Things I Learned in 2007

• It's not "rock seals and planes," it's "rocks, hills and plains."
• Page views go up every time Tommy makes an appearance.
• Never knit a baby blanket in linen stitch.
• Expired license plates are serious business.
• Estrogen is my friend. Sometimes friends abandon.
• Judy's Magic Cast On is... magic.
• Smile for the camera.
• Life is too short for bad friends, bad yarn or bad wine. Bad boys are another issue entirely.
• There is a fine-line difference between rap and hip hop, but I have to be in a room with you to explain it to you because there are hand gestures.
• You can never have too many T-pins.
• There is a Law of Conservation of Patience in my realm: patience can neither be created nor destroyed, only transferred. Thus, all the patience I may have exhibited in teaching Brother and Father to knit was eventually counter-balanced by an irrational blow-up at a customer service agent.
• No matter how much I pare back the nephews' gift list, I always end up getting them too much.
• Champagne can be a harsh mistress.
• Nothing bad ever happens to clean people (OK, I've known this one for years, thanks to my friend who works for DPD, but it bears repeating).
• Cars are cuter when they're clean.
• No matter how much you pay for kitty toys, they always play with the boxes. Figuratively speaking.

Compare-a-Sin

First, I'd like to address Ally's request that I discuss the current leader in the Onion Shattered Expectations Football League. I can only assume that at the time she wrote that, her team† was in the dubious‡ lead.

Not so much now.

Our leader is the ominously-named That Foot is Me. He/She has *six times* the points our Ally does.%

I, on the other hand have -245 points. Yes, that's a negative. Apparently, even when I try to pick losers, I manage to pick losers at losing.

This explains so much about my love life.

Lust life.

Whatever.

My regular fantasy league isn't doing any better, but I am choosing like a champ^ in the two Pick 'Em leagues I'm in. Somehow, I can identify winners in groups.

Huh.

[SUMMARY: Maybe I need to rethink my views on polyamory.§]

In fibre news, I purchased some Mountain Colors sock yarn¶ Thursday night during my little drop-in to Stitch Therapy at Sylvia's New House of Fuzzy Crack. As it is gift yarn, I chose the colours strictly for the recipients and ended up with brown and red.

It wasn't until I got home that I realised I had, in my hot little hands, the correct versions of the Not-So-Deadly Sins received in my Seven Deadly Sins Sock Club inaugural shipment.

Just look:


The New Sins



Side-by-side comparison: Wrath



Side-by-side comparison: Gluttony



See the difference?


I know the new red looks pink in the sun, but it's much closer to true in the shadowy pictures.#

[SUMMARY: It isn't very entertaining, but it is pictures of yarn. And that makes it all better.]

Oh, look! KNITBLOG!

OK, now I need to get to work. Happy Monday.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Canadian Bacon

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): For those of you scoring at home, the Onion league allows you to pick eight scoring units from a list every week and whomever fucks up most royally wins. You get *negative* points for touchdowns and BIG points for completely failing to get in the end zone at all.

%FOOTNOTE (percented -- 600 percented, to be exact): 30

^FOOTNOTE (careted): I have 12 right in one league and 11 in the other. And on top of both.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Just kidding. I think it's like being gay or straight: you're either cut out for it from the very beginning or you're just plain not. And holy cats, am I not.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): As GIFTS. NOT to add to the overwhelming sock stash. Don't look at me that way.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Shadowy Yarn on a Shadowy Planet. Anybody get the reference? Ally? Lyda?

Initiation

Well, one of my almosts (Labour Day weekend fling) called, came over, stayed, helped put calendula on my rug burns this morning.† We're not flinging so much this weekend,% as he has a gig DJing a wedding in the mountains, but we may have Sunday dinner.

So wholesome.‡

[SUMMARY: There is more to life than fibre. However, it better come with a paper umbrella or a lively tongue.^]

I did take pictures of all sorts of fibre-related stuff, but The Fling¶ called just as I was finishing the photo shoot and I had to do a quick sweep (literally and figuratively) to bring Chez Barfly up to code.

Thus, I didn't have time to upload pictures.

And I was running a little later than usual this morning.

So maybe tomorrow.

[SUMMARY: Buck up, little blogketeers -- knitting pictures will make it all better.]

As I initiated him (hence the blogtitle) into the concept of KNITTER!!! yesterday evening... last night... this morning...

(sorry)

...there were little knitterly somethings that came out of the evening§ I know y'all can appreciate:

First, The Fling is very, very impressed with my knitting. He asked, so I showed and eventually he was digging through my pile of knitting asking about various projects. He cooed over the Tulip Sweater# and is in awe of Lizard Ridge ("No way! You did this?"). Points for The Fling.

Second, The Fling is a little frightened at the quantity of yarn,$ but generally seems to see it all as potential knitted goods, which is better visualisation than I can crank up for much of my stash. His overall support and faith gains extra points.

Third, I think he may have hinted for a scarf. We were lounging on the deck this morning just before he left and he said, rather out of the blue, "I'm looking forward to snow. I like the clothes. I like jackets and mittens... all of it. Scarves. I *really* like scarves."

[SUMMARY: Four out of five knitters surveyed prefer fibre-friendly men for their bodies that want men.]

While I know that most of y'all voted for me to stay home with the rice-eating cat until something better came along, I think you can see why The Fling was an excellent (if interim) second choice.

[SUMMARY: Well done.]

*************

So I was at Sunflower Market yesterday, picking up some Olathe sweet corn to grill and some sundry food items, when what to my wondering ears should appear? The "Wear Your Love Like Heaven" song, which is insidious in the extreme, but I gave myself the gigglesnorts singing...

...you know it...

...sing along with me...

"Wear your duh like heaven."

[SUMMARY: Wham! Wham! Wham! on the dead horse.]

OK, now I can't get that fucking song out of my head.

Quick! Someone sing "My Baby Takes the Morning Train"!

Happy Tuesday.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Too much information? Sorry, I'll never mention my calendula addiction again.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I almost had a fling for the holiday weekend...

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): As wholesome as rug burns get.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Get your mind out of the gutter. He's a particularly lively conversationalist. And his dick is *huge*.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): ...night... morning... oops! I did it again!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I don't know how he could be anything but, really. He turned 33 a week after I turned 40. So young, so succulent, so inappropriate... *sigh*

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I know what you're thinking ('specially Brother, who has been witness to more than one closeted, repressed, that-river-in-Egypt gay boyfriend of mine), but he has a four-year-old daughter. He's allowed to coo over tiny little clothes.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): Darlings, he only saw the small pile in front of the powder room and the projects on needles. He hasn't been in the yarn room yet.

Today's footnotes are brought to you by the letters X and Q, the number 4 and Chris's smartass comments.

A Brief History of Pink

TTHFCIF

Starting when I was 14, just entering high school and buying my own clothes for the first time,† I began to wear black. Almost exclusively.

I came back from my first big mall blowout on my own dime,‡ excited to show my parents what I'd purchased.

The spoils:

1 pair black jeans
2 pairs blue jeans
1 sparkly, see-through black chiffon blouse§
1 pair black kid-leather pumps¶
1 pair black suede elf boots with 2 1/2-inch heels
2 black bras
1 burgundy bra
3 pairs black lace panties
3 pairs burgundy lace panties
1 pair black cotton string bikini panties
1 black belt with pyramid studs

[SUMMARY: Wardrobe building is an elusive concept to the carbonated of hormone.]

Years (years and years) later, Mom told me that after dutifully admiring my acquisitions (and probably choking at the lingerie), Dad asked Mom, "Should we be worried about this?"

"What?"

"Black?"

"All girls go through a black phase. And a pink phase. And a red phase."

I augmented my wardrobe over the next four years with black concert t-shirts (Blue Oyster Cult, Yes, Rainbow, The Greg Kihn Band, Armored Saint, Metallica#) and, perversely, t-shirts from my summer swim league, which were baby blue and forest green.††

I wore the sparkly shirt, boots and belt on concert days (i.e. -- when I was going to a concert that night) the way the athletes wore ties or skirts on game days. Concert days were also the only time I wore makeup or did fuck-all with my hair.‡‡

Huh. I'm suddenly gaining insight on why I was a virgin until college.§§

Anyway, there was the college boyfriend who wanted me to wear a pink fuzzy sweater.

Scorn.

Eye rolling.

You know how I got into Led Zepplin? I *hated* Led Zepplin. Everything about them. The bluesy grind, the posturing, the wailing, the ubiquitousness of it all. Then one morning, I woke up and KAZY was doing a Mini Concert Weekend¶¶ and I tuned in just in time for the start of a Led Zepplin set and I loved it. Never looked back.

That's pretty much what happened with pink. Hate it... hate it... hate it... love it. Same with brown, really.

Never forget: obsessive AND compulsive (though not so much obsessive-compulsive).

It was a lot of fun telling Mom I finally hit my pink phase twenty years later than expected.

Now, I don't like sugary, My Pretty Pony, shiny happy pinks so much. I like delicate petal pinks and rosy pinks and dusty pinks and deep, hot, slap-you-in-the-face pinks.

So that gives you some insight on "why pink?" and probably a good look into "why not pink anymore?"

[SUMMARY: Pink and sex could have a LOT in common in my world, but don't delve too deep into that. The therapy could be prohibitive.]

*************

Update of the DAM'd: Bachelor #4 called again Wednesday and Thursday, both during the day.

Bachelor #2 called Wednesday evening as his schedule had freed up and he hoped maybe mine was similarly open. For the record, I told him I was busy and would see him Monday as planned. I worked until 7:00, then went home and knitted.%

I spent time with a friend of Bachelor #1 last night. One thing I may not have mentioned? Bachelor #1 and Bachelor #4 are friends. I actually met them the same night.

Until fairly recently, Bachelor #4 didn't know I ever dated@ Bachelor #1. Turns out that until really, really recently, Bachelor #1 didn't know I was flinging with Bachelor #4. He asked a mutual friend how I'm doing, what I'm doing, but apparently wasn't prepared for WHO I'm doing.

I believe the quote was, "Oh, no, I can't be having that."

Can you feel the waves of glee coming from your computer screen?$

[SUMMARY: Boys!]

*************

The Brown was lovely. The food was outstanding. People around me were impressed that some of the staff know me by name. That's all I really need. Good food and adulation.

And yarn.

And books.

And my cat.

And this lamp.*

[SUMMARY: A simple girl with simple needs...]

*************

I got a big ol' box o' yarn from Knit Picks yesterday. I got all jazzed about the Red Scarf Project last week and went straight out to buy yarn for it. It's not particularly exciting yarn, but I'm excited about knitting it up. Worthy charity makes me happy.

[SUMMARY: I may be a wicked, lustful, greedy, covetous creature, but I have a heart of gold. I mean, if you can find it under all the piercings and push-up bras.]

Happy Friday, ev'rybahdy!

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I believe these three items to be *extremely* relevant to this tale, and I think anyone who is now or has ever been the mother of a teenaged girl, or anyone who actually remembers what a dink she was as a teenaged girl would agree.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I believe my total bill was $158

§FOOTNOTE (sweved): Not nearly as hideous as it sounds. In fact, I wish I still had it. It remains one of the coolest items of clothing I've ever owned.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): For which I had so little use, but they were so soft and they looked like Audrey Hepburn and even through my wild days and my mad existence, I loved Audrey Hepburn.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Ride the Lightning. You know, before they got bigger than the Beatles and started taking themselves way way way too seriously. That would also be "before anyone else heard of them." I keep that shirt as proof of one of the two or three truly hip moments in my dorky, dorky life.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Not on the same shirt. Two shirts. One forest green, one baby blue.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Things haven't changed that much.

§§FOOTNOTE (look at them curves!): Actually, it was sheer stubbornocity. Yeah, that's it! It was a CHOICE! Actually, if you pause to ponder high school boys, you'll know it really was a choice.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (we got your paragraphs right here): Three songs in a row from each artist. A device, I'm convinced, designed to allow DJs to get well and goodly stoned between mic times.

%FOOTNOTE (I was going to get totally pounded, but I figured it might be confusing, what with all those legitimate number symbols up there): For the benefit of those of you who think I'm too available.

@FOOTNOTE (atted. Just for variety.): Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): I am wicked. And evil. And fiendish. Wayward, naughty and probably going to hell. But how inhumanly *good* would you have to be not to take a little joy in the jealousy of a man who abandoned you?

*FOOTNOTE (goin' old school with the asterisk... 'cause that's how I roll): Name that movie!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Knitting

Seriously. You thought I'd stopped knitting altogether, didn't you? It's OK. I won't be mad. I'd've been suspicious too.

But while I was busy rejecting boys on Friday, Saturday and Monday, I was home knitting up a storm. Sometime in the next couple of weeks,† I suspect we'll have a big ol' FO post for you. The WIPs are looking healthy and sleek in light of all this sexual restraint of mine.

'Cause, y'all know... whoring around sure does eat into my knitting time.

Speaking of whips... er, WIPs... Know what this is?



Yes, it's yarn,‡ but do you know what it's for? Anna-Liza does. At least the non-secret Touch Me part.§

I'm making the cat o' nine tails from Naughty Needles out of it. Have you felt this stuff? There's a reason it's called "Touch Me."

So I guess it'll be more like a kitten o' nine tails, but that's just how I roll.¶ I'm all about the soft purple love.#

In related news, I just popped over to Red's place, and she has details that might interest you. At least a picture. And further rhapsodies on the Touch Me theme.

[SUMMARY: Wait. Did she buy MORE yarn?]

I'm really late on this, but I did take a handful of pictures at the Rockies Stitch 'n' Pitch. Most of them have nothing to do with knitting.

Like this picture of the diamond, pre-game, which looks a lot like the picture from my previous baseball game blogging, only not from club level. Different baseline entirely.

Well, the other baseline.

You know what I mean. Or you don't and you wish I'd stop talking.




Moving on.

They shoot the fountains when the Rox go yard. It happened SEVERAL times that night, which is part of why it was such a good game†† and probably why I pitched way more than I stitched.‡‡



If you go to the Clocktower Bar (where they serve the not-Miller Genuine beer and various top-shelf well drinks$), you can see this on your way.



I love the little pockets of Denver that look vintage. How much more vintage than brick buildings§§ and a water tower?

I have a thing for cranes. Red said, "Like... a sex thing? Or just an it's-a-cool-thing thing?"

I said, "Yes."



Speaking of Red (again), if you want more knitterly pictures of the Stitch 'n' Pitch, you can look at hers.

Turns out the only thing I got, other than a hideously distant and bleary picture of Dinger in which he looks like he may be mainlining with a giant knitting needle, is this:



Which I took because I'm so envious that Red carries her SIPs¶¶ in this pretty bag with the pretty ribbon...



...and I carry my SIPs in a one-gallon Ziploc& bag.

[SUMMARY: My baseball and knitting experience was mostly about baseball and my whole knitting record is based on partaking of one of the seven deadly sins and the tromping of one of the ten commandments.##]

Update of the DAM'd: Bachelor #4 called twice last night (I was at Drunken Knitting) to see if I wanted to come hang out at his place. He has a couch now (and a real bed!)* and I think he wanted to sort of show off a bit. I find that immeasurably cute.

[SUMMARY: A man with a couch is cute? Better check the footnotes...]

Remember the lovely, lovely yarn††† I promised yesterday?




It's Cider Moon Glacier in Paintbox. Don't bother looking for one of your own. It was a limited edition and there are none left.

For one, this speaks to my total suckerhood.‡‡‡

For two, it speaks to you can't have it.

[SUMMARY: Wow. That yarn is WAY more cheerful than AntiM.]

Does it make you want to break a commandment and indulge in a little deadly sin?

Please?


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And y'all should be aware that I am being highly ambitious with the idea that I might finish the Deficit Knitting Arrrgyles for Brother in that time, but the feets are almost done, so... I'm delusional.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Rio de la Plata laceweight in a smooth, marshmallowy, mildly fuzzy brown 100% merino for a special, secret project and Muench Touch Me in deep, rich purple. Huh. We seem to be low on purplocity today. Take my word for it: purple.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And I am SO happy I got to use that phrase. I feel like a porn queen.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Ally? You can tell your cranky nephew you're not the only old person embarrassing herself and those around her with antiquated colloquialisms (and I highly suggest when talking to said nephew, you use the term "antiquated colloquialism." Your street cred will soar to new heights). Of course, I'm white. Nobody expects any level of hippitude from me.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Prince Speak!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And the weather was gorgeous and perfect. And it was the shortest sporting event (barring the Kentucky Derby, less the hoopla) EVER. Actually, I looked this up at the Baseball Almanac and it wasn't the shortest game by a long shot, but it's certainly the shortest game I've ever attended: 2 hours 29 minutes. Left us PLENTY of time for drinks after. Oh, and the Rox won. Handily.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I suspect in some circles I've just admitted to sexual proclivities that I hadn't even considered. Let's not dwell.

$FOOTNOTE (afterthoughted, but still money): Stick with me, kid. I can sniff out the Grey Goose in the most unlikely places.

§§FOOTNOTE (totally curvy): Granted, at least one of the prominent brick buildings is brand new, but it fits right in. Did I mention water tower?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (too paragraphed): Socks in Progress.

&FOOTNOTE (and...?): A fully TRADEMARKED Ziploc bag, to be sure. Patent pending. All rights reserved.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like a chicken breast waiting to become parmigiana): Envy and Shalt Not Covet, respectively. For those of you not up on your Christian mythology.

*FOOTNOTE (asterisked. No, really): He apparently lost all furniture in the divorce. The last time I was at his place, his bedroom consisted of an assload (probably an unfortunate choice of word) of Dora, Barbie and Disney Princess accoutrement and a twin mattress on the floor. He's moving up.

†††FOOTNOTE (so very cross): Start with yarn, end with yarn... voilá! Knitblog!

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (I don't even know what to call this): Sell me something. Tell me it's new. Tell me it's improved. Tell me I'll have the first one, the only one, one custom-made for me. Tell me I'm pretty.

I'm Todd Helton!†

Remember the good old days when I just thought I was a rock star and occasionally Linda Cohn? Good times, good times.

Oh! And I think it's so funny that y'all are voting on the bachelors in the comments that I'm taking advantage of Blogger's new poll feature to post a poll. You can vote on my sex/love/whatever life!

Keep in mind: with great power‡ comes great responsibility. You have to decide whether to vote for your dear ol' AntiM's happiness and well-being or for sheer entertainment value.

So it's there on the sidebar. Vote early, vote often. If you can, I mean. I have no idea how this poll thing works.

Anyway...

I have some brief updates for you:

Remember how yesterday I included Bachelor #2 primarily because of That Bastard Murphy?

Guess who texted at 4:30 just as I was getting on the elevator?

Am I psycho or what? Psychic? Whatever.

Shut up.

And wanted to get together last night, "...this time with NO beer :)"§

I said I had plans.¶ We agreed to get together next Monday.

I continue to shake my head in wonderment at the stupidity that is me and the spectacular cluelessness that is boys.

[SUMMARY: How many roads must a Marin walk down?]

In other news, Cat for Scale now likes steamed white rice.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): It's a "batting cleanup" reference. Remember: I think I'm funny.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): There's actually very little power on your part. I'm going to do whomever... er, WHATEVER my whim tells me to do, but there's a blog gadget and I want to use it. Admit it: you want to use it too.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Of course, he started with "r u busy 2nite? want 2 get 2gether?" No matter how hard I try, I can't make myself do Prince speak. I feel... dirty when I try. Anybody else? Or is it just me?

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Consisting mainly of "I plan to do takeout Thai and sit on my ass and knit to the tune of Hell's Kitchen for a couple of hours."

You may want to tune in tomorrow. Rumour is I got a skein of festive sock yarn in the mail (an event that carries roughly the same Vegas line as finding me at a bookstore, granted, but it's a REALLY GOOD skein of sock yarn).

Still a knitblog...

DAM'd If You Do...

Saturday, I talked to my father. As always, he asked, "How's your love life?"†

I said, "Interesting."

"That's an interesting cop-out," he said.

And so I explained.

And so he agreed, "Huh. Interesting may be the right word."

Of course, the more carnal of the details I didn't tell. I saved those for y'all. You're welcome.

And now...

Ladeeeeez and Gemplemen! Welcome to Cirque do Solame! To my left...

Bachelor #1: Dumped your dear ol' AntiM quite some time ago, yet continues to hang around the fringes. Tells mutual friends he wants to be invited where I'm going. Just-ex-girlfriend has maintained a certain pissiness with he and me because he apparently talks about me all the time.

Yet...

When we have been in the same room together, he practically pulls my pigtails and throws rocks at me on the playground to show he likes me, if indeed he does. Anytime I try to be cordial, he becomes a complete ass. He never has anything nice to say about me or to me.

In fact, he hardly talks to me at all. He just puts me on a pedestal behind my back.

Imagine the devotion to yoga that little pretzel twist takes.

[SUMMARY: If he wasn't so good in bed, I wouldn't even consider him. I'm weak.]

...and dancing on a wire, precariously balanced high above the crowd...

Bachelor #2: Had my naked body in his grasp. Literally. Looked me in the eye and asked for a beer. Was asked to leave.

Apologised the next day, said he wanted another chance. Second chance allowed, never heard from him again.‡

[SUMMARY: no no no no no no no no no no no no no]

To my right...

Bachelor #3: Simply doesn't get it, but apparently wants it bad.

After hearing from me, "I have no interest in going where you're going. Not mad, not judging, just not my thing AT ALL," left gracefully.

Then came back.§ Why do they always come back?

Wants a second chance. Against my better judgment,¶ I agreed he could call me this week.#

So he did.

At 9:00 Saturday night.

To know if I wanted to go out. THAT NIGHT.

Or maybe have some company.††

I said no. He said, "Call if you change your mind."

I said I would.

I didn't.

[SUMMARY: Largely ambivalent, leaning towards "meh."]

And now, if I may direct your attention to the centre ring!

Bachelor #4: Had some life troubles awhile back and just kinda disappeared. Suddenly showed up last weekend with a vengeance, asking several people (at a party) where I was and asking to get me there and calling me six times on my cell phone‡‡ and finally having a friend call.

I had other plans that evening. Besides, he was drunk.§§ He said he'd call me the next day.

He did.

He was going to be out of town and asked if he could call when he got back.

He did.

He wanted to set up a weekend-long date for the last weekend in August or first weekend in September.¶¶

He says he'll see me in the meantime, he just wanted to set that up for sure. He says he'll call this week.

He calls me Red.##

I can't see us being long-term. But I do appreciate his current tenacity more than the ill-conceived antics of his fellow Disciples of AntiM.†††

And I so appreciate his fine, fine ass.

[SUMMARY: Did I mention weak?]

So, yeah. It was more C battery than "see me" this weekend, but things certainly are...

...interesting.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): One of the hazards of a parent late to the dating scene: potential for over-sharing. From both parties. You don't even want to know what I know about his girlfriend's ass. Frankly, neither do I.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): No, I do not count him in the running (see summary). I just know That Bastard Murphy swings into full force at times like this and Beer Boy is more likely to call in the next couple of weeks when I'm kind of confused and overwhelmed and wishy-washy and weak and weird than at any other time.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): At 1:30 in the morning. By phone. And when I said, "Dude. Seriously. I WAS ASLEEP," he said, "Maybe I could come over and lick you back to sleep."

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): He woke me up! I have no judgment in the first half-hour of my waking life. Enough not to accept licking, yes. Enough not to accept a request for another phone call, no.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): But NOT at 1:00 in the morning.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Given the licking thing, I'm pretty sure he wasn't interested in my schedule of knitting and TiVo-clearing events I had slated for the evening.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Note to the world: I am not much a cell phone person. When I am home, the cell phone is generally in the car where I can't hear it. Do not get pissed at me because I'm not answering my phone -- try the home number. And I frequenly don't go near a computer on the weekends, so don't email me expecting anything before Monday. Just for the record. Thank you.

§§FOOTNOTE (curvy, only doubly so): Despite all evidence to the contrary, I do have some standards. I do draw some lines. And sleeping with someone who doesn't even know who I am... not on my list of viable alternatives.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (hyperparagraphed): When his ex- will be taking their daughter out of town for a couple of weeks.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded. twice.): I know, but if he and Red and I are ever in the same room, we're all going to have to embrace the slapstick, mistaken-identity, sit-com hilarity that shall ensue.

†††FOOTNOTE (cruxtrebles): the DAM'd