yesterday while trying to explain to N that he needed to adjust the seat lower. I'm not accustomed to riding a 'girl's bike' (you know, with the funny frame that is supposed to be easier to get on and off of) so I have a tendency to swing my leg over the back over the bike...which is problematic when your feet don't quite reach the ground.
So I stacked it while trying to ride barefoot on the gravel driveway. I imagine it was hilarious to watch, but being the bad sport that I am, I went inside to go and wash the dirt and rocks out of my leg before going and doing something decidedly less dangerous, such as crochet.

However, I had also cut my thumb open (quite severely) with a very-sharp-knife, so there was some serious self-pity happening, as well as doubts about my ability to crochet without, I don't know, stabbing myself in the jejunum and then vomiting all over the bed or something.

Indeed, my inability to walk like a normal human being has left my dog trying to distance himself from me (if you could read his doggy thoughts, it would have been something along the lines of, "I'm not with her. I just happened to stop and stand here. With a lead. Yeah. Just walking. Alone."

Awesome.
Thanks dog.

In any event, today was relatively injury free.
Relatively.

I was in the mid-aisle daze I customarily find myself in when visiting the supermarket, trying desperately to ignore the Tom Jones playing over the speakers. It wasn't classy Tom Jones per 'what's new pussycat', but rather, croony, irritating, shut-the-fuck-up-before-I-forcibly-insert-this-toothbrush-in-my-eardrums Tom Jones. Followed by Tom Jones singing the theme from Thunderballs (the James Bond film)  which I have since learned was not a mondegreen, but indeed, the actual factual lyrics to the song, and the title of a Bond film.

Clearly, the term 'thunderballs' meant something different then, to what it does now.

Because in my brain, I envisioned something akin to Sean Connery in Zardoz:



linkie, again

More so than Sean Connery in the actual thunderballs movie:

linkies to picture


And look, he even has one of those cute little old timey jetpacks! Cute, no?

In other completely unrelated news, and really, because I like long  blog posts - this is as great as, if not greater than, the crochet Betty White doll pattern. Even with her sensible brown chinos and blue chambray shirt.

from Sandra Eterovic's blog

Awesome, no? Awesome on so many counts. Because (a) it's true and (b) it is yet another fine example of the awesome versatility of the fibre arts. Even if this particular vest is knitted (did I confess a bias? I really do prefer crochet) I love this more than I love my shoelaces. And really, what have shoelaces done for me recently? I mean, apart from keeping my shoes from falling off my feet, and that is CERTAINLY something a lovely little scrap of yarn could do most adequately. Maguyver style.

some totally awesome things that are really boosting the awesome level of my life from regular to EXTREME

Do you remember those bushfire danger scales? The kind that your parents never seemed to notice, but you would always see, and then register, seconds later, "OMFG THE BUSHFIRE DANGER TODAY IS HIGH AND WE ARE DRIVING IN TO THE BUSH"



from F~R~E~D'S flickr

 I could never figure out who adjusted those things. Was it automatic? Was this some kind of amazing computerised sentient sign, per Short Circuit? You know, "fire sign is aliiive!" ... and would this explain why I keep mistyping 'sign' as 'sigh'?

So, imagine now that this is in fact a scale of AWESOME and the point of reference is things in my life. Well, recent events have contributed to this scale being tipped from HIGH to EXTREME.

Obviously, you're wondering why. It's eating away at you, the niggling, anxious feeling... why is katey's life so awesome? Was it me? Was it something I said or did? Was it the one armed man?

Likely all of the above, but WHAT, WHAT IS IT?!

Firstly, I endured another end-of-year dance concert. This makes me sound like a horrendously bad parent who cares not for her daughters' talents, but this isn't necessarily the case, it's more so that I really couldn't give a flying fuck about the hundreds of other kids there. Selfish? Probably? But factually correct? Bingo. I'm fairly confident I'm not alone here, although there are some who look at my boredom and complete intolerance of this claptrap as being selfish and inconsiderate. And it likely is, but meh. Clearly I'm far too self absorbed to care about that.
Anyway, my daughters were awesome, hilariously awesome. Y had her skirt pulled nerdishly high in one of the dance pieces, and G pulled blue steel the entire concert... and the concert photos. I was trying so hard to contain my laughter, I almost swallowed my tongue.

Besides, it's not her fault she's really really ridiculously good looking  (from here)

So, other awesome things.

Ricky Martin.


I know right?

I've lost my mind!
Who knew?!
Apparently, Katey is a secret closet Ricky Martin fan!

Well, appalling music aside (World Cup Songs not included) Ricky Martin is a single dad of twins who DOESN'T EVEN HIRE A NANNY. According to the world of celebrity, twins are the new singleton, but they're impossible to manage without the aid of an entourage of at LEAST 30 staff working round the clock to make sure you don't ever have to come in to contact with them until they're cute enough to walk and ask for dead parrots for pets (per Angelina Jolie and one of her many child-like accessories) with the exclusion of the occasional paparazzi shoot just to confirm that those children are actually real, and well, unlike their celebrity parents, they're being fed.

So yeah. I'm still no fan of his music, and while I know that having twins via surrogacy is the new black, I still think that this is all quite cool. Not-so-secretly-gay single dad of twins... what's not to love?

linkiepoos

Of course, I often like to lay around in the sand with my shirt off looking all pensive and cool and hot while my kids sit there looking all fat and adorable. It's a twin thing. Yeah.

NOW, third awesome thing that I have identified, is an awesome drawing my cousin drew of me, Capn Katey, and her first mate Lil. Arrrr.



Linkie goodness to site of awesomeness



Awesome, no? My cousin drew it, inspired by my mindless blathering in a previous post about my penchant for carrying my dog around on my shoulder and pretending to be a pirate.

Lily makes a most exemplary shoulder companion. Quite possibly because her other occupations include; a university professor - with tenure (Professor Lilbury), a barman (Barkeep), Lily-the-heinous-bitch (when being pestered by our other small dog, Kip) etc.

Why yes, I am in dire need of a life.

It's official

I have found the single most greatest crochet pattern ever to hook its way in to this sad, pathetic world of ours. Well, sad and pathetic without the pattern. Totally awesome with. Obv.

But a little back story first. Because what's awesome things in life without some totally boring building up?

So I've finished my god-awful thesis. The thesis itself wasn't god-awful, I hope, in fact, I hope the assessors read it and decide it's complete and utter genius and award me some kind of super-honours mark. Or something, right? Meh. A first class honours is all I really want. Band one, preferably, but first class, definitely.


So, I am sitting here, at my little laptop killing time and eating awesome sandwiches and stuff. Crocheting mostly, which involves intermittently picking up my nephew's blanket project, doing a little, and then searching Ravelry for other cute projects to begin. Because why would I finish one project when I could start 10 others?

I am also watching Russian news. I can't say precisely why this is, I think I was hoping that I would somehow absorb an awesome understanding of the language just by watching the news in Russian. Which seems completely logical, except that it gets kind of boring quite quickly. It is the news after all. I just like it when they cut back to the news desk and the reporters are saying something about something but the camera is too far away for me to really discern what their shoulder shrugs and funny little head wobbles are all about. That and I'm not quite sure what they're saying. Yet.

So back to Ravelry. I was searching for cute little patterns, and found THE MOST AWESOME CROCHET PATTERN EVER.

It's from this most wondrous blog here where this cool girl knits and crochets and generally procrastinates in ways I can totally relate to. She also finishes projects... which I haven't quite got around to mastering yet.

At any rate, like me, Carrie appears to love golden girls. As one of the world's greatest television shows (alongside growing pains and family ties) I can understand why. What's great about Carrie, is that she's done a totally amazing fusion of love for quality tv and a fibre arts obsession... and made...


(OMG, such suspense!!!)




awesome blog link again

YES!!! A BETTY WHITE DOLL!

And the bestest, BESTEST bit is that it's not Betty White per the current (and deserved) Betty White fandom, but Betty White as Rose, wearing "chinos and a sensible aqua cardigan"... gold!


Here's another linkie to Carrie's amazing blog post, where she links to the pattern, which is available as a Ravelry download. Ah, Ravelry. My spare time was so much less productive without you.

I'm going to make this doll for my mate Steve. Because I want to thank him for being a friend.

While I'm not the most negligent of parents

I certainly fit the criteria or a negligent blogger. But, you know, meh. I'm sure that the none of you reading this really actually care that I missed the most recent update of "fucked up things katey found on the internet recently"... I hope. Note that if you are genuinely disappointed, I strongly recommend you go get a life. STAT. But then, I suspect we're well beyond that if you're sitting up reading my blog at 3am on a Saturday evening. Yeah. You cool dude, you.


SO.

I am in the deep, dark, murky depths of trying to finish my thesis. Or as I like to call it, my FUCKING thesis. It's ok, it's just...bloody long, and a shitload of work. And thus, I am killing time writing irrelevant blog posts.

Awesome!

from from Ask a urinal

And it's true. Misplaced apostrophes make the baby jesus cry.

yes, it's a horse hat

it would appear that I am on an anti-crochet headwear bandwagon today. Particularly if that bandwagon was being towed by HORSES IN HATS.

WHY DOES THE HORSE NEED A HAT?!

WHY?!

It's not as if it's wearing a hilarious costume or anything. It's just a freaking hat.

Odd.

In other news, here is a dog in a pirate hat.



avast ye mateys! this be thar link

 And, if I wasn't mistaken, I'm pretty sure that long john snowy would like you to walk the plank.

Possibly the coolest man in the known universe

via This Little Owl which is a cute blog.

How his fellow commuters can just sit idly by and not, you know, show some visible display of how fucking amazing this dude is, is beyond me.

speaking of unicorns...

Life's getting me down. Tough decisions are becoming even harder, what with my appalling indecisiveness. So I ask myself, WWUD?

from this awesome website

And the spinny thing. For all you decision making needs. What WOULD a unicorn do?