(no subject)

I had a (rather intense) argument with friend L today-- not angry, but a little heated, because we both feel rather strongly and like to argue. I say that my habit of snarking at the sartorial choices of passers-by is harmless, often fun, and not especially unkind. She thinks I'm being cruel, that people should be able to dress however they want (which I don't disagree with at all; but if they end up looking silly, I reserve the right to mock), and my insistence on tormenting these poor people behind their backs is indicative of some deep-seated psyschological problem. Which... okay, no. It's not as though I rag on the undeserving or merely frumpy-- lord knows I leave my room looking like an accident in the laundry room once in a while, and I own plenty of clothes that aren't especially flattering. But when I see someone who is clearly desperately striving for Trendy, the way other people strive for, say, enlightenment, and said people look utterly ridiculous? Well, I'm gonna make fun of them. The other day, this guy walked by who looked like a time travler from the darkest part of the '80s-- head to toe Miami Vice. Light-colored jacket and slacks, pastel shirt with the sleeves *rolled up over the jacket sleeves*, loafers with no socks. It was clearly not a costume or an attempt at irony-- he thought he looked awesome. And when, once out he was out of earshot, i said so? L looked at me like I'd kicked a puppy. Which I don't get. I mean, when the day arrives that I can't make snarky remarks behind the back of someone wearing a hot pink velour sweatsuit and heels, I will be very, very sad.

I'm just worried that the next time I see someone with a day-glo orange fake tan, I won't be able to giggle and say "Oh my god! The Great Pumpkin *does* exist!" without getting a dirty look. Pfft.

Coming up next: knitting fashion show! As proof that I look damn silly sometimes too, and don't mind taking crap for it.

(no subject)

Oh, and speaking of knitting-- I need to start keeping track of my projects. So:

Almost Done: Cashmere Scarf. This this is SO SOFT. I've been keeping my eye out at the thrift store for more sweaters I can recycle, but nothing as awesome has turned up so far. Knitters on my flist: be aware. Thrift stores are the best ever for wool if you have no money.

Just Started: Autumn Leaves Scarf. I'm using a much-modified version of this-- imagine just three columns of leaves instead of five, and no border. I'm using this really pretty skein of hand-dyed laceweight wool I got at the thrift store-- other note for knitters? They sometimes also have actual yarn. And sometimes it's *nice*.

Need to get more stupid yarn from home: Laura's Sweater. Was originally My Sweater, but I don't like the fit on me.

Completed: The aforementioned four pairs of wristwarmers. One is elbow-length, with a cable! A Coronet, in blue. A hat from some red yarn i dyed, with earflaps and devil horns. One crocheted sock.

In the works: spinning more wool, and dying the six big skeins of wool I got from frogging a gigantoid thrift store sweater. Also, i want to make a matching hat-and-wrist-warmers set from Kureyon 147, or possibly 52 if they don't restock. I need to work with more greens, I think. Getting tired of purple and blue. And I promised Jake wristwarmers, too, and I want to make a kitty-ears hat for my little sister. And I'd love to knit Clapotis, if I can find a yarn I like and can fucking AFFORD.

I also got six skeins of really nice laceweight mohair-- enough for two good-sized shawls or stoles-- at a steal, but I hate working with it. I need to find someone who'll swap me for some wool I like better, or suck it up and knit already.

(no subject)

Oh, and one other thing (I'm an updatin' fool today!): When my dad deactivated our AOL subscription, I lost The Great AIM Buddy List, which I have maintained since the *invention* of AIM and which contained nearly everyone I have ever met. While I recover from the loss, I would appreciate getting everyone's AIM screenname so I can start rebuilding. My new name is hollimicheleh.