Good, Bad & Ugly
Oy! It has been quite the week, at Chez Boy- & Girl-O. A little bit up, a little bit down, and more than a little bit absurd...
As proof, and for those of you who come for the knitting, I present the Good:
The finished back of the Marshall sweater. There has been precious little progress this week, but I've got the day off today and will soon be rectifying that situation. Still confident that it'll be done before the Olympics begin.
Lest you think this lovely example of complex knitting establish my prowess as a proper adult member of civilized society, I present to you The Bad:
Yes, friends, at not quite 7 am on a Thursday morning, I managed to cut off my own d@mned eyebrow with my honey's razor. Don't ask.
I am considering it an homage to my beloved brother.*
And for those kind souls still tuned into the the freakshow that is Cher's week, I offer you The Ugly (blurred for your own protection):
Ladies and gentlemen, at darned near 33 years of age, I have a constellation of pimples sprawling across the universe of my chin. And not just any pimples: these batards (Pardon my french, aha) are so incredibly huge and swollen that my entire head hurts when I bend down.
Ye gods. Any pimple removal tips will be gratefully accepted.
Y'all will have to excuse me now: I'm going to go soak my face in something with tea tree, have a soothing beverage and a relaxing Sunday morning with my honeybun. He'll make the breakfast, I'll do the knitting, and we'll listen to public radio with the beasties at our feet.
(Okay, more like he'll go buy the breakfast -- a girl needs her soy latte, you know! -- and the knitting/radio listening will be interrupted by beasties trying to leap into our laps, but hey: the general feeling is about the same.)
* Antwyon, as I may have mentioned, was my hero and could pretty much talk me into anything. He was also pretty willing to try anything, and having seen my mother do it countless times, was confident in his skills. Thus at the age of six, I let him arch my eyebrows - with a razor blade.
(Even now, it gives me the shivers.) Mom was Not Amused.
As proof, and for those of you who come for the knitting, I present the Good:
The finished back of the Marshall sweater. There has been precious little progress this week, but I've got the day off today and will soon be rectifying that situation. Still confident that it'll be done before the Olympics begin.
Lest you think this lovely example of complex knitting establish my prowess as a proper adult member of civilized society, I present to you The Bad:
Yes, friends, at not quite 7 am on a Thursday morning, I managed to cut off my own d@mned eyebrow with my honey's razor. Don't ask.
I am considering it an homage to my beloved brother.*
And for those kind souls still tuned into the the freakshow that is Cher's week, I offer you The Ugly (blurred for your own protection):
Ladies and gentlemen, at darned near 33 years of age, I have a constellation of pimples sprawling across the universe of my chin. And not just any pimples: these batards (Pardon my french, aha) are so incredibly huge and swollen that my entire head hurts when I bend down.
Ye gods. Any pimple removal tips will be gratefully accepted.
Y'all will have to excuse me now: I'm going to go soak my face in something with tea tree, have a soothing beverage and a relaxing Sunday morning with my honeybun. He'll make the breakfast, I'll do the knitting, and we'll listen to public radio with the beasties at our feet.
(Okay, more like he'll go buy the breakfast -- a girl needs her soy latte, you know! -- and the knitting/radio listening will be interrupted by beasties trying to leap into our laps, but hey: the general feeling is about the same.)
* Antwyon, as I may have mentioned, was my hero and could pretty much talk me into anything. He was also pretty willing to try anything, and having seen my mother do it countless times, was confident in his skills. Thus at the age of six, I let him arch my eyebrows - with a razor blade.
(Even now, it gives me the shivers.) Mom was Not Amused.
posted by Cher at
9:20 AM
2 Comments:
you can shoot the pimples :)
By
Nik, at 10:51 AM
The seater is looking good. Are you about done in time for the Olympics?
Doesn't it amaze you that as we get older, you start to break out in acne? Talk about late bloomers! I thought that stuff was ovah!
By
WandaWoman, at 7:53 PM
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