Date me

Why do men put sexual crap into their profiles? WHY?


I have received messages from men on various websites and after checking out the photos (yes, I'm somewhat shallow. Sue me) and reading the profiles, I admit my interest being piqued.


Then, without fail, somewhere in the profile is a mention of sex. Or penis size. Something vaguely distasteful and hanky panky-esque.


WHY?


This morning I received a request for communication on eHarmony. I took a look at the profile and he seemed ok. Fun even. Then, dammit, under "The things I can't live without are:"
"icecream/lovemaking not nec. in that order"

It was the fourth or fifth thing but still. Why include it?

UGH!!!!


We all know you can't live without it. We all know you love it. Everyone does. There is no need to bring that shit up in your profile!


Another message I received:
"hi...you look interesting and would love to know more about you............xx"

Uhm, what am I, some kind of SPECIMEN? Grudgingly, I move to his profile because, hey, he could be a nice guy. Maybe he's just not good at breaking the ice.

*sigh*

Under "The most private thing I'm willing to admit", his response:
"I am well endowed down under.. "

OMG. I cannot take it. I just can't. 

Where is the damned wine? 

Knees, knitting and kneading

I finally became a big gurl and had my knee arthroscopy. *sweats* I dreaded it. I knew it had to be done but instead of pulling on those big gurl panties, I whined and limped and put on the put upon face and martyred myself for many months. 

Talking about postponing the inevitable. Ack. 

So last Friday, I had it done and my ortho and physical therapist and galpals were all right. It was far less traumatic than I previously envisioned. 

Really, I shouldn't have been such a baby. My friend H had so many surgeries on her broken foot I'm sure she lost count. She could have no weight bearing for seven (7, yes 7) long and arduous months. Stop n Shop's Peapod was her BFF. She memorized their entire home delivery list.

She communed with her favorite chair. Now her foot is as good as new but man, can you imagine crutches and no weight bearing for almost a year? I think she probably could have become an aerialist if she wanted to because she could fling herself through the air in crazy ways during those seven torturous months on crutches. And no safety net, either!

So I'm at one week post operative and the knitting is crazy. CA-RAZY. I'm almost done with M's sweater. I had to put it down because, quite frankly, I got tired of looking at it.

The cats are beginning to think I'm a permanent couch fixture so they knead on me constantly. This morning, I was happy they were kneading near me because I awakened just in time to see a horrible, slithery, fast moving centipede going up the wall.

*excuse me for a moment while I scream*

I grabbed a flipflop and crushed it. Then had to calm myself down long enough to go get the Fantastic, paper towels and do my crime scene clean-up. OMG, I hate slithery creepycrawlies. I'm still shaking and it's been about half an hour. Why must they invade us? I don't go outside and slither around their space. I don't dig in their dirt or decide to hang out near their lounge area. If you enter my home, you risk the back of a handy flip flop. If you're outside, I won't bother you. It is a fair deal. Stay. out.

To console my shaky self, I immediately turned to the world inside the laptop and checked out Bloomies cos Bloomies always makes things better. Not that I can buy anything. Buying is a joke at the moment. No, I can't buy anything but I can look. Looking doesn't hurt.

I encounter the Clog Boot(ies).

Let's consider this.

One of the properties of clogs is the openness of the back, correct? UGG has closed up the back yet still calls it a Clog. If you encase a sandal, is it still a sandal or does it now become a shoedal?

The appeal of the damned thing is enough to make me want to try it on. It's the first time I'd actually want to fold down a boot. I've never folded down any boot despite the option because it seemed so 70s Little House but these are funky enough to give it a whirl.  But if I was going to dive in and just buy the whole Clog Boot concept, this is the one I'd get: tall, suede, lean.

Now I'm off to knit more while I ponder my knee. And scan the walls and floors for centipedes. *cry* 

I'm working on Irish Diamond, Hampton Cardi and Lillehammer. Yes, Lillehammer from freakin' 1994? Ok, I actually ordered the yarn kit in 2002 and was freaked out by the charts and overly complex instructions and the general fevered enthusiasm from the Yahoo Groups. Those gals were the nicest and most helpful people I've ever encountered in an online knit group but their skill set was light years ahead of mine back then and I think I was just too impatient to actually sit down and work through it. 

I did go to Staples or Kinkos or some such place and blow up the main charts to Jolly Green Giant size because the intricacy of the charts was lost in the original fairy size. Only Rowan is worse when it comes to teeny tiny maddeningly squinty sized charts. WTF? Someone needs to tell Rowan we can hardly see the chart much less see there are actually little marks inside the stitch square. *rolleyes*

I fought the law and the ... LAW WON

Not really. I'm steering clear of the law. The pattern for the Tosh shawl won and it won big. Suddenly, I was 2 stitches off and could not find where it began. Ripped a row, still not right. I'm not ripping more than that so the whole thing was frogged. Whatever. A million other shawls waiting to be knit. Not getting stuck on one temperamental pattern. *take that, shawl*

People. It's just RAIN.

It's been raining almost 40 days and 40 nights. Enough  with the rain. But more importantly, enough with the "what-do-you-think-all-that-wet-shit-coming-out-of-the-sky-is" driving. There is no acceptable reason a 23 minute drive to my office became an hour and a half two inches forward, brake, stop, sit, one inch forward, brake, stop, sit nightmare commute this morning.

And on top of all that, every impatient, entitlement suffering little arse on the road just had to pull in behind me and try to crawl up the back of my car's ass in their vain hope that pure obnoxiousness on their part would cause traffic to magically disappear.

Pardon me a moment while I roll my eyes so hard I create a migraine.

WTF? Rain, people, rain. Not ice, not snow and all evidence to the contrary, not a typhoon so why in hell did it take an extra hour and 7 minutes to get to work? What is going to happen when a) the kids go back to school, bringing more people out on the road early in the am including those lumbering school buses that if you don't leave your house by 6AM you're screwed because you sure as hell will find yourself crawling behind one allllllllllllllllllll the way to your destination and b) when the first effing snow falls. 

Oh, those two things in combination will be enough to have you scrambling through your glove box in desperate search of a plastic knife so you can saw at your wrists while you sit in traffic.

Winter ... good times to come.

Victory over beads - yeah, I'm a BAD ASS ... *rolleyes*

Clearly, I need a more exciting life. Wait. I need a life. Period. I'm declaring victory over inanimate objects. There is something seriously wrong with that. 

Yeaaaaah.

Well, screw it. I'm grabbing victory where I find it and right now, victory resides in the successful placement of beads in a shawl. And yeah, it is geeky and corny and screw political correctness but ya gotta admit getting so excited over knitting with fucking beads is queer don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I can see your lips twitching at the corners cos you're just as geeky as I am about getting those damn beads to sit properly on the damn yarn. 

*crickets*

Don't act like it's just me!! 


Anyway, the lace is defying my authority a little and the count keeps getting screwy but I'm pretty sure it's me getting sloppy with the yarn overs and stubbornly knitting on when my ass is tired and ready to go to sleep. Whatever. Fixing it is pretty easy and not so stress inducing since I can block the hell out of it when it's done.


I think. 


*whistles*

Bead me up, baby

Beads and I have never hit it off. I always end up flinging them across the room and then cursing like a drunken sailor while I round the effin' things up with a broom and dustpan.

Just like the insane person who keeps slamming his head against the wall thinking things will be different after the next head bang, I came home with another vial of beads swearing things are gonna be different this time. Whatever. It's time to start the lace. If the beads don't work out, the cats will get their workout chasing the suckers around the room.

Hey Vogue, Is that a WEDGIE??

I picked up the new Vogue Knitting while in the yarn store visiting my Knit Geek Buddy.  Annisa opened the box to show us the new issue and we immediately began flipping through the pages hungrily.

We encountered #16 from Rebecca Taylor and both of us actually screeched, "Ewwww!" I said, "She has a wedgie!!"

Why, Lord, WHY would the editor allow this? What was the designer thinking?  Does she have some childhood horror memory of her skirt stuck into her panties as she walked around school and no one told her that has been long buried into the deepest, darkest recesses of her brain? For God's sake girlfriend, go see a shrink! Projection, party of one, your table is ready.

The front of this cardigan like thingy isn't horrible; weirdly shaped with strange sleeves but the pattern is pretty cool. Why in hell she didn't make the back straight escapes me. It just has to go back to her repressed memory of her skirt all jacked up in her panties and it was probably in high school. It's her nightmare relived way of working out the trauma? Whatever it is, that thing will never look as if it's stuck up my butt. Over and out.