Tuesday, June 24, 2003

I'm back at the old place tonight to pick up some more things, and it's making me feel so happy to have moved. We're getting settled, and we need to do some painting. But it's great up on the roof.

I've almost finished with the body of the Haiku sweater. I'm getting colour fatigue, so when I finish this piece I'm going to move on to another project rather than starting the sleeves right away. I want to crank out three little sweaters in the next six weeks. I don't know if it's possible, but I'm going to start on a top-down raglan pullover next. Seamless is my middle name.

All I have to say about the last few days is gay, gay, gay, gay, gay! Above all, of course, there is the most excellent news about federal same-sex marriage legislation in Canada. (Nice one, Jean!) On that topic, this column had me peeing my pants at the office yesterday: "Stop the Gay Canadians!":

"I don't really know what this means, what it represents, what it entails, what gay people stand for, where they come from or what they do or why they do it or how they become that way in the first place or even if they're allowed to vote or fly in airplanes," announced a very trembly George W. Bush at a hastily arranged press conference in the Super Mega Hetero Gun Room of the White House.
Meanwhile, Australians are all a-twitter with news of Portia de Rossi's impending marriage to Francesca Gregorini, daughter of Barbara Bach and stepdaughter of Ringo Starr. As The Advocate pointed out, "Straight people have had Brad and Jennifer; this will be our first big celebrity wedding."

Have you heard the whispers about dear young He-lee Poh-ta (as he's known in Taiwan)? Ever since he first came out of the closet under the stairs, theories have abounded over the young wizard's budding sexuality: "A gay old brawl over Harry's inclinations".

Cringe! Shudder! Look away! Silently scream, "Nooooo!" These were my reactions yesterday when I came across this little nightmare of a news story: "Ladies who tattoo," which claims that tattoos are "the latest middle-class must-have."
"Laura and I had been saying over lunch how much we had always fancied having it done," said Mrs Andrew, "But neither of us had ever had the nerve to go into one of those tattoo places. Then we were shopping in Selfridges, and by coincidence we saw the tattoo porlour in there, and I said...well, why not? If it's in Selfridges it's bound to be OK."
This is just. So. Wrong. Getting a tattoo should hurt. The person doing the work should be wearing leather, big boots, and hundreds of tattoos, and should address you as "man". If possible, Whitesnake or the Scorpions should be playing and you should be allowed to smoke. And if someone comes in and asks, "How much is a tattoo? I just want a little rose on my hip," the tattoo artist should tell her to GET LOST and then laugh diabolically.

Click me! You'll be the envy of all your friends...

Back to knitting, here are two words that I had never imagined together: knitted breakfast. Thanks to a link at Yarn-Covered Couch, this amazing knitting pattern lives! Who's up for a Bacon-and-Eggs Knit-Along? Don't delay! Out of the frying pan, into the knitting bag!

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