Who’s there?

Orange.

Orange who?

Orange you glad you aren’t one of these sad sacks of tangerine-colored despair?

(I like to think that the reason the man’s sweater has no buttons was because they popped of as he rent his garment in angst.)

You know, I open up old knitting magazines for a bit of zippy fun and a few laughs at the expense of others. But all of a sudden, I have to find the one that’s edited by Sylvia Plath’s crafty and slightly more depressed sister.

Part of me wants to make jokes about Clementines and Tangellos colliding to form an unholy alliance of color and texture, and the other part wants to find these two and help them out with some neutral tones and an ice cream sundae.

I’m getting soft, people. But now is not the time to be soft. I just found out that I’ve been nominated for another Webby Award (once again, in the “Weird” category)! And I must steel myself for a double ass-kicking as I go up against Cute Overload (who soundly trounced me last year) AND I Can Has Cheeseburger.

Jesus. Can’t a girl catch a break?

I need a drink. An orange one.