Friday, March 7, 2008

There's A Conspiracy Going On

There have been some strange things happening today. More about that in a minute.

First of all, thank you for the comments on my last entry. I'm glad you all enjoyed it. It is pretty funny; had it happened to someone else, I would have been sitting there snorting and peeing on my sandals. I have to laugh when I picture myself sitting there with that little pork turd sitting proudly on my little cue-ball head. The BBQ sauce was just the finishing touch. Presentation is everything.

It dawned on me that I haven't picked a winner for the poetry contest. I've been pouring over the entries and have narrowed it down to two. Since I can't decide between the two of them, I'm asking for your votes. Please do NOT vote on this blog; send your votes to me at pamtheknitter@gmail.com. It will be easier for me to count them there. To discourage voting here, I will disqualify and not count any that are left. I'd like to keep this a secret until I announce the winner; by putting votes here, the authors can see them.

Please vote by number. Here they are:

1. So there's this sweet shop by a goddess
Who's bald and tattooed and so honest
With a hubby named mark
Who's ass has been parked
At his desk fixing internet oddness.


2. With sticks and string,
I can make anything.

With yarn so fine,
and tools so cool,
I can make things that will make
any knitter drool.

The place to shop
for things as such,
is Yarny Goodness,
it's a new on-line shop.

With hand dyed yarn,
bags and tools,
from the coolest, and hip-est
ambitious women.

So order your yarn,
Pick out a cool pattern
And say "Thanks" to Pam Mann
Who made everything happen!

Run don't walk to:
www.yarnygoodness.com
Place an order and wait for the Yarn Fairy
to bring your Yarny Goodness to you!!

See my problem? I'm leaving voting open until Sunday at midnight. I'll be at the prison on Monday, so I'll announce the winner on Tuesday. Please - don't just read the blog; I truly need your votes to select the winner.

Enough of that.

Hubster brought in the mail today (no packages). I asked him what we got, and he told me it was mostly garbage except for a magazine I had received. Cool. I subscribe to several and never know when they're coming, so it could have been Vogue Knitting, Interweave Knits, Spin-Off, Exotic Fibers, various newsletters, or flute-related stuff. But this was a new one. It was...

Good Housekeeping.

What the fuck?

I did NOT order GH. The only time I read it is in the doctor's office. I would NEVER subscribe to something like that. But there it was, telling me that I had a one-year subscription (according to the label). Then I began looking at the cover article titles:

"I LOST BIG!" - How five women dropped a total of 408 lbs.

Cook Once, Eat Twice

Get Out of Debt

Clutter Control

What the fuck?

It's a conspiracy. Somebody knows that my house is a sty, that I'm in debt, that I don't cook anymore, and that I'm beginning to resemble the Michelin Man. Are there cameras installed on my street watching me as I wander outside in my cardinal jammies? (I get my jammies from the National Wildlife Federation - they have the coolest jammies, which is why I have so many different types.) Are there nanny cams installed in the house being used to take note of how many dust zombies there are on the floor? Are those same nanny cams being used to count the number of unpacked boxes from the move? Is there a sensor in the fridge that tells someone how little food is in there? There was a blip on the magazine cover - there's an article on haircuts that take off years, as well as anti-aging shampoos. I've often threatened to target a specific shampoo, go on TV, and announce to the world that if you use their shampoo, this is what will happen to your lovely locks. Then I could blackmail the shampoo company for millions of dollars. Think it would fly? I didn't either, which is why I never did it.

Back to the conspiracy. We got three phone calls today from companies who do home improvement. Like this dump could be improved. The only way to improve it is to tear it down or torch it. The advertisements arriving all showed... you guessed it... home improvement. And then there was the one from Jenny Craig, and another one from Curves...

I feel like somebody is watching us. It's easy enough to do - the Monster is right next to the front door, so at night, anybody driving by can look inside and see me oozing all over the damn thing, drooling all over the lovely embroidery on my jammie top. Isn't that a lovely picture? The only thing missing are the pink foam curlers, but well...

On a less paranoid note, I've signed up for some mailing list thing that will let me send out a newsletter with little or no pain. I've got to get working on that. Hm. I'll fit that in with all the other shit I have to do. I'm so looking forward to going to Folsom. Maybe Hubster will take me to the casino again - you know, for a hamburger. I still hold out hope that I'll hit the big jackpot. It could happen - people do win them. I won $16K on one Reno trip on dollar slots, and I've seen someone sitting next to me hit all three of the top symbols on an Elvis slot that paid out some obscene amount of quarters. I was actually in the casino when someone did hit the big one - we all got $50 in free play. BFD. With all that free play (which I plowed through in less than five minutes), I didn't win ONE SINGLE THING. But I still hold out hope.

If I blog from a laptop in the back of a limo speeding to Vegas...

2 comments:

Laura Neal said...

I nearly fell out of my chair when I read that about that magazine! I don't get that one...amen! I have all the knit mags over here and lately, no time to even open them and look at knitting. I am working on two projects now. Dealing with yarn.
Foam curlers? What about a ratty old house coat and those fuzzy pink house shoes....

Anonymous said...

So did you work out who sent you the mag? I could probably do with one of those. Theonly thing my husband and me argue about is the housework, or rathr the fact that i knit or dye yarn and don't do any housework. Well, I was never any good at it anyway.