Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Sun's coming up and I can't decide to spill my emotions or keep them inside...

I've been having the time of my life with this blog. What started out as being an extension of thought with my pal over at Fluffy Stuffin' has recently gone global. My usual feeling of mundane is being replaced with excitement. I now have 3 files of blog bookmarks which I visit on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. I rarely visit traditional websites because of this.

I appreciate the comradery of my blog mates. Despite not truely knowing these people, I consider them my friends. I wonder if we would hang out if we knew one another in "real" life.

Imagine the virtual scenario:

Laura and I would be sitting, swaping yarn while intensely knitting garments for the group. 4Dinners would be pouring the drinks and spinning the jams. Fluffy Stuffin' would be podcasting the event while filming the scene in hopes of having it screened at Sundance in 2007. Deadpuppy would be putting the finishing touches on his poetry manuscript. Next to him, CheezeQueen will be carving the Sistine Chapel out of aged Parmesan. Rants would have his digital camera taking stills of the "vileness". Punk in Suburbia will keep us aware of the political air of the world. Ack/Nak, well he probably wouldn't attend due to the lack of professionalism. In this group, we profess not to be a tool.

Just a thought... Thanks to you all for being so cool.


title credit: "Can't Decide" by Black Flag

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

"I want to be the minority...."




I dunno...I can relate to that squirrel....

This is what happens when the Fluffy Stuffin' runs out

Sunday, February 19, 2006

"ENGLAND!"




Ha, ha, ha, ha! My first picture ever is dedicated to 4Dinners, in response to his latest comment. Yeah, I don't look as menacing as he does while flippin' that finger... That shirt is from my high school days. Took it off a hottie while at a hall show when I was 15. Obviously, I never gave it back...

Yikes, I look three sheets to the wind in that picture...my eyes are all squinting (too many steroids, I mean, too much knitting, I guess). By the way, that finger isn't directed AT you 4Dinners : )

So, there you have it. I apologize if da face don't match the type!!!! (I can't stop laughing) I told you all, I'm OLD!!! At least on the outside...

title credit: England is what Billie Joe Armstrong screams repeatedly in "Bullet In A Bible" DVD, filmed at Milton Keynes, England. (Hey- 4Dinners, did you go to that show?)

Saturday, February 18, 2006

"I've been waiting a long time for this moment to come. I'm destined for anything...at all"

A client stood me up yesterday. It's the second time she has done this in three months. She used to be a good client, been coming for bodywork for over a year. Next time I see her (?), I'll remind her that the lymph work will help improve her memory. That is, if she comes more often.

So, the husband, the fine Union apprentice got "The Call". "The Call" is what every hungry apprentice is waiting for. It comes after you've attended all the monthly union meetings. Spent 9 weeks of the year (more than any other apprentice) at the training center doing anything the higher ups tell you to do(like cleaning the place with your tongue) while earning $150.00 a week (yeah-about $3.75 and hour). Kiss every higher ups ass (with the same tongue) in terms of:

1. Campaigning for a mayor of a city that you don't live in.

2. Supporting their expensive drinking habits by buying a bottle for your business agent so they don't forget your name, and driving him home when he's too drunk after that golf outing.

3. Being sent to numerous shit jobs that only last a week at the most.

4. Making sure ALL your union dues and recertifications are paid for on time, even if you don't have the cash (because of those shit jobs). Good thing they take credit cards!


"The Call" concerns the job of the moment. This one is out of state, in the hurricane ravaged zone of this bewildered nation.
Duration of job: Unknown
Wage: WOW, we'll feel like millionaires + overtime
Hours of day on job: Unknown. I do know that he will work 21-30 days straight, then have a week off- PAID

Alright (or 'Right, like 4Dinners says :) )here's how this works...Everyone cross their fingers that this job comes through. When the job comes through, keep your fingers crossed that it isn't a complete hell-hole of a job.
Remember, this is Union Work, not Disney World.
I think I'll wait to open that box of unopened bills until I know it's in the bag.


title credit: "Waiting" by Green Day

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Knitting time trials are off to a slow start...

Concentration was diverted to my son's winter coat. It was discovered after pre-school, that little Man's brand new winter jacket had a broken zipper. We tried repairing it at home. Well, we're handy, but not that handy. Soon, the family unit was wisking off to the local mall to return the jacket. For a full refund, mind you. We had the receipt...shocking!

We couldn't exchange the jacket, only return. Since the store has no windows to the outside world, the people in charge of ordering the seasonal clothing somehow got it into their heads that it is spring in Michigan. There were rows and rows of shorts and t-shirts. I spied a swell button-down short sleeve shirt with flames on it. Little Man would look great in it. My instincts reminded me that the shirt would not go over well as a substitute jacket. In Michigan. In February! My kid needs a parka, not a speedo!

Refund in hand, we left the mall for a super-chain (NOT Walmart) which had a fine selection of jackets at 60% off. That's what Jackie, the children's department sales associate, told me over the phone. Yeah! I even called first...another shocker. Thankfully, we found a coat we all agreed on in less than half an hour. We paid the same price we paid for the last coat. This one has an Ipod pocket built into it (hey, yeah, a shout out to Uncle Ron). It should have come with a complimentary snowboard, then Little Man could atempt to become the next Flying Tomato (sure...).

Speaking of the Flying Tomato, anyone catch the snowboarding halfpipe events? I watched most of them. Tomato is great and I really liked the last run of Kelly Clark who missed out of a medal because of a "butt-bounce" at the very end of her run. She attacked that halfpipe at such velocity!

I tried watching some of the mens ice skating short performance. I kept thinking I was watching the Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert... I also found it hard to take a nap during Curling. The tourettes shouting is disturbing. I finally muted the t.v. so I could sleep. Okay, enough. I need to knit.
Ciao

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Knit & Grit

I'm beginning to regret not joining the Knitting Olympics. I found out about it through on of my favorite blogs, In Persuit of Perfection. I didn't think I would have my shit together to pull off the task of having a project done in 16 days. I didn't want to fail, so I didn't join. Now I know that I'll miss having that cool Knitting Olympics gif on my blog.

So I casted on the beautiful black merino wool onto my needles just as the torch was lit. Now it is 4 days later and I have finished the ribbed cuff, into the color pattern of the mitten. By tonight, I plan to be a few rows past the bind off for my thumb. The color patter is only three colors, easy as pie I tell myself as I kick myself in the ass (I am very flexible). I know I can have these bad mittens done in time...including the silly embroidery to obtain that hand grenade look.

In my defense, Emily Hughes, the figure skating alternate was called in after Kwan bailed. Ms. Hughes didn't attend opening ceremonies, but she is on her way to Torino to go for the gold as Kwan's replacement. I see myself as the knitting Hughes, I am the AlterKnit! I have passed clean for steroids and blood doping. Do I have a chance? Or will this experience simply be my training for the next Summer Olympics?

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

I'll come to you like an affliction, and I'll leave you like an addiction...

from the muuch greater insight file

I was channel surfing while at my mom's house last summer. I stopped on Unsolved Mysteries. To my dismay, they were featuring a story on my least favorite individual, Henry Rollins (the show was about this). Just as I was about to click away, my mom says " Oh, that's Henry Rollins. I like his show on IFC, don't you?" "Er, no mom. I can't stand that fucker", I replied. "Camille" (she always refers to my proper name when she is annoyed with me. "How can you dislike someone so much when you don't really know them?" "Oh, but I do, mom", I replied. Here's what my mom didn't know...

The time was 1984. I was 16 years old. Black Flag was at the height of their popularity and their tour brought them to my hometown of Flint, Michigan. This was a big deal, since Flint was in the mitst of a serious decline (as popularized by another one of my least favorite people, Michael Moore)evident in the film Roger & Me.

The local punk community was a buzz in anticipation of having Black Flag in our backyard. On the day of the show, we assembled early to get the party started. I found one photo of me before the show. I would have posted it but the image was blurry. In the photo, you can just see the top of a 40oz in my hand.
Before Black Flag was to go on stage, I decided to relieve my bladder of the 40oz it was holding. As I snaked my way through the crowd of people towards the bathroom, I felt myself being lifted off the ground...by my crotch. Yes, you read it right. My crotch was moonlighting as a jack point. I looked down to find my boots (of the combat variety) approx. two feet from the ground. I looked up, and saw the tops of everyones heads. I began kicking my legs. Next thing I know, I am being lowered to the ground. I spun around, ready to gouge the eyes from the "human hoist". My eyes fell upon the pumped man-pecs, onto a neck resembling a medium sized tree trunk, to the smiling face of Henry Rollins.

At this point, I'm going to make this a choose your own ending:

A. I proceeded with the double eye gouge.

B. I ran to the bathroom, horrified. Didn't emerge until the middle of Black Flag's set. Watched remainder of the show in disgust and left. To this day, wishes she could squeeze the shit out of his unit the next time he's in town (usually on my birthday) doing spoken word drivel.

C. Threw my arms around is neck of steel and joined him on tour, leaving Flint forever.

Let me know your prefered or probable ending.

My mom* will be pleased to know that IFC has extended Mr. Rollins show from once a month into a weekly talk show. Maybe I could be one of his guests.

*Mom actually found out about this event a few months after the Unsolved Mysteries day. My nephew (who is 9 years younger than me and very cool) told her. I guess he was one of the few people I told this story to. I am the only one in my family who can keep a secret, I should have known not to let him in on it.

(Here is a little something I found on MetaFilter while researching the links for this post.)
In reference to Mr. Rollins:

Wow. Overgrown jock gets blog.

I've never liked the guy, but after reading in 'Our Band Could Be Your Life' the stories of his assault on audience members & his temper problem & reading elsewhere about his alleged sexual assault(s), I've come to the realization that the world would be a much, much better place without him.
posted by item at 10:33 AM PST on January 14

Title credit of post: "Liar" by the Rollins Band