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Knitted, felted olives. Those are adorable.

McDonald’s Pizza. I think that’s the best Frankenstein food I’ve seen yet! And yeah, I’d probably eat it. You would too.

What I will NOT be doing tomorrow: making homemade candy corn. That’s nuts! I’d sooner make homemade Peeps (and you know how I feel about those).

Wake Up Cat. Hahahahaha… This is exactly what Dr. Amy does in the morning. Actually she’s added something new to her repertoire as well: she tries to eat my bedside lamp. I don’t understand it. The Snook has the exact same lamp on his night table, except his is black and mine is blue. She apparently only likes the blue ones. So she sits there next to my head chewing on my lamp until I get up and toss her to the floor. Stupid cat.

Apparently my Grumpy-Old-Womanness does have its limits. I was serving a real G.O.W. in the shop this morning when, apropos of nothing, she decided to share some outrage with me.

Me: Just the single skein? That’ll be $1.20, thanks.
Old Lady: I was just walking up York Street, in front of the Grace Hotel, and I passed a man and a woman walking. And he was very tall, and she was very small. And he had his hand RIGHT DOWN HER BACKSIDE! Right down there! I couldn’t believe it!
Me: (just holding my hand out for the money)
Her: So I slapped him on the wrist! I told him that his behaviour was DISGUSTING, and that he should get a room, and how would he like it if that was his daughter, and someone was FIDDLING WITH HER PRIVATE PARTS in public? Don’t you think that’s appalling?
Me: Well… I can think of worse things. I mean, I find spitting or littering in public really annoying because they directly affect me… but two people who are in love…
Her: HE WAS FIDDLING WITH HER PRIVATE PARTS.
Me: I get that, and I’d probably go home that day and say, “You wouldn’t believe what I saw this morning,” but I don’t think it’s the worst thing.
Her: Well, I’m AUSTRALIAN, and I was raised with–
Me: I’m Australian.
Her: (confused) But–
Me: I’m Australian.
Her: You sound like you’re from North America.
Me: I’m AUSTRALIAN, with an Australian passport.
Her: Okay, fine, you’re Australian. I just mean that I was raised here, and I was taught that certain behaviour is wrong.
Me: I was raised in the Bible belt, and I was taught to mind my own business.

She got me outraged all right, but not in the way she expected! I mean, I can think of lots of stuff I find more objectionable than PDA. Smokers. Public urination. Golf umbrellas. The existence of leggings with zips. Two consenting adults making out on the street is pretty low on my list of triggers.

The TV gods have finally come up with a way to get me to watch Grey’s Anatomy: They’re putting Pacey on it. DUDE, I’M THERE. (Link courtesy of Jenny.)