web-goddess

“Psycho Killer Raccoons Terrorize Olympia.” Now THAT is a headline, people! You know, I really don’t miss raccoons. Squirrels, yes. Raccoons, no.

Mmm, bacon wallet. (Note to self: Possible Snookums Christmas present!)

Ranch Dressing: Why Do Americans Love It So Much? Great article, though it leaves out one important milestone in the growth of Ranch Dressing Popularity: The fateful day Kelly McMahon asked the Chili’s waitress for a cup of ranch to dip her tortilla chips in.

I was reading AskMetaFilter yesterday when I came across this comment, which mentioned that the commenter had been stalked at work for years. He pointed to a webpage he’d made about the alleged stalker. Whoa! My attention was snared by the intrigue and scandal of drama amongst the weirdy-beardy anti-censorship geek crowd. It’s fascinating. From there I followed a link to the alleged stalker’s site, where I was surprised to see him asking where all the traffic was coming from. So I told him. I have to say though, part of me was wary of saying anything for fear I’d start being harassed too! (Hence my careful insistence on the use of the word “alleged” in this post.)

Sock Wars. Ohhhh, I just may have to do this! It’s the game of Assassin with a twist: instead of shooting your target with a water pistol, you have to knit them a pair of socks. How cool is that? Anybody else (Miss Fee? M-H?) want to join in? (Link courtesy of crumpet.)

Snookums is puzzled by the Wikipedia article on “pizza”, specifically this bit:

“In Indiana, they recently introduced the ‘ranch style’ variety which has had fantastic success with its inhabitants, especially amongst the South. The ranch is dipped or drizzled on pepperoni pizza.”

Who in the what now? I can easily believe that there are people who put ranch dressing on everything. (Hello, Kelly McMahon!) But this makes it sound like some sort of official thing that’s happening everywhere. Is this for real? Spill it, Hoosiers.

Paging Mr. Kyder, Mr. Al Kyder… HA! Yeah, pretty juvenile humor I’ll admit, but there is a point to it. I was astounded when we flew to Melbourne last month and I never had my ID checked once. I assumed somebody would at least check my driver’s license at the gate to make sure I was the ticketed passenger, but they never did.

While I think it’s a shame that Latvian knitters are being asked to refrain from using traditional design motifs, I can see where swastika mittens might be interpreted wrong.

I hate Mondays.
Customer: “I’d like to exchange these knitting needles. They’re too big.”
Me: “I’m sorry; we can’t exchange needles if you’ve used them.”
Customer: “I haven’t used them.”
Me: “Then how do you know they’re too big?”
Customer: “Well, I knitted a tension swatch.”
Me: “Yeah. I can’t exchange them once you’ve used them.”

Sometimes it’s like I’m speaking a foreign language.

Knitting, knitting, knitting… This damn cabled jacket keeps trying to thwart me with miscrossed cables and extra rows, but I will not be denied. I just keep froggin’ ‘er back and bangin’ my head against the brick wall. This project has brought out a stubborn perfectionist streak that I didn’t think i had anymore. It’s become my Everest, and I’ll finish it or perish in the attempt. I’m literally at the last five rows of the body though, so what else can go wrong? (The house will probably burn down tomorrow.)