Saturday, 6 December 2008

To my boyfriend (bf)* last night:

Me: The cat needs to die.
BF: Why?
Me: It's good character development. And it's a plot device.
BF: Okay.

[A bit later]
Me: What's it like to run over a small animal?
BF: You've never run over something?
me: No. Maybe that means I'm a good driver.
BF: Maybe that means you're a Yankee.

[even later]
Me: What do bones look like when they're sticking out of a body? I assume they only look white when they're bleached dry.
BF: They look like bad teeth.
Me: ?
BF: You know, yellowy.
Me: Ah.

Me: The cat still needs to die.
BF: She's pulling into the driveway. I don't think it's plausible that the cat gets run over when she's pulling into the driveway.
me: Then how can it die?
BF: Poison?
Me: *Mutters* Wouldn't that get into her milk and kill the kittens? The kittens need to live.

[five minutes later]
BF: I know! The cat has rabies and she has to kill it with a machete!
Me: Would she have that in her garage?
BF: Maybe it could be an axe.

*giggles* Maybe I'm the only one that finds these snippets of conversation amusing.

In other news, I knit two socks out of Noro yarn, and they came out looking completely different. So I'm having to knit two more socks, hoping I'll come out with near matches. Not that I'm complaining.

It's getting into finals, and I'm really busy, hence the lack of writing. There's lots of things I could tell you about... like the not-quite-masks I'm making for sculpture class, but I don't have the time right now.

BTW, if anyone out there has scraps of novelty yarn they don't want to use, I'd love to have them sent to me. I could really use them.

I'm running a fever, and my joints ache.

*My boyfriend, is also known as Southern Gentleman (SG) on previous blogs, and perhaps previous blog posts. I waver between the two nicknames for him. He's really sweet and I'm terribly in love with him. He has a slight (or more than slight) bias against Yankees (he's mostly joking) but makes an exception for me. And you want an example of how great he his? He winds center-pull balls of yarn for me.


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