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So here’s the deal. I’m busy. Really busy. So busy I can hardly stand it. This means that the Museum of Kitschy Stitches is temporarily on hold until I can reign in my ever-crapulating life. It will probably be back in full force next month, but I just can’t do it this month.
All together now: “Awwwwwww. But Stiiiitchyyyy . . . .”
Well, I must say that I’m more than flattered at the great feedback the MOKS has gotten. I love that you love it. And now it’s time for you all to give a little something back to me. It’s all about me, right? So here are four photos of some yarntrocities, without any snarky commentary from yours truly. This is where you come in. I have created a special email account where you will be sending me your very own commentary about these awful things. It’s StitchyIsLazyOopsIMeanBusy at yahoo.com (I replaced the @ with “at” to avoid crawlers, just make the substitution before you send the email). You can do just one, some, or all of them. Make sure you put the numbers by each bit of text so I know what it’s for. I will be posting all of the comments for each photo next week, so you have until next Saturday night (the 23rd) to get your comments in. If you want credit, put your name and blog address (if you have one) so everyone will be able to appreciate your brilliance.
There will be some sort of contesty facet to this, but I haven’t figured out that part yet. I’m not going to judge the best comments because I just don’t have the intestinal fortitude for that sort of thing. Also, I’m very selfish with my stash and can’t give something to everyone (but you’re all winners in my heart. You know that, don’t you?). I will probably do some kind of random drawing, but I’m like the wind. If the wind were a selfish, lazy bee-atch.
OK, people. Hop to it.
#1
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#2
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#3
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#4
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there is a mutual of omaha vibe to this particular anthology. Nice idea, can’t wait to give it a shot. see you at yahoo.
julia fc
mothheaven
1. I didnt kill the muppet – why are you looking at me like that?
2. *gritting teeth* Get your hands off me you zebra-freak, dont you see I am way too fabulous for you?
3. And here we have our latest hybrid cross… Ivana Trump x Emu…
4. It didn’t take me long to tackle down that alpaca at all, and don’t worry – the doctor said its just a mild concussion and a case of really bad taste.
Holy Mary Mother Of God.
That will be all.
Steph
(yarn harlot)
Kevin Hinke comes to mind:
“Wow,” she said. That was about all she could say.
And possibly Ambassador Molarie:
No, the Great Maker has not been kind to you.
jpt
So, Stitchy, I’ve been lurking and laughing with tears running down my face when reading the MOKS archive. You are so clever, and in the afterglow of your cleverness I start thinking I am probably clever, too, and start thinking of all the clever things I would say about the MOKS photos. So here you present an opportunity to do just that, and clever little me, I think…..nothing. Not. A. Thing. I am so not clever. Well, at least now I know that I’m a cretinous git and can go back to just occasionally pretending I’m clever. Thanks a lot.
It didn’t take long to realize that fake fur was wrong wrong wrong for breast implants…..
I think #3 is my fave pic, and also the scariest. The MOKS you have up right now are hilarious — of course! — but funnier all the more because they are old, old pics of crazy whacked-out 1950s-1970s stuff.
However, when you start getting into the 1980s stuff… scary. Scary Funny. Because I think someone in my family owned that frightening sweater. And definitely that hair. And some tapered leg pants with pleats, which we called “slacks.” YIKES.
Hey, I searched for Dot on Catster… where? Where..? Where is the love? (Oh man, now I am even stalking your cat. So, so wrong.)
Surely this is the appropriate time to calmly look the camera in the eye and say, “No comment.”
I thought captioning would be easy. you always pick such, ahem, wonderful photos……until I scrolled to photo number three; the wrapping, presumably slacks, that suggest an early version of Depends. The boa’d bosom, however, has left me speechless.
Mickey
3. Ivana knew life would be hard when The Donald kicked her to the curb, but she couldn’t anticipate how hard. She lost everything but the Aqua Net and her trusty curling iron. She didn’t even have any clothes except what was on her back, and eventually that started to come apart. Evening gowns aren’t made for hard wear. But she wouldn’t let anything get her down. She scavenged, by gum, and eventually she found several skeins of half-used yarn in coordinating colors, almost enough to knit a whole sweater! There wasn’t quite enough, so she killed several pigeons, ate the meat, and fashioned a yarn from their feathers. She used dried up ink pens for needles, and eventually she had a warm, if hideous sweater. She found a huge pair of pants in the alley behind the weight loss center, the ones used in the “after” publicity shots where a never-fat model pretends to have lost a zillion pounds and can prove it because she’s standing in ginormous pants! She put on the pants, cinched the waist with some rope, and donned the sweater. She had proven to herself that she could do it! She could survive! She strode out into the world, head high, oblivious to the frightened children running away from the pigeon detrius on her shoulder.
#1 “I’m searching for my father…I heard that he may be doing mascot work with the San Diego Padres…”
#2
“And so, Yoanna House began taking testosterone, and went to Sweden for the operation. While there, she met a wonderful woman who offered to knit her a sweater with a pattern design in the shape of her newly grown facial hair…”
#3 “And so, Catherine asked Vincent to cut some of his locks and make her a sweater…and Father joined it together with feathers left over from the bird they would eat at the Winter Festival…”
#4 Donning the required wardrobe, Shelly Duval’s pact with the devil was now complete. She had only now to wear the great ceremonial coat of the fabled Plaid Polar Bear to the ceremony, to be consecrated as queen of all Plush for all time.
Ro
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