Friday, December 16, 2005

Idle Hands 

Image hosted by Photobucket.comA man approached the desk. He was dressed in a nondescript way except for a fuzzy magenta scarf.

“Do you like my scarf? My girlfriend knit it for me. Go ahead, touch it.” He pulled the scarf toward me.

“Oooh – cozy. I wish I could knit, that I had a hobby like that.”

“So do I! I can’t knit, but I can needlepoint. In fact, I have this idea for a project. I want to take a giant canvas and put it on my wall. Then I will project a pattern on it and do a needlepoint tapestry. I need a hobby. I don’t really have any, except masturbating and smoking pot.”

Although the content of his speech was anything but, his delivery was dull and monotonous. I then looked at his eyes, which were crazy diamond/black holes of the sun/see you on the darkside of the moon vacant, haunted pits.

“Well, we all need a hobby. You know what they say about idle hands and all… Knitting and needlepoint books are on the 2nd floor. You have a good day, Sir.”

speaking of crazy eyes, have you ever seen these things before?

Hey! I showed you how to knit, and left you the wool and needles. I bet the dogs have eaten them by now, or secreted them away for some nefarious plan...
A stitch in time and you'll go blind?
Wren -
Despite your excellent tutalage I am hopeless at knitting. The wool and needles remain on the table, a silent reproach to my failures in all things feminine. I desperately need a follow up lesson.
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