Month: March 2005 (page 2 of 7)

Tongue Piercing

Good grief. I just spent ten minutes trying to help some teenager pick out an appropriate sewing needle. She said she wanted really thick and preferably sharp. I figured she was doing some bookbinding or leatherwork. Finally she settled on a tapestry needle. “What are you using it for?” I asked. “My friend’s going to pierce her own tongue.” “GAHHHHHH,” I groaned. “Don’t use that one. It’s as blunt as a ball-point pen.” And then I mentally barfed. I cringed enough watching a professional pierce Adam on Mythbusters; I can’t imagine the idiot that would try to do it themself.

BHG Movie

The Snook seems to have been able to solve the video stuttering problems so I’ve uploaded a new version of the Better Homes & Gardens clip. It’s slightly smaller and lower quality (and it cuts off the stupid Knit Club joke), but at least it plays straight through!

Snookums the Big Gay Carpenters Fan

Me: Hey, Snookums… I just found this site in my referrers. The guy is writing about uses for old record albums and mentions my Carpenters purse. Isn’t that neat? *giggle*
Him: Mmm-hmm. What’s so funny?
Me: The writer refers to me as a “he”! He thinks that since you’re in the pictures, you’re the person that made the handbag!
Him: Hey! Now everybody’s gonna think I’m Snookums the Big Gay Carpenters Fan!

Finger in Chili

Okay, it kinda makes me want to barf, but my sister insists this story is w-g worthy: Woman Finds Human Finger in Fast-Food Chili. That is awful. However, I love that they have to qualify it as a “human” finger, lest you think it was a chicken finger or something. And wasn’t a health scare the whole reason that Dave Thomas started doing the ads way back when in an attempt to rehabilitate the company’s image? Poor Dave is probably rolling around in his grave. (And giving them the finger, of course. I couldn’t resist.)

Oh. My. God.

Oh. My. God. I just got back from giving a knitting lesson to an Academy Award winner! NO SHIT. I am so absolutely flabbergasted right now. Here’s what happened. A few weeks ago Albert mentioned that he’d had a request for a private knitting class, except that the woman wanted to do them in her office (not the shop as usual). He thought that her interests sounded like my type of stuff, so I got the job. He drove me over tonight after work. I didn’t even know the client’s name; I only got the name of her personal assistant. As we pulled up to the address, Albert blurted out, “Holy crap. It’s a friggin’ mansion!” My curiosity was totally piqued. I was ushered in and asked to wait in a lobby. Here’s my inner monologue…

Hmm. There’s a giant 1920’s Moulin Rouge poster on the wall behind me. And wow, those Indian saris and elephants over there are pretty cool… And hmm, the assistant just mentioned that ‘Catherine’ would be ready for me shortly… Oh my god, could this be Catherine Martin?! There’s no way. There’s no way I’m going to be giving knitting lessons to someone who’s won both Academy and Tony Awards for her costume design. I’m insane. It’s not her.

So then I met her and we had our lesson and she was really lovely, but the whole time I was still a little unsure. I asked her at one point, “This is a great place. What do you guys do here?” And she’s like, “We’re a film production company, and we live upstairs.” I was like, “Mmm-hmmm(!)” And finally the confirmation: one of the many people buzzing around stuck their head in to discuss something with her, and I finally heard the magic word “Baz.” Afterwards I said, “Okay, that gave it away! I thought I recognized you!” And she was really, really nice about it. How cool is that? I was like, “Wow, I really admire your costume work. I had no idea you were into knitting!” And she’s actually really good at it; we’ve got some interesting and challenging projects to work on. I’m excited!

Oh, and as I was leaving, the assistant was like, “I know it’s weird, but we need you to sign this confidentiality agreement,” which I was totally expecting. It was all about not mentioning any specific projects or work that I might see while I’m there. And I’m like, “That’s cool; no problem. But one question: Can I tell my friends I’m giving her lessons? Because they’re gonna go nuts!” And she laughed and said it was okay. So that’s all I’m going to say about it, because CM (that’s what her mates call her) is really awesome and I totally respect her privacy and I’m so excited to get to work with her!

And now I’m going to go eat some dinner and spaz out. Thank you.

Very Blustery Day

Good grief. What a Blustery Day. It feels like bloody England outside! And that is why we’re snuggled up warm indoors with sausages, mash, and beer.

Pet Pillow

Pet Pillows. Oh my God. So you’re saying that even after my beloved puss-puss dies, I can still have her hair all over my sofa cushions? That’s just wrong. (Link courtesy of John.)

Go Fug Yourself

Whenever I read Go Fug Yourself (which is never often enough), I always hear the posts aloud in my head in Tara D‘s voice. The writing and humor just really remind me of her.

Peeps Lip Balm

Peeps Lip Balm. That is so heinous I’m not going to be able to sleep at night. The horror! (Link courtesy of Cousin Jenny.)

Bugsy Malone

We watched the weirdest movie the other night: Bugsy Malone. The Snook deliberately TiFauxed it last week because he’d seen it as a kid. I was like, “Wait, what? It’s a gangster movie but they’re all played by little kids?” That’s not even the weird part. The bad guys shoot tommy guns loaded with whipped cream. The kids all dance and break into song but the songs are dubbed over with grownups’ voices. (And a lot of the voices sound like Bob Dylan.) A pre-pubescent Jodie Foster plays a gangster’s moll named Tallulah. And the weirdest bit of all? Scott Baio plays Bugsy. That’s right, CHACHI IS THE STAR. You can imagine how I rushed to Ebert’s site afterwards to see his no-doubt savage take on this cinematic stinker. But no, Uncle Rog gave it a full 3.5 stars. That means he thought it was as good as Annie Hall. The mind boggles.