Every time I see Vince The Sham Wow Douche, I just get mad at the fact that Billy Mays is dead, and this hooker assaulter is alive.
I've been knitting a lot, just not blogging it. I did the whole Stella sweater, which is fairly awesome, but still needs a button. I finished some socks that were in progress, and they flew off the needles. I've been going like nuts on my scrap yarn blanket. Megi taught me how to graft as I go, so the blanket is growing, and beginning to resemble a blanket, instead of lots of fucked up scarves sewn together. Poorly.
The Clap is going nowhere, mostly due to it being laceweight on ones, and for the number of repeats I've done, it should totally be done, but, of course, the row gauge is a bit different when it's LACEWEIGHT on ONES. There's a reason this thing shares a name with a horrific sexual disease that if it goes on long enough, will make you insane. Also, thank you Urban Dictionary:
Nick name for disease Ghonoreah , comes from the noise when back in civil war where they would breakup the puss build up by banging the butt of their rifles on the penis laying on a table.
OH MY GOD.
I'd post more but it's a Josh Beckett day and I'd rather ogle that than a computer.