Everything and Everything Should Be All That You Wanted

I prefer the written word one hundred thousand times more than the spoken word. This is one of the many reasons why I am a writer, and not a public speaker.

When I write, I have all the time in the world to think about what I want to say, and then say it in an intelligent and insightful way.

Well, with any luck, anyway.

But talking? I have no ability to filter what comes out of my mouth. Granted, I can usually prevent myself from saying mean or wildly inappropriate things. I'm not a derelict. It's just that I usually don't think things through well enough before I say them, and as a result, I just word vomit all over the place.

Ewwwwww.

Which brings me to my story of the day...

In English last week, we were talking about the Canterbury Tales. In case you were wondering, they are dreadfully boring except when Chaucer throws in some innuendo. And then they are mildly entertaining in an at-least-this-story's-better-than-it-was-two-minutes-ago kind of way.

Our teacher was talking about how all of the Canterbury Tales have an off-color aspect to them.

"I don't mean just sex, but other gross things," she said.

Now, as I've mentioned in this blog before, I don't believe in premarital sex. Anyone who knows me or Boyfriend knows that. We're not shy about sharing that. Sometimes I make jokes about how having sex can kill you or what have you. So I thought it would infinitely funny to say something along the lines of that to one of my friends sitting next to me, who can appreciate a good sex-related joke.

"But sex is gross!" I said to her.

Only I said it about ten times louder than I wanted to. So loud in fact, that the entire room heard me. Several people asked who had said it because, after all, I am the quiet girl who sits in the back (see above word vomit comments), and they didn't expect me to burst out about the evils of sex.

Luckily, my English teacher can appreciate slightly inappropriate humor, and even had an assignment where we had to write our own Canterbury Tale, preferably with innuendo. (I might post mine later. It's about the party store during the Halloween rush, and a defiled fat-suit stripper costume. We'll see. Let me know if there's any interest.)

All she said was,

"Okay. Sex is gross."

The thing that gets met the most is that I should know better than to talk. Nothing good has ever come from me talking. Especially since the incident in Statistics class when we had to figure out what percent of parents during some obscure year from an outdated text book were married, no longer married, or never married. Naturally, instead of just keeping my mouth shut, I yelled out incredulously,

"But you can't have babies if you're not married!"

To which the teacher said,
"You'd be surprised how many people do, Susan."

Then my friend had to inform her that I was only kidding. Ironically, the same friend who I was trying to whisper "sex is gross" to.

I blame her entirely.

I used to be really shy and had pretty close to no self-esteem. Obviously, I'm happy to be away from that now, and in a place where I'm at least comfortable with myself. But the whole not talking thing I had going on back then? I may have to think about returning to that.

Oh, the shame.

Song of the Day:
"So you feel everything and everything should be all that you wanted. Stay with me. I'm in no condition to be alone." - Howie Day, "Brace Yourself"

Go Ahead and Ask Her

I like working on Sundays. Time and a half is totally worth blowing up the intense amount of balloon orders for Sunday birthday parties and baby showers.

I did not, however, get to blow up balloons today. Today I ran the register and individually price ticketed Beanie Babies.

You wish you could have my job!

I actually like the register a lot. It's a thinking job, unlike mindlessly stocking streamers, which only requires figuring out if the streamers are baby pink, pink, light pink, or bombay pink. I kid you not, give or take a hue.

But this month, we're asking customers to make a $1 donation to the local children's hospital. Nice in theory, especially when people actually donate, but it becomes wildly frustrating when they don't.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to come off as all high and mighty, and be like, "If you don't donate to the sick kids, you should hate yourself. Because I certainly hate you, you stupid-face!"

Because I know that every store you go in asks you to donate, and nobody can possibly donate to everything.

I don't care if you don't donate.

Well, to be truthful, if people do donate, I pack their bags much more neatly than I would if they didn't. But that's besides the point.

But if you don't want to donate, for the love of Marshmallow, just say no!

It's easy to say no. I say it all the time.

These are the answers I get instead:

"Um, not today thank you."

How about tomorrow then?

"Let's wait and see what the total comes to."

"It's $116.36."

"Oh. I guess not then."

Really? Because you just spent over a hundred dollars for your healthy kid's birthday party. What's a dollar to you at this point?

"I don't have any singles on me."

"The donation just gets added to your total."

"Um... no I don't have any singles."

I know you're not an idiot. You just told me that your "I'm 21 today! Buy me a drink!" button was supposed to be 30% off, which should make it $2.19. You figured that out in your head in about 5 seconds. Stop pretending that you don't know what I'm saying.

"The children's hospital already gets enough money as it is."

I hate you, you ignorant fool.

Please just say no if you don't want to donate. I don't care. Just don't waste my time when there are a serious amount of streamers that need stocking.

Okay, I'm good now. I can move on to knitting.

One Dashing is done, minus weaving in the ends. The pattern's actually really easy, and the thumb was so much easier to make than I thought it would be. I'm think about making Fetching with the yarn left over from Summertime Tunic.

Yes, that is a hole as a matter of fact. No I don't know how it got there. Thank you for noticing though.

I finished it last night when Boyfriend and I went to Boyfriend's BFF's house, which consisted of five guys playing some gory war video game, and me making a fingerless mitt. This is how the conversation went:

"You guys! I just made a thumb!"

*Silence, except the clicking of controller buttons.*

"I did! I was afraid I was going to mess it up, but I didn't, and now it's a thumb!"

*War noises and the repeated use of the f-bomb.*

"It's really hot in here."

*Every boy in room immediately says, "Sorry Susan, it's because I'm here!"*

"That's not what I meant, but thank you for your attentiveness."

*Polite laughter from Boyfriend, who is trying to pretend that he's paying attention to me amidst his video game. I am not fooled. I know where I stand compared to an XBox.*

Then that round of game play ended.

"That's a glove!" exclaimed Boyfriend.

"Uh, yeah I know, it's been a glove for, like, 20 minutes."

"I'm going to try it on."

"Be my guest."

"It fits!"

"I know, I made it that way."

I should mention that Boyfriend is otherwise very attentive.

Song of the Day:

"So go ahead and ask her for happy ever after. Cause nobody knows what’s coming, so why not take a chance on loving." -Chris Rice, "Lemonade"

Take the Pain Out of Love

So, I have been waiting very patiently for my Ravelry invitation, and it finally came last night, but I was at the party store until ten, stocking streamers and what not, so I couldn't do anything about it until this morning. Or, this afternoon rather, seeing as I didn't wake up until 10:30, then spent a good two hours showering and drinking an intense amount of coffee out of the new pretty pink mug Pharmacy Pete gave me for Valentine's Day.

Or, rose mug I should say. He originally gave me a light pink mug and Shelly the rose one, but we traded. We're cool kids.

But, at any rate, I'm a sad because Ravelry's saying that there's an error in creating my account, and I don't know what to do about it. And I know that there's a help chat room, but I'm skeptical of chat rooms. Even ones for knitters.

And, in other sad news, it turns out that I don't know how to "whip-stitch live stitches," and Vogue Knitting isn't helping me out to much, so I'm pretty stuck on Summertime Tunic until I go see my LYS lady. And I was almost finished too. Grrrrrr....

Oh, and in other news, Pharmacy Pete read my blog. Before that, it was just Boyfriend's mom (who said it kept her entertained), Shelly (who said, "Yeah, it's okay), and BFF (who read it after I gave her the Birthday Scarf, which I've seen her wearing in school, clearly not minding that's it's still pretty darn curly). I'm pretty sure that Pharmacy Pete only read the parts about him and Shelly, and the gorilla pod, but I'll take what I can get!

Song of the Day:

"I do regret more than I admit. You have been followed back to the same place I sat with you drink for drink. Take the pain out of love and then love won't exist." -The Academy Is... "Everything We Had"

Elope with Me

Lookit!

It's a Gorillapod. Pharmacy Pete got it for me because he's very into cameras, and bought a diesel one for his diesel camera. But mine's better because it's prettier and pink.

It looks like a regular tripod, but it's not because it can do this.

And this.

Also, it looks better with a camera on it, but I only have one camera, and it was otherwise occupied taking pictures of it's own tripod.

Oh, and the Summertime Tunic? Plaguing me. It took me two more tries to find the right needle size, and then when I finally got it, the whole thing got twisted on the circular needles, so I had to start over anyway.

Grrrrrrrr.

It almost seems pointless anyway to be knitting a top that's for summer, when it's snowing out right now.

Yes it is snowing. I don't why I'm surprised because that is what it does here. The only part that kills me is that it's not even the good kind of snow that sticks around. It's the annoying messy kind that won't give me a snow day tomorrow, but that will prevent me and Boyfriend from going bowling tonight with my party store co-workers.

But I'm going to knity it anyway. And I'm going to smile through the whole thing because that's what I do. I knit, and I'm damn happy about it!

And plus the yarn is just oh-so-pretty!

Song of the Day:

"Elope with me Miss Private and we’ll sail around the world. I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl." -Belle and Sebastian, "Piazza, New York Catcher"

You Know the Movie Song

I have never been so overwhelmed in my life.

And no, not because I spent an inordinate of time blowing up an inordinate amout of balloons this weekend. Even though I did.

Boyfriend took me to my real live LYS today.

!!!!!

As I've mentioned here before, I'm not a highway driver. There are too many crazy drivers doing crazy things, and I am just not up for that. I take defensive driving very seriously. As a result, I rock the craft store acrylic.

But I really wanted to make that pretty tank top, and the acrylic and wool that I would have gotten at Michael's would a) be too warm, and b) not hold up very well. It's okay for a scarf or a hat or something that I'm not going to wash every time I use it (not good, but okay), but not for this.

I told Boyfriend, and he took me. He volunteered to take me. I didn't even have to ask him. I have to keep him around.

Of course, the yarn isn't the only reason why I have to keep him around. Just one of them.

So we go there, and we were greeted by this extremely nice woman who was so full of energy that she made her little converted barn seem so much bigger than it really was.

The shop was a barn behind her house, that was every inch of wall space was covered with shelves and shelves of yarn. There was even yarn hanging down from the ceiling. And it was all so pretty.

I showed her the pattern, and she showed me three yarns that would work well with it within five minutes of me walking in the door.

I never would have thought to pick out those yarns on my own. She was so knowledgable, and so friendly, and so helpful, that I want to keep going back there. She even told me that if I ever had a problem with a pattern, I could come and she would help me with it.

I might love her.

And all the yarn. I didn't know yarn like this existed. She had Debbie Bliss, and Berroco, and Manos de Uruguay, and I think some Rowan, but I could be wrong about that. She knew just how much of it I had to buy, too. Including enough for a swatch for gauge.

Then, she took me around and had me feel all of the diffent kinds of yarn. I had no idea that alpaca and merino yarns were soft. Like, really soft. Like, Caron Simply Soft soft. The merino that the craft stores have is kind of scratchy, and I'm not even sure they have any alpaca.

I am a changed knitter. I have an LYS.

This is what I bought:

Isn't it pretty?!?!?!?!

As soon as I finish BFF's birthday scarf (which is almost done), I'm going to start working on the top until I find a coupon to Michael's so that I can buy yarn for my grandpa's hat.

I still don't know what I'm going to do about blocking the scarf, because it's so so curly on the edges, but I don't want to wet it or steam it and have the teal and purple bleed into the grey. Sounds like a job for Vogue Knitting!!!

And in college news, I talked to Shelly about the scholarship that I got to Second Choice, and about how I didn't want to just throw it away. But she thinks that, for what I want to do, Dream School is really the only place for me, and that she'd hate to see me not go there.

It's good to know that Shelly and Pharmacy Pete won't get mad if I have to take out loans that I'll have to pay back until I'm dead.

If I don't go to Dream School, I'm so afraid that I'll never be able to get published. And if I can't published, how can I save the world? Writing is the only thing I know how to do that can influence and inspire people. I want to help people, and save them in anyway that I can. I want to inspire them to do great things, and I want to save the world from all of the hate and crap that goes on.

I have a while to decide, anyway. But I think I know what I'm doing.

I bet my LYS lady would know what to tell me.

Song of the day:

"Juliet, when we made love you used to cry. You said, 'I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die'. There's a place for us, you know the movie song. When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong?" - Dire Straits, "Romeo and Juliet"

Concrete All Around

So.... guess how many people came into to my balloon gig on Monday? Go on, guess.

That's right! Five. Maybe. If that. And two of them were returning things. I guess people just aren't devoted enough to party planning to risk their lives driving in a not-even-that-bad-anymore-the-roads-are-mostly-cleaned-up snow storm. Go figure.

I did get to stock Easter stuff, though. And I will say this - there is a lot of crap you can buy to make your Easter Egg Hunt super special. For instance, a can of white spray paint that they jack up the price on because they call it "Easter Egg Hunt Starting Line Paint." Or something to that idiotic effect.

But at any rate, that means spring is coming soon, and I am super glad. How in love am I with this? And it's a free pattern, which just about rocks my socks right off my feet. Speaking of which, I keep meaning to try to make socks. I just have too many projects going right now. Scarves take up a crap load of time!!!!! I keep saying I'm not going to make anymore, and then I do. Inevitably. Damn my lack of self-restraint.

Song of the Day:
"Now I've drunk a lot of wine and Im feeling fine, got to race some cat to bed. Oh is there concrete all around, or is it in my head." - Mott the Hoople, "All the Young Dudes"

Let the Cold Winds Blow

Snow day!!!! And I have to say, looking out and seeing all of this snow, it's a little bit of a relief. Last week, it was in the 50s and 60s all week, and even though it was nice not having to wear a down coat whenever I wanted to check the mail, it had me worried about global warming. Marshmallow was worried to, but he does have an invested interest, being a polar bear and all.

Plus I missed my scarf.

We found out last night that there was no school today when Shelly, Pharmacy Pete and I were watching Jon and Kate Plus Eight on TLC (I get exhausted just watching that show. God bless them for their patience), and Shelly flipped over to our local public access station, where they had posted a notice about it.

Even though I have to go into the party store later on (in order to serve the zero people who are going to come in for all their party and balloon needs. Oh, and also to make sure that the candy department doesn't fall into a state of total and complete disarray, as it is apt to do when I, as the candy department specialist, am not around.), I kind of wanted to start working on writing something. Anything. An outline for a new book, or a story for my school's lit mag, anything. I'm jonesing for some good fiction. But instead, I have a crap load of other stuff to get done. Like finish BFF's scarf for her birthday, which is in the beginning of February, and it's already the middle of January (which, oh by the way, how did that happen?). Or spend some quality time with College Board searching for scholarships. Or read the two Ayn Rand books that Shelly got me that, if I read them and write essays about them, I could win some pretty decent scholarships. The only problem is that, together, they're almost two thousand pages long, and the print is so small that it's almost impossible to read. But if it means I can afford Dream College, then it's worth it. Hopefully.

I'm probably just going to end up watching Clark and Michael until work anyway. I'm very productive.

Song of the Day:
"If you were the winter, I know I'd be the snow, just as long as you were with me, let the cold winds blow." - Barry Louis Polisar, "All I Want is You"

Thoughts that Drift Away

Good news on the party store gig! I am now the official candy department specialist.

Please hold your applause. I am not done and it is distracting.

I went into work yesterday, and my manager said, "Have I got a job for you!" To which I was all, "Super!" Because nothing good ever comes from that statement. In fact, it usually involves me climbing a ladder, or doing something equally capable of resulting in injury to my clumsy self.

But all she did was hand me a clipboard with a plan-o-gram (a diagram showing exactly which products go exactly where in a five foot section of shelves, for all of you minions who are not candy department specialists. Though I am told by Shelly that all retail stores use plan-o-grams. Silly Shelly. How does she not know that I, as the lone candy department specialist at my beloved balloon store, am the only one in the world capable of understanding and utilizing a plan-o-gram?), and told me to fix the candy section, as it was in complete disarray.

And, in fact, the six five-foot sections of candy were all disasters. There was candy there that did not belong there, candy that was supposed to be there wasn't, it was all just messy.

I got the impression that she thought that the job was going to be big and long and difficult by the way she kept looking at me nervously as she told me what I was supposed to be doing, as though I was going to yell at her for suggesting that I perform such a ridiculous and impossible task. But it wasn't that bad at all. I cleaned and organized the whole thing, found the missing candy, and found homes for the extra candy, while all the while I was making balloons and ringing up customers while our credit card satellites were down, making it so that it took twice as long to ring up customers paying with cards.

Basically, it wasn't a big deal. At least not for a candy department specialist like myself.

But my manager was all like, "Susan, this looks so neat. You did a really good job today." Then she told me that candy was going to be my department from now on, which means that, on top of the cashiering and balloon-making and stocking and general cleaning that I was already doing, it's my responsibility to make sure that the candy stays clean and organized.

I'm pretty sure that this means I make an extra 25 cents an hour, but, more importantly, it means that I get to attach a flag to my name tag that says "DEPARTMENT SPECIALIST."

AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

It made my day.

And my weekend.

And most likely all of next week.

In other recent news, Clark and Michael is my new favorite thing. I love Michael Cera. He's so subtly funny that he's ten times more hilarious than he would be if he was loud.

Song of the day:
"Am I alive or thoughts that drift away? Does summer come for everyone? Can humans do as prophets say?" - Primitive Radio Gods, "Standing Outside a Broken Phonebooth with Money in my Hand"

I'm Pushing an Elephant Up the Stairs

Seeing as this blog is one-fourth knitting, I think I should brief you on my knitting endeavors.

On my 13th or 14th birthday, my grandparents (on Pharmacy Pete's side) gave me a teach-youself-to-knit kit. With a little help from Shelly and my grandma on her side of the family, I learned the basic cast on, knit, purl, and bind off. I then proceeded to lose all interest in the craft until a few months ago, which, for the record, was years later.

And here is what I've done so far...

(Turn your head to see this picture please. Or, don't, I guess. It's not that great of a picture.)

This is the Alexi scarf from Berroco. I made it with Caron Simply Soft, which is only acrylic, but I love it with all of my heart because it is so soft, and so pretty, and so in my inflating-balloons-for-a-career budget. I don't have a LYS, mostly because getting to the one closest to me would require driving on the highway, which I'm not about to do. So, I rely heavily on Michael's and A.C. Moore, especially when they put 40% off coupons in the paper.

Don't judge.

Between my knitting and my coupons, I could swear I'm an 80 year old trapped in a high schooler's body. Which, when you think about it, is a little gross, but if I was 80, that's just the kind of situation I would like to be in.

Anyway, upon seeing my lovely, soft, pink scarf, Shelly went out to A.C. Moore and picked up some more Simply Soft for this lovely gem....

This is the Ticuna scarf from Berroco.

Shelly doesn't want her face to appear in this blog. It's not like it's gross and disfigured or anything, she just hates pictures.

And then I was bored with scarves. I saw a girl come into my balloon-filled workplace wearing the cutest hat, that I loved very much. I didn't get to ask her where she got it from, though, as she was not super friendly (how can you not be happy in a party store? Where I am working and therefore providing you with astounding customer service????). I couldn't find it in any of the stupid stores in the stupid mall of this stupid city, so I found a pattern for the closest thing I could find, which I might love even more than the original.

LE SLOUCH!!!!

Boyfriend's sister liked it so much that I made her one too, only in cream. It's just Lion's Brand Wool, and it takes less than a skein and about two days plus blocking time to make it.

Note the random lines of stockinette running through what is supposed to be seed stitch. But, in all fairness, it was my first time knitting on a round, and I wasn't even using dp's like I was supposed to. Boyfriend gave me the Boye set of circular needles that has every size imaginable for my birthday, and I didn't want to go out and spend the money on something I already had that would do the job exactly the same way. However, that resulted in the holes in the top that had to be sewn up after blocking. Good job Susan. Top notch.

Boyfriend's really good at gifts like that. For instance, this Christmas? Panini maker.

And also, that stud-muffin of a teddy bear is my buddy Marshmallow. As he is a boy bear, he doesn't appreciate me using him as a model for my girl hat. He agreed, however, because he wants to spread the word that he is very upset that his polar bear relatives are dying because the polar ice caps are melting. His relatives have no where to sit and stop swimming, so they drown. On that note, please recycle and stop buying big boats of cars. Marshmallow will thank you for it.

Next up is a hat for my grandfather, a scarf for my BFF's birthday, a scarf for my grandmother, a hat for my other grandmother, maybe that cute new clutch from Knitty, yadda yadda yadda...

And maybe I should think about improving my photography skills. But, at this point, I really do not need another interest. A girl can only have so many before she begins to neglect her prior commitments like, oh you know, school... Boyfriend... sleeping. Nothing too important though.

Song of the day:
"I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs. I'm tossing up punchlines that were never there. Over my shoulder a piano falls, crashing to the ground." -R.E.M., "The Great Beyond"

We Sure Are Cute For Two Ugly People

I decided to do this blog because I just saw Juno. And besides being one of the best movies ever (next to Say Anything, course), I heard the writer, Diablo Cody, say in an interview that she was a stripper, writing a blog about stripping, and someone read it and asked her to write a screen play. Not about stripping.

I am not a stripper. I promise. And I don't expect that someone important will read this blog and decide, "Oh, that's it! Get her in here and get her published." In fact, Diablo Cody is the only person that I've ever heard of that happening to. But regardless, I figured that it can't be a bad idea to have this mode of expression, where I can practice writing for an audience.

Here's the deal-i-o... writing is my passion. Knitting is my interest. One of the many. I go to high school, I get good grades, I bide my time until graduation. I've been accepted into one of the best writing colleges in my area (which is filled with good schools to begin with) for creative writing. Which is super.... too bad I need to find the money. Anyone who would like to pay to send me to college is more than welcome to!

No takers? Hmm... I'm shocked.

I live with my parents, Pharmacy Pete and Shelly, and my little brother, who I most commonly refer to as "Little Buddy." I have a boyfriend, who will hereby be called "Boyfriend," who I love very much.

Blah blah blah... all that stuff.

I also blow up balloons and assist customers, a.k.a. "party guests," in purchasing party supplies.
When I'm not working, I'm writing. When I'm not writing, I'm knitting, on account of the methodical movements of knitting give me the opportunity to think of new ideas to write. And also cables really impress people. Like, more than they should.

And I always have a song stuck in my head. Always. Usually all it takes is someone saying one word to me, and I launch into a song that somehow incorporates that word. Today the song is from Juno, by the Moldy Peaches, called "Anyone Else But You." It's a Juno kind of day!

I know. You are all marveling at my amazingness. Please, try to contain yourselves.

Song of the day:
"Here is the church and here is the steeple. We sure are cute for two ugly people." - Moldy Peaches, "Anyone Else But You