Um, sometimes I’m an idiot. Well, we all already knew that, but let me draw you a case in point. Not literally, because it wouldn’t make any sense. A drunk monkey can draw better than I can…but I digress.
Here’s the situation:
My best friend from college, Lori, is having a baby. The baby shower is THIS SATURDAY. I have 2/3 of a baby hat finished…which means I have squat. I still have the booties to make too. It’s Tuesday (in case you didn’t already know that). I’m going out of town Friday. I will be at the baby shower IN TOWN on Saturday, but that in itself will be a whole other post which you will get AFTER the fact. Anyway, I am also not a very fast knitter, so thank goodness I decided to go with little things to make. Like hats and baby booties. Anyway, I have tonight to finish the hat and start on the booties. Probably all that will get done is finishing the hat. Then that leaves the next two nights to do the booties, and if I have time, one more hat.
So what’s the problem, you ask? The problem is that Mary would rather be playing Zuma at Brian’s to show him who’s boss. Eh, screw it. I’ll come clean with you guys.
Mary=g.RACE
Brian=Scott
Shocked? I knew you would be. And the party on Saturday? Fabulous. So much fun. I did not take a single picture. However, Flash took a couple buttload of pictures, and if I can remember to get them from him, I’ll post them. Somebody remind me. Oh, and the pictures Flash took? Not ALL of them are of me and/or Scott. Just a few. Those will be the ones I’ll be getting. Probably a couple others too, but not ALL of them. There are hundreds. Literally.
OK. I gotta run. There’s a baby hat that needs knitting.
Well, last night Alan (er, I mean Edmund) invaded Mary’s (um, Barbara’s) apartment to make a radio spot. Prior to the crew arriving, Edmund was making a comment about Barbara’s missing index finger (upon which she had applied a barely noticable bandage). The Edmund, as normal, was about to try to make something funny or smart to say, but was beginning to come off like a jackass when Sky rapped on the window. So Edmund never got to tell Barbara that he hoped he had not offended.
We’re cool, dog. We’re cool.