So what the hell kind of jerk spends all sorts of time spamming blogs just to get theirs noticed? And while doing it, they pretend to compliment the bespammed by saying “Hey nice blog ya’ got here! Come check mine out!” It may work once, but geez Louise, 40 or 50 times? Screw you, spammy! So what’s a blogger to do? I know I’ve heard other people mention this happening, so how do you stop it if the spamholes have Blogger accounts? Lousy motherspammers.

Anyhoo. Have you ever seen Pee Wee’s Big Adventure? You know the scene where he runs into the burning pet shop to save the animals, and every time he goes by the snake tank, he makes a face and moves on to something cuter and fuzzier? Eventually, everything cute and fuzzy has been rescued, so he has no choice but to save the snakes. Moments later, he runs out of the shop screaming, arms flailing, his hands full of snakes, then he just passes out.

Yeah. I’ve been feeling a lot like that lately. I hate being a grown up and having to make decisions and junk and stuff.

Carlos the Electrician is finally done (yes, that Carlos and that electrical work). He came a couple of times a week on average and I didn’t act as his assistant most days, so it took for-freaking-ever. And now we need to decide what the next step is do we look into having insulation blown into the ceiling while the ceilings are all messed up? I have no idea how much it costs, but I’m guessing it’s hella expensive. And then we have to patch all the holes. Honestly, there are probably at least 50 places that need patching. I haven’t counted, but we had work done in every single room in the house. Do we do it ourselves over time, making mess after mess every weekend for the rest of our lives? Or do we spend more money to have it done in one or two weekends? Then we have to paint the walls in every room. In most places, this means removing wallpaper. And neither Jon nor I are any good at decorating, we still have milk crates everywhere, fer chrissakes! So I have no idea what colors to choose or anything. Oh my heavens, what a mess.

I suspect we’ll just cover the holes with plastic “for the winter” and never speak of it again. It will be our silent pact to just pretend we don’t live in a wooden box with holes poked in it. Egads, we’re living like a couple of tree frogs captured by an 8-year-old!

Another snake in my craw, unfortunately, is my blog. I keep wanting to post, but I just never have time to write anything good, so I just put it off until a later than never seems to come. I’ve gotten out of the habit and its bugging me. So I hereby declare that I will write something every day until I leave for Rhinebeck. It may not contain pictures and it may not be brilliant, but I’ve got to get back in the habit of blogging. So there you go. Instead of a vow of silence, I’m taking a vow of daily rambling. And if I don’t do it, you can feel free to mock me, berate me, even spam the bejesus out of me with links to blogs about David Hasselhoff. As Dot is my witness, I shall blog again!

And since I have no pictures today, either, I will leave you with a link that is probably not everyone’s cup of tea. But if you like spooky, abandoned buildings particularly asylums, than have I got a link for you. This guy is a great photographer and even has pictures of a building that Charlene and I have a dangerous crush on. Yes, we have a crush on an old insane asylum, so what?! It’s in Danvers, MA. If you drive up Rt 1 north, past all the strip malls and whatnot, you can see its spires peeking out above the trees on the left. The best time to see it is in the winter when the leaves are off the trees. They’re going to be replacing it with condos very soon. I don’t know how much demolition they’re going to do, but they will be some and it’s a shame to loose such an amazing piece of architecture. You can’t drive up to it, there’s pretty tight security, but it’s worth a drive by just to see the peaks of the buildings. It gives me shivers just to look at it. I don’t know if I believe in ghosts and hauntings and wayward spirits, but if such things existed, this place would be crammed to the gills with them. It even starred in a movie called Session 9, which I loved.

So take a peek Opacity, not only at Danvers State Hospital, but of the other urban ruins he’s explored. They’re truly beautiful and creepy and sad and stunning.

First, I have to tell you that the cat in the last MOKS, the one swaddled in baby bunting, the one who is planning a most gruesome end for his shoulder-padded mistress he’s not photo-shopped. A few commenters wondered if he was, and I’m here to tell you that the poor lil’ pussycat is stuffed into that baby bunting for real. Sad. Inexplicable. Deliciously awful.

Second, thanks to Jessica who left this link in the comments . I’m delighted but mostly embarrassed to tell you that I am working on a guinea pig outfit for my friend Peter’s g-pig, Eve. I knitted up a lacy swatch using light blue Geisha from the nether regions of my stash. I also did a non-lacy one in Berroco Suede. He decided that Eve was more of a tomboy . . . er . . . tompig? . . . so he felt she’d be less self-conscious in the suede. So I’m designing a little western vest for dear, sweet little Eve. She has black fur and will look very comely in her new outfit. It’s going to be fairly simple at the top, done in tan with some YO “cutouts” near the bottom. There will be a small, hot pink border and some pink fringe. Franklin, Peter’s other g-pig will be very jealous and I’m sure we’ll have to accommodate him somehow.

Third lookie what I made over the weekend!

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It’s a dog sweater for my friend Ronnie’s rat terrier, Max. It even has a pocket so he can carry his stuff around. Currently, his favorite toy is Zero from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Zero fits into the pocket perfectly. We had a fitting and it worked out really well. The pattern is from Patons “Another Dog’s Life” (and yes, I do intend to make the Dogasaurus Rex on the cover. Oh yes.) The instructions originally didn’t have me add the green button band between the leg holes. Now, I don’t know what the hell kind of dogs they’ve got up in Paton’s country, but Max isn’t some circus sideshow freak with his front legs two inches apart. Sheesh! So I added the button band to get a perfect fit. I’ll just weave front shut and I’m going to add some old-fashioned wooden barrel buttons to give it a rustic look. I used maybe a little more than one skein of blue Wool Ease for the body and half a skein of the green for the edging and pocket. Surprisingly, Max took a size Medium. I’ll get photos of him in it as soon as possible!

Dot remains unimpressed. (I wish I could spend my day taking tongue baths in the laundry basket, but the NutroMax doesn’t pay for itself, now does it?) Apparently her toes are far more interesting than my sudden need to rid the world of animal nudity.

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Well, we’ve seen just about enough of all eight of her nipples around our house. She and Chloe are getting Koigu tubes top, whether they like it or not. And although they’ve both been neutered, Chi-Chi and Mike could each do with a pair of cashmerino underwear.

*Darn! The Guinea Pig dress link doesn’t seem to be working right now. Maybe it will come back. Just know that if you Google “Guinea Pig Dress”, oh my lord in heaven, you will get the most fantastic “accidental” link I’ve ever seen. It’s to a site called Roadfood.com (no, it’s not all recipes for roadkill as I was hoping), and the preview of the match goes like this:

“My grandmother could take a guinea pig, dress it, rub it with spice and oil, and bake it in a slow oven until it tasted just as good as the finest muskrat”.

Fan-friggin-tastic. Is Google not the coolest thing ever? How did we ever live without it?

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Well, there’s not much more to say about the mess Katrina has made than has already been said. Good vibes, best wishes, warm thoughts, all of that goes out to everyone suffering. But the best thing you can send is money. Because there are no resources to store or distribute donations of food, clothing, or even lovingly knitted blankets, people are urged to send moulah. Cold hard cash. Greenbacks. It’s all about the Benjamins, baby.

Let’s show them the money, people!

And if you’re so inclined, help some furry critters out, too.

Pretend you’re going to make a gorgeous, luxurious blanket, hat, or scarf to comfort someone who has been affected. Now, save yourself a bunch of time and just send the money you would have spent on the yarn. Then throw in a little more for a pair of matching slippers.

Welcome to the brand new wing of the Museum of Kitschy Stitches, sponsored by frightened hordes of knitting designers who paid us off to never mention them or their rotten designs. Using their contributions, which totaled over 18 billion dollars, we built the Karma Chameleon Complex, including the renowned Tumble 4 Ya Sculpture Park.

The complex features fully mirrored floors and ceilings with gold-plated fixtures. The walls are covered with artfully splattered paint in hot neon colors. Masterpieces by Nagel, Haring, and Kliban are displayed throughout the building. The complex will house a collection of travesties from the glory days of the 1980’s, a prohibitively expensive time in knitting history due to the voluminous styles loved by all. Dolman sleeves, baggy sweaters, and bunchy leg warmers were the order of the day and a “fitted” top meant that you could only fit one other person inside. The artifacts within this exhibit have been painstakingly gathered so that we, as a community, could seek to answer the age old question of the 80’s: “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?” It is apparent that the answer is a resounding “Yes!”

How did anyone manage to knit this sweater? I mean, besides the fact that it used up the entire world’s yarn supply for an entire year, it must have taken at least that long to knit this monstrosity up. And at the cost of a whopping $32,450 to make, who had the money? And where exactly do you store 5,000 balls of yarn while you’re knitting it? And how does the wearer fit through doorways when you’re done? Does she even have a right arm, or is that just a pile of knitted fabric in its place? Was the arm removed specifically to accommodate the sweater or was it just a happy coincidence that she was without it? How far out would this sweater be billowing if she didn’t have it smartly belted, not that, god forbid, she’d ever leave the house with an unbelted sweater.

There are too many questions left unanswered with this thing. Oh how I long for the days of crocheted hot pants using a single skein of yarn.

I think it’s time we finally face the debilitating curse that affected so many of the fashion mavens among us. Popeyeism. This disease was most identifiable by the increased size of the shoulder/arm region. The example above shows advanced Popeyeism of the upper arms. Before this photo was taken, the model was seen squeezing a can of spinach until the top popped open. She then flipped her head back and swallowed the entire contents of the can, afterwards callously throwing the empty can behind her.

Others afflicted may experience inflammation of the forearm, which is often accompanied by the appearance of an anchor-shaped marking on the arm or chest. Speech impediments and speaking from the side of one’s face while smoking a pipe from the other are also known symptoms. Luckily, Popeyeism was wiped out by the early 90’s, but a new batch of outbreaks are expected among teenagers who consider the 1980’s to be “retro” and “funny”. They will start wearing restyled 80’s-esque clothing for the sake of “irony” until they eventually become the very thing they’re making fun of. Let’s all enjoy it, shall we?

Smart brides really put the “Maid” in “Bridesmaid”. Don’t let that bitch try to upstage you! Put her in her place from Day One. Better put the flower girl on notice, too. Who even said your spoiled rotten little niece could be in this wedding, anyway?

Yes, let’s all Get Physical! Let’s exercise in shiny acrylic sweaters that will trap the sweat as though we were wearing Ziploc baggies. And don’t forget the non-absorbent sweat band that will slowly creep down as we tediously lift our 3lb weight until it smudges our Aquatic Blue eyeshadow. And legwarmers, yes! Because when we sprain our ankles and scrape our calves on the cheap stationary bike pedals that we forgot don’t work right, we’re going to need something to cover the bruises and swelling. And throw a mullet in there for good measure. Taa-daa, I have just helped you experience what it was really like in the mid-80’s in a few short sentences. You owe me.

Is it just me or does this sweater not seem all that warm?

Things were not always as they seemed in the 80’s. Illusions were all around us in this veritable land of make-believe. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that the US was being led by an actor who once performed with chimps. (The chimps have certainly come a long way since then, eh?) And nowhere was this penchant for fantasy more evident than in fashion.

Hey! I remember this commercial!

“With the addition of a microwave to every kitchen has come the advent of an array of tasty, fat-laden snacks. Waistlines are expanding, boobs are sagging, butts are spreading in entirely new directions. But don’t put down that Hot Pocket, put on this fantastic new bikini bod instead! That’s right, the new Knit-a-Body system allows you to enjoy the highly processed carbohydrates that are so important to today’s modern lifestyle and still look totally bitchin’! Available in Beach Babe, Voluptuous Valley Girl, and Preppy Prostitute. And now for the guys, there’s the Bulging Bohunk!”

Yeee-haw! Who doesn’t love a pair of overalls fit for a fancy hoedown? Well, slap my knee, turn me blue, and stick my head in a milk jug, this gal, that’s who! She’ll be a monkey’s mama if she can’t figure out those ding-danged clasps that hold everyone else’s pants on. Nope, her uncle daddy never did teach her about such finery. ‘Sides, how’s she gonna find a man if she’s spendin’ all her time fussin’ with those silly pant-holder-uppers? Shoot fire, y’all are crazy! But they do look purty and all the fellers love a filly with her thumbs hitched in a pair of metal clasps, all sexy like. So what else is a gal to do but keep her britches accessible with grandma’s patented fauxveralls?

The only thing more ridiculous than fake nautical clothing with huge handkerchiefs wrapped around the shoulders is fake nautical clothing with huge handkerchiefs knitted around the shoulders. “Look, she like boats!” this sweater begs. “See, she has a little boat. And she’s smiling!” it pleads as is tries to convince onlookers of its authenticity. “She’s wearing a Gilligan hat! She’s totally seaworthy!” it blubbers as it chokes back the tears. I wouldn’t scrape barnacles with this thing.

And just a reminder for anyone who thinks otherwise; the 80s weren’t good for anyone. (click the photo for a close-up of the world’s most pissed-off cat. And I’m sorry to say, it is not photoshopped.)

Hello, Police?

Yes, I’d like to report an assault.

Yes, that’s right. On my senses! We aren’t even safe in our own Inboxes anymore!! Send the fashion squad immediately. Bring a tranquilizer gun and some matches!