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First things first, it seems Charlene wants to add something to yesterday’s post. She added it in the comments, but I figured I’d just put it here for ease of use.

From Charlene:

“Did Stitchy also mention a guy in his late 70’s beat us by about 10 minutes? We were much closer to death that day than he’s ever been. We couldn’t even win the raffle at the end¢â‚¬¦”

~ahem~ no, Chuckles, as I matter of fact I didn’t mention us getting out asses thoroughly kicked by a 70something-year-old man, nor did I bring up our stunning defeat at the raffle. I also didn’t tell them that you could only name 6 of the 8 Red Sox players on the raffle sheet for the Red Sox tickets. I mean, who doesn’t have Trott Nixon’s image burned into their mind? (ok, I knew the name, but I thought he was a rodeo guy or something. You know, like Tuff Hedeman.). And that other guy whatsisname. Pfffft. So yes, we did good by showing up and eventually finishing. But everything in between? Well, we’ll do better next time.

And now on to something from a couple of weeks ago. Wendy had a Duct Tape Dummy party where we were invited to wrap ourselves and each other in duct tape, then snip each other out of our new shiny adhesive shirts. Sounds pretty kinky, eh? Well, I have to believe that somewhere, there’s a fetish for this kind of thing, there just has to be. Hey, you. The one who found this blog entry by using some keywords about your duct tape fetish, is this really a huge scene? Don’t be shy. I know this is a knitting blog and all, but we’re curious. Do tell. But tell in the comments.

Anyhoo, I brought all the necessary equipment to have Dummy Debbie made up, but I chickened out at the last minute. I ended up helping Ben and Cheryl do theirs. It was fun, like making a mummy without all that pomp and circumstance or the mess of coptic jars and brain hooks.

When I got home, Jon was disappointed that I didn’t have a carapace of myself for his amusement. Really disappointed. So much so that he insisted on making one right then. So pretty much as soon as I got home from the party, we got to work. I made sure he understood that this would not become a regular “thing”, so not to get too attached to the process, if you know what I mean. It took a while, but eventually, I ended up with this:

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I immediately regretted telling Jon to just let the tape follow the curves, for follow it did. Check out the frontal pooching. Yikes! Is that a sack of ham sandwiches in your shirt or did you just eat a sack of ham sandwiches? But I must say, it’s an accurate representation of yours truly. It’s kind of hard to tell with the tripod stand and fake head and all. Here, maybe this will give you better scale.

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HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA! Never let it be said that my husband does not indulge me. He was rushing out of the house the other morning when I needed pictures of this thing and he kept refusing to put it on (although he had put it on a few times before and seemed to like having his own set of boobs all to himself). He finally relented and is now totally nerve-wracked that I’m about to post it. Hee hee.

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Honey? I’m posting it. Right . . . . NOW! Too late, there’s no going back on this one!

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