Oh yeah, snot. (Re-read = SNOW.) Stow is awesome and not to be argued with. Me lovey snow. Blah, blah-blah, blay, me might be drunk. Spelling errors are part of the price you pay for PURE AMUSEMENT, BAYBEE.
I love snow. I had no idea of it's powers before I moved below the Mason-Dixon line. Really, it's all-powerful and magnificent and all cars with-or-without four-wheel-drive should bow down to it. Especially those with - those fuckers really need to know how to bow down. (If they know what's good for them.) Seriously, though, I bit down on my.. mouth-piece-like rubber-grippy.. full of fiance and bore my way through the past year, all the while thinking, "Only one more year.. only one more month, only six more months, only two more months, only until we both have jobs and save adequate amounts of money to move.. etc, etc, etc.." all last winter long, withstanding at the worst several half-hearted flurries. Then, out of the clear blue sky, we get a snow that not only lasts the morning, it stays long enough to make me suspect I might just have to scrape my windshield in the morning before work! Glory be! I am in hog heaven!
I love snow. I never knew how much my life was defined by the cycles of snow until I moved to the Ozarks (Where snow only comes 3 times a year! And melts within fifteen minutes! Of falling!). I always thought I was one of those fine people who decided early on that they were destined for higher things, better horizons, places without snow. And yet I wake up upon a snot(w)-fall and burst into tears at the beauty and tranquility of it all. I never claimed to be a strong person, people. It was all implied. Sorry for the deception.
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I've accepted and embraced the fact that I will never be the type of blogger who writes about one thing per post and then gets >100 comments on how articulate she is about that one topic. I've embraced it, actually. But! It still eats at me.. perhaps I was not meant for writing! Whatever will I do with my life then? Probably, I'll just sit around and eat things and ponder how useless I am, like usual. Don't you hate it when bloggers do that? Whine about how useless their blogging is, and how their lives should have some grand purpose that they're clearly not fulfilling by being a blogger? And how they can't string two words together, especially when you've read their blogs a lot, and seen them string many, many words together without issue? Me too! I hate those whiney bloggers, too! How annoying I'm being!
In other news, I turned on my Yahoo! Messenger! tonight, and just managed to catch one of my exes online. I have a teensy feeling he has been avoiding me. Or it might just be the two (2, count them, TWO.. ONE.. TWO) children he's created since he last talked with me. Which, I might be hesitant to add, were I not completely ignorant of his need for privacy, is TWO MORE than when I last spoke with him. Three years ago, people. By Jesus, that's some potent mother-fucking sperm. (On a very UnCatholic note, Thank JEEBUS we (despite using the
Old Trusty Method of birth control, were not "blessed" with children. Among other things, I don't want the father of my children to be braindead by pot by the time he's eighteen. He did look like a hockey player, though, and that's a definate plus.
Or it was, when I was twenty-two.
My more important ex, the one who was with me for three years (no illegitamate children, might I add) is engaged (or married, who can keep track?). My exes have been Getting It On, people. And you know what? Surprisingly, although I have been notorious for my insane jealousy about my exes to date, I am feeling positively awash in warm, fuzzy glows for them. They are amazing, awesome people, and they totally deserve to have two children/be engaged(married), respectively.
Mike Price is another story, and one that deserves more time than this drunken attention-span will allow.
Perhaps if I get enough comments, and perhaps if they are good, post-encompassing comments, I might be persuaded to post all about FUCKING MIKE when the time allows? Probably, as I am a comment-whore. But let me know you want it, people. It's the only way I can get it done.
I Love You All, Because I Am Drunk.
1. Insert Stick. Yarn in front of work.
2. Bring yarn under and around the stick, back to front.
3. Push yarn through stitch on left stick. Much the same way you do a knit stitch. Only you're pushing instead of pulling through.
4. Pull the stitch off the left stick. That's a purl! 
1. Insert Stick. Yarn in front of work.
2. Bring yarn under and around the stick, back to front.
3. Push yarn through stitch on left stick. Much the same way you do a knit stitch. Only you're pushing instead of pulling through.
4. Pull the stitch off the left stick. That's a purl! 
