Oooh, Look, February's Coming....
I am just not well. Not with one of those put you under the covers wrench your guts out sorts of things, nah, I've got some boring thing that saps all your energy for about three weeks and makes all your friends think you don't love them any more.
But I'm not dead. I just have malaise and ennui.
Luckily, that darling Christina, over at Inner Bitch, has found THIS! Yes! Somebody has actually invented a raw chicken Viking hat! (See, I gave you the link twice, so you'd be sure not to miss it.) They were clearly feeling much better than I am, let me tell you.
Anyway. I'm in LOVE with the raw chicken Viking hat. I do not want one myself -- no, wait, let me rephrase that: I do NOT want one myself, and not just cause I don't at present have a baby in the house to put it on -- no, no, I just want to inflict one on somebody. Somebody else. Who doesn't live with me. Somebody who feels secure enough in my fondness for them that they wouldn't automatically think I hated them, and would feel obligated to cause their baby to wear the hat occasionally, so that I could see the baby wearing it and know that they appreciated the gift....
Oh, wait! Darling pregnant co-workers! I know one! Ha! Ha ha!
No, wait, the last time I threatened the junior professors with obnoxious knitting I got in trouble. Best not do that.
So, instead, what we need is a knitting cadre. I'd like ALL the knitting graduate students, please -- you know who you are; I was just explaining the directions for Mindless Bit O'Fluff yesterday -- to start in on one of these. Cause if we work it right, there will be a moment -- just a moment, but a precious, priceless moment -- when there are a LOT of us, sitting at a colloquium, listening to a paper, all of us knitting, and ALL of us working on raw chicken Viking hats. And then I can die happy.
But I'm not dead. I just have malaise and ennui.
Luckily, that darling Christina, over at Inner Bitch, has found THIS! Yes! Somebody has actually invented a raw chicken Viking hat! (See, I gave you the link twice, so you'd be sure not to miss it.) They were clearly feeling much better than I am, let me tell you.
Anyway. I'm in LOVE with the raw chicken Viking hat. I do not want one myself -- no, wait, let me rephrase that: I do NOT want one myself, and not just cause I don't at present have a baby in the house to put it on -- no, no, I just want to inflict one on somebody. Somebody else. Who doesn't live with me. Somebody who feels secure enough in my fondness for them that they wouldn't automatically think I hated them, and would feel obligated to cause their baby to wear the hat occasionally, so that I could see the baby wearing it and know that they appreciated the gift....
Oh, wait! Darling pregnant co-workers! I know one! Ha! Ha ha!
No, wait, the last time I threatened the junior professors with obnoxious knitting I got in trouble. Best not do that.
So, instead, what we need is a knitting cadre. I'd like ALL the knitting graduate students, please -- you know who you are; I was just explaining the directions for Mindless Bit O'Fluff yesterday -- to start in on one of these. Cause if we work it right, there will be a moment -- just a moment, but a precious, priceless moment -- when there are a LOT of us, sitting at a colloquium, listening to a paper, all of us knitting, and ALL of us working on raw chicken Viking hats. And then I can die happy.
<< Home