The Placket Racket.

 

I realized today that I never posted a photo of my first version of Ottobre 1-2009 #35.  Uh.  So here one is.

 

It’s very wrinkly because I took this photo at 9 pm after a long day of 112 degree heat.  That’s 44 degrees if you’re wanting to be all metric and whatever. 

 

 

Yep.

(crickets chirping)

mmhmm....

(coyote baying in the far-off distance)

 

right…..

 

(more crickets)

Oh!  Here's a photo of the placket that I utterly refused to make twice:

It's not that it didn't come out super-cute.  I just didn't think it was worth the utter horror and despair, I mean the small amount of added effort for something a kid will wear for about six weeks.

Case in point: in the three months since I made this for TLo, she's grown again and I'll definitely have to take out the elastic on the sleeves.  At least the rest of it still fits pretty well.  Hopefully it will make it through to the end of summer.

It Just Keeps Getting Weirder.

Dear Gentle Readers.  I now have proof—proof, mind you-- of The Weirdness Of The World.  The following is the first draft of a post I was maybe going to put up today (but had decided was sort of silly):

Right.  So apparently due to his being a nurse, the Husband feels compelled to gossip like an old woman… er… I mean, have interesting conversations with his co-workers.  Somehow last night the topic of Celebrity Free Passes came up (I guess they were discussing the movie "Hall Pass") and the Husband mentioned that he had "lost out" to (my celebrity boyfriends yes they are mine all mine no really oh just shut up who asked you anyway) Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig.  Which, when I heard this, I basically responded with much high-pitched derisive laughter and finger pointing and possibly the words, "Oh honey, you don't even make the list, it's a CELEBRITY free pass, you are not a celebrity and also I already have sex with you on a fairly routine basis you goof ball bahahahahahahahhahaha"  etc etc etc.

Um.  Right.  Possibly TMI. 

Ask me if I care.  Go on, ask.  I am in a MOOD today people.  Don't push me.

Annnywho, The Husband scowled at me over his hamburger and then this happened: he started listing his Celebrity Free Pass list.

At which point I became deeply, deeply disturbed.  Because really?  Those are some scary-ass women.  Like, people whom I wouldn't even want to be in the same room with, let alone anything else.  Rachel Wiesz springs to mind.  That woman gives me the heebie-jeebies.  I have no idea why.  She just does.  And

 

That’s as far as I got.

This is what happened yesterday:

W.T.F.??

 

 

edit: in the interest of clarity, I should maybe note that I usually write my posts two-three days in advance… in this case, I wrote on Friday.

Over The Moon.

In response to my (seemingly endless supply of) posts regarding my new movie-star boyfriend Daniel Craig, Jacquie wrote,

“Weirdly coincidentally I just came back from lunch with a friend who has been on her honeymoon in Italy and had found herself sitting at the next table to Daniel Craig in a restaurant -and it was the males she was with who got all celebrity struck. She did say he was even more attractive in the flesh. Is that possible?”

I mean, really.  Really?  Proof yet again that I am never in the right place at the right time.

But how wonderful does her girlfriend’s honeymoon sound?  Newly married?  Italy?  Going to places frequented by the Rich and Famous (and Totally Hot)?  That is excellent.

Here’s where I went on my honeymoon: Pukekohe.  From Papakura.  Rather surprisingly, there was a stunning lack of rich or famous or totally hot (uh… which we won’t mention to the Husband lest he get, you know, a complex).  Anyway, Honeymoon.  Pukekohe.  Seriously.

 

This is hilariously funny.  Everyone from New Zealand is sniggering right now.  Heavily.  It’s like saying you went on honeymoon from Chicago to Skokie or Minneapolis to Burnsville or, I don’t know, Jersey City to Newark…. if any of those towns in question had about 10,000 people in them.  And a significantly large selection of tractors for sale.  Also, you know, more than three stores selling sheep food. 

OK, fine.  Sheep don’t actually eat food you buy at a store.  Whatever.  You get the point.

It’s a good thing I’m so low-maintenance.