sock it to me

No, not another sock I'm knitting, although I am in one sock hell. I really need to knit a second sock for the ex-next door neighbor to defeat Second Sock Syndrome sometime. Soonish.

I spoke some months ago about the controversy surrounding The Evil Spawn of Hellfire's The President's appointment of Allen Weinstein as National Archivist. Well, it's a done deal now, and this article from The Washington Post regarding the topic has a rather insulting line in it for those of us who profess to be archivists:

"If the Smithsonian is the nation's attic, the Archives is the nation's sock drawer."

Excuse me for being stupid enough to ask this.

What the fucking hell is that supposed to mean?

Are we just organizing socks here, people? First of all, I was unaware that the Smithsonian, being the attic, was therefore the only thing considered "worthy" enough of being out on display. I guess the extremely long lines I see every day at 5 PM are not outside of the National Archives. I guess they're really outside of the Smithsonian. The people must just be standing in line outside of the wrong building mistakenly, that's it. Right. It couldn't be because they might actually want to see the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution or any number of other historical documents, now, could it?

Nah, that can't be it. They'd all go to the Smithsonian for that.

After all, there are only socks to be found at the National Archives.

[Note: I have never before mentioned that I once took a class from Allen Weinstein one semester I choose to forget when I was a student at Smith College, and that he was a colleague and classmate of my father's in the history department at Yale in the 1950s. The history community is very small, and my father was fairly well-known in it. Dr. Weinstein was not very personable and rarely kept his office hours, but he knew his material, and made me interested enough in history to become a history major. It doesn't mean I agree with the manner in which his appointment was made or in which John Carlin was fired by President Bush. Then again, I still don't agree in the manner in which John Carlin was appointed by President Clinton.]

take back your minx, take back your purls

Alright, Kathy, you're on.

1. Why aren't you in the Librarians and Archivists Who Knit Ring? Do you think you're somehow better than we are? Are you against me personally being in the ring because I prefer cataloging to reference and you're a reference librarian? Do you hold yourself higher than me because I am also an archivist and I am currently working as a records manager? Do you have a problem with my triple threatedness?

2. Speaking of reference librarianship, I once had to do time as one and I liked to perform my duties wearing a strapless ballgown and silver combat boots. This ensemble was particularly enjoyable on Sundays during exam week. I often smuggled in a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream to wile away the hours at the desk. What do you like to do for fun during high stress library weeks at the reference desk?

3. My job only requires me to be in DC through the end of April, and then will have me traveling back to DC once a month. How can I talk my boss into requiring me to be back here less than a week after I leave so I, too, can attend the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival?

4. I, too, share your elevator peeve, about letting people get out of the elevator (or public transportation train car) before attempting to board. Do you not also have a peeve about escalators? It's stand right, walk left, people! Am I the only person who feels this way?

5. What do you do with a boss who doesn't know how to use Google? I had one of those, once (Napoleon). Just one more reason to share in the disrespect.

oooh, witchy woman...

My apologies to Colette, who had to wait an extra day for her questions due to the inconsistency of the wireless in the neighborhood.

1. A question in three parts:
a. Wendy, the Good Little Witch, or Sabrina, the Teenage Witch?
b. Why did Wendy wear Red? Was she really a prostitute? Was she channelling Little Red Riding Hood?
c. Were Wendy and Casper having a secret fling on the side?

2. Would you recommend Swedish, deep tissue, both, or neither to someone suffering from respiratory ailments for over a year? I stopped seeing my massage therapist a year ago when I started having my lung problems, and I know sometimes the lymph nodes can be tricky with deep tissue.

3. So I occasionally have a yen to crochet, and then I find myself holding the yarn in my left hand in odd and weird angles, and then my left pinky is crooked up as if I were at high tea with Her Majesty. What's up with that? Why have I been able to knit since I was 7 years old but while I have the ability to crochet, I seemingly lack the grace to do so?

4. How did you manage to lose your Siouxsie shirt? What would you do to get it back?

5. How can I learn to start knitting things for myself and not for other people all the time? It's not that I am against knitting for others (mind you, I am really taking my time with knitting the cashmere scarf for Trixie, who, by the way, has a blog of her very own now, everyone go see and say hi to her! Tell her how much you appreciate her letting me stay in her house in DC so I can blog away to my heart's content while I steal her neighbors' bandwidth!), it's just that I have exactly five items I have knit for myself, and one item I have crocheted for myself. What's your secret to equilibrium?

Kathy, beware tomorrow night...

lollipop, lollipop, oh lolly lolly lolly

So Lauren, here are your questions:

1. Dum Dums, Charms, Blow Pops, or Tootsie Pops?

2. I was doing some third world shopping tonight in a major store that uses a bulls-eye as its logo, and I saw on an endcap a prominent display of "Learn to Knit!" kits (they weren't called exactly that, but it was pretty close). Other than the ubiquitous and obvious eyelash and furry scarf, the only wearable item was a bikini bathing suit which was to be knit out of cheap-ass 99 cent cotton, and there did not appear to be an entire single 99 cent ball's worth included in said kit. Aside from the fact that said "bathing suit" would be heavy, would not last, and without elastic would fall off immediately upon wetting, and we don't even need to mention that it only came in the color variegated white and pale pink such that everything would show through, I am wondering what you think about this kit. Having met you in person, you know that I am not a thin size 2 person, and while I personally don't have a problem with bringing knitting to the teens and 'tweens of today, I personally take issue with the whole body-image self-esteem issues that might arise from this. Discuss.

3. Cataloging or reference? (For the non-librarian types out there, many catalogers don't like reference, and many reference librarians don't like cataloging. If one tends to like one, one often tends to dislike another.)

4. So I was in Alexandria today and I saw this really long scarf/shawl/caftan thing and I bought it. It's hand-dyed and silk and fuschia and lavender and will absolutely clash with my red hair and ultra-dramatic and I spent like $200 on it, plus some scarf slip/clasp thing which cost even more money and is handmade glass and it, too, is beautiful and I've never owned anything like this before, although I did wear my vintage hand-painted silk Peter Max scarf in my hair on Friday to carry through on that whole "no hair products" experiment - and boy did I feel odd all day long. Do you have anything like this scarf/shawl thing in your scarf collection or are all of your scarves small and neck-like only? Any suggestions for me, being the scarf-queen that you are?

5. When are we having dinner again?

silly, stupid me.

Here I thought my questions would scare people off, and they're actually attracting you! Go figure.

For my count, I owe interviews to Lauren, Colette, Kathy, the revenge interview of Rabbitch, and I can't tell if I owe one to Jane or not?

Tonight, I will have to disappoint all, as I am off to drink. Heavily, I hope. It's been a weird couple of days.

I'll be back tomorrow...

let the brutality continue!

My darling Lauren commented that my interview questions are brutal. I didn't think so, but I make no apologies. Hope you're ready, Mindy.

1. This question has four parts:
a. Sally Field or Sandra Dee?
b. Moondoggie or the Big Kahuna?
c. Hawaii or Rome?
d. "The New Gidget"? How did it last for two seasons?

2. So, two days ago I asked in another interview about what someone would knit for a curly-haired, red-headed librarian who likes to wear ostrich feathers to her Federal government contracting job. Last Friday, I was told that my perfume was causing another person in my workplace to get headaches. Problem is, I wear no perfume, except the occasional Burberry on a rare fancy schmancy night out, which I must say, work is most definitely not. I also wear no hairspray, so it was narrowed down to my deodorant and the small amount of hair goop (putty, paste, wax, whatever can control the mop) I use. I switched deodorant and lessened to non-existent the hair goop application. Today (with my extremely flattened hair), I was told that the person was still getting headaches from my perfume application, the perfume I still don't wear, and it was suggested that perhaps I attempt to come to work wearing none of the above one day. I don't expect you to have a solution for my lack of deodorant, but what can you do with the mop now that it will have been turned into a frizzy, floppy mess which won't even stay up with office supplies? You always have creative and fun knitting patterns and solutions to things. My hair is short, so I can't pull it up or back. Please feel free to model possible solutions (the Martian's hair will do just fine). Will Elizabeth work as a hat? Can I wrap Clapotis around my hair?

3. In contemplating the "why do only some Muppets have uvulas" question, how many episodes of "The Muppet Show" did you actually watch, and which episode is your favorite? Which Muppet is your favorite and why? Have you thought about combining the Muppets question with the HR question, so that perhaps HR could use the Muppets for the fire safety "How to Use a Fire Extinguisher" training video?

4. I am two fingers away from completion of my own fingerless mitts (aka The Sex Gloves) and I share your concerns about not making them because as soon as you do, the warm weather will come, blah blah blah. However, in my case, I feel like I'm just trying to be Madonna or some weird pedophile currently on trial for child molestation in Los Angeles when I wear them. Do you share those feelings, or do you just not care? Isn't there some rule about not wearing any fashion you can recall wearing yourself in the past? Not that I'm a big one for rules of fashion, mind you, but there are some things even I won't do (like wear white shoes). If you made the gloves, which pattern would you use, and which yarn? I need to know so I can become inspired by your ideas and actually do the fifteen minutes left of work on my own sex gloves, so as not to be stuck in k2, p2 Koigu world forever.

5. Were you actually in the IMAX theater when the AV pro showed "Tea Bagger Vance"? What movie were you supposed to see and why wasn't I with you to witness this wondrous event? How long did TBV play before it was stopped and were any clandestine dates made during or after the show that may otherwise not have been made had it not been for TBV? Please include any details of dates you "happened" to follow along after, show up in the same place during, or otherwise be near during the events of due to your close proximity to the people making the dates and the glass you held up to the door to help you listen better while they made the "dates."

come into my lair, my precioussssss

The glutton for punishment Stacey requested I interview her. First Rabbitch, now me. Are you sure you want to inflict this punishment upon yourself?

1. I do a bit of cross stitch myself (shocking, isn't it? You'd never know I did anything from the complete lack of images on my blog of late and my bemoaning the completion of the pepto-pink cashmere scarf for Trixie) and I once had a complete psycho chorus director scream at me and the other two members of the quartet I was in at the time that we needed to do our stitches in a certain manner in order that the back appear a certain way; that is, neater than even the front. Being the lazy slack ass that I am, my back looked like a bunch of scribbles, as did all of my previous and numerous cross stitch and needlepoint projects, and I had a bunch of wasted floss on the back. Psycho Bitch Director from Hell cut out my work and made me redo it all, because she was Just That Kind of Person. You would never do such a thing to me, would you? And will you show us a picture of the back of your cross stitch?

2. So, you have a job where you can actually knit and cross stitch all day long, and I have a job where I actually went to my boss today and asked him to give me more work to do because although I technically had enough work, I was not under enough pressure to get it done so I was being unproductive. Once he threw work at me, I dug into that, finished it, and I started getting inspired to do my original work again. Can you explain what is wrong with me? Do I need psychiatric help?

3. I, too, am really into sushi; in fact, I eat it all the time. I do not, however, eat tripe or pickled pig's feet in jelly. Do you share your mother's culinary interests? And have you ever eaten lutefisk? Has she? (Being the good half Scandinavian - half of which is Swedish and half of which is Icelandic - that I am, I can honestly answer this question with a yes.)

4. How is the quitting smoking project going? Be honest.

5. You seem to have rabbits represented everywhere on your blog. Is that the only reason you read Rabbitch? It's okay if it is, I know we all look for excuses to pity her, I just want to make sure I understand yours. (Don't worry, I won't let on that you told me. I'll keep it just between us. Just like the voodoo dolls you're making. I understand that you wanted me to interview you because my questions would be so much better than hers. It's okay. We all understand that.)

Mindy, you're on for tomorrow. The stolen wireless I'm on in this neighborhood keeps disappearing and I need to post or lose this post forever...

my first victim!

ShadowStitch made the colossal error of asking me to interview her. Yippee! Your mission, whether or not you choose to accept it, is to answer the following questions:

1. So admit it. When you were arrested way back when, it really was for owning that Richard Marx CD, wasn't it? Was it the one with "Hold On to the Night" on it?

2. Other than the socks you're currently injuring yourself by knitting, what other challenges have you not yet conquered in your knitting and why haven't you had those smackdowns yet? If the events are in the works, can we watch and will nudity be involved?

3. Have you ever considered knitting hair accessories for a curly-haired, red-headed librarian who finds herself twisting pens and pencils and all manner of office supplies into her rat's nest until she forgets they're in there and then she walks all over the building looking like a complete freak who stuck her head in an office supply cabinet? If not, may I put the idea into your head? If so, are you lacking my address? And what would you knit that would be suitable for work attire, business casual, but I tend to wear things that have ostrich feathers on them, so anything might go?

4. You and I have very similar taste in music (Pixies, Sonic Youth, Ani DiFranco), Richard Marx excepted. What would be on your preferred mix tape / CD / iTunes mix / iPod Shuffle for knitting purposes? I am far too lazy to make my own up and I'd prefer to have you do the work for me.

5. Since you get a great deal of spam mail at work, you might be interested in a seminar which was being held a week ago at the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center, next door to where I work in Washington DC. The subject was "Nigerian Banking Seminar." My friend and I contemplated going and asking what had happened to our down payment towards our promised $18M USD. What would you have done in this situation?

and the winner is....

me! Yes, I am one of four winners in Noreen's essay contest. I'll let her post my essay if she wants to. 'Twas a true work story that happened last week.

For the title, the first correct response of the movie "Heathers" came from Heide, who will get a much deserved prize of undetermined nature when I get off my lazy fucking ass and send her one. She needs one because she has to share her vagina with her husband. But hockey mom, we're glad you're among friends here, too.

And speaking of pussies, I somehow got roped into this interview thing. Feel free to ask to be interviewed, I'd be happy to play along. Since I'm usually the last one to play, I doubt anyone hasn't done this yet, though. The rules, as copied straight from Herself, are as follows:

1. Leave me a comment saying “interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions here. They will be different questions than the ones below.
3. You will update YOUR blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

There's something about reciprocal questions, too, that the wise and crafty (in more ways than one) Stacey caught so I guess if I interview you, you get to interview me? Someone clear that up for me, please. Whatever. I'm a joiner. Baa.

Without further ado, my answers to the questions posed of me from Rabbitch:

1. If you were a vegetable, what one would you be and why?

My friend Trixie suggests a radish, because it's red and purpley and round and overlooked. It has potential because you can carve it into genitaliatic (my own made up word) carvings a la Georgia O'Keefe's floral paintings and call it a garnish. There's also the yucca, which makes excellent fries by Nicaraguan butlers in Costa Rica. Seriously. But I'm inclined to go with homemade macaroni and cheese. You see, ever since I moved from the northeastern United States to the weird, subversive geographical element we call the southeastern United States, I've had to rethink the entire concept of "vegetable." Down in the South, the term "vegetable" does not merely mean that which any normal human being might think of as a vegetable, i.e. a carrot, broccoli, cauliflower, zucchini, radish, parsnip, turnip, or the like. Vegetables are a religion in the South. People go out to lunch for the "vegetables plate." This may consist of the following four "vegetables":

1. mashed potatoes and gravy
2. tater tots
3. macaroni and cheese
4. dressing (as in stuffing, as in Stove Top)

This plate will, of course, come with a roll and butter.

Of course, Southerners don't understand why they can't lose weight when they switch to an all veggie diet.

2. What is your favourite yarn?

COULD YOU LEARN HOW TO SPELL THE FUCKING WORD CORRECTLY? It's favorite.

I can tell you what it's not.

It is not green cotton from Rabbitch's stash.

I really like Cherry Tree Hill Supersock Merino (in fact, I find it in some ways superior to Koigu), and I love almost all of the Cherry Tree Hill colorways (note that the spelling is colorways, not colourways). I am fond of Blue Sky Bulky Alpaca, of Douceur et Soie, and Lobster Pot Cashmere. And, lest everyone think I am a giant yarn snob, I also have made many nice projects with Woolease Thick and Quick, and my stepfather Rambo came back from camping this weekend and told me that he continues to wear only the gray Thick and Quick scarf I made him three years ago, because it's warm, it's washable, and it breathes.

And, for something completely different, I like to crochet afghans with Homespun.

3. How much porn do you really download from the internet?

Oh, I am woman enough to walk into any store and buy it in person. Now, if you had asked how much porn of me was downloaded from the internet...

4. What is the most regrettable yarn purchase you have ever made and how did you get rid of it?

This icky brown Katia Himalaya crap. It's still in my stash. Keep an eye out in your mailboxes, people. It actually isn't icky, but I will never make what I wanted to make with it (a sweater for my brother).

5. What is the most extravagant/decadent yarn purchase you have ever made?

I forced Trixie to buy the pepto-pink Lobster Pot cashmere for the scarf I am currently making her. I am taking my time so I can fondle it often. She will get the scarf for her birthday. In July. When she needs it most. She can use a cashmere scarf in Atlanta in July, right?

Do I get to post my questions for Rabbitch here, or elsewhere?

well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

That pretty much sums up my past fews days. Extra credit to the first person who can name the source of my title for today's post.

First of all, Thursday night I had dinner with the lovely and lively learning-librarian Lauren. She has a picture of us posted on her blog, one where we were a) stuffed full of wonderful food from the Dupont location of Heritage India (I had the eggplant and jalapeno peppers in sesame sauce, though, myself, not the saag paneer as Lauren did); b) the picture was taken in the dark, on the street, by drunken St. Patrick's Day revelers whom we accosted by thrusting the camera in front of their face and saying, "Here, will you take our picture?" and c) I am at a weird angle, and my eyeliner appears to be run under my eyes, and my hair appears to be non-existent.

And poor, patient Lauren, who called me from outside my office, and I was continually stopped and prevented from meeting her, so she was stuck in Mickey Mouse Hell for awhile, and then I ran upstairs and out the door, and then realized I left my coat in the office, and then had to run back downstairs and through the basement to get my coat, and back upstairs and out the door, where some tourists from Ghana visiting this fair city accosted me and asked me to take their picture in front of one of the many Mickey Mice (I think in this case it was the Tron Mickey Mouse, which is weird, really, because nobody really seems to want their picture taken with Tron Mickey), and I jostled the with my elbow, screaming, "NOOOOO!" at the top of my lungs and quite nicely, really, because I didn't swear, even, and caught up with her looking at the faces of every person walking by to see if maybe this was Rebecca, no, was this Rebecca, no, was this...? And no, the irony in my denial of the random photography act doesn't escape me. My karma came back later with the bad image of me while Lauren looks fresh and pretty.

I went to Takoma Park tonight and saw a laser light show of Arthur Loves Plastic at the planetarium of Montgomery College. The music and company was great and we went out afterwards for drinks. On the way, I managed to get my ear pierced in the cartilage again.

So, I have interview questions to answer from la fucking twatzilla bitch. I'll get back to her (and you) on those. I notice that she didn't bother to ask me about whether or not I'd like some green cotton. Perhaps it's because she knows where I'd shove it, wrap it, cram it, and twist it if she had. Based on her questions, it appears I really am becoming the porn librarian knitting blog. Glad to know where I stand in the universe, as I said. Although it appears in one day my Google standings for the keywords "let's fuck on the couch" have fallen from #2 (and I was #1 last week) to #23. This is mother fucking unacceptable, people. I think it's because I haven't fucking been fucking swearing enough lately. Fuck. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

in lieu of a regular post...

Jesus Christ, what's that smell?

title courtesy of my friend nerukulous

So I'm inspired by everyone's comments today. What would a candle inspired by you smell like?

Mine would be licorice, chai, cilantro and curry. I know, sounds disgusting, doesn't it? I'm a bit eclectic. Does that surprise anyone?

tonight, tonight...

Won't be just any night....

I meet Lauren for dinner! We're still determining where to go (I have all sorts of suggestions from the peanut gallery at work), but it promises to be fun! Food, knitting, librarians / archivists, good company, what more can anyone want?

I am still slogging away on the cashmere scarf, I am just working so late that I never have time to sit down and knit anymore. The MARTA in Atlanta is so inefficient that I had tons of time to knit. Here in DC I am never knitting.

I am, however, apparently impressing people with my librarianship skills.

I also find myself accosting my coworkers when they wear nice sweaters and writing down the patterns for future referral.

Am I the only one who does that?

thanks everyone...

So Stacey said she'd make a voodoo doll for me (although really, one of Rabbitch would be preferable - think of it! I could take pictures of it in front of the Canadian Embassy whilst doing unmentionable things to its body! - and Rabbitch and Hockey Mom said they'd help me bury the body while Orris said she'd help us all get over the border (although hopefully Rabbitch wouldn't have too much of a problem being Canadian as well, but I'm thinking perhaps the equal number of Americans to Canadians there would be even more in our favor).

Thank you, everyone, for your support. I really need it. The Man Who Lives in the House and I are sort of speaking again, if only to exchange a few words as to where things are for the accountant and the progress of the painting in the foyer (ironic, if we're going to divorce and will need to sell the house, I'm thinking a foyer of blood red might not sell well, but this has been in the works for awhile now).

[Information edited]

And apparently something's in the water, because I'm not the only one having these problems.

And Beth, thanks for the thoughts. My in-laws (a gigantic family) is in Richmond and I am forced to spend every single non-Jewish holiday there. Much as it's a nice city, I am sort of avoiding it without being forced to be there at the moment.

sorry no news...

of the knitting kind.

Work has been, well, work.

Actually, more has gone on than just that, but I can't discuss here. In the words of the immortal bard, Darryl Hall, "Private eyes are watching you / They see your every move..." (that quote is dedicated to Ice Cream Jonsey)

I do have a problem wherein The Man Who Lives in the House seems to not give a flying fuck whether I live or die.

He hasn't called, written, or emailed since I've been here, or responded to my calls, emails, or letters.

He's IMed me only to inquire about paint colors. And he's IMed me ten times to ask the same questions.

He screamed at me because I wasn't magically online one night to IM him, after five nights of his ignoring me, because he wanted to discuss paint colors that night. He apparently waited for me for over seven hours. Could he have emailed me to set up a time beforehand? Could he have called? I had no idea he wanted to chat. Is there something wrong with calling and spending a whole dollar on long distance charges every once in awhile when one's wife is out of town for two months?

I alone could call the contractor to discuss paint colors, which I did yesterday, and everything was worked out, but again tonight, he wanted to discuss paint colors. And only paint colors.

Has he, in two weeks of my brand new job in a brand new city, asked me about how my new job is going?

No.

Has he, in two weeks away, said he misses me, he loves me, or just in general wanted to talk about anything other than paint colors?

No.

When I brought up the matter tonight, did he even want to discuss it?

No. His response was, "Whatever."

He then just screamed at me that I was a "fucking cunt bitch" and that he never wanted to see me again.

I think I need to reevaluate my marriage.

now they've stolen from libraries.

Lexis-Nexis announced today that identify thives have stolen 32,000 profiles. In the wake of the recent Bank of America, Retail Ventures, and ChoicePoint identify theft scandals, I am particularly disturbed about the following statement regarding Reed Elsevier in the Reuters article:

"The only reason the public is aware of these incidents is because of a California law that requires companies to disclose them, said Jim Dempsey, executive director of the Center for Democracy and Technology, a Washington public-interest group."

I am cynical, naturally, but what do you think? Are the fuckers out to hide the thefts from everyone?

from the files of w.t. fuck

Ok, we've seen how Jane has received hits from keyword searches on "pictures of well endowed husbands" and Rabbitch got the obvious, for her, "goat cheese bastardy," but all of my keyword search hits seem to be of a theme. Can we sense what it is here?

stripper clothing stores in atlanta
stripper clothing patterns
out call stripper in dunwoody
atlanta strippers rebecca (so a stripper in atlanta is using rebecca as her stage name?)
what causes head rushes couch (?)
going commando in skirt pictures
canadian stripper clothing stores
dishcloths blind (this is as sexy as all of the others, if not sexier)
washington dc blogs (I've been here for a week, and I'm already showing up here?)

and my personal favorite:

let's fuck on the couch

Ok.

So you go to your web browser, or if you're like me, you have the Google Toolbar downloaded into your Windows XP machine at work and you use Safari on your Mac running Mac OS X so you have the automatic built-in Google search bar at the top of your web browser anyway.

Why are you typing "Let's fuck on the couch" you dumb fuck?

Are you expecting to get a response? Is Lindsay Lohan going to jump out of your monitor and say, "Yes! I've been so lonely, sitting here waiting for your invitation!"

So I guess I have the porn knitting librarian blog?

Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you, I just wanted to clarify my role in this microcosm of ours.

P.S. I can name ten things I've done that you probably haven't done, but they all involve sex or ummm....sex, I think, or maybe sex, for the most part. Let your imagination or your horror go wild, and you'll probably not get close to any of them. Consider my meme done.

ummmmmm.......

First, thanks to Jane for finding me my orange yarn! Props to her, everyone. The cable cashmere should be done soon and I needed that for my next project.

Second, The Man Who Lives in the House is seemingly useless without my existence. He cannot pick out the paint color for the hallway without me and he cannot keep Beans, a seven year old indoor cat for his entire life, inside the house. He escaped three times last week, my first week gone for eight weeks. Will he survive? Should I care? I'm actually really annoyed at him.

So I really worked overtime my first week of work, as mentioned last week. Now I am burning my eyes out reading documentation.

It's surprisingly relaxing compared tot he stress of avoiding Napoleon in Atlanta.

And it's interesting to go to work and see the Washington Monument outside.

Housemate has a friend on town for the week researching to the National Archives and he came to get me at work today, and we walked down to the archives and saw the Constitution. I'm probably the only person in the world who can get excited over an original Order to Show Cause for Marbury v. Madison.

I asked the security guard for the Declaration of Independence how many times he had to tell tourists not to use the flash on their cameras when taking pictures. "Only about a thousand times a day," he laughed.

Also in movie news, I finally saw Supersize Me (I know, I'm the last one to see it) and am watching the classic Brian Bosworth film Stone Cold, dubbed in Spanish (Duro y Frio Como un Iceburg), on Telemundo. It improves the plot to not really know what's going on.

Pictures when I can get them...

Help! calling all knitters in the ATL...

I accidentally bought one skein of the wrong dye lot of Blue Sky Bulky orange at Dunwoody Yarn. Is anyone heading near there and if so will you see if they have the skein I want left by any chance? It's color 1015 (orange) and dye lot 10240402. I can't dial long distance or I'd call myself. Help!

and here I thought it was just a number

[ed. note: my favorite part about this guest blog of Rabbitch's is how naively innocent she was. Or maybe how not innocent I am. Allow me to be amused at her. *smirk* Also, she managed to comment on her own post of Thursday. That cracks even me up. Apologies for not posting this on Friday, I have been working LATE. Yes, on my first week at work. And then I went out for beer. Many, many beers. - Rebecca]

Seemingly there are far more naughty words than I had ever imagined possible. No more shall I mindlessly shout "ass" and combine it with every word in the English language for cheap amusement value. Well, except for "asstrumpet". You pretty much gotta keep that one.

Tonight, He Who Is Sometimes Marginally Helpful sent me a link that, quite clearly, BELONGS on Rebecca's blog.

Apparently there are 1,159 naughty words or phrases that cannot be printed on an NFL jersey.

Some, such as Fuckpig, Smackthemonkey and Ass Hore (the last of which should be banned on the basis of spelling alone) are self-explanatory. I doubt anyone would question the exclusion of Spermherder or Hershyhighway from the list expressions approved of by the NFL.

However, the inclusion of "420" on the forbidden list brought a certain amount of confusion to La Famille Lapin until a brief Google search brought us the explanation (courtesy of www.snopes.com) that "... '420' began its sub-rosa linguistic career in 1971 as a bit of slang casually used by a group of high school kids at San Rafael High School in California. '420' (always pronounced "four-twenty," never "four hundred and twenty") came to be an accepted part of the argot within that group of about a dozen pot smokers, beginning as a reminder of the time they planned to meet to light up, 4:20 p.m. Keep in mind this wasn't a general call to all dope smokers everywhere to toke up at twenty past four every day; it was twelve kids who'd made a date to meet near a certain statue. It's thus incorrect to deem that '420' originated as a national or international dope-smoking time, even though the term began as a reference to a particular time of day."

Well. Guess I wasn't one of the cool kids, then. (The fact that I was in high school in Canada and not in California has nothing to do with anything at all.)

I'm pretty disappointed to find out that "Uterus" is a dirty word, though. I thought we'd dragged our knuckles a little further along the dusty road to evolution by now.

Asstrumpets.

Freudian slippers

[ed. note: so now I'm "the ungrateful cow," Rabbitch? I guess the last picture will make my feet match, then. I could have used them today. - The Cow. Moo.]

Hello again; it's me, your humble Rabbitch.

I would have posted again sooner but I've been busy tending to my horrible wound.



A wound sustained, may I note, more than likely while defending Rebecca's somewhat-shaky reputation in some sort of internet pissing competition.

How does one bruise one's toes in a metaphorical pissing competition? You may well ask.

Not a fucking clue, but I suspect it was something along the same lines as whatever I was doing when I ended up with 12 stitches on my ass after a hot-tub accident.

They tell me I was having a lovely time right up until the blood and glass and screaming portion of the evening started.

I was also somewhat delayed in the writing of this post because of the necessity of hauling out the machete and denuding my legs. I may have very little shame, but posting my hairy legs in public is beyond even me.

Enough! On with the fashion show.

My family is well-known for our love of slippers. We have the brotherly boots (which he actually wears):



and of course the kitty slippers with which my daughter is enamoured.

And then we come to my personal collection of slippers. From the casual and flirty teddy-printed flipflops



to the more practical but still feminine pink boots



I am proud to say that I am always fully prepared to meet whatever slipperly need may arise in my day to day life, no matter what the occasion.

I even have slippers appropriate for more formal functions such as weddings and state funerals.




I'm willing to lend these soy-sauce-splattered cows to you, Rebecca, should you ever have occasion to meet the President.

I'm just sweet that way.

while we all eagerly await....

for la bitch's lazy fucking ass to take pictures of her non-dead Muppeted slipper-clad feet - Rabbitch, they're your feet, for fuck's sake! Take the goddamned fucking pictures and let's get on with our fucking lives here before my hair becomes even redder and curlier and I end up in some godforsaken nation's capital such as Ottawa! - a boringly brief update.

Work is fine.

I'm terrified I'm going to fail and get fired within about a month, proving everything that Napoleon is saying right now, that I shouldn't have been hired anyway and that I'm completely incompetent and that I always was and that he was about to have fired me anyway which is all just total bullshit and I have become twatzilla now and I'll stop babbling now but now you know I have ZERO self-confidence and ZERO self-esteem despite the fancy veneer I put over myself. Someday they're going to figure it all out and then where will I be? I mean they figured it out at my job in New Hampshire, although sometimes I think it doesn't count because, like, they had me cold-calling law firms to market their R&D services and I don't think that's a very research librarian / corporate archivist / records manager type of thing for me to be doing, do you? So when I managed to drum up no new business I got fired because I couldn't perform my job.

Well fuck 'em all, I moved to Atlanta and met The Man Who Lives in the House and is Completely Incapable of Making a Single Home Improvement Decision Without My Input.

I had to take my housemate shopping tonight to "Beccify" her for her upcoming presentation this weekend. She wanted to be funky. Of course, I bought stuff too. I then had a massive asthma attack in the middle of the mall and could not find my inhaler, which, it turns out, I left at home. Great place for it, huh? I'm having serious breathing issues.

Tomorrow, El Presidente W comes near our building and apparently security will rather make walking nearby suck ass. Woo hoo! This will be a new experience for me.

An Embarrassment of Bitches

[Ed. Note: What follows is the first of some guest blogs by Rabbitch while I am settling into my new space and new job this week in Washington, D.C. They are unedited. Be afraid. Be very afraid. - Rebecca]


Greetings kiddies! Good to see you over here instead of over there where we usually chat.

Madam is off showing the folks in DC how to party (and also, more than likely, how to deal with their erectile dysfunction) and has asked me to pop in from time to time and attempt to keep you amused.

My god, the power! I can link to myself over there and then I can link over there to here and end up with some sort of bizarre blogful clusterfuck.

The only disadvantage that I can see is that I hardly have enough material for ONE blog and, having agreed to do this I shall, of course, write hers first and end up with nothing but a page full of ass for myself.

I'm quite sure my stats will be back in single digits by the time she returns.

Clearly I'm a Christian martyr.

Despite my many threats of spending an entire two weeks posting daily step-by-step directions on how to make the perfect dishcloth:



I have decided instead to take pity on her (and her stats) and, instead, post something that will make The Person Known As HotThreads moist.

Yes, my slipper collection.

Miz Rebecca, seemingly, has a rather limited collection, being a) snobby and b) gifted with great big flipperfeet. In fact, from what I understand, The Dead Muppets (tm) are pretty much her only pair of mention.

I, however, having no taste whatsoever and having completely average (and why does this not surprise anyone) feet, have ... well ... a somewhat more extensive collection.

Keep your eyes on this spot for further revelations.