I can’t believe the week is almost over. Week five of unemployment — let’s hear it for week six, coming around the corner like a silver streak train!

I found an…interesting job on Craigslist I’m applying for. We shall, as ever, see. I’ve started selling my junque on Half.com and Craigslist, so holla for that first $16.00 check from the sale of my Scrubs season three DVD collection. Oh Zach Braff, what did I ever see in you? You, sirrah, are such a douche.

But for good TV shows, I have to say, this Wednesday’s episode of Lost was one of the best ever. Submit it to the Emmy committee producers, and finally win your well-deserved prize! You see, I have never missed an episode of Lost. I find that kind of hard to believe, but it’s true. And I gave up long ago trying to figure out I watch this show consistently because I hate Jack so much (Nicole, you are missed from the blogosphere for your spot-on commentary — thanks to you, we still call him Mayor McCheese around these parts!) or because I love this guy so much:

Yes, I am a diehard Locke fan, and when Terry O’Quinn won his richly deserved Emmy a few years back (in his shiny pink shirt, to boot!) I stood up and danced on the couch. Maybe it will finally be Michael Emerson’s turn this year, playing the Satan to his Job. I gave up long ago reading all the theories, the spoilers, the explanations for this show. For me, it’s almost biblical in its story, and John Locke is Job, tested again and again. Making the same mistakes, trusting people and getting burned for that trust. In the end, don’t we all do the same? If you believe in something or someone, you inevitably get hurt. That’s what happens to people like Locke. And that’s why watching this man get hurt again and again breaks my heart each week, and I keep on watching. This is the perfect synthesis of a great actor and part. Locke is the soul of Lost. Jack, he’s the buzzing fly I swat off my neck. Gah! I hate him.

Moving on! I baked muffins yesterday. I offered them to the super for fixing the closet light, but he kindly refused. He’s rather stoic.

Now I’ve never been one of those girls to put pictures of food into her blog posts, but that could change. My orange honey muffins are prettty fucking awesome. It’s a modified recipe from Welcome to the Knit Cafe. I use whole wheat flour and Turbando sugar. Recipe available upon request!

Finally, I saw something on Etsy (where no one buys my shit, but I did put a vintage necklace up for sale yesterday, so there’s hope) that warmed my heart: The necklace Mickey Rourke wore on Sunday night — the one with his dead dog Loki’s picture — was custom make by and Etsy seller! Here’s the article, if you’re interested. The seller makes it clear that she will custom make YOU a necklace, just not one with Loki. Of course. And also interesting: Her sales were pretty small until this article went up, now they’re climbing! I myself would like a necklace of Sean Penn RETURNING the Oscar he stole from Mickey. But hey, that’s just me. Ram Jam!

Today was one of those days where a lot was accomplished but it didn’t really feel like it. I’m in a rush because tomorrow I get to drain a little more of my money to get my hair done — but when you look like a white Erykah Badu with a vicious overgrown fro, it needs be done, y’all. I don’t need to be calling Tyrone.

In between the joys of mopping and dusting and laundry, I took some photos of new stuff to add to the Etsy shop. In fact, I even created a new design in about an hour this a.m. Thank you, chunky yarn.

Is that flower a little too much? No worries, it’s removable.


You have to love the instant gratification of a chunky yarn that’s almost like roving. And the flower is crocheted from a crunchy silk ribbon, not yarn at all, and attached with a pinback. I also like the twist of the oblique rib, both literally and metaphorically speaking.

I finished another pair of gauntlets over the weekend, but just got around to a photograph:

In other news, I did have a productive weekend — transportation, which I lack, and which my husband can provide in either chauffeur skills of the lending of his car, impact my productivity greatly. We attended BarKamp Miami on Sunday, which was a WordPress sponsored event with lots of half hour seminars on blogging, apps and sundry. I’d like to think it inspired me.

I also reconnected with an old work pal, Miss Gail, who currently blogs at Magpye. Check her out. We had an enjoyable time being interviewed by a University of Miami journalism student who was also an intern for Teen Vogue — my favorite magazine. Much gossip ensued. And Gail and I caught up and discussed such burning issues as the cutlet-like shape of Madonna’s thighs and and alarming popularity of Lady Whore Whore (or Lady CaCa) as we both individually refer to Lady GaGa.

These are things I cannot discuss adequately with my husband, I’m sure you understand.

Until tomorrow, when I may just chop it all off! (My hair, that is).

Whoosh….I feel like a hairball Ringo coughed up today, but I want to write, so this will be short and sweetish.

First, I want to thank everyone who’s come here from Ravelry, and those who have hearted my crochet beret pattern. Thank you thank you! If anyone has questions, you can always convo me. I’d thank the little people, but I am the little people.

Next, I will comment briefly on the Oscars, if I can prevent myself from entering a coma state, as I did last night. La, but the dresses were dull, the winners were dull and with the exception of The Duchess winning best costume design, I found little to cheer about. I can’t help it. I’m a sucker for some brocade and panniers. And Ralph Fiennes acting like a Georgian turd. I am such a sucker for that.

When I go for my favorite dresses, it’s either about color and texture, or the burning question: Could I manage to wear this? So this year’s winner for me, hands down, was the regal Viola Davis.
Now that is the way to hoist the girls with class. Salut!

And though I’m no Penelope Cruz fan, I would be churlish if I didn’t comment on the gorgeous detail on her Balmain gown. I would have liked a color better, but we can’t always get what we want.
Really, that was about it for me sitting up and paying attention. I found the coronation of La Winslet a bit overdone, but then, I liked her better back in 1996, when she wore MY FAVORITE OSCAR GOWN OF ALL TIME. I finally found a picture of it today, and all I can saw is Vivienne Westwood + corseting x pink = swoon.

I’ll post tomorrow, and have some fun things to talk about. But I have a date with some taco sauce and Motrin, so please excuse me whilst I take a break.

Despite a rather unproductive day, I finished my big project that will net me way under $100.

Hey, I never said it was anything special. Color is lovely, but not for me. In purple, I resemble The Corpse Bride.

My husband gave a book he’s had sitting on his bookshelf for awhile. It’s called Getting Unstuck.
So far, I am still stuck, but I will let you know. I’d like to skip ahead of the case studies about Japanese-American lawyers and MIT grads and get to the part about finding the kind of job I really want. But one shouldn’t skip ahead – so says the girl who always reads the last chapter first.

In other exciting news, I read Mickey Rourke’s dog Loki died. So there goes that Oscar-date potential. Ah la. The Oscars. This year, I can barely bring myself to care. I’m just showing up to see what Tilda Swinton wears, since she’ll no doubt present. Tilda, when the aliens come, and they will, I hope you are crowned as our right and truthful queen.

Okay, I’m still stuck. You know, I read all these blogs about folks who sell handmade on Etsy, and there are sometimes little pictorials about their “workspaces.” I find these fascinating, and lovely to look at. I would love to show my workspace, but fear it would bore and terrify people. For it is my couch and bookshelf, where the yarn and needles and hooks are lobbed between copies of Feminine Personnae, Forever Amber and the complete short stories of Edith Wharton.

I do however find inspiration from other Etsy sellers. My link of goodness is from Etsy seller SarahSeven, and is divine in it’s pinkitude. I like the model’s haircut, too. Since I am getting my haircut next week by my Cuban second mother, I am considering a change…

I don’t know why I chose the title for this post that I did. I think it’s because I’m considering looking into teaching, and because sometimes men can be…

Never mind.

In the new world order here in desperate housewife land, I blog almost everyday. May my loss (of job and car) be your blessing. It is written!

I am almost finished with the commissioned project I am working on for a vintage store in Miami. My partner at Dreads and Curls, the one with dreads – Miss Marce — passed it along to me. It is the most basic of cowls and fingerless long gloves in deep purple. Not loving my thumb gusset, I opted for a crocheted opening that I quite like better. Pictures tomorrow. And fyi – who knew Patons Classic Merino was so lovely to work with? Now, I’m no yarn snob (have you SEEN the amount of Cotton Ease exploding in my closet?) but I had never tried this. I quite like its snap.

Being a desperate housewife, I find time to view the Fall 2009 fashion collections sashaying and shontaying down the runway. Why Diane Von Furstenberg, pray tell, are you giving us a pom pom winter?
Perhaps I should make some new hats for the store, stat.

But really, just as soon as I figure out how to copy this sherpa’s nightmare with some grappling hooks from Target, my husband’s old belts and the mass of red yarn I bought BEFORE I LOST MY JOB, I sense a cash flow in my future:
Oh sweet Jesus, bend me over, spank me and make me puke a hairball. Did you know women used to come into the yarn barn with ripped out pictures like these from magazines and ask us to deconstruct the pattern? Not anymore, ladies. Mind rape will cost you!

Hey! In great news, I’m going to a free WordPress conference with my hunny on Sunday (free lunch voucher, too!) so I can get some edumacation and maybe network.

I also got some coupons for free food at Chick Fil A today, so I can eat a while longer!

And in really good news, since I’ve been unemployed, my allergies have all but cleared up and so have my migraines. I haven’t needed to take either of my two allergy medications in almost two weeks. And that’s money saved. So it just goes to show you what NOT working in the storage shed of a dusty yarn barn will do for your lungs and nasal passages.

PSST: I figured out how to upload music to this here place today — why not listen to two of my favorite all time tunes on the sidebar, dedicated to the one I loathe? You know who you are, sweetheart.

Pom poms for everyone!

So I’ve been thinking. Now that I’ve already done Jeopardy!, what are some other game shows I could do for some quick cash?

1) Project Runway: Well, it’s in litigation hell, I’d knife a bitch like Kenley, and frankly, my sewing skills are week compared to the hook and needle skills.
2) Biggest Loser: Not nearly fat enough.
3) Deal or No Deal: I’ll only play Vas e no Vas. And I don’t understand Game Theory at all.
4) Now there’s always Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. I’ve considered it for years. But I just checked and the auditions for season 7 are over.
And besides. I’ll only do it if this guy hosts:

I guess I’ll just keep applying for jobs, praying for interviews, silently going insane in this apartment, and consider selling my plasma.

It’s a plan, people.

Valentine’s Day has come and gone. Even though I told my husband not to get me anything, he did anyway. What can we say: I can’t resist a pink lion that squeals when you pull his tail.
Now if we could just do something with the one on the left. He keeps pooping outside his box! If anyone has any tips on this egregious problem, please share.

Seriously, when you start analyzing your cat’s turds, you know you’ve been stuck at home without a job too damned long.

(yes, I have applied for jobs today. I have to, or the unemployment fairy will get me).

In other news, there is none. Really. I’m knitting, trying to get inspired on what to do with life. Need to improve the Etsy store. Am working on a commissioned project for a vintage clothes dealer in Miami. It’s just a little project – arm warmers and a cowl. Not a lot of money, but any is good. Need to watch the Oliver Twist I TiVoed on PBS last night.

And I picked up the oldest UFO around here, a Chevron Scarf for my friend Amy I started almost three years ago. I said THREE. I am now officially halfway done.
Perhaps tomorrow I will pick a pocket or two.

I’m not sure if I posted here or just in random e-mails to friends, but my philosophy was after losing first the car, then the job, a flesh-eating virus was coming next.

Let me report it has. Yesterday I awoke at 5:30 a.m and started vomiting blood. I was dizzy and nothing would come out but dry heaves and…blood. Thankfully, my husband took me to the doctor (yay for insurance I kept through him and a $20 co-pay) and we discovered I have some nasty virus “all the kids have” and half the schools are emptied because of it — oh, and by the way, it’s highly contagious.

I don’t hang out with any kids, so I’m guessing I got it from the grocery store? Either way, I got two different medicines, am not vomiting blood anymore, so cancel all my Italian opera appearances. I am very hungry after living on ginger ale for 2 days, and have broken blood vessels in my face and eyes from all the wretching.

What a wonderful job candidate I make!

In other news, I finished Kim Hargreaves’ Enchant on Monday night. It is from the book Nectar. I don’t know where I’ll wear it; perhaps my next doctor visit.

I did not make it through the entire Grammys last night, because
A) I was bored out of my freakin’ MIND
B) Rock music should not be performed by human Necco Wafers.
I present, Exhibit Goop:


FOUL.
Coldplay is music for men who have vaginas. Yes, I said it. In case you were worried the “old” Tanya had left the building. How these toothless prats can win “Best Rock Album” over the stellar Raconteurs’ Consolers of the Lonely, which makes me want to drop a qualude and drive donuts in the high school parking lot while wearing a tube top and making out with two guys at once, I will never know.

I seriously hope prospective employers aren’t reading this.

But if they are, what the hell: Let me also say that I have no problem with the accolades slung all about Sir Bob Plant and quiet Allison Krauss, for yo, she has the voice of an angel and I mightily like that album Raising Sand. Also, I have this weird fantasy that even though they are not a romantic item, they mate and produce children with such lustrous hair that the world will weep in astonishment at its golden beauty. For alas, doesn’t Sir Bob’s hair verily shine for such an old man?

I mean seriously – that’s what MY hair looks like. Perhaps I am projecting?

In other news, I almost finsished something today, but didn’t. I am making a delicious zucchini pasta sauce. I am so domestic it must make you puke. I am borrowing the car tomorrow and applying IN PERSON at a place where I feel I have a good shot unless they have a hiring freeze I don’t know about.

Or they don’t like my lustrous Robert Plant-like mane.

I don’t know what else to do right now, so I’m going to post.

BLAH! I hate WordPress! I hated Squarespace, and now I hate WordPress! I loved Typepad, but I had to drop out of that blogging system over two years ago because I was hacked into by my employer and photos were stolen from me. Hell, I wish I had named this blog blergitybunnieshumping.com so I couldn’t be found here either. I give up!

All I want to do is upload three free patterns I designed personally so I can get a Ravelry designers’ credit. I have a new design I want out there. I have no intention of making these pay patterns, as the returns are minimal. But after getting my husband to help me last night, I went in to make corrections on the sidebar today and now I can’t do it. The HTML isn’t working, I feel like a retard, I am ready to run screaming into the streets because running into the streets is all I can do – driving, as we know, is not an option.

I should be working on the job search. Okay, I am. I have a good lead and a good reference for a place very close to home. I will apply tomorrow. I don’t want to send the resume and app electronically, I’d rather go in person. So my husband will shuttle me tomorrow, on his day off.

Today, an old friend is picking me up for lunch. Another friend is visiting me on Sunday. These are all positive things. I transferred $53.00 from my Etsy store to my bank account yesterday, and cashed a health insurance check for $24.00 yesterday. I will also pick up $40 from a custom Etsy order in the next week. Am I getting a severance check? I don’t know. Communique has been cut off – not by me, understand.

So let’s see how long that $100+ will last. I will also get my tax refund next week – we’ve agreed it will all go to me. I don’t know if I can contribute to rent and electric, as I normally do. It will depend on when and if unemployment kicks in.

I pray Oprah will save me with her witchcraft – no, seriously, even though I have been keeping the TV OFF, I watched Oprah’s “Living in Tough Eco Times” or whatever the eppy was called on Monday, and learned how to live on next to nothing. We have lived on $40 of groceries this week, I know that. I have been living on two bowls of Special K a day, personally. Stress means I don’t eat. Weight Watchers, which I’ve dropped, would be so proud. I’ve lost another five pounds.

I realize now that I was living well outside my means. I hope my husband, who I fear becoming a burden to, will work with me on getting a budget together. I’ve killed Netflix, the paid blog, and want him to cancel almost all of the cable. If I could cancel the useless gym membership, I would, but outside of proving I have lost my legs, I am not sure that’s possible. We’ll see.

People have it so much worse than me. I am not some special case. In a way, I am glad to be free of my former place of employment. The stress was insurmountable at times, and I let my friendships and my life go on hold while I was on call night and day in service to another. That is sad. I have well and truly put the place behind me, and any residual anger or sadness is gone, too. It doesn’t take me long to forget someone or something that has done me wrong. I can close the book and move on fairly easily. My main regret is my continual trusting of people who eventually turn out to disappoint me. It happens.

Okay, I am ready for lunch.