This is a test of the Emergency Clown System. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with the Federal, State and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of a clown emergency.

If this had been an actual clown emergency,  the shrieking you just heard would have been followed by the blood curdling screams of innocents set upon by marauding clowns. It would have then been followed by hollow, soulless laughter as those painted demons twisted the intestines of their victims into balloon animals.

Official information, news or instructions would ultimately prove useless, but you would be advised to make your way the nearest clownout shelter. This blog  serves the northeast corner of the interwebs. This concludes this test of the Emergency Clown System.

One of my favorite things about crocheters is the way they play fast and loose with the concept of “dressed” vs. “naked as a jaybird”. I’m all for running naked and free, but it shouldn’t require four skeins of Red Heart and a size 7 hook to get there.

Take this acrylic homage to Cleopatra in chainmail. (Cleo was big into the medieval reenactment scene before anyone even knew what it meant.)

This beach cover-up drapes the model from head to toe and yet, there’s not a whole lot of covering up going on.  My assumption is that she’s wearing a bikini under there, but the bizarre variegation of the yarn appears to be rendering the scraps of clothing she does have invisible. How is this possible? I cannot speak to the magic of crochet, ‘tis a mystic wonder. But I do wish they’d shown us a photo of the reverse grill marks she got after a day of cheerless frolicking in the sun.

They dreamed of a day when all natural fibers, and all of nature itself, would be a thing of the past. Mere remnants of an inconvenient age where cotton had to grow and be picked, sheep had to be shorn, and cows had to be…well, thunked on the head and peeled, they imagined.

Their plan to destroy the earth’s bounty grew from their love of easy-to-care-for acrylic, polyester and naugahyde. Even their wigs and false eyelashes were made of wind-resistant orlon. And soon their daily regime of aerosol sprays and backyard plastic bonfires would render the world safe from stains and wrinkles.

It was the only way.

The way into the future!

Dear Santa,

It’s been a busy year here at the Museum. You wouldn’t believe the number of meetings it takes to come up with excuses for not putting together any new exhibitions in months. That alone took up almost two thirds of our Executive Breakfast Treats budget! Then we had to drink all that beer to make that gown, and the extra time in rehab delayed our yearly Team Building Exercise retreat.

In the end, we had to opt for economy package and ended up tying cans of corn to our feet and walking across the snowy parking lot, cheering each other on as we took turns dodging cars from the contemporary art museum next door. They’re very angry people.

As a business owner yourself, you surely understand what it takes to keep your employees happy. You must toss those indentured elves a bone once in a while. Painting nipple rings and perfectly coiffed pubic hair onto Bratz dolls is grueling work, and you can’t expect them to find new and interesting ways to pimp out Elmo without a little light at the end of the tunnel, am I right? So I am hereby submitting my gift list for the staff of the MOKS.

I know it’s late, but you must have these gems tucked away somewhere in your workshop. Get on it, fat man. Do not make me call the child welfare department. Elves. Riiiiiight.

Ok, so I was thinking that there weren’t nearly enough opportunities to knock over salad on a daily basis, so how about one of these precarious salad towers. Could you make sure one of the legs is just a little shorter than the others? It’s for Gail and she’s really been chapping my hide with all her “equal pay” this and “OSHA regulations” that.

And toss this in, too. I’m feeling very passive aggressive today.

One of our new employees, Winnebago Lynne McCoy, is always going on about her kids and how they say the durndest thing and have all their various daddies’ eyes. Well, put up or shut up Winnie Lynne. Let’s see those precious demon seed you keep telling us about. Our insurance doesn’t cover the physical therapy you’ll require after lugging this thing around, but it has sound and everything! Just look at that protuberant microphone on top! The woman in the catalog sure looks like she’s having fun capturing her son’s humiliating defeat in the snowball fight of the century. Or is that a deadly avalanche? Either way, it’ll be fun to watch later.

For Belinda in Exhibits. Oh Belinda, your ironic love of 1980’s fashion will never stop pissing of your co-workers. No matter how hard you try to explain why it’s “funny”, you are only digging yourself deeper. You want to rip on the 50s, 60s and 70s with us? Fine! We’re totally on board. Some of that stuff is hysterical. What the hell were they thinking?! But the 80s? No. The wounds are too fresh. The memories are too clear. The legwarmers are still warm.

So Belinda, this is for you.

No Santa, not the outfits. These look like the kind of girls that terrorized me in Jr. High, so I’d like you to get them to come to the office to harass Belinda, to make her aware of her shortcomings in the bitchiest way possible. And I want them to say the word “like” constantly, I want every sentence to end as though it were a question, and I want them to speak in Valley Girl and not stop, not matter how much Belinda begs.

I believe this is their leader, “The Headband”. Find her and the others won’t be far, they move in a pack. Her real name is Melissa, but I think The Headband is much more intimidating. Belinda will, like, totally gag her with a spooooon?

Just bring Jane in Exhibits a big bottle of hooch. She works with Belinda all day and the one in the bottom drawer of her desk is just about empty.

I think Vito needs something as sexy as he is. These ought to do the trick.

I got a very specific and somewhat disturbing gift request from Ted in Acquisitions. But who am I to deny a man his interests? The man love Annie and he’s not afraid to shout it from the rooftops. Even if it means me having to bail him out of jail at three in the morning for disturbing the peace.

Yes. The wig, too.

And he picked out something for his assistant, Jim. They’ve been spending a lot more time together lately, so I think this is some kind of “inside joke” between them. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, he just gave me the catalog number. It looks to be a casting and molding kit. I’m not one for speculation, but I would say that these boys may be starting some kind of kinky side business. Looks like they’re not all that interested in the softer side of Sears.

Tammy in Accounting? Well, I’m not really sure what you get a girl like Tammy. Usually I just get her a big bottle of antibiotics and some hand wipes, but this year, let’s try something different. She like animals, and I bet she likes them even more when they’re stapled to a puffy down coat! So let’s go with this.

She spends a fair amount of time standing around on street corners in her off hours, so maybe some lovely boots that will keep her warm and fashionable at the same time. Hey, slutty Martians need love, too.

And let’s not forget Tammy in Reception. Tammy, oh Tammy. How many hours have you spent online searching for ways to retouch this year’s Christmas card photo of you and your cats having a tea party while you should have been typing up invoices? Well, it’s all over, because I’m taking your computer and replacing it with one of these relics. Do kids today even understand what “carriage return” means?

And do they understand that back in the day, it took SIX EASY STEPS to correct a mistake?

And that for some inexplicable reason, every single thing had to be labeled for the obtuse masses?

Probably not. But because Tammy works hard, I’d also like her to have the Barbie and Ken Sham Marriage Playset. It includes:

A very body conscious Ken who spends a lot of time at the gym on the west side of town.

And Barbie, a popular musician who plays torch songs in smokey bars full of handsome men who are screaming for her to do her Liza medley.

You get an official wedding photo for the press.

And a cold but very tastelfully designed home where you spend evenings tossing back brandy and wondering just where the hell it all went wrong.

And then Barbie beats the crap out of Ken at a ritzy restaurant, Ken sues, Barbie goes on a binge of pills and booze and spends 3 months in rehab for “exhaustion”, then gets here own reality show. It’s really fun!

And for everyone, new uniforms!!

And Santa, if you have room in your bag and if you value the lives of your merry reindeer team and don’t want me to give your address to Sarah Palin, who loves her some reindeer burgers, I will gladly accept anything from this page with girlsh glee. They’re all radios! All of ’em! The beer, the ketchup, the burger. Heck, even the radio-shaped one!!

But if I had to pick one, it would be the radio/toilet paper holder. It would be the answer to a number of problems in my daily life and to all of my prayers since I was but a small child who only wished she could rock out to her favorite tunes while wiping.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation in this matter. I look forward to working with you again.

Stitchy McYarnpants

Museum of Kitschy Stitches, Curator Happy Holidays!!

Tomorrow I’m off to hawk my wares sell my lovingly handmade goods at the Boston Bazaar Bizarre. If you’re attending, come by and say hi! I’m at a table in the back against a brick wall somewhere. I’m splitting a spot with Caro at Splityarn and look forward to a bustling day.

All left over merchandise will be going into my Etsy shop on Monday or Tuesday. I’m really happy about the new magnets, bags and pendants I’ve been making and I think you’ll like them, too. You can see a little sampling here.

But when I get back, we need to talk. Specifically, we need to talk about this:

Now look, a lot of things can be easily explained away by saying “That? Oh, that’s from England.” Spotted Dick? Normally I’d recommend some antibiotics, but it’s from England so it’s a tasty snack. Referring to an umbrella as a “bumbershoot”? Very cute, I’ll admit. Although I don’t think anyone else could get away with it. David Bowie singing about laughing gnomes. ~sigh~ Ok. Fine.

But I draw the line at a Terror Fish. That is it. You’ve simply gone too far this time.

England, you got some ‘splainin to do.

Oh, and Scotland? Don’t go thinking you’re off the hook, either.