Archives for posts with tag: Satan

My mind is a scary place to be.  If I weren’t me, I wouldn’t want to be.  Contrariwise, since I am me, I spend most of my day freaking out.  And because you aren’t me (even though I know you totally want to be), I’m letting you in on what’s been on my mind this last week (because I can tell you’re dying to know).

First to bat: why do Amy’s Cheddar Bunnies taste like band aids?  And why did I spend money on something that made me think of licking dirty band aids while I was eating it?  Does anyone else get this exquisite taste while eating their organic cheese friends?  I think the most disturbing thing about this is that despite the taste, I ate it all.

Supposedly I’m dehydrated.  I try to remind myself to drink water, but I forget.  This is probably why I get dizzy when I work out with Jillian Michaels.  Damn, that B is scary.  She should put out a video that shows her just sitting in a chair drinking water and yelling at the camera.  I would totally start drinking water then.

How many days until Christmas?  Four?!?  I should probably give up sleeping and start knitting instead, because these xmas gifts aren’t going to knit themselves.  I can’t go into details about my current projects, but here’s a sneak peak into what I’m knitting:

I really wanted to see Black Swan this week, but I can’t knit in the dark.  Is there such thing as glow-in-the-dark yarn?  If not, I need to get on it.  I also need to go to the gym, but I wonder if people will look at me funny if I start knitting on the exercise bike.  I think knitting and cycling would go perfectly together.  What could go wrong?

Yarn Over »

You know when you’re begrudgingly merrily knitting along spawn of Satan’s shawl a beautifully intricate shawl and you keep thinking to yourself, “Wow, I can do this.  I’m so close.  Only about 450 more stitches to pick up for the edging.  Look at me go!!  Weeeeeehooooo!”

And then you look down at your ball of yarn, and instead you find this:

This scraggly clump of unsubstantial amount of yarn, not nearly enough to finish the edging, staring… no: glaring, right back up at you in this sinister manner, affirming your aching suspicion that  the shawl really is a project from hell.  And all you can think is, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”

Satan’s Shawl: 1
Freshy: 0

UPDATE (11/20):  I took that clump of yarn and very carefully (and with a pair of tweezers) wound it into the tiniest ball of yarn you will ever see.  Behold!  Mini-yarn ball from hell.  So evil that it will roundhouse kick George in the face.  Poor George.  He didn’t even see it coming.

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