I am getting the fairycakes/chris feel again. I know I'm getting my hopes up and am bound to be disappointed, but I can't help it. And I don't care. The feeling is grooooooovy. And maybe it will affect my appetite?

I want to rush home and check my email. Some part of me knows this is going to end quickly, and in crushing disappointment. Why does this always happen to me? The M-word hooks up with someone, has some emails, talks on the phone, has a date where the guy actually shows up and then he's totally in to her. What's wrong with me? Am I overeager? (yes) Should I drag the email on longer? I dunno, but when someone says we should meet for a drink I take that as an invitation. Am I wrong? Am I crazy? Am I obsessed? Do I want to go out with a hot dude named Daniel who can make conversation and is witty and personable? Do I know what a claymation star is? Is he really made of plasticine? Is his personality like a lump of clay, or is he malleable like a lump of clay? Enquiring minds want to know.

Fekola.

Were you scared away by my overeager offer of a drink? Did your agent suddenly call you up with a last-minute fill-in for Grommit? Is my obsession with chickens a turn-off? Did you realize I'm functionally blind without my glasses and don't want to go out with a disabled person (even if it means I get a handicapped sticker on my car)? Did I inadvertently mention I have two boys and you're worried they'll gang-r@pe your daughter while you're not watching? (hmmm… in a couple of years that might be a valid concern) Did your wife catch you surfing the dating sites again? Did skankygal123 email you with a picture of her assets?

I'm stockpiling chocolate for the crash.

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In unrelated news, the green sweater of doom is pretty much complete, I have sewed it all together, and while the arms are a little long and the body a bit big, I quite like it. I am going to have to rig up some alternate fastening system so it doesn't droop and drag at the front. Maybe one of those old-fashioned hooks for fastening your pants on the inside, and on the outside a cute button or something. I dunno, I think it might just look like a sack on me.

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Also - I finally realized it was me that bust my brand new machine. While in conversation with the woman who sold it to me, hurling accusations about how it were not workin right, it occurred to me that in the initial set up, where I dropped the carriage backwards off the bed, I might have bent the effing bed myself! I fessed up immediately and the woman was very gracious about my rash accusations (we do have a relationship as she shed tears on me about her newly dead mother as I was buying it) and thanked me for admitting my mistake. I think religion might actually bring out the best in some people. She's a bible basher, not me, in case you inadvertently stumbled upon my crazy ramblings and think it might be me. The point being, if it were me that broke it, I bet I can fix it!

Picture? I ain't got no freakin' pictures. You got the gabbagoo?