And the Monster Appeareth

I am SO lucky I married a patient man - one with sisters, and thusly with experience in the areas of raging hormones. Because my hormones, and me right along with them, they rage.

This weekend was a doozy, as far as the raging. Remember my statement about being possessed? This time, not by crafty urges, but by all the emotions of a recently caught wildebeest being auctioned off for use as farm labor. I was angry, I was worried, I was angry, I was hurt, but really mostly full of rage(ing hormones).

And Jesse put up with it. He was even nice to me, which is remarkable - especially because I was so ingracious and full of rage at his being nice to me. "You want to take me to my favorite coffee place (inflection of anger - imagine the tone of voice as 'you want me to cut off my own chin with an oatmeal spoon?')? FINE!" And so he did. And it was closed, which was like a gentle slap in the face to remind that he still tried to make me happy, even though it was fail. We wandered around the very interesting 4th street area, chock full of shops of oddness and quirk, which I was too cranky to go in - but he took me anyway, even though he would MUCH rather have been home dominating the world on his laptop.

In repayment, I continued to rage. Until yesterday morning, at which point all my rage dissipated like someone reached in and massaged it out of the knot in my gut, or pushed it down to my belly so that it could transform itself into muscle cramps. Better cramps than useless rage and anxiety, I always say.

He also made corned beef and cabbage. Which I don't really like, but MAN, that is a lot of effort for a fatty lump of flesh. I appreciate the effort of that particular dish - especially because I will prolly never make it. Because I love my husband.

I Can't Believe it's not Gutter

Our company Christmas party is coming up in a few weeks, and we have to start assembling bowling teams. I of course, want a clever name and chill people - mad skillz do not matter, because our team will pretty much automatically lose because I'm on the team. So chill people are, of course, imperative. Anyone with over an ounce of competitive spirit would see me as a liability and as the obstacle to the WIN. Which is true.

It seems like the team will be very diverse... myself, a tall strapping young black dude, a philippina hippie, a mexican guy, and a 45-year-old version of myself if I were to become an executive, thus far. We need at least 6 people... who knows what the last few will be like.

It's going to prove difficult to find a name that will please all folks involved. I really like the title name, or Gutter Humiliation... the latter would mean we would have to actually WIN though, and that is unlikely. The strapping young man keeps thinking of fairly unoriginal names, and I am saddened. I do not want to be on The Alley Cats, because then I would already be a loser without even picking up a bowling ball.

This looks to be entertaining. I will keep you posted. Obviously.

In This Aspect, I am Like a Dude

Or, like my Dad.

Just under a week ago, I invested my $6.97 in the low-model, wire and discard wood wire loom and have since been looming like a woman possessed. Well, not so much like a woman possessed - I AM the woman possessed.

And now my low-end, late 90's Saturn of built-for-kids! bead loom is not enough. Who can be limited to 33 rows!? NO! Currently, the correct answer to that question is: You are, Jenny. You are. I want bigger, better, more rows wide and much longer. You can't bead POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS in a 6" space. I need the Mazerati of bead looms. Though, that's not entirely true. I think I would want it and then become overwhelmed. I want the Mercedes of bead looms, only not in that ultimately boring, specially Mercedes shade of pasty beigepink.

I can't justify this purchase yet - we have NO DOLLARS, and I just bought the starter model. I feel like more than a week is warranted before I spend $50.00 on a souped up double-wide.

AND. Christmas is coming.

I don't know if I can wait that long.

Hours at work: 7.75. Hours of work done: 1.25

It's come to the point where I want to saw off my chin with my oatmeal spoon. I have never felt BAD about getting paid, but srsly. I've been sitting at my cubicle for many hours, and I have yet to have something assigned to me that I can't finish in 10 minutes. Not to say I'll ALWAYS be so damned efficient, but I just get so excited to have something to do that I pounce all over like a cat to the 'nip. Note: I don't rub my face in my work and act high. I wait until I get home and do that to my making-stuff supplies.

I cross-referenced THREAD today. That's what I'm down to. Though, I did get assigned more future responsibilities, should the future ever arrive. I've already prepared myself for these future assignments by making spreadsheets that will assist me in organizing my future responsibilities. I'm sure that in 3 weeks, I'll look at this post and want to spit in my own hair. Until that point, let the chin-sawing begin.

**Though. I do get to daydream a lot, and I've been daydreaming about beads and things I can do with beads. I dream of beads. I think of beads when Jesse's trying to get frisky, until I have to remind myself that beads do not relate to sex. I'm thinking of setting up shop on Etsy, but I need to look into it a little bit more first. Maybe I'll do that looking tonight when I get home. Or tomorrow when I still have nothing to do during the day.

I Promise Someday I'll Make Something More Elegant

But right now I'm making Pac-Man bracelets.

What Happens when Nerds and Crafts Merge

I spent my last night and during-Jesse-making-dinner hours crafting - I believe I've mentioned how the crafting bug has recently bitten again, and I just feel the urge to sit really hunched over with tiny things in my hands. I was so bitten, I actually drove to the store after I got off work to get the tool I needed, instead of waiting 1 more day to go there and not have to contend with idiot drivers during rush-hour traffic on the poorly regulated stop-light roads of Lakewood. You have no idea how hardcore that is, unless of course you drive in Lakewood at 6:00 on a Thursday fairly often.

I was smitten with a blurb from CRAFT magazine that showed this blogger who cross-stitches old pixelated video-game sprites, because pixels are square and cross-stitches are square - easy things to combing. My thoughts were well... beads are almost square, and certainly can look like pixels. So I downloaded the patterns and sprites for unknown hundreds of old video game characters, a few of which I have never even heard of, and nearly all of which I have never played or even seen first-hand. But I'm friends with geeks, and they'll know. I've even gotten some suggestions for things I never ever would have heard of, like "A Boy and His Blob." Would have slipped straight through the cracks - it still might, because the only pictures out there are very tiny and unsuitable for stealing and converting to glass.

I also happened upon a website for peeps who make leather jewelry from low-res pictures of actual jewelry. So Cool!

Anyway, the fruits of my experimental labor Note how lumpy the generic craft-store beads for untalented children are yielded the following:


Do not ask what I am going to do with a square piece of Megaman. I do not know.