Still here.

They trimmed the palm trees outside my windows this week. You may not think that palm trees can obscure a view (if you can call the parking lot a "view") but I assure you that when the top of the tree is level with a window that Suessian poof at the top can really get in the way. I haven't seen a thing but palm leaves out my window since September. "What's the point of this?" you wonder? Well let me tell you the very first thing I saw out my window, if only I'd snapped a picture, where was my mind? Yesterday, in the parking lot of my apartments, a man in a pink bathrobe gesturing wildly with his cigarette holder was conducting a heated conversation with two men in a gold Lincoln Navigator. Now, this was not a Navigator with a simple gold paint job, this was a a highly custom, why-god-why!? kind of paint job where the paint wasn't the color of gold but merely a clear substance gold glitter could be suspended in. This vehicle also had gold detailing and gold rims. It was like the sun became a vehicle and parked downstairs; Apollo's chariot if he was a real ostentatious 'playa', if you will. Inside this monstrosity were two men, the driver was wearing a cowboy hat and the passenger had on red and white stripes of some kind. So I did what anyone would do when faced with such a preposterous scene: I took out the trash so I could walk by and get a closer look. Upon further inspection I found that Guy in the Hat was clearly one of those guys who dress up in the fancy cowboy suits but has probably never even seen a cow. His hat likely cost more than a month's rent at my apartment (in California that's saying a lot), and I don't even want to speculate what is crazy, gold and gemstone bolo tie cost. The passenger was wearing a Chivas jersey. And hat. And probably pants and shoes also declaring his love for the team. (Side note: some of the Chivas jerseys have 'Bimbo' printed on them. Bimbo is kinda like Hostess. It's still hilarious to see guys walking around in their sports jerseys with the word bimbo on it though.) The most disturbing thing of all about this scene once I got up close? The guy with the silver cigarette holder (which contained an unlit cigarette, BTW) was wearing the same fuzzy pink chenille bathrobe I have. I wonder if his aunt bought his for him, too.

Ru-Paul and Other Distractions. (Blogstalking week 4 AND 5)

I hate traffic, my filthy windshield, and sunrise. Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, let me tell you about what I love. What I love is things that are completely random. Like this weekend. This was a hella random weekend. Friday night I was out with Lucky. It was an entire night devoted to driving around to creepy places. Those creepy places included the most enormous cemetery ever to go completely unnoticed by everyone I've asked about it. This place is HUGE. I can't even begin to explain the extreme largeness. As a matter of fact it's actually two cemeteries that sort of run into each other and three mausoleums. One of the mausoleums is a three story building that at first we thought couldn't possibly be what it was, it was just too big. The other two are smaller two story deals though smaller is a completely relative term, they're still larger than most suburban apartment complexes in this area. The thing that's so crazy random about the place is that it's on two main roads and yet no one seems to know it's there. We also hit up an apartment building that Lucky says would be his top choice for locations to shoot a slasher flick in. I agree, the place is like a tiny Winchester mansion. The stairs alone are just bizarre (two sets right next to each other that never intersect and you can't see one from the other but they lead to the exact same spot) then you throw in exterior walls on the inside of the building, a rickety fire escape, all the blind corners (and by that I mean all the corners are blind corners, I bet it makes moving in and out a bitch) a great view of the city, and the fact that you never see any of the residents of the place and you've got yourself a movie. I wish I had thought to bring my camera but that's the theme of the weekend, randomness and me kicking myself for forgetting the camera. Saturday we went to the barber shop and they invited us to their anniversary shindig that night. Red Todd Kidd and I tried to find a sitter but couldn't so he bade me take up with Kaylee and go forth to this rockabilly show. So we did. Adventure ensued. First we went to the Tower Bar where this thing was taking place. They were playing the most campy and strange D-movies on the tv in the corner, almost everyone in the place was drinking tall boys of PBR, and the whole place looked like a casting call for West Side Story 2 (Which I'm sure would have the same basic plot as West Side Story except it'd be set in present day and the tension would be between hardcore rockabilly kids and apathetic emo hipsters fighting over who gets to be pretentious in the town's diviest dive bar. Then one pretty little cutting emo girl in horn rim glasses with no prescription and an outfit that probably cost $300 trying to get it to look like it came from a thrift store locks eyes with a vintage car driving, leather jacket wearing, James Dean wannabe who clearly spends most of his time on ebay looking for vintage pomade to rock in his pompadour and doomed romance blooms, I hate to spoil the ending for you but they both die, she slits her wrists with one of his vintage Elvis records then he puts her dead body in the car with him and drives off a cliff). Kaylee and I sat there, sat there, sat there, watched a reenactment of the Outsiders when a rumble broke out just near the door, sat there, sat there, sat there, got drinks spilled on us, sat there, sat there, and sat there. Since after all that sitting the band STILL hadn't gone on and it was damn near midnight, we took off. We had a mind to head to this piano bar Kaylee's been talking about but we never made it there. You see, we got caught up in a weird midnight traffic fiasco that was being caused by some random side street being blocked off. As we were stopped we heard an amplified voice ring out through the night, "Yes, hello everyone! I'm Ru-Paul Superstar of the world!" (or whatever the hell that catchphrase of his is) and we decided we had to find out if it was really him. So we parked around the corner and wandered back to discover some charity event drag show with Ru-Paul on stage in a wig he'd clearly gotten at Dolly Parton's last yard sale and more pink sequins than I thought existed this side of Key West. Spectacular. Truly. But we were hungry and our curiosity was sated so we left and stumbled on to a little 24 hour diner where we spent the next hour eating the most awesome sandwiches and talking to three complete strangers about porn among other things. After that I was drunk dialed by The Cowardly Lion who simply read me the definition of drunk dialing followed by the definition of a booty call. So we went over to his house and hung out with him and his wives for a little bit. Yes, I said wives, they've been watching too much Big Love over there. Sunday was for geocaching with the family which was pretty cool, actually. RTK's been on me to try it out for awhile so we got a GPS and went and did one. The kids loved it. I'd go into more detail but my fingers may fall off from all the typing. I'll blog some pics of that another day. Anyway, the three things I love (in case you don't get the pictures): October, my daughter trying to throw up the horns, and National City Municipal Code 11.68.050 which prohibits "cruising" and leads to those goofy signs all up and down Highland Avenue, it always cracks me up. Also you'll see my blogstalking week 5 assignment which requires I photograph a statue. I found this copse of angels quite by accident in the aforementioned giant cemetery when Lucky and I went back Sunday afternoon. Technically you're not supposed to photograph people's headstones but I cropped out the ones you could read. The statues stand out because the whole area they're in is plain as hell except this group of statues all crowded together like some sort of saint convention.

Underpants

When you buy new underpants and take it out of the package, do you always think: There's no way that will fit me! People could camp under that! Only to find they are, in fact, the correct size?

Today is a musical day. A crappy musical.

I've had songs in my head all day today. Early this morning I was assaulted by Kansas as I checked out a friend's MySpace page. Carry on My Wayward Son was the song of the morning until it was replaced by Punkrocker by the Teddybears on my trip to pick up Darth from school. Just now an ad (for this website) on the side of some webpage caught my eye and suddenly, though no audible music was about, 2 Live Crew filled my ears with their ode to Hoochie Mamas the world over. It's going to be days before the jumble in my brain stops going "Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when I'm dreaming, I can hear them saaaaaaaaay: She ain't nothin' but a hoochie mama! Hoodrat, hoodrat, hoochie mama! 'Cause I'm a punk rocker yes I am. Well, I'm a punk rocker yes I am..." Because I don't just get songs stuck in my head, they go in there and it's like a blender where they get sampled and compiled and turned into a crazy mishmash of crap that doesn't even make sense to me. This hasn't been the best of days anyway. RTK and I were fighting but are now resolved. My shoes came via Fed Ex but didn't fit. I can't find my sunglasses. Nothing is really tragic but all together it's pretty annoying. Oh crap! I just realized I never got the meat out of the freezer to defrost! My house is messy and I really don't feel like cleaning it. My kids are whiny. I'm whiny. Hey at leat I've got some beer in the fridge. No wait, that's root beer. I just can't win. If tomorrow isn't any better I'm totally punching it in the face. *If you google (image search) the terms Hood Rat and Hoochie Mama you actually come up with a couple of knit blog posts. I cracked up. Here's Hood Rat and here's Hoochie Mama.

I made stuff. Lots of stuff.

My road trip dissolved into the ether of unrealized dreams. Alas, it was not to be. So anyway, I actually do knit. In fact my lack of blogging has been because of a tremendous amount of knitting. As evidence I will now submit pictures of what I've been up to as well as a few pictures of FOs I hadn't gotten around to posting for some odd reason even though I finished them MONTHS ago. As always, click on the pictures for larger versions. First up we have Unbiased done in Patons Soy Wool Stripes that was a gift for Irie for her graduation. I have made Unbiased twice before in sari silk and have yet to really perfect this pattern. I have intentions to line this for Irie at my earliest convenience which will be sometime around 2022 when Lola graduates from high school. Anywho, the vital stats: Patons SWS. Britany Birch needles in size 8. Pattern alterations: Only increased to 5.5 inches so I'd have a narrower deeper bag. I actually did the whole purse in two days, in between casting off Entrelac's first sock and casting on the second. Lastly, when you seem this up in the weird order that I did you actually get something that looks like a giant goofy bra for a minute. Next up we have the Socks I'm knitting for Entrelac (Pattern from Folk Socks by Nancy Bush). I have finished the first one and am starting to panic that they don't fit so the sock you see here will be wining its way out to Texas for a fitting to ease my mind or make me cry depending on the outcome. At least it's cute, right? It's my first bit of Fair Isle type work and I'm in no hurry do do anything more ambitious. I'm very pleased with the way the first one has turned out and I'm hoping Entrelac really likes them when they're all done. She and I both live in the country's "No Sock Zone" but knitted socks are just too tempting. I love contrasting toes, they make your feet look smaller. And now the last two little projects I had been forgetting to post: Dashing and My So Called Scarf (which I have had bookmarked for years with nary the right yarn nor occasion) both out of Lorna's Laces Shepard Worsted in Mineshaft and both for my friend GK. I actually knit these up for him when he was going through a really hard time and had no heat in his house (he's in Pennsylvania). By the time I finished them it was spring and he had heat again. I've had these stuffed in a care package box that I keep forgetting to finish filling and mail. If only it were the thought that counted, eh? The scarf was done on size 11 Britany birch needles and only one glaring error was made. I didn't fix it so if you feel like it you can stare until you find it, it'll be like a really uninteresting Where's Waldo picture only instead of a cute drawing you're searching for my failure! Who could deny the fun of that? The wristies were done on Clover bamboo needles in size 7. I actually finished these up at the San Diego knitty meet up. Pomegranate has pics of them somewhere I think, I had forgotten my camera. I apologize for the shitty photos. I know pics of FOs just lying about really suck but I have no model today, Iman didn't show up and they gave Tyra her own show and I just didn't feel like trying to track down Kate Moss or Fabio because she's annoying and he's always trying to take stuff from the shoots.

At least 7.5 random things about California.

I challenged Bezzie and now I shall have to make good on my deal. 1) The Center of the World is in Felicity, California. I have never been there durring hours when it's open but Edina and I have climbed to the top of it and also pulled open the double doors to get inside after hours. They made those things lock into each other but not bolt into the ground, if you yank hard enough they just come open. Of course, they may have fixed that by now and it's not like there's anything inside it to take or anything so maybe they weren't worried about it. Eh, here's a photo from a postcard that some guy got on his trip. I have no idea if that girl got the duck at The Center of the World or if they just have a random duck walker or something. It's a weird place, who knows. 2) The largest and oldest wooden building in California is the Hotel Del Coronado on the island of Coronado here in San Diego county. It is also the second oldest remaining Victorian resort in the world. One time my buddy Dan and I wandered around the Del for several hours while he pretended to be a tourist of undefined Eastern European or Germanic origin. He kept shouting about shoddy American beer ("I have been in your country three weeks and have not yet been drunk! What is this piss you call beer!?") and asking people if they knew where they sold hot nuts (The Del used to sell hot roasted peanuts but must have stopped sometime before that particular trip). Also, most locals refer to it as The Del as opposed to The Coronado, which make no linguistiacal sense really. 3) This is a real street sign that is used on numerous freeways around San Diego. A huge deal was made of these things when they first went up and people from other states have told me they don't believe that these are really up on I-5. I see three of them on my way to drop off my husband at work every morning. In the 27 years I've been alive I have never actually seen anyone running across the freeway. Ever. 3.5) If California's economic size were measured by itself to other countries, it would rank the 7th largest economy in the world. 4.5) The U.S. Open Sandcastle Competition is held annualy in my hometown of Imperial Beach, California. Imperial Beach is considered to have some of the best sand in the counrty. I find this amusing since the beach has been eroding like crazy for the past 10 years. There's like half as much beach now as there was when I was a kid. If I owned a beach front home I'd be pretty worried. Anyway, after the competition the sand on the beach is totally displaced and for two days while it washes back out to normal it creates two sets of breakers in the water with a big, calm area in between like a swimming pool. The picture at right is actually from the amature division of last year's contest. The winning team for the main contest sculpted a giant hand holding a royal flush that was way detailed. Those people are nuts! 5.5) No one seems to know where the word California actually originated but everyone seems to have an opinion about it. (Wikipedia has a fairly good article about it.) Personally, I like the idea that it was a slam on Hernan Cortes. I find it amusing. 6.5) The only one of California's 21 Missions I have ever been to is Mission San Francisco Solano, the final mission built by the Spanish and the one farthest away from where I live. The first mission was Mission Basilica San Diego de Alcala it's right here in town and though I've been by it a number of times I'm pretty sure I've never gone in. Churches wig me out and they still actually use the mission as a church. It is beautiful though, check out the picture over there. They also have a legend that if you hear the mission bells in the middle of the night you shouldn't follow them because you'll never return. You know, good old follow the bells to your death stories. Which will take me to the last fact... 7.5) According to the Travel Channel's show America's Most Haunted the U.S. government actually keeps a list of the most haunted places in our country. The number one house on that list is Whaley House in San Diego's Old Town area. If you stop through town, I'll take you there. Afterward we can go over to the Haunted Coldstone down the street. Okay, so Coldstone isn't haunted but we say it is since it's located in between Whaley House and the graveyard where Yankee Jim is burried. Although there's plenty of skepticism to go around, I have to admit there are many weird things that go on in that locale. Not the least of which being that if you park your car over the grave markers in the road (the cemetary line was moved back ages ago and some of the graves are under the paved road, there are small brass plaques simply stating "Grave Site" where graves have been paved over) your car won't start. It doesn't always happen and it doesn't happen to everyone but it happens just enough to be really odd. The photo below is of my sister Shaniqua and my cousins Irie and Hawkeye at Yankee Jim's grave. And thus ends my 7.5 facts about California that are mostly about San Diego since that's where I'm from. Since I mostly talked about SoCal, I think CPurl17 should tell us about NorCal. On the knitting front, I'm working on a pair of socks for Entrelac that I will show you just as soon as I'm sure they're looking right. Lastly, my baby girl is THREE years old today. Yikes!

The Mamir

the Admiral now. Ask him how much time I have left. When is the the one who will be helped the most by your understanding of this And you feel no compassion for them? Doomed by an accident of birth or boiled. You must remember . . . tired eyes, I followed the others. Outdoors into a field of ripening silently as the voice-over spoke. and I shuffled out and followed him at a discreet distance. Clanking needed. This did not make me feel much better. join the other three already up. Made for some interesting shadows. A minute break every hour, keep walking until sunset. very much like I felt. He eased himself into the chair opposite me. I All over. object of your attentions is quite clear. I can promise you that while off the suit-and a lot of flesh with it. The suit was padded. He was ominously-then crashed out Admiral Bonbons voice. .. fans? Not wise, our host said. There was a clank-clank close behind me It seems like bad spoken word poetry doesn't it? In truth, just a spam email I got titled 'the mamir' since it cracked me up, I decided to share it. I din't edit this at all, this is exactly how I got it. And if you're dying to know the author it came from an email address registered to Muhsin Schulz, who is trying to sell me viagra, valium, cialis, ambien, soma, and xanax. You are a beat poet Mr. Muhsin Schulz, rock on.

Not Irish

I'm not Irish. Not even a little bit. Nope. So of course last night I went out to celebrate St, Patrick's Day with the horde of other non-Irish people who use it as an excuse to drink copious amounts of all manner of booze and throw up in their friend's cars/lawns/beds etc. I didn't see a single person throw up this year so I consider it a majorly successful evening. I also remember most of the stuff that happened so another success right there. Of course I was dead to the world until well after 9am today but the kids didn't complain too much about their late breakfasts. Anyway, every two days after the ides of March one of my oldest friends both literally and chronologically, in fact for the blog here we'll call him Methuselah, throws a party to celebrate his drunken heritage. He happens to be Irish but he also happens to be a drunkard and that second thing is what he's celebrating before you get your hackles up and get all pissy about Irish bashing or some such (and by the way, Methuselah's little brother The Cowardly Lion also just as Irish and somehow never as drunk, I'm just saying). I see I've lost my point, has anyone seen it anywhere? I seriously doubt it but hell, it never hurts to ask. Oh yeah, Methuselah threw a party as he is wont to do. Methuselah's parties are generally the most random I've ever been to. You never know who you'll run into from what phase of your life. Sometimes that's cool but more often than not it's incredibly awkward. Occasionally it leads to Lucky Champagne having a throw down while Napoleon and I scream insults at people. I gotta tell you, that's some role reversal, Lucky is much more an insulter and Napoleon and I are not shy with the face punching. Moderately amusing aside, the throw down mentioned above took place for a number of reasons which mostly involved some idiot punching Lucky in the stomach for no real reason but also because Napoleon decided that some other idiot wasn't allowed to talk to or about me in the particularly insulting manner in which he had been. I find that funny because the last time I got into a fight it was partly because some bitchy girl was talking about Napoleon in a similar manner (also I punched her boyfriend for grabbing my ass and she was pissed about it, you know, like you do). See, this is why none of you six or seven readers would really want to know me in the real world, clearly I don't abide there. The more I blog about my life instead of my knitting the more charming I sound, right? So last night Red Todd Kidd, Lucky, Kaylee, Edina and I all head out into the unkown of Methuselah's place. I'm happy to report there was no fighting not screaming of insults and we all had a pretty good time. But then again, I haven't heard from anyone yet today and it's entirely possible that my version of events has nothing to do with reality, it wouldn't be the first time. I bet you're wondering what the hell this post is about and what it has to do with anything. Sadly, there is no point. I was just posting because I had a few minutes and it's been awhile and also if I ramble about this I won't have to dig out the pictures of RTK's socks I've been meaning to post for hella days. I hate loading pictures.

More things Garrison Keilor says

Nothing like a superbaby to bring a smile to your face and say, "Yeah, when the aliens come to turn us all into slaves he will probably be good breeding stock." GK:Did I ever tell you about your myspace pic? *shakes head* Very unflattering, it's almost like poop on celluoid. Me: Thanks for the comment on my myspace pic, I always enjoy being told how poor I look in pictures. Every woman does. GK: I think I need to challange Kaylee to a hell in the cell match to prove my dominace to my woman. Me: You know Kaylee could just put her hand on your forehead and keep you out of arm's reach, right? GK: Ok enough about my height, I will not be mocked about my height, especially from a dark haired Polly Pocket. Meh, I can't tell trailer trash from zombies, that's why the deep south scares me so much. It's like a long forgotten friend, when you finally stand in front of said friend all you want to do is hug and grope them, patting them on the back in an awkward fashion. GK:*chuckles* Yeah, winter gets cold here. Then this white stuff starts to fall from the sky and I swear it's like the world is coming to an end. Me: White stuff? I've heard about that. They call it show or something right? GK: No, in my lands its called the white death. Me: So perhaps you should consider one of the bright shining lands to the south where that doesn't happen. GK: Hah! The south is full of the soft! All that sun breeds in weakness! Me: Yeah people are always remarking on the incredible weakness that is me. GK: Well you are of the weaker sex... so you are not totally to blame. But your hips are good for breeding, so there is some reedemable value there. Me: Yeah, women with all their bleeding and child bearing and putting up with men's crap, total wimps. Ok... but I still feel the internet is for sharing porn.

Insanity thy name is Turkey Hat.

A while back I got an email from a knitwear design company proclaiming that they had "A SEXY NEW WEBSITE". Upon opening this email I was greeted with the picture that you see on the left. I'll give you a moment to take it all in. I'm not sure what the most disturbing thing about this picture really is. Is it the hat? The tea cozy? The fact that someone actullay made it? The fact that someone actually modeled it? Could it be the crazily genuine grin of the model? Perhaps it's the curious tar-like substance on her arms. Whatever it is, I think we can all agree that that whole thing is an image that not even Hunter S. Thompson could concoct on a really bad Thanksgiving acid trip. My favorite thing about it is that there's more. There's a christmas version featuring the same model in a wrap and hat that would make the jolly red elf, Santa himself, slap the designer with the fury of a cheated pimp. I'm torn as to whether I want to defame this woman for giving knitters a bad name or hail her as a comic genius. Is she a self important designer snob or is she that fun aunt we all wish we had because she makes our mothers crazy? I'm pretty sure she's just insane and should probably be in a home where she can't hurt others but that fine line between criminal insanity and comic gold haunts me, just like the image of that turkey-clown get up will haunt my dreams. I'm thinking of doing NaNoWriMo. I have an idea. I have no idea where that idea will take me or where it will go. I don't know whether I shoudl even attempt NaNoWriMo this year since it kicked my ass SO hard I could barely sit last year. I want to do it but I don't know if I can commit. Anyone want to talk me into or out of it? Editted to add: I showed this to Red Todd Kidd who declared that she "can't be serious, there's no way." The we delved deep into the website and have come the conclusion that she must be serious. It's a frightning world out there, readers.

The things I do for laughs

I started an homage to Bezzie because she rules. And because I thought it'd be fun to see everyone in rollers. Of course I had to do it to and since I couldn't seem to buy any curlers I used rag rollers. Since I was using the most ghetto of all styling tools, I decided I should round out the look with trailer park make-up. And now for your viewing pleasure, goofy pictures of me in rag rollers and bad make-up.

Voodoo is the best medicine

I know this really great lady. She got laid off this week because her company is full of agist, sexist assholes. I sent her the care package you see on the left there. I feel that nothing can bring joy to your heart so much as an effigy of a person that wronged you so that you might do unspeakable horrors to it in hopes that they die a slow painful death. Hey, the healing process is different for all of us, okay? Anyway the pattern is Bad Juju from the anticraft and I truly hated this pattern. I will not make it again. I will however make more voodoo dolls because they amuse me. I will write my own pattern to do it though because, as I mentioned, I hated this pattern.

Crap I forgot!

Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day! In honor of this special day let me leave you with these delightful photos of the costume Kaylee made for Lola Beans to wear to the Gold Coast Pirate festival this weekend. Lola and Darth will be going as Elizabeth Swan and Captain Jack Sparrow. There's a hat too but I couldn't get a picture. Hopefully I'll have more luck on Sunday. Okay blogger is throwing a fit. Picture 1, Picture 2.

I finished things!

Two whole knit projects DONE! As my four year old would say, "BOOYAH!" We've been VERY busy. Last week I had two knit projects to finish (and start) but also we had out of town guests (guess who the projects were for). I have TONS of pictures to share so I'm going to have to spread it out since blogger takes forever to load pictures. Today I shall give you the Saga of the Alien. So I decided to make a Kate for Tonka and Cathrine the Great's little boy but I didn't want it to be girly so I decided not to do the stripes, I'd just make it blue. Also, I didn't have any safety eyes so I had to just embroider a face (if you can call it that). Lastly the blue yarn I had wasn't worsted weight it was dk so I went down a needle size and hoped. As it turned out, Kate didn't end up Kate. What I ended up with looked more like a little alien so that's what I made him. Antenna instead of ears. But my poor little alien had another problem, his skin was see through! You could see his stuffing! Now that wouldn't do at all, so I decided to help him by taking him to a special alien skin fortifying clinic called My Kitchen where he could be fixed. First my little alien friend had to be fitted to the proper sized treatment tub. After several tries we found the perfect one just for him (an ex-potato pan). And he seemed pretty excited about starting his treatment, well that is until he realized that we were going to fillthat treatment tub with boiling water and a bit of woolwash (just a bit to kill any alien diseases he might be carrying). He wasn't to sure about that (the hot tub not the disease control). Our little friend was brave though and soon hopped right into the tub where he discovered that hot tubs are fun! He was happy to hang out in there for a few minutes while I went to go get him a medicinal margarita. True that at that time of the day he should have had some other medicinal "m" product... Ahem, anyway. He had to spend quite some time in that hot tub and I think he fell asleep in there. Good thing he doesn't need to breathe because he slipped right under the water and took a nap! Or he may have passed out from his medicinal margaritas... Uh, are aliens supposed to drink tequila? Oh well, too late now. After awhile it was time for step two of the treatment: a quick rinse so that he was cool enough for his human helpers to move him with their hands instead of tongs which, by the way, are not the best way to move heavy, wet, boiling-hot wool aliens. Human handlers should instead proceed to the sink with the tub in hand and dump the whole thing into the sink without ever attempting to manipulate the alien as they will have plenty of oppertunity to do so after he's cooled to a point where he will not scald you. Perhaps this human should have read the handbook. Oh well, next time. So, quick shower to rinse out the disinfectant (Kookaburra Wool Wash), to cool him back down, and sober up the little drunken lout. Just look at him! What a sloppy, sloppy drunk. Lying there all passed out in the sauna (uh, scroll back up a sec, see drunk as a skunk), limp as a rag doll. Tsk-tsk. Can't hold his liquor at all, that one. And on to the next, and final, phase of treatment: the sauna. Now this treatment facility has a very state of the art Kenmore sauna with a tumble or no tumble option. Since this little guy had opted not to have a fuzzy coat, we chose the tumble-free option and he sat very happily in there for a good two to three hours. Woolly (woolley? wooley? Seems like there should be an 'e'. Eh, I'm to lazy to look it up some one will comment about it, I'm sure) aliens take a LONG time to dry! But it was all worth it in the long run because his skin was beautiful when we were all done. Nice and tight and firm but no felting in sight! Congratulations little alien friend, you are a translucent freak no longer.

Why child safety locks don't work.

Please don't feed the dog.

In honor of Fuzzy Tail and Stripes' birthdays we all took a trip to Tijuana. Most of us had a great time. We did some shopping, had some lunch, drank some margaritas. Later we went bowling (back home). Aside from Stripes getting sick it was a really nice day. Darth just asked me for a peanut butter sandwich and toast and pudding. I think he might be hungry. Be right back. I guess I didn't need to tell you that, it's not like if I was gone for an hour while typing this you'd even know. Oh well, whatever. I gave Fuzzy Tail her birthday present so I can finally post the pictures of it. It's a llama I knitted along with several movie costumes that I made for it. In the picture to the right here it's wearing it's Jayne hat (from Firefly) which was the one she liked the best. I also made it a three corner hat and red scarf a la Pirates of the Caribbean. A poncho like Pacha's from The Emporer's New Groove. And a black pea-coat (spelling?) from Boondock Saints. I was really stoked that she liked all it's little costumes.