Today is our one-year anniversary. It's hard to believe that just one year ago we were standing in an industrial strip mall wedding chapel in Las Vegas getting married by some crazy Spanish priest, with a giant billboard of Danny Gans overlooking us.  But it's true! I guess they thought that since we were from Florida, we must be Cuban or Catholic. And Danny - well, he was just our guardian angel.

Jon, I would marry you all over again, in the same place, with that same wacky padre presiding. Because that's what I wanted to do (elope, I mean), and you were cool with it.

Honey, I love you so much, sometimes I can't really tell you our show you adequately. I thank God for the day I found you. Or should I say the day I walked past you in that club, hoping you'd look at my ass so you'd talk to me on my long walk back from the bathroom. Psych! It worked.

Thank you for putting up with all my bullshit. And there's A LOT. For dealing with the growing yarn collection. For being my coffee bitch (you so are!). For listening to my collection of Law and Order theme songs (It's the REMIX!). For all our stupid in jokes. For letting Joel McHale touch me. Get some!

But in all seriousness, because I CAN be serious:

Jon, you are The World, My Everything, a Sonnet. Those aren't just songs. But they are songs I think about you when I listen to.

You make me a better person just by loving me. I treasure you so much.

All my love,

Your bunny

First, this baby sweater from Plymouth Cotton Kisses. I got the yarn at TNNA and decided to do a store sample when we ordered it. This is officially my first and last baby sweater. I don't knit for baby - unless I need some cash!

(Yes, the bunnies are mine. I collect them.)

After the hats were done, I picked up Orchis, from Louisa Harding's Gathering Roses book. I don't usually knit on big needles, but fell in love with the color. I really need to step away from the pinks, but find I can't contain myself.

There you go: proof I still knit. 

It's been a hell of a wacky week, bookended by food poisoning and almost getting a ticket for reckless driving (I got out of by crying copiously and saying I had only left the house to buy some Pepto - it's true!) and attending a surprise birthday party for my boss. During which the lucky attendees who stayed late got to witness me singing a little ditty by these chaps at the karaoke after-party:

I was happy to rescue the assembled few from the purveyors of bad singing. Although I what I did was merely scream in tune, at least I was in tune. Yes, ya' heard.

Finally, the cat says "hi."

That's his "I can howl Bon Scott lyrics better than you" look. 

As if.

This Halloween, I am going as a Disgruntled Worker. Wait - I go as that EVERY YEAR!

Why can't New Jack Swing Make a comeback? I miss it so...

There's a new Web site that shows music videos! Seriously! Type in any artist, and see what you can find.Here'soneofmyfavorites.

I'd like to get him in my pickup truck. I do love me some Johnny D.

Later, peeps!

Even so, I'm going to buy the new masterpiece edition of Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty tomorrow.

Lord help me, I flove this movie. I do not like all of Disney's films, some are, let's face it, a bit puerile. But if you catch me in a drunken stupor, and mayhap one day you will, you might just hear me go on and on about the mastery of the color palette in this film. The popping, Pucci-esque brights. The sharp relief of the lines. The almost Turkish look to some of the outlines on the buildings.

And then there's HER.

I used to work with someone who, though I had no personal enmity toward, I would always say reminded me of a Disney villainess. I of course meant the magnificent Malificent. For there can be no other, unless we include the ever-so-Divine Urusla from The Little Mermaid.

Ya heard.

I can't wait to pop this puppy into my DVD player, turn on the surround sound and be overcome by the colors and mood. Oh, the Tchaikowvky music! I swoon as I sing along!

Okay, drunken rant over. Hop over to my FAVORITE online critical magazine, Slant, and read my favorite critic, Ed Gonzalez's take on this overlooked masterpiece.

I may finish knitting a jacket this weekend, so the knitting content will return when I see fit.

For now, I will return to the 13th Annual Drunken Barndance that is my patio on a Friday night, when the drunken A-holes come to force their douchery on my tiny slice of the world by getting wasted at the heinous Oakwood Grill.

Is it any wonder I want to fantasy in my life?

Here's a secret: we put very little money into the enterprise. That yielded better results! I think our display was awesome, considering it involved an old bedspread, my mother's tablecloth and two baskets I borrowed:

 Here's what you can't see: to the left of my hats, Marce brought in her laptop and a monitor, and had a slideshow of our stuff running. It created a lot of interest, and was better than any sign we could have bought! She's a genius.

Here are some lovely ladies modeling our gear. Both bought, so I don't know who you are, but I love ya!

 If you'd like to see a slideshow from the show (including one of our hats and neckpieces being modeled), check out this link. 

And for a local tv news report, try here.

I think you'll agree, I needed a few more tattoos to properly fit in! But in all seriousness, ever vendor was awesome (one even made brownies for everyone), and all the attendees were great. Even the old lady who tried one of my hats on about 200 times and still couldn't decide to buy. I still like her, too.

And before I head out the door here, since I've been trapped in a rainstorm and involved in completely cleaning out bunch of old crap from my apartment in a weird White Tornado event in the past two days, here is a picture of my and Joel McHale from E!'s The Soup taken at his show on Sunday night. I look like ass, but Joel is one sweet tall glass of iced tea!

I'd ditch the fugly gladiator sandal and opt for a sky-high green pump, but hey, three cheers for curves, be they real or not. Christina, you play one of my least favorite female characters on Mad Men (hell, I only love Peggy!) but I salute you.

Now if I could just get Kenley kicked off Project Runway...

Here are a few more:

The pink one is cashmere. The green one is Noro. This next one is just a one-off, but I like to call it "The Mary Kate." I think you'll see why...

So there you have it. That's enough hats for now. In fact, that's what I say every night when I go to bed.

I have no other life to speak of, but I will say, I was depressed and just GUTTED when my husband called me to give me some sad sports news this week.

No, it's not about The Braves. I know their season is in the gutter! Alas, my beloved Canadian figure skating champion Jeffery Buttle is hanging  up his skates. Retiring. Going out on top.

Do I still want to go to Vancouver in 2010? Sigh. I don't know. This changes EVERYTHING. 

Oh well. Life goes on. Here's one of my favorite programs of Jeff's. Nothing like a little Brubeck.

And finally, here's a shot of how things go around here in bed.

Please get your minds out of the gutter.

It's almost time. On October 4th, Marce and I will be selling our wares at the second annual Rock the Stitch craft show. Yes, I drew the logo above on a cocktail napkin. Marce has kindly provided a Flickr slideshow of both our creations here. But here's a taste of my contributions:

There you go. Just a few of my selections. I admit, I'm a little behind. I have exactly four weeks to crank out more (I'm aiming for at least ten more in addition to the 20 I have done). I will not be doing any knitting but hats till then.

And really, besides the fact that I feel like I'm back in college and have been procrastinating on my midterm paper until the night before it's due, it will be easy. Because I have no desire to knit for myself right now. I've put on 10 pounds that MUST come off before I do. And I'm kind of not feeling the knitting mojo right not. In fact, when that ten pounds come off, I'd rather crochet. So there.

I spent the last week thinking I'd knit a top-down raglan sweater, conveniently forgetting I HATE TOP-DOWN RAGLAN SWEATERS. They fit me like ass, take FOREVER, and just look messy. GIVE ME A FUCKING SEAMED SWEATER WITH SET IN SLEEVES!!

Yes, ya heard.

My long weekend ended poorly today, with an allergy attack for the ages. Thank Jesus I go to the doctor tomorrow. But Friday night, Jon and I went to Miami Beach to see HIS favorite band, My Morning Jacket. I'm not a big fan, but it's always good to support your man, since they will return the favor. And he did.

Last night, Jon took me too see THIS:

Yes, we went to this really odd "Regeneration Tour" 80's revival thing, but I only went for one reason - to witness the power and glory that is ABC and Mr. Martin Fry (oh alright - I kind of wanted to see Naked Eyes, too. I love that album, so suck it!).

I think The Lexicon of Love is one of THE BEST pop albums of all time, and to see the divine Mr. Fry rock it out in a tangerine orange silk suit (double-vented in the back!) with polished oxblood wingtips — all six foot four of him — was an honour and a privilege. His voice sounds FANTASTIC, and he still hits the high notes. A ten-song set, all the hits (there were more than one!) and my favorite ballad, "All of My Heart." Le sigh...

I'm a very happy, if very sick girl. And our friend Rich, who went with us, even saw the man himself walking on the street. Thank God I wasn't with him, or I might have made a slobbering fool of myself.

Okay - I'm outta here - due to the slowness of my computer, it's taken me over an hour to post this entry. Where I come from, that just ain't right!

BRONZE: Congrats to Matt Mitchum on the gold in Men's 10 meter platform diving. Awesome diving, and way to break up the Chinese sweep! Laws, but it was getting BORING. Congrats, too, on being the only openly gay athlete at these games. That takes a lot of courage, and I applaud people who are comfortable in their own skin. Boo to NBC for not even mentioning this - and on most of their commentating in general. It took a lot of guts for this young man to come out, and he is one of the big upset stories of the games. Couldn't Nancy Grace-soundalike Cynthia Potter even MENTION it?

SILVER: Somewhere, Guy Ritchie is forgetting about what a royal pain in the arse Madonna is, and calling gold medal-winning U.K boxer James Degale on the phone to get him in his next movie. Sadly, I can't find a link to the NBC post-match interview where James kept repeating "The geeezer bit me!" but this will have to do. Oh, and a big "I think I love you" to boxing commentator Teddy Atlas, who gave us such bon mots as "This Mongolian boxer, his mother used to put him in dresses - so that either makes you run fast, or box." All in his inimitable Sopranos accent. It's like having Paulie Walnuts call the fights!

GOLD: Sally McLellan of Australia may have won the Silver in the 110 meter hurdles, but frankly, in the interview linked (click on the pink), she wins GOLD. Sometimes, when you come in second, you really win. Whatever she's on, I want some. I could watch this thing again and again. Especially the "SHIT!" part.

So that's it for the Olympics - also thanks to Ato Bolden for the only other good commentating at track and field. NBC blows such chunks in Olympics coverage, poor Jim McKay is tossing in his grave at night, knowing ABC can do it better. And DID.

I'm sad there was no "Ode to Joy" montage at the end either - I love it when they do that, it really gets me crying and puddling up.

So what's next? Vancouver, baybee. I'm sure now more than ever that my husband and I are GOING. I don't want the world to end without having seen the Winter Olympics, live. Jeffrey Buttle for gold, YA HEARD!

Off I go to save my pennies. What's the Canadian exhange rate??

BUT. At last, a burning question has been answered. As I watched young Master Phelps swim his way to history last week, one thing kept disturbing me.

His mom's wardrobe! What in the world was Debbie Phelps wearing? She looked like a true Boca Babe, as if she had raided the entire clothing racks of every Anthony's and Beall's Outlet from here to Orlando. What gives?

And now, I know. CHICO'S, I blame you. You outfitted the poor woman!

This colorful jacket was particularly egregious, by my favorite is not for viewing - it featured the black leopard spots with roses overlaid on top. Sweeetttt....

So thanks, CHICO'S, for the Debbie Phelps Collection. Yes, that's what it's called. Buy yours now! (and yes, CHICO'S is a Florida company).

Laws, I'm running LATE. In other news, my two favorite Olympians' names so far are U.S. hurdler Lolo Jones and Canadian diver Alexandre Despatie. I think they should get married and she would be Lolo Despatie. It just rolls off the tongue!

I have been running around the house screaming "Lolo" and "Despatie" until Jon can't take it anymore and tickles me.

So this is what the Olymics are like for us.