My latest sewing victory:

I made a horrible plush of The Warden from Superjail.

I used Shrinky Dinks for the glasses, even though Erik was certain I was making it up and there is no such thing as Shrinky Dinks. My mom knew what they were.

This shot better shows off his suit. I was very proud of being able to sew a coat with tails from the memory of what my choir teacher's looked like. Not like I was constantly admiring his backside, or anything.

And as for proof that he's supposed to look terrible, this is a shot from the show:

The Great Storm...

I'm as snowed in as one can be in Washington, last night I made shortbread cookies shaped like gingerbread men and snow flakes, and I've got a full pot of coffee. Blizzards aint so bad. I just wish Erik were here instead of attempting to deliver papers. I swear he'd have better luck on a snowbord.



Also last night I found the most amazing christmas story ever, courtasy of some girl named Lindsay:


Every whore down in New York liked christmas alot,
But Rorschach, who lived in a rundown apartment,
Did Not!

Rorshach Hated Christmas, the whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.
It could be that his fedora wasn't screwed on quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that his trench was too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But whatever the reason,
his heart or his trench,
he stood there on Christmas Eve, emitting a stench,
staring down from his window with a sour blotted frown
at the coked out pimp with a drug deal going down.
For he knew every New Yorker in the city below
would shout up to him "Save us!"
and he'd whisper "no."

Halleluja.

So last night I got to go on stage as an allumni (for high shcool.) Choir was a super big deal in high school, and each year at the winter concerts they have two pieces during which they ask the attending allumni to come up and sing with the current choir. The last piece was The Halleluja Chorus which is actually a lot of fun to sing. And I vaugly remembered my part, but it was nice to see that the soprano I was standing next to had music to share. Until about three bars into the song and I realized this girl does not know how to read music, she is mouthing the words next to me, and that she keeps flipping the pages at whatever she thinks might be the right time to turn the page. Which means while I'm trying to read my part she's flipped the page over to the base line. GAAAAH!

So I was trying to figure out which would be more rude, to yoink the music from her, and show her that really a blind monkey could follow choral music, honestly the words are RIGHT THERE, or to just let her flounder as I sang Handel to the best of my memory?

Well as it turns out I remember more of Halleluja than I thought i did.

Stupid decisions

I should know better than to pick up sequals. When I worked in a library after school I found a wonderful book, and just recently I picked up a sequal written probably ten years later? I think. It's terrible. It's like the author completely forgot what made his character so interesting in the first place, and moulded her into that lump of whatever he thinks will most appeal to the average teenager of today.

This is almost as bad a betrayal as that time I finally decided to read the Jan Brett version of Puss In Boots instead of marvel at the pictures. I still can't really like that story.

Anyway, in completely unrelated news, my tree's been trimmed, presants bought, there's a nativity on the mantle (for posterity's sake), and I'm nearly finished making a scary plush doll of the warden from superjail. And tonight I think I'm even singing the Halleluja chorus! If I can make it safely across the bridge. Oh yeah, christmas, it's on. I'm gunnin for ya.

Turkey Attained, Thanks Has Been Given.

And there weren't even any fist fights over the table! I had two thanksgivings today, rushing over to gig harbor for my family, and then back at about four to help with the things at my house. I nearly fell asleep on the road. Damnable turkey. Regardless, I was able to chat with erik's grandma and only feel about 30% more awkward than usual, as opposed to the anticipated 185%. I think she even liked my pies.

In the spirit of the day, I'd like to say I am eternally thankful for my house not becoming a warzone of terror and shouting this evening. But even more than that, I'm thankful that the house is now empty, and clean, and I get to share the rest of the evening in quiet with my favorite person in the world.


Now on to the next task: oh shit. I don't even want to think about christmas.

As with most things I take any interest in, my recent innaguration into the world of comics has made me want to write one on my own. But something actually may come out of this... too early to tell if it's anything good, or if I'll even finish it.

I think what I'd really like to do is to create a magnificent opus of all the crazy ideas i've got swimming in my head. That way I'd touch on everything, get it all out in one go, and then get to become a hermit and never see or speak to anyone again. I think i could do it. Worked for Harper Lee. Unfortunately I doubt I could be quite as sussinct as Harper Lee. And I'm too concerned with other people's opinions of me to become an actual hermit. And how's a girl with no credentials and a portfolio that the criptkeeper would find a bit too eerie to get published with the Big Six all concerned over the next Twilight Saga? I'm clinging to the hope that somebody over at McSweenys will like me.

Why does the seemingly noble idea of writing a novel make me feel like such a whore?





In other news I found out that my favorite Flying Neutrinos song "Violent Love" is actually a cover of an Oingo Boingo song. Listen to both of these, and you will know how hard I tripped over this.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfofNUzzTrI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCcPzaaSvqQ

this is worse than that time I realized the song at the beginning of Wonder Years is actually a Beatles song

The Greatest Purchase of my life.

Thus far. I'm sure it will be surpassed when I finally buy a corvair monza. But this for thirty five bucks is pretty hard to top:





Isn't she just the prettiest thing? No idea on the vintage, but antiques roadshow is supposed to be in puallup in november...

Now I just have to learn to play it. Judging my hand eye coordination by my skill on Rockband, this could take a while.