shhhh....!

pssst!

Don't say a freaking word... my neighbour is currently out the front of my house trimming back the bits of the wattle that hang in front of the driveway.

shhhhh..

While clearly this is an indication that the poor dude has FAR too much time and energy on his hands (and I would argue, energy best used for crochet) I dare not go out there in case he gets embarrassed and stops. Boo Radley style. Particularly if Boo Radley has a penchant for pruning other people's bushes. Erm. And not in the way that your mind jumped to (though it occurs to me that it was this false-assumption that formed part of the premise for the novel... but nevermind).

Anyway.

I am busy making baby blankets for the new baby-additions to my group of friends. Unfortunately (somewhat) this requires commitment, and in some capacity, planning, as I am to get these finished prior to the kid's 18th birthday.

So one of the blankets I am making in a disgusting, fuzzy soft baby yarn. I don't mean disgusting as in it is vomit coloured, or some such, just that I am a great devotee of the good ol' 8ply, and fuzzy, boucle, bubbly, furry, feathery and otherwise fancy yarns irritate me a little.
So while this blanket looks very sweet and soft, and feels lovely to crochet with, I am not entirely satisfied with it, in as much that I feel like it is not something I would actually make, had the yarn not been $1 a ball at kmart. Which, as it happens, also makes me sound like a complete tight arse.

Meh.

He just raked the dead leaves up. Not just from the front, but the side as well.

Subsequently, this is the most relevant picture I could find:

from epic wtfs...which is how I'm feeling

Thanks, neighbour!

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.

costume parties and circus themes

image via ffffound

We have a costume party on NYE to go to. This is a regular event; we've been going to a particular group of friends' NYE costume parties for a few years running and it's generally whole lot of fun.
However, this year the theme is circus, or big top, or something along those lines, and I am struggling for costume ideas. Seriously. Struggling.

Well, struggling is perhaps an exaggeration - it's just that all of the ideas I've had so far are kinda lame. Like, really, the whole 'sexy ringmaster' thing (one of my most frequent google hits) is kinda passe. I mean, fine if you're like, a playboy bunny (I guess?!?) but I'm not, and more to the point, an awesome costume >>>> revealing inappropriate amounts of flesh.

Meh.

At any rate, I think some serious op shopping is in order.

'Flirty' top...to match your horse hat, right?

Now, far be it for me to tell people off for wanting to match their pets. Shit, if it is ok for Paris Hilton, it must be ok for the rest of, right?



from this blog

Don't worry little puppy. I don't think she's going to eat you.

So earlier I blogged about a horse hat that made no sense.
Well, it has a purpose now.

It's all about matching, right?

from all free crochet

Awesome.

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.

If 'snood' is cute baby word for 'pooed' then this picture makes a whole lot more sense

Snood Headband from All Free Crochet

Don't get me wrong, I like fun, kooky crochet patterns. Even fun crochet patterns to wear in your hair (well, not my hair, because it's way too cool and stylish for something that resembles a gigantic turd, but I digress)... what I don't understand is how this, a snood, is somehow synonymous with 'fun' and 'looks great' and not, hmmm... 'fucking ugly' and 'omfg'...

but that's just me. Maybe if it wasn't poo brown I would have a different opinion.


no... wait...

Even in romantic sepia (which, let's face it, makes EVERYTHING look good -- especially those old timey photos from theme parks!) it still looks strange!



picture from here

but that could just be because the woman wearing it is a man, I don't know.


At any rate, I think I'll stick to crocheting granny squares for now.

Dude, did you seriously just post that?!

OH.MY.GOD.

I stupidly followed a link from fellow blogger East Side Bride's twitter that said something along the lines of, "you owe me money for making me read this"... curiosity sparked, I absolutely had to click on the link. And once again, we see how katey should always heed the cautionary advice of others when it comes to clicking on links (too many examples to list, but suffice to say that old-people porn was involved, and it was gruesome). In this particular example, the blogger describes her ovulation, periods, and VAGINAL DISCHARGE.

I shit you not.

Sticky, mucousy, whatever - It was the car crash I couldn't look away from, the YouTube video of a dude having a gigantic cyst/zit squeezed on his back that made me want to vomit so much I had to watch it twice (the second time was to get it out of my head).

Ergh.


So, now I cannot tell if I ate too much of G & Y's chocolate, and this is making me feel ill, or if the vomity feeling is from thinking about this woman's upcoming pap-smear.


Please, for the love of all that's chocolatey and good, save yourself and spare yourself the mental imagery.
The puppy will thank you.

(cute kid pic is from this site about Ecuador. NOT vaginal discharge).


.is it ironic that this is not the first time I have blogged about vaginas  - in a literal, not figurative sense - Jennifer Love Hewitt would be so proud!

Sometimes what we say comes out all wrong

Case in point:

Photo from here, copyright of the original photographer (it's a mouse).

Of course, sometimes we just mean, and say, the wrong thing.



So my (future) mother-in-law was criticising rugby players, saying that it's a thugs' sport, that there was a higher risk of injury (there isn't) and that N specifically wasn't the right body type to play it - that you have to be a certain body type (big and solid, I think). I pointed out that I play rugby, and I don't fit that 'type' to which she said, "well if you're short and squat it's ok".

And also, "have you ever seen a good-looking rugby player?!" (it was a statement, not question) to which I replied "yes, of course" ... obviously I'm not.

So, you know, instead of punching her (or just tackling her white-bread gold-standard arse) and telling her to kindly fuck off, I argued a little and then gave up.
She also criticised our invitations, stating that there was no mention of the W word on there (she actually said wedding, obviously, because she has no sense of subtlety or grace) to which I replied well, you know, people can either figure it out (and let's face it, everyone that is invited should theoretically know by now) or they can call us up and ask.
It's not rocket surgery, peoples.


In addition, I have been running daily (or almost daily). Except yesterday, when I cut my dress pattern out instead of running. Which is almost as fun but not nearly as athletic.

Dad! There's an evil monkey in my closet!

Many, many things to say, but not quite the cohesiveness to make my brain say them.
First and foremost, I wandered in to the American Apparel store on rundle st today. That place is strange. Suffice it to say, I felt no overwhelming urge to purchase high waisted lurex leggings, teeny acid denim look running shorts, or erm, puffy knickers.

Their regular tshirts were not as cheap as I had imagined, either. In fact, the whole store was expensive (overpriced?)  and thus, not really worth a great deal of deliberation. I have no money, and what little I do have, I *should* be saving.

Otherwise, I have little interesting to report. So here is a funny picture:

Hover dogs. Oh yes. Miniature pinschers floating above the ground, because they're clearly evil. From here.

and while we're on the topic of deers and such like,

I don't know why this dude's question wasn't answered with the sobriety it so deserves. It seems perfectly legitimate to me.

Having said that, I don't have the answer (much too esoteric for me). Further, I suspect that his interpretation of what Martha Stewart's heart shaped pot holders might be is somewhat different to, say, your mum's. Unless, of course, your mum is a crack addict or took too much acid in the 60s.

Are Squids And Deer Attracted To Glass Cups If They Have Pepsi In Them And A Hint Of Lavender Only Sarah Palin Could Love?

As for Sarah Palin:

from here

"They are kooks, so I agree with Rush Limbaugh. Rush Limbaugh was using satire ... I didn't hear Rush Limbaugh calling a group of people whom he did not agree with 'f-ing retards,' and we did know that Rahm Emanuel, as has been reported, did say that. There is a big difference there." (actually a quote from a Fox news interview on Feb 7 2010, located here).

And for the record, I don't agree with anyone using the term 'retard' as a derrogatory term. Or pretty much anything Sarah Palin says. I do, however, think the squid question is genius.

the bride wore black and the little girl ate deer meat.

from Sodahead

No, not this kind of black.

It's just the kind of result I envisage when googling with search terms such as "black wedding dress"  and the like.


On a completely unrelated note, I found a story written by Y, on a brown paper bag.


'Once upon a time there lived a girl called "Ella". Ella was 7 years of age and she lived in the forest alone. One fine day Ella had no food so she ate blackberries and deer meat. The end.'

I like Ella. She sounds resourceful.

all the captions I can think of are totally, totally wrong. Pic from here.

In other news, I found my spellcheck, it was in blogger draft. Doofus!

hmmm... parallels where I suspect they were not intended to be...

Killing time this morning (feeling sorry for myself and my sore throat) I was reading about some dude that has made barbie models of Lady Gaga. Which is pretty cool, except that it occurs to me that many of Lady Gaga's latest outfits appear to be channelling some of The Mighty Boosh's characters, specifically, Black Frost.

Exhibit A: Lady Gaga and her miniature Barbie twin:

(image from NineMSN)

Exhibit B: The BlackFrost

(image from here)

and some dude dressed as the black frost (or lady gaga, you decide)

(image from here)

Further, in a Lady Gaga lookalike outfit (or atleast, that's what MSN newsfix called it), Jennifer Love Hewitt looks distinctly Old Gregg like. Skeptical? I bet you are. But really, it's there. Allow me to illustrate my point:

Exhibit A:

(from this cute little blog)

and Exhibit B:
Jennifer 'I like to vajazzle my vajayjay' Love Hewitt on her 31st birthday recently, who dressed up as Lady Gaga (note the hair-bow) doing some kooky "OMG LOOK AT ME I'M STILL CUTE" shots:

(from NineMSN)

Really, the trend setter here is Noel Fielding. Or Vince Noir. Or Noel Fielding AS Vince Noir. Or maybe it's just Old Gregg. I don't know.

The point is, no one can rock an elizabethan collar like Noel can. Example:

Exhibit A: Noel Fielding out being awesome, with a decidedly less awesome (in fact, I would argue, incredibly dreary) Lily Allen:

(pic from here - and I apologise immensely for Lily Allen being in this shot)

And Exhibit B: a somewhat oddly dressed Lady Gaga, who decided that meeting ol' Queen Liz II was a good time to dust off the Singer sewing machine and all that vinyl she just knew would come in handy some day:

(image from instyle)

Now, I could be wrong, but it would appear that Lizzie Windsor got her sparkle on for the occasion. Seems appropriate.

Further, and this may sound harsh (but I honestly couldn't give a fuck) the similarities between Noel Fielding and Lady Gaga don't end at her shameless copycat fashion efforts. Both! Yes, both! are pictured with a UK erm... 'celeb' that gets far more media attention than they should. Both are pictured with a 'celeb' that is decidedly dreary, and I'd hazard a guess that Liz's singing is probably on a par with Lily Allen's, as well.

Now let's all go listen to some Patti Smith in an effort to cleanse our souls of all those horrid Lily Allen and QEII thoughts.  

(from Sounding Project)

Man, Patti is awesome.
Women with attitude, real attitude (not faux attitude channelled for the cameras) are awesome.
The desire to challenge the boundaries of gender/class/race etc, social constructs that would act as prisons were these women not there to liberate us via constant questioning, pushing and testing these of boundaries... well, these women changed my life.

They taught me that it's ok to be reflexive and constantly reinvent or reassess yourself, so long as you stay true to yourself - this person that you are and most importantly, the passion that fuels you through your every day. Too easily, too readily we lose sight of the greater ideals that guide us, and in these situations it's very cathartic -I guess- to remind ourselves of who, and why, we are.

(Chrissie Hines, also from sounding project)