Baseball Friday was great. It was hotter than Satan at a barbecue, and that just tells me we’re in for a long, hot summer.
Braves trounced the Marlins 8 to 2, so I left a happy girl.
Oh, but the ladies at the game! They need to take the Real Housewives franchise down here. The Real Housewives of Palm Beach County is a match made in Hell. So many Botoxed bitches — laws, what were they doing at the game! Between the line-up of Be-Coached bag hos sitting behind us discussing the merits of lo-cal Gatorade (wtf?) to these two leatherfaces in front of us, I had to laugh.
Now I know you’re saying, “Why take a picture of these two useless funbags?” Besides the fact that the blonde one is obviously wearing a Scoop NYC watch that I know for a FACT she got on HSN — sister, I watched that show.
No, the reason is because we were sitting next to two very vocal middle-aged men, and every time they yelled at the pitcher or generally acted as superfans do, which I find fun and in the spirit of the game, blondie would turn around and give them a withering glare. And her forehead would wrinkle in the most alarming way! I kept telling my husband, “Didn’t her mother every tell her that her face would freeze like that?” All I can gather is I hope the recession hasn’t hit her, because she is going to need a ton of Botox to erase those forehead lines.
In knitting news, I finally finished blocking Chalkhills. Despite the presence of my super-deluxe blocking board, this is a two-day affair. But it’s finally done, and I’ll start sewing it up and doing the finishing today.
I’m delighted with the lace for the arms (which matches the picture in the Hummingbirds book EXACTLY), but the buttons should probably be a lighter mother of pearl. However, when you have a man waiting in the car while you dither about the fabric store, you grab the first thing you find. So these may be replaced at a later date. This is the downside of not having a car.
The yarn, whatever the hell it is, blocked beautifully. I’m guessing it has some cotton and linen in it, as well as some kind of viscose. Just an educated guess. I’m hoping the finished product will be viewable later this week.
On Saturday, we went to see Watchmen, and I was able to put my troubles aside for 163 minutes and enjoy it, relatively speaking. However, I couldn’t get over the fact that this dude (Matthew Goode) looked like a combination of Midge Ure from Ultravox and Heaven 17 era Marytn Ware.
Perhaps that’s just my age talking. As always, your mileage may vary.
I’m trying very hard to keep things light and airy, but as I enter my second month sans job, the sadness creeps into my daily routine in most alarming ways. You’d think I’d find ways to enjoy this forced rest period, but it’s difficult to read a book or enjoy a movie. I feel guilty for even wanting to. I have never been without work for so long — ever. It’s not normal to me.
I can’t watch the news, can’t listen to another “Recessionista!” tale on the morning shows. Wait, “Recesionista!” — wasn’t that an album by the Clash? I am losing it. Not having a car makes things so much worse. I find a good job farther south, and wonder how in the hell I will get there? None of this had to happen, and if I could go into the total whackadoodle fuckness of the whole thing, I would. But I find regurgitating it tiresome.
So I won’t. I’ll just keep trying, and keep on keeping on. For one more day at a time.