Don't they know I'm trying to knit here?

The boss is out of town for two weeks so I thought, "Excellent! I can knit while I'm filling in at reception." Except, no, I can't because I keep getting projects that require me to actually work while filling in at reception. People, what are you doing to me? These hats and scarves don't knit themselves, you know. Today, while getting in five minutes of knitting time, I met one of our new employees (Hi Kristen) who is an avid knitter and on Ravelry. I showed her the very difficult (not really) double knitting I was doing and she was suitable impressed.

So, yeah, still not done with the striped scarf of either of the two (three, four) hats I've started. Here, enjoy an impossibly cute picture in the meantime.
It's a wee mousie* with a teeny tiny teddy bear. I could die of the cuteness. Thank you, Cute Overload.


*it may be a rat, I'm not sure. Either way, it's too cute.

Meet Dave

Yes, I named my guitar Dave. Why Dave? Dave is a nice guy, unassuming, does his job, doesn't ask for much. Dave is everyman. This Dave is a slim body with a pick up, for my future engagements at coffee houses and guitar shops near you. I'm kind of in love with him and like any new love I want to spend all my time with him. That is until my fingers tell me that Dave can suck it and I have to put him down. Ah, until tomorrow, my love.

(PS: I totally played the B chord perfectly--just once--on the 7th fret--and was so proud of myself I squealed out loud. Then cried because it hurt like a mofo.)

Clearly, I'm not alone

In today's Site Meter report, roughly half the new visitors to my blog were brought here by searching some variation on the theme "T-mobile, 11 bulldogs named Steve." Obviously, I am not the only one who finds it questionable.

I remembered the other commercial that bugs me. It's the soup one with the wide-eyed blonde reading the label and stumbling over "monosodium glutamate." Did they hire a remedial student? "glu...gluta..mate?" Seriously? It's annoying.

In other news, I stopped at Stitch Cafe last weekend and found yarn for that confounded hat project and on a whim I grabbed some Noro Silk Garden to make that striped scarf that everyone has made. My grab was fortuitous as the colors look really great together, but Oh My God, this scarf never ends. The scarf is almost as long as my armspan and I still have yarn left on the first two balls and have two more balls of yarn to work. I started this to have something mindless to knit while on the go. Who knew it would take over my life.

Also, because I have so much time to do this, I'm learning how to play the guitar. So far, I can play the A, D, and E chords (mostly) without looking but not fast and not with any kind of meaning. Soon I will take real lessons from a real-life teacher but for now, Walt Ribeiro (dot net) is my best friend.

Monsters in my closet

I'm sure I've mentioned this before--there's a little gnome door inside my closet on the outside wall. Quite frankly, it freaks me out a little. I know, rationally, there is nothing inside the dark space behind the gnome door that will hurt me, but I can't help feeling a bit uneasy when the door is unblocked. That's why I like to keep a bunch of boxes piled up in front of that door and why I always--always--close the closet door. This week, because I'm a slob--that's right, I'm admitting it in public--my laundry basket is in front of the closet door. So, imagine my surprise when I went to open the closet door this morning and found that the handle was loose.

Can you see that gap? The screws to loosen or tighten the knob are on the inside of the closet!!! (shhh...the monsters in my closet are trying to get me). Also, I noticed this:I can only surmise that the monsters in my closet are wee and were kicking at the door with their tiny ineffectual feet before one of them decided to remove the handle, although I'm not exactly sure of that logic because the door isn't locked. It's only blocked. I think the monsters in my closet are also a little slow on the uptake.

I tightened the screws extra tight this morning and gave a warning to whoever may have been listening. "I sure hope this works. It would be a shame if my ferocious, yet silent, guard dog were to get a hold of whatever is doing this." Before you ask, no; I don't have a ferocious, yet silent, guard dog, but the wee and none-too-bright monsters in my closet don't know that.

Scrabblicious

I recently purchased an adorable Scrabble Tile necklace from Etsy. Actually, I purchased two--one in the classic natural wood tile and one in the Special Anniversary Edition tiles, which are black with silver letters, for special occasions. Here's a photo:
I love it and have worn it every day since it arrived. Criss, while complimenting me on my necklace, said, "I'm sorry you're only worth one point, though. I think C is worth 3." This got me thinking, so I looked up the values of all the letters according to Scrabble. My whole name--first, middle, last--is only worth 18 points. MY WHOLE NAME!! And why? Because my entire name, save the first letter of my last name, is made up of what I like to call "the Wheel of Fortune letters"--R, S, T, L, N and the vowels A, E, I, O, U.--which just happen to be all the 1 point letters in Scrabble. Even if we throw my Confirmation name in there, it only adds 4 points. It's also entirely made up of 1 point letters. The six-letter word "quiver" has as many points as my entire name.

Now, I don't want to equate my self worth with my Scrabble worth, but it's hard to feel special when your name is so ridiculously common. I might as well be Jane Smith (with all due respect to the Jane Smiths of the world). Actually, Jane Smith=21 points.

And what about Criss? Her entire name is 33 points, and that is without any bonus squares, my friends. What's your name worth? Here's the breakdown.

1 point: A, E, I, O, U, N, R, T, L, S
2 points: D, G
3 points: B, C, M, P
4 points: F, H, V, W, Y
5 points: K
8 points: J, X
10 points: Q, Z

Just to let you know I'm still alive

It's been a truly uneventful couple of days, but I know y'all worry when I have no Frau rants or Ladies Room stories, so here's a random collection of musings I've been saving up. [no Frau sightings. sorry.]

Ladies Room:
I have a new bathroom buddy. She's actually one of the nicer (and nicely dressed) gals from the law offices. We seem to have the same potty schedule and we're always in there together. But that's not the kind of story you want, so here's a good one (as told to me by Liz--insert a Rosie Perez accent for better effect) (To be clear, Liz doesn't have the accent, Baby Daddy Drama does).
Okay, Liz was in the ladies room and saw a pair of jeans slung over a stall door. My first thought would be that someone had an accident. Liz did her business and was washing her hands when Baby Daddy Drama came out wearing a pair of brown surgical scrubs with the legs pulled over her fuzzy boots and said, "Girl, I had to buy me some pants. Those jeans were too short. They were like high waters. You know, girl; you tall like me." Liz nods and said, "uh huh."
BDD continued, "They look like dress pants, don't they?"
Liz, always a sweetheart, said, "yeah, they're nice."
BDD offered, "Yeah, and they were cheap, too. Five dollars."
Liz asked, "Oh, where did you get them?"
BDD said, "Downstairs." [there's a department store in our building] "Girl, they have all kinds."
So, the lesson we've learned here is should one have an accident or in any other way be in need of "dress" pants while at work, the store downstairs will sell 'em to you cheap.

Bad Dreams:
Not last weekend, but the one before (when I had my crisis of yarn), I had perfectly pleasant days and horrifying nightmares all night. I couldn't figure it out as it continued through the week, except for Tuesday night when I went to see Bushwalla and had a few drinks (great show. I heart Billy Galewood). By Thursday, the dreams had tapered off from horrifying to just slightly disturbing. Then, this weekend, the horror returned. By horror, I mean awful dreams of murder and mayhem filled with visceral images that cause one to bolt upright in bed and gasp for air. This explains why I'm so frakkin' tired all day. Anywho, I've decided the only way to stop said dreams is to have a few drinks or smoke some weed before bedtime. Unfortunately, I don't smoke and I hate to drink alone.

Annoying commercials:
You know how I love to hate on commercials. T-Mobile commercial--old couple talking about plan commitments. First of all, it drove me nuts trying to figure out who the woman was because I know she was a regular on a show I watched. Turns out she was the dead Grandmother from "Charmed." Yes, I watch a whole lot of WB/ CW. Anyway, they've been married for 40 years (or 38) and have had 11 bulldogs all named Steve. What the hell are they doing to these dogs??? I mean, the average bulldog lives 8 years, so unless they've had several dogs at one time all with the same name (ala George Foreman), that's just ridiculous.
OH SNAP! Late breaking news: I had another commercial rant but I can't remember it right now. A girl in our office just received a BOX OF FLOWERS! Did y'all see that Teleflora ad during the Super Bowl? Apparently her boyfriend did not.

This one has no heading but is further example of my embarrassing television habits. So, Tuesday, at The Mint for Bushwalla's EP release, Criss and I were sitting at the bar when this guy behind her gets very close. He was a tallish fellow and I'm not sure what he was doing exactly, but his ass was kind of rubbing up against Criss's back. I told her, "He's an actor." To which she replied something about that not giving him the right to rub his ass on her back. She didn't recognize him so I thought about it. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he was just some guy I saw around town a lot, like this one guy who looked like Daphne Zuniga whom I saw everywhere for years (turns out he was in a band and totally had a feminine voice, too.) No, I was sure he was an actor and that I'd seen him on television in a recurring role. Finally, it dawned on me--he plays a teacher on the new 90210. KTLA is my favorite.

How high's the water, Mama?

"Two feet high and rising... "--Johnny Cash

This morning I spend a few hours manning a registration table at the aptly-named (today anyway) River Center in Cypress Park(?). It was cold, boy howdy, but I was wearing my handknit gloves and scarf, so I was toasty--for a while. After an hour all bets were off. Then the rain came. and came. and came. And the wind was all of a sudden on the move, here. (yes, I just quoted Scuttle from "The Little Mermaid.") That's when the veranda began flooding and it was time for Laurie Ann to pack it up and move to Higher Ground. (sing it, Stevie--or Anthony. Personally I like the Chili Peppers version.)

In other news, remember that time I sideswiped a pole in the parking garage causing my rear tires to lean in all knocked kneed? Guess what? That's not a safe condition for ones tires when one is driving on a rain-slicked freeway that twists and turns and goes up hill, like the 110. Nor is it safe when one decides to ditch the freeway in favor of surface streets and gets lost--no, finds an alternate route-- on the roads surrounding Dodgers Stadium in a downpour. I wonder if Max, the German Car King, can help me out here.

Hey Chick, where's my 68 cents?

I received my check today from the County Controller for doing my civic duty. If you're one of those who conveniently loses your jury summons, you get $15 a day (not paid for the first day, which is a total rip-off because you still have to go and spend your 8 hours or whatever waiting), and 34 cents a mile, also beginning the second day, as determined by Mapquest or some chart that they have in the Controller's office. They also give you the choice of saying, "Hey, I'll take Metro* instead of a mileage check please," and they'll hook you up with a weekly transit pass--a whole week even if you only have to be there for a day or two. All of this is well and good as my job also paid me so it's like, "woo hoo, Bonus!" Then I looked at the check stub.

They paid mileage as if I went to the courthouse downtown, which I did on the first day. However, the jury jugglers then sent me off to East Bumblefark for the Mental Health Court. Downtown is close to Hollywood; East Bumblefark not so much. So my mileage should have been for 9 miles instead of 7 miles. Oh, Laura Chick, you rascally rabbit. You'll save money for this county anywhere you can. You thought no one would notice, huh. Well, you haven't met me.

Fine, keep that 68 cents and spend it on something worthwhile, like after school programs or summer recreation facilities for working families ala the city's Summer Night Lights program. More and more schools in LA are going traditional (versus year-round) and those kids will need something to do while Mom and Dad are working. Just remember, I'm watching you...


*For the record, I would have gladly given up my mileage for a transit pass but you have to decide when you're at the downtown courthouse and only after you've been seated on a panel (jury). Well, I didn't know where the Mental Health court was or whether or not the bus went out there until after I got home the first day. So there, Laura.

More examples of The Roy's twisted head

I have the Hangman app on my Google homepage. And, I mean, it's Hangman, not Scrabble. The words are supposed to be fairly easy, right? I was telling The Roy about it.

Me: the word I just got was "fiduciary."

I mean, really. Who's going to guess that?
Roy: ooh.. that's awesome

me: It was by sheer luck that I didn't hang the guy.

Roy: he he

phew

his lucky day

Can you imagine him later that night talking to his wife?

"Get this fucking word: fiduciary! I thought I was a goner!

Hell, I think she just got lucky, but I'll take it."

me: That job would suck.
Roy: seriously

or maybe it's a method of punishment/ entertainment in stick figure world
me: like Thunderdome.

me: I wanna know what freaking nerd put together my Hangman app.

I just got HYDRIDE.

Roy: he he he he

The most shocking offenders get the hardest words

Murderers, rapists, child molesters and by getting the words right, you're helping guilty stick-men walk free

me: damn.

I didn't mean it.
Roy: Letting them back on the sheets, where they can bend the rules

me: sheets?

Roy: existing between the lines

(2D humor)

I adore my nephew.

Where have all the good yarns gone?

I woke up Saturday ready to start come new projects so I headed out to Michael's in Burbank. Michael's yarn department sucks. I could not find all the colors I needed in the same brand of yarn. I was able to pick up yarn for one hat but I needed more. So I did it--I went to Unwind the day BEFORE the big sale. I was hard pressed to find what I needed there, too. Where is all the good yarn? Do I have to order online? If I weren't so afraid Jamie's wheels would pop off, I'd have gone to Santa Monica but alas, I did not.

Well, I'll start Anne's hat and shop elsewhere for yarn for Chris and Jackson's hats. Any suggestions?