i've tried to silently bear my pain, but last night i caved to Boy's demand that i actually leave the house and go to stitch n' bitch. really he just wanted me to go and knit and be merry with strange knitty ladies like myself, but everytime i thought about it i was taken over with this sinking feeling, as if it were the first day of kindergarten and i had not yet mastered the art of getting to the potty on time.
and that means it's not gonna be that long till the other kids think i'm weird and smelly.
but off i went, partially because i was afraid that Boy would subject me to more cruel and unusual punishment if i stayed. i mean really, i know it's the season and all, but how many times can a girl watch fright night?
when i walked in to the farmer's market i was absolutely sure they would sense my fraudulent remedial-knitter presence, the ridicule me with their maniacal laughter and stone me on the spot. but they smiled and looked at me understandingly, like they knew my pain.
notice i said, "like they knew my pain."
because they did not in fact know my pain. for my pain, lo! it is massive.
it stems from the fact that i wield my knitting needles like i'm edward scissorhands. i'm liable to put an eye out. then there's the torture of watching me try to knit. because i have to concentrate so hard that my brain pulses in my head and my hands move so slowly that i might be retiring by the time i finish each row and after every stitch i have to readjust the needles because i can not hold them like a functioning human being for more than twenty seconds.
it was at this point that i became positive the other ladies were pointing at me as if i were a side show half-gator, half-girl in their heads. i felt like i was in one of those old school department store dressing rooms where everyone has to get all naked together. and not in a sexy way.
but aside from the friendly, "i think you screwed this up somehow," it went swimmingly. in fact, i ribbed. RIBBED. me. wow.
dita helped me, and then some pretty pink girl named sarah helped me some more. and quite luckily my guts are smarter than i am, because they told me to sit right near these two fancy pants ladies
which was *so* the right place to sit because faith (evil queen) and sara (witchy woman) are just about the coolest. i want to follow them home. (don't tell... i almost did. what? i said almost.)
plus there was some food there, which of course i couldn't eat, but looked cool.
tell me who! i'll kill him!
but best of all (seriously. it tasted like the dewdrops that scatter from angel's wings) was this scrumptious glass bottle soda from the farmer's market, which i bought to get my parking validated, but then we fell in love. i mean, i was sticking my tongue way down that bottle's throat, so it must be love.
you can read a very serious review of the root beer's bouquet here. really.
since stitch n' bitch was not the slow and humiliating death i thought it would be, i'm considering going back. but before then i would like to make it abundantly clear that despite a long and storied history of saying such things, i was not the person who said "anal sex."
i may have joyously continued the conversation, but i can rest peacefully knowing i did not start it.