For jenifleur, it’s her heart’s desire. A Super Star Barbie, complete with stage set! She can control Barbie’s Super Diva hissy fits by remote control – now with vase-throwing action! Articulated wrist lets Barbie toss back cocktails, pop pills and gesticulate wildly at Ken’s ridiculous assertions that maybe she has a problem.

And once she gets out of rehab, Barbie can get a nice, normal, regular job selling airline tickets. How sad for Barbie. One minute, she’s on top of the world, and the next thing you know, the producers of the Surreal Life won’t even return her calls.

For Melissa (who’s blogname I don’t know because Blogger won’t tell me) and Dani, we’ve got some Barbie Fashion Plates. It’s like a year’s worth of Museum of Kitschy Stitches entries in one box! Fantastic! I always wanted these, too, but never got them. I spent a lot of time that year making impressions of coins and stuff with the tin-foil wrapping of my Ring Dings. ~sigh~

Could it be possible that Imbrium’s mother read the Sears catalog to her in utero? That’s where she was in 1978, and yet she yearned for a little robot friend named Alphie in the 80’s. It’s not entirely impossible that Alphie has been transmitting messages to her since before she was even born. Imbrium, do you feel unnatural urges to do simple math and sing the same five songs over and over for no reason?

Stephanie, please accept out apologies, you’re going to have to go commando. Sears had no Underoos to offer, but I agree, they did look “Fun to Wear!” Being naked under your clothes is fun, too. But now you can stretch to your heart’s content with Stretch Armstrong and his new “companion”, the Stretch Serpent. He appears to be a product of the unholy union between a Sleestack and a bookworm who’s been reading too much in the dark, but he and Stretch are in love and that’s all that matters.

Eerrrrm, here Marlena, it’s the Barbie Dream House you wanted! And look, there’s a car and a boat and some cool disco clothes! Enjoy, I gotta go! What’s that? It says her name is Tuesday Taylor? No, I think that’s just a typo, it’s Barbie. Huh? No, really, I think they just spelled it in French or something. She’s the same doll. Stop crying, Marlena, she’s just as good. Look, she’s even two-timing with Ken! Don’t pout, your face will freeze that way and then you’ll be sorry.

Here you go, Dani. Mousetrap. I think it’s great that you never actually had this game. You still have fond memories of its potential to actually be fun. If you had gotten it, you’d be just as disillusioned as the rest of us. By the time you unpack the whole thing and figure out how to play, you’ll have already lost at least two of the pieces, the marble will have rolled away and the cat will have taken off with the rubber band. But it’s ok, you would have never figured out just what the hell that rubber band was for anyway. I recommend just keeping your fantasies intact and never open the box.

Amy! Here is your very own set of twin Babies Alive! Can you believe that wacky mix-up at the fertility clinic?! Batteries still aren’t included, but just pillage them from every remote control and flashlight in the house, it’ll be fine. Word to the wise, hide Baby Alive’s food from your brother. If he’s anything like mine, he will eat it all before realizing that it doesn’t actually taste good and in fact, isn’t even really edible. He’ll get sick and it’ll be sort of funny for a while, but then you’ll have to find something else for Baby Alive to eat and you’ll resort to real food, which will eventually go bad and Baby Alive will then start to rot from the inside. Trust me, it ends badly for everyone involved. Boys ruin everything.

DebR, is there any possibility you could get some kind of body reduction surgery to get you to 1/8 scale? Because this is the best that Sears could do . . .

Your future is here, Beth. Quit your job and get started on your new career with this set of make-up heads, just for you! The first one has bendable hair that really holds a curl! The second one is the beautiful and talented Farrah Faucet! I mean, it’s actually Farrah Faucet. She really needed the work and agreed to sit still for as long as she could. Just be careful when you’re doing her lipstick, she gets a little twitchy and has a tendency to bite.

Hey itgirl, next time someone tells you to sit and spin, tell them you’ll be glad too! Just make sure you have a bucket or something.

Easy Bake Oven anyone? Oh, EVERYone wants one! Well, tough luck. You’re all getting the knock-off version. Sure, you’re still cooking with a light bulb, but what fun is a toy called the “Fun Time Oven”? Sounds a little suspicious to me. I mean, if it was so fun, they wouldn’t have to put it in the name, am I right? But we’ll throw in a snow cone machine (sorry, not the Snoopy Snow Cone machine, just the plain boring snowman one) and a Micky Mouse gumball bank. Find your own damned pennies, kid.

Ooh, look what we have here! Matchbox cars for Elisa! It’s time for you to be spoiled rotten, just like your cousins. And if it makes you feel better, I hear those Star Wars PJs are really itchy.

Melanie, like I said, word on the street is that those pajamas will put ants in your pants. Santa wanted you to have one of these instead. He said something about wanting to see you try to get up and out of it once you’d been sitting there for a while.

And for everyone else who missed out on the toys from 1978, here are some of my personal favorites:

This is a puppet that you can disguise. I always wanted one. My cousin had one and it scared the crap out of me. I still wanted one. Any toy that comes with a prosthetic nose and a kid-sized cigar is mighty fine by me.

The Fisher Price Farmhouse is a classic. It was everywhere and everyone had one. I am still convinced to this day that the noise at the beginning of Prince’s “When Doves Cry” is the noise this toy makes when you open the barn door.

Best. Toy. Ever. There was a time in this country when you could get a die-cast metal truck with intricate moving parts capable of cutting, scraping, and pinching tiny fingers at every turn. Tonka trucks were indestructible. They could withstand every last bit of punishment a kid could dish out. No amount of stomping, dropping, or bleeding on them could do any harm. This was the workhorse of the toy world. Dear, sweet Tonka. How we miss your sharp metal corners and your amazing moving parts, you made us stronger as long as you didn’t kill us.

You want a handheld video game? Take yer pick. Some blipped, some bleeped, but rest assured, they all blinked.

I have no recollection of these things. I don’t know Thing One about them. But the look on my husband’s face when he saw this page in the catalog was too cute for words. Go ahead. Find a guy in his mid-thirties and show this to him. He’ll know what they are and most likely, he’ll make a great face.

Ok, Santa’s bag is empty, there’s wrapping paper everywhere and I’m covered in bows. Another successful Christmas! Hope you had fun because now I’ve got the shakes. I can feel an eBay bender coming on and it ain’t gonna be pretty. Someone, somewhere must have a set of original Fashion Plates, right? Right?

 

 

 

. . . or opening old Christmas wounds. Either way.

Inspired by jenifleur in yesterday’s comments (she demands a Super Star Barbie). Did you have a favorite toy around 1978? Or did you beg and beg and beg for something, but never actually get it because your parents were mean and didn’t love you? Tell me what it was (or describe it as best you can) and I’ll see if Santa can find it in the Wish Book for you!

Now, girls, go put on your pretty dresses.

Boys, get your nice new slacks and tops on.

Mommy is going to wear her polyester caftan because once the holiday eating starts, it’s not going to stop until she’s asked to leave for making the rest of the family uncomfortable.

And Daddy is going to wear his new Mix-n-Match suit by Garanimals. I hope he wears the hippo jacket with the marmoset vest and hyena tie. Daddy’s such a stud.

Later on, we’ll change into our new family sleepwear set! The force is with us this year, kids.

Ready? It’s off to grandma and grandpa’s. We all know what grandpa is going to be wearing, right? That crazy, comfort-seeking, leisure-living old coot.

I wonder what grandma got everyone this year.
 

 

 

Well, it’s that time of year again and the staff members at the Museum of Kitschy Stitches are all abuzz with excitement! Christmas is almost over and they couldn’t be more excited. The 26th of December will mark the end to one of the most heart-wrenching, carnage-filled seasons yet. The casualties have been immeasurable, spirits have been broken, and citizens have been faced with one of the most life-altering decisions ever put forth. Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays? This War on Christmas has been brutal for everyone caught in its sparkly crosshairs. Numerous reports of digital injuries have been reported throughout the month of December due to the vigorous finger-pointing. Studies have shown that those actively involved with the WoC are also suffering from chronic Rectal-Cranial Inversions, a situation that will hopefully remedy itself once “Jingle Bells” is no longer being piped into everyone’s heads 24 stupid hours a day, starting in October. Free Botox will be made readily available at local clinics to remove the continual look of perplexed bewilderment on the faces of bystanders of the War who just don’t see the point of the whole thing. It is expected that that as soon as the last wreath has been removed, a collective groan will thunder through the land as the Christmas soldiers suddenly realize that they’ve been duped by a sleazy, smirking talk show host and a slithering snake in evangelist’s clothing who invented the whole thing. And then we can go back to everyone getting along and being pleased as punch with one another.

Until then, let’s do some Christmas* shopping!

*The use of the words “Christmas” and “Holiday” in no way endorses or denies any specific religion or spiritual belief. Or non-belief. They are merely terms used to designate the unabashed orgy of consumerism that happens every year at this time.

And here is the standard by which all other shopping must be compared. The 1978 Sears Wish Book. It is the Holy Grail of holiday gift-giving. If it’s not in here, you don’t want it. If it is in here, you probably had it. It also proves that it’s just fine to wear dresses so short that your underwear show. If the kids can do it, so can we! Go on, ladies, deck the hoo-ha with boughs of holly!

 

One must never show up to a holiday celebration empty handed. But how much expensive wine does a party need? Nothing says Christmas like a pile of sticky ribbon candy that has melded together into an impenetrable block of sugary badness. As an added benefit, the ribbons become shards of razor sharp gum-severing joy, spreading bloody smiles to all the boys and girls who didn’t know any better. Shiny, waxy chocolates are also a classic that no table should be without. Someone’s bound to get drunk and make inappropriate scatological jokes about these, so don’t miss out. Also, place your orders early for the official Sears ice cream sundae! Free wrapping with every double scoop!

 

So your wife spent much of the 60’s in a drug-induced haze, eh? And now she’s given up her old partying ways to do the housewife thing. Bummer. It’s her own fault for falling in love with an intern from Nixon’s campaign office. How about helping her relive her gloriously misspent youth with these magical mushroom kitchen accessories! She’ll flash back to the days when she was naked and free and high as a kite, just don’t be surprised if you come home to find her licking the unused plates and mumbling about spoons and spatulas and spice racks.

 

Frank N Bun – It’s ALIVE!!

Welp, you might as well face it. Its time for the company party again. For the past three years you’ve avoided it by reporting the same grandmother’s death over and over again. They’re on to you and you will be participating in the Yankee Swap this time around. Forget thoughtful. Forget practical. This year, prove your disdain with inexplicable uselessness. The Coney Island Steamer is guaranteed to bring a frown to everyone it gets unloaded on. This thing will get passed around the office faster than Tammy in accounting. While the name brings to mind something you might find in a porta-potty under the docks, the Coney Island Steamer itself proves just about as useful. Hot dogs. One at a time. Perfect for that family of five who don’t mind waiting eons for their clammy portion of soggy bread and pig lips lovingly encased in animal intestine.

 

Wow, finally we can use futuristic technology in our own homes! I’m so glad we captured those aliens back in Roswell and forced them to cough up their revolutionary cooking techniques! Just look at all those things mom will be able to make all lickety-split like. No more raw apples for us, only apples that have been covered in playground sand and bombarded with high powered rays. She’ll have loads more time to twirl around the kitchen with her cakes and pies now that she can actually bake them in a matter of seconds! Entire cuts of meat will come out juicy and delicious after a good zapping with this new fangled microthingy! Just imagine all the moist and healthy meals that will come pouring out of this wondrous machine! At just under 400 dollars, you can’t beat that with a stick. I wonder if they’ll ever invent something we can use to reheat the leftovers.

 

Fire hazard, schmire hazard, I’ve got a warehouse full of these damned stuffed animals and I can’t unload ‘em since the carnival got shut down. Now are you gonna help me rip the stuffing out of these things and wire ‘em up or am I going to have to call your parole officer? ‘Sides, kids are gonna love these things! Little freaks. Once we donate these to the orphanage for Christmas, I can write it off and make all my money back and then some. It’s win-win. Hey, don’t waste that electrical tape, those wires ain’t exposed if they’re under the fur!

 

You’ll be the King of the Castle this holiday season when you gather the family and let them gape in wonder at their glorious new 19” screen. It’s like having a drive-in movie theater right in your living room! It features an easy-to-use remote control that practically fits in your hand – how’s that for state of the art? It’s as easy to use as one of those push-button telephones you’ve heard so much about. Features real LED readout and electronic random-access channel selection. That’s right, you can change to any other channel with the handy cannel changer and you can actually see what channel you’ve changed to. This is the best, most feature-packed TV you can get for under $600, so don’t delay!

 

Need a gift for your nephew, the music lover? As any self-respecting Styx fan will tell you, look no further than this amazing Dual-Record Compact Stereo System. Word on the street is that vinyl is on its way out and the future is all about the compact 8-track tape and the even tinier cassette tape! With this amazing system, you can transfer all your record albums onto long lasting 8-track or cassette tapes so the music can play on forever. You’ll never have to worry about whether you’ll be able to listen to REO Speedwagon’s greatest hits again. The faux walnut grain will add class to any room and the stylish rotary controls for volume, balance, bass, and treble let you tailor the sound to the your taste. What more could any bachelor pad need?

 

How many times have the kids begged and pleaded for a dulcimer, only to be told that you couldn’t afford one. The look of heartbreak on their tiny faces is unbearable and you were willing to do what you had to do this season to make their dulcimer dreams come true. Well, don’t sell the family car yet and stop wondering how much you could get for a perfectly good kidney. At long last, there’s a dulcimer that just about everyone can afford. It truly is a Christmas miracle!

 

And finally, Pedro the Christmas Burro can rest easy this year. It’s Frosty’s turn to take one for the team and martyr himself in the name of Christmas. Fill him up, arm the kids, and teach them the true meaning of the season. Blindly beat the crap out of stuff until you get what you want. In this case, piles of candy falling from the torn and battered corpse of a snowman.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Joyous WhateverTheFrigYouWant! I hope everyone has a good weekend full of love and warmth!

Wait.

What’s that, my tiny reindarlings? The toys? What about the toys? Oh, you think the toys are best thing in the whole Sears Wish Book (besides the underwear pages)? Oh, well, maybe if you’re good, Santa will write something funny especially for you on Christmas morning. But only if you’re goooood . . .

 

 

How did anyone manage to knit this sweater? I mean, besides the fact that it used up the entire world’s yarn supply for an entire year, it must have taken at least that long to knit this monstrosity up. And at the cost of a whopping $32,450 to make, who had the money? And where exactly do you store 5,000 balls of yarn while you’re knitting it? And how does the wearer fit through doorways when you’re done? Does she even have a right arm, or is that just a pile of knitted fabric in its place? Was the arm removed specifically to accommodate the sweater or was it just a happy coincidence that she was without it? How far out would this sweater be billowing if she didn’t have it smartly belted, not that, god forbid, she’d ever leave the house with an unbelted sweater. There are too many questions left unanswered with this thing. Oh how I long for the days of crocheted hot pants using a single skein of yarn.

 

I think it’s time we finally face the debilitating curse that affected so many of the fashion mavens among us. Popeyeism. This disease was most identifiable by the increased size of the shoulder/arm region. The example above shows advanced Popeyeism of the upper arms. Before this photo was taken, the model was seen squeezing a can of spinach until the top popped open. She then flipped her head back and swallowed the entire contents of the can, afterwards callously throwing the empty can behind her. Others afflicted may experience inflammation of the forearm, which is often accompanied by the appearance of an anchor-shaped marking on the arm or chest. Speech impediments and speaking from the side of one’s face while smoking a pipe from the other are also known symptoms. Luckily, Popeyeism was wiped out by the early 90’s, but a new batch of outbreaks are expected among teenagers who consider the 1980’s to be “retro” and “funny”. They will start wearing restyled 80’s-esque clothing for the sake of “irony” until they eventually become the very thing they’re making fun of. Let’s all enjoy it, shall we?

 

Smart brides really put the “Maid” in “Bridesmaid”. Don’t let that bitch try to upstage you! Put her in her place from Day One. Better put the flower girl on notice, too. Who even said your spoiled rotten little niece could be in this wedding, anyway?

 

Yes, let’s all Get Physical! Let’s exercise in shiny acrylic sweaters that will trap the sweat as though we were wearing Ziploc baggies. And don’t forget the non-absorbent sweat band that will slowly creep down as we tediously lift our 3lb weight until it smudges our Aquatic Blue eyeshadow. And legwarmers, yes! Because when we sprain our ankles and scrape our calves on the cheap stationary bike pedals that we forgot don’t work right, we’re going to need something to cover the bruises and swelling. And throw a mullet in there for good measure. Taa-daa, I have just helped you experience what it was really like in the mid-80’s in a few short sentences. You owe me.

 

Is it just me or does this sweater not seem all that warm?

 

Things were not always as they seemed in the 80’s. Illusions were all around us in this veritable land of make-believe. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that the US was being led by an actor who once performed with chimps. (The chimps have certainly come a long way since then, eh?) And nowhere was this penchant for fantasy more evident than in fashion.

 

Hey! I remember this commercial!

“With the addition of a microwave to every kitchen has come the advent of an array of tasty, fat-laden snacks. Waistlines are expanding, boobs are sagging, butts are spreading in entirely new directions. But don’t put down that Hot Pocket, put on this fantastic new bikini bod instead! That’s right, the new Knit-a-Body system allows you to enjoy the highly processed carbohydrates that are so important to today’s modern lifestyle and still look totally bitchin’! Available in Beach Babe, Voluptuous Valley Girl, and Preppy Prostitute. And now for the guys, there’s the Bulging Bohunk!”

 

Yeee-haw! Who doesn’t love a pair of overalls fit for a fancy hoedown? Well, slap my knee, turn me blue, and stick my head in a milk jug, this gal, that’s who! She’ll be a monkey’s mama if she can’t figure out those ding-danged clasps that hold everyone else’s pants on. Nope, her uncle daddy never did teach her about such finery. ‘Sides, how’s she gonna find a man if she’s spendin’ all her time fussin’ with those silly pant-holder-uppers? Shoot fire, y’all are crazy! But they do look purty and all the fellers love a filly with her thumbs hitched in a pair of metal clasps, all sexy like. So what else is a gal to do but keep her britches accessible with grandma’s patented fauxveralls?

 

The only thing more ridiculous than fake nautical clothing with huge handkerchiefs wrapped around the shoulders is fake nautical clothing with huge handkerchiefs knitted around the shoulders. “Look, she like boats!” this sweater begs. “See, she has a little boat. And she’s smiling!” it pleads as is tries to convince onlookers of its authenticity. “She’s wearing a Gilligan hat! She’s totally seaworthy!” it blubbers as it chokes back the tears. I wouldn’t scrape barnacles with this thing.

 

And just a reminder for anyone who thinks otherwise; the 80’s weren’t good for anyone.  (click the photo for a close-up of the world’s most pissed-off cat. And I’m sorry to say, it is not photoshopped.)

 

Oh my, please pardon the digression. Without further ado, we present to you the brand new Special Guest Exhibit in the newly refinished Ladies Room of the storage facility. Enjoy! A randomly-selected winner will be announced tomorrow, but we want to express our gratitude to everyone who participated. It was great to hear from everyone and we got some real gems. Thanks for coming out to play!

#1

 

And now, the perfect costume if the International Olympic Commission ever decides to create the the Downhill Slalom and Chicken Dance event. – from Rabbitch

Check out that hot Yeti on the ski run! I think I’m gonna swoon! – from Suzanne Sherry (she chose the theme “Love Gone Wrong”)

“My father is half yeti, my mother’s worried I’ll get lost. What’s your story?” – from Andrea, high atop her Soapbox

This is the fairy godmother of those little furry people in Star wars 6, the one where they blow up the Deathstar. She was in the first edition, the one with the dorky music. She was the cause of the dorky music. – from km scheid

This is St. Lucia’s little sister, St. Agatha. Her special holiday is November 13th, the day when al the ski runs in Scandinavia officially open for the season. – from km scheid

Snapshot from Bjork’s recent ski holiday. – Tamara Shaffer

The orange chested shag bird has a complex and energetic mating ritual, involving intricate hooting and dancing about. This fine specimen was found tuckered and weak from hours of dancing to no avail. Apparently, her crest was lacking in plumage making her an undesirable mate. – From Marnie MacLean of MarnieTalks (she chose the theme “The Natural Geographic Guide to Mating in Knitting”)

Mom, was right, I shoulda worn my orange boots! – from Bridget Graham

“Damn! The potion is wearing off. Now he’ll know I’m not really a bird.” – Julie LaFrance Funk (Holy Crap, what a great name! I pray that it’s real)

What do you get when you mix leftover shag rug with the Austrian Alpine look?? – from Kathy at Kathode Ray Tube

Kellie was sad when she realized she had killed her friend the Snuffleupagus, but at least now everyone would believe that he was real. – from Elissa at Special Sauce

What could be more intimidating to the other skiers than an outfit that says; “Arg! I’m the pirate of these here slopes!”? Subbing a knitted hat with long fringe at the top for a pirate hat with feathers is the logical choice (even pirates get cold on those snowy slopes!). To accent your pumpkin orange ensemble, a thigh length shaggy yellow vest will do the trick nicely. This not only makes you highly visible, but earn you the respect every snow bunny pirate deserves! And for practical reasons, to prevent you from skiing down the slopes while saying, “Geez! How can I ski in all this crap?!, a braided belt with tassles to tie it all together! People will be amazed at your athletic skills and wonder where you bravely plundered the Big Bird costume to get your outfit! – from Veronica at Under the Knitting Moon (her theme was “Ski Season at the MOKS”)

I didn’t kill the muppet – why are you looking at me like that? – from Nancy’s Ego at Bird’s Nest Knits

Lanie’s biggest challenge as a puppeteer for Fraggle Rock was leaving her work at the office. – from Julia at MothHeaven

#2

 

The zebra stripes give him animal magnetism, at least to checkboard-bedecked Swedish women. – from Amy at Frottez!

“Honey, why does this sweater smell so bad?” “Oh, I knitted it out of Ljutefisk!” – from Rabbitch

So what if his mom was a zebra and my mom was a stopsign, we’re in love! – from Suzanne Sherry (she chose the theme “Love Gone Wrong”)

“Hey, sweetcakes, the stripes point the way!” “Oh, George, you’re *such* a flirt!” – from Andrea high atop her Soapbox

He obviously used that Zebra disguise so he would blend in with the wildlife on the ski slopes to catch the hallucinogenic love bunny. I actually like these sweaters – just not in the same space. – from km scheid

Ahhh The Swedes, such a model of progressive thought. Why not force men to don knitwear that is an abstract version of a muscular skeletal system that leads down to what seems to be a uterus. Girlfriend, now you know how the other half lives, she seems to say. – Terry Cluefor

Looks like an ad for condoms for some reason. – Tamara Shaffer

Like the asses of orangutans, weaker males are marked by outer appearances. While the most virile wear argyle and plaids, the weaker are forced to wear effeminate animal prints and absurd facial hair. When the gentle male is released into the wilds of singles bars and grocery stores, only the most crocheted of women can sustain their amusement long enough to mate. Note how the male makes gestures as if to overpower her, but his charade is transparent. His markings make it clear that he is far too weak and she lets out soft chiding chuckles in response. – From Marnie MacLean of MarnieTalks (she chose the theme “The Natural Geographic Guide to Mating in Knitting”)

C’mon, honey, where’d you hide the crayons?? – from Bridget Graham

“Come on baby. Take off your sweater and show me your skeleton.” – Julie LaFrance Funk

Hirsute Zebra men say the funniest things! – from Kathy at Kathode Ray Tube

I’ve seen it a hundred times. People who can’t hold their liquor. Here we have the lovely couple and the wife seems to be enjoying her vacation at the lodge a little too much. In fact, maybe she was drinking while making their vacation sweaters. She started with his. Hmmm…lets see. I want to make my man something that will show off his qualities. I know! One bottle of wine later produces a chart for, you guessed it, The best harry chest in the west! Next came hers. Its gonna be cold and I’ll need some mittens. All that running from one bar to another, I’ll probably need a special bag to carry my hats/mittens etc. Unless…..Yes! That’s it! I’ll crochet them directly onto the sleeves of my sweater! The only thing that could make that better is a checks, hearts, rainbow stripe montage. After much insisting, the loving husband dons his sweater while whispering in her ear, “there now, I’ve put it on. Lets go back to the room and have some coffee.” – from Veronica at Under the Knitting Moon (her theme was “Ski Season at the MOKS”)

*gritting teeth* Get your hands off me you zebra-freak, don’t you see I am way too fabulous for you? – from Nancy’s Ego at Bird’s Nest Knits

“Oh Steve. It’s been quite a day, riding into New York City all the way from Scranton for our anniversary. I’m so excited to see Times Square and all the celebrities that live there. And we’re a shoe-in at the Rave with our cool club outfits. New York is so cool. Thanks for a great day!” –from Julia at MothHeaven

#3

 

“Oh Fuck. My left breast implant just exploded. I knew I should have forked out for silicone instead of feathers, even if it WAS ten dollars more.” – from Rabbitch

Ostrich for lunch, my favorite! But I think I got some on my shirt. – from Suzanne Sherry (she chose the theme “Love Gone Wrong”)

“Yes, dahling, don’t you just looove ostrich? No! They’re not chicken!!! What was that you said about dodo?!?” – from Andrea, high atop her Soapbox

OMG I got caught in the shredder! Thank goodness my head jammed the works and they were able to retrieve it! I don’t know how I’ll ever explain
to my future husband that I can’t remove the black band around my neck. – from km scheid

If I just act really cool, people won’t notice the several small arctic birds I am smuggling under my sweater. But I wish they’d quit digging into me with their claws. And the SMELL! – from km scheid

Takes my breath away. Really. This one could have won Wendy’s 80s contest. – Tamara Shaffer

Females of the Yellow Crested Pleated Matron must prove their ability to care for offspring. The male seeks females sporting the greatest number of small animal carcasses. She spends hours weaving feathers and pelts into elaborate fabrics. This fine example shows a complexity of design found only in the finest of specimens. The male will woo her with songs of “I have a camaro I have a camaro” while presenting her with offerings of wine coolers. – From Marnie MacLean of MarnieTalks (she chose the theme “The Natural Geographic Guide to Mating in Knitting”)

Moa?? I thought they said I’ll be modeling a boa!” – from Bridget Graham

“Oh No! The stuffing is coming out of my Stepford wife!” – Julie LaFrance Funk

“My ostrich feather breast implant just exploded! Do you think anyone will notice?” – from Dani of Year of the Afghan

Melanie Griffith in the 80′s before plastic surgery and Antonio Banderas. The built-in boa is a plus. – from Kathy at Kathode Ray Tube

Melanie hoped nobody would notice that she consumed an entire pigeon on her way to her Vanity Fair shoot. – from Elissa at Special Sauce

Finally, an answer to what to do with all that dark fuzzy scrap yarn you have! You’ll be doing even better if you have or live next to farm animals! Seriously, the geese/chicken/ducks will put up a fight at first, but when they realize what they are sacrificing for, they should comply. Their plucked feathers will be immortalized in a knitted work of art! The look on her face portrays her pride: “It took me days to chase down those fowl! But damn it….I’m worth it!” – from Veronica at Under the Knitting Moon (her theme was “Ski Season at the MOKS”)

And here we have our latest hybrid cross… Ivana Trump x Emu… – from Nancy’s Ego at Bird’s Nest Knits

Lola’s fame as a beltway lobbyist was cemented the year the Census Bureau added a ethnicity category for Ostrich Americans. – from Julia at MothHeaven

#4

 

The rare and beautiful Abominable Snow-Woman, shown with arm fur shaved to reveal her lovely multicolored skin. – from Amy at Frottez!

We European women never shave our armpits. – from Rabbitch

These are my real breasts! Mom met the abominable snowman one night on the ski run and….here I am! – from Suzanne Sherry (she chose the theme “Love Gone Wrong”)

“Here’s a yeti, there’s a yeti, everywhere a yeti-yeti.” – from Andrea, high atop her Soapbox

I thought there was a page ripped out of that stupid magazine I stole from the doctor’s office. I didn’t think it made any sense. Maybe if I just call it a design element, no one will notice. – from km scheid

This sweater-coat-thing has so many wonderful pockets, I can carry all my stuffed rabbits with me all the time! – from km scheid

Olive Oil knits!! – Tamara Shaffer

In the vast tundra of the arctic, the native Fair Isle Fox sheds her summer coat in lieu of a her dense white winter fur. The male of the species will not rise from his semi-hibernation until the remainder of her mottled coat is replaced by a thick silky shag. By the time mating begins, she is nearly unrecognizable from her former self, as her shape is obscured by her winter whites. When the female finally picks her mate, he will as likely die of inhaling plumes of fur as he is of succumbing to any predator. Because of this, the female has evolved to give birth to vast numbers of offspring to replace the many lost males. – From Marnie MacLean of MarnieTalks (she chose the theme “The Natural Geographic Guide to Mating in Knitting”)

There was this great sale on fun fur . . . . . – from Bridget Graham

“High-wasted gaucho pants are in, in, in, this year!” – Julie LaFrance Funk

“Helga Bigfoot here, wife of Sidney Bigfoot. I know you think living in the Swiss Alps with the monster of your dreams is all fun and romance, but let me tell you, it’s hell keeping house for a man, err, semi-erect humanoid who refuses to bathe regularly and has massive claws for toenails. And if that’s not enough, every night when he gets home, all the neighborhood dogs start howling and yelping. Drives me crazy. So as soon as I get enough cash saved up, I’m out of here–off to my sister’s in Key West. Anyone want to buy an exclusive photo of Bigfoot himself?” – from PaMdora of www.pamrubert.com

Help! A yeti appropriated my sweater in progress and finished the front! Have some fondue! – from Kathy at Kathode Ray Tube

“…next we braise the Yeti flanks in a flavorful white wine reduction, and serve with crackers!” – from Elissa at Special Sauce

Hmmmm. What knitter doesn’t love the prospect of being alone in a lovely hotel with only her knitting and the scenery to occupy her time? If anyone approaches you offering you an opportunity to “house sit” a grand old hotel during the off season in the winter BEWARE! Our next subject was not so lucky. Every knitter has a travel project in his/her suitcase. This is what happens when you take one to the Overlook Hotel.(www.kubrickfilms.warnerbros.com/video_detail/shining/) She’s obviously started a sweater for the cold weather. Something colorful that will go with everything. But as time passes and strange things start happening she gets more distracted from her knitting while at the same time being consumed by it. She has just finished the sleeves and attached them to the eight inch long collar and is preparing to cast on the body when things start going horribly wrong. A large supply of white fur materializes mysteriously in her room. She is driven to use it by evil yet powerful ghostly forces prompting her through psychological terror. By the end she has a sweater and she is snowbound in the beautiful yet frightening hotel. Both are not at all what she bargained for. Don’t let her suffering be for nothing; lets all learn
from this story: Don’t knit anything out of fear! – from Veronica at Under the Knitting Moon (her theme was “Ski Season at the MOKS”)

It didn’t take me long to tackle down that alpaca at all, and don’t worry – the doctor said it’s just a mild concussion and a case of really bad taste. – from Nancy’s Ego at Bird’s Nest Knits

“I don’t miss Rufus. I feel that somehow, he’s always with me.” – from Julia at MothHeaven

Thanks again and watch your head on the way out!

 

And now, we are proud to present a brand new exhibit that is of a very personal nature. Our very own Stitchy McYarnpants recently attended the McYarnpants family reunion and has documented it so we may all share in her rich family tradition. Join us in the We Are Fam-i-ly Cafe, will you?
___

As I entered the Knits of Columbus* hall, the sound of the Pointer Sisters’ We Are Family pounded through the air. I immediately turned around, got back into my car and drove home. After 20 minutes of furious pacing in my living room, I returned to the McYarnpants family reunion. The Pointer Sisters were still going on about their sisters and them. It was going to be a long night. As usual, very few of the McYarnpants men bothered to show up, which left me wondering if they had switched to wearing khakis and were ashamed.

*The Knits of Columbus was founded by my great grandfather, Zachariah McYarnpants.

The first McYarnpant to accost me was the swinging divorcee, Mandy McYarnpants. Since splitting with her ex-husband, Irving, she’s gotten waaay back into her roots. She only wears what she can knit. She’s working in a pair of lopi platform sandals to achieve complete yarnification. Unfortunatley for all of us, Mandy has never mastered the art of knitting undergarments. I hastily excused myself and tried not to gawk as she boogied down and flopped around.

As I turned, I ran right into Helen McYarnpants. A very distant and mysterious cousin, she prides herself on the geometry of her pantsuits. “My legs look like perfect tubes” she whispered, as she gently touched my face with her gloved hands. “The lines match up perfectly on the arms and the tubes.” She pulled my face close and confided “The bottom of the sweater is equidistant with the space between the stripes.” And with that, she drifted away. It was one of the more pleasant encounters I would have that evening.

A drink was overdue at this point, so I headed to the cash bar. Seated in the lounge was Aunt Sassy (her real name is Stacey, but everyone calls her Sassy). Ever the sex kitten, she hasn’t aged a day since anyone can remember. Oddly, she always appears somewhat monochromatic, but it looks good on her. “Well if it isn’t little Stitchy.” she purred, “Why don’t you get Aunt Sassy another Irish Coffee and tell me all about it.” Unsure about what “it” was, I complied and spent the better part of our conversation watching her primp and posture. The woman can really work a pair of wool leggings, I’ll give her that. Fantastic ribs and cabled striping. She’s a helluva McYarnpant. But she has an unnerving way of looking at you like you’re a tasty chicken leg, so I moved on.

In the corner, I saw my cousin Barbie McYarnpants and her brother Ken. Uh-oh, did I just let loose with a deep dark family secret?

Nearby, I was surprised to see the black sheep of our family, Trisha McYarnpants. Also known among the cousins as “Trashy McNopants”. Her mother disowned her, but apparently she’s still on the family email list.

And then it happened. The one person I didn’t want to see was suddenly filling my entire field of vision. It was my uncle Bibba’s third wife, Mitzi Stiffle-McYarnpants. Mitzi is the cute-n-spunky drummer for The Giggles. They make upbeat music about self-esteem and proper hygiene. When I asked if it was music for kids, she squeaked and said, “No, silly. It’s for EVERYbody!” and poked my nose with her drumstick. She also believes that humans can fly if they love enough. She never stops trying. I have no idea what her outfit was knit from, but she was leaving strange marks everywhere she sat. I think it might have been a cheddar/sandpaper blend.

She had her kids in tow, as well. Here’s little Oompah.

And this is Loompah and Verouca.

Mitzi has issues.

Luckily, I was rescued by my niece, Erin McYarnpants. She’s a sweet girl, despite the fact that ever since a nasty bump on the head she thinks she’s a true leprechaun. She’s always on about rainbows and clovers and pots o’ gold and her burning hate for Jennifer Aniston. I’m not really sure where the lederhosen fit into the whole thing, but I’m sure she has her own reasons. However, when I got a look at those fantastic boots, well, her luck ran out. I slipped her a Mickey and when she was unconscious, I took off with them.

Don’t worry, I didn’t drug her, I got her stuck in a conversation with Mickey McYarnpants, the most annoying girl in the world.

I’ll give you one guess about what she likes to talk about. All the time. Without stopping. The big-wigs at Disney have actually sent her cease and desist letters. All of the costumed characters at the parks have restraining orders against her. She’s even banned from owning pet mice (this is a long and disturbing story). She was especially proud of her new outfit and explained as she danced to the Pointer Sisters. You see, it looks just like frosting on a cake! A Mickey Mouse cake! It’s Mickey Mouse just the greatest? Her favorite kinds of cakes are ones with pictures of Mickey Mouse on them. Her favorite kind of anything is the kind with Mickey Mouse on it. She thought it would be great if Mickey Mouse were singing We Are Family instead of the Pointer Sisters. She wishes Mickey Mouse was part of our family. Then he would have been there that night. This was about when Erin hit the floor and I got a new pair of boots. And baby, those boots were made for walking, so I walked right out the door.

 

On the way out, this old family photo was on the wall, so I started running and never looked back.

 

Thanks for joining me on this adventure! In the immortal words of Dorothy Parker, “This wasn’t just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it.”

Stitchy

 

 

 

Good intentions gone bad – isn’t that what the holidays are all about? Here at the Museum of Kitschy Stitches, we understand that it’s the thought that counts. What we don’t understand is just what on God’s Green Earth some people are thinking. Honestly, wouldn’t a simple card or a punch in the face suffice? We know we’d rather have our hamstrings sliced than get another lovely frock for the dishwashing liquid. But if there’s a not-so-special someone in your life that’s just not taking the hint from the restraining orders, perhaps some of the pieces in our Ho Ho Holy Crap Gallery will inspire you.

As ever, click on a picture to see larger version.

This festive wreath evokes all the charm and warmth of a toilet seat on a cold Christmas morning. Honestly, spend the $5 at the grocery store and get a real one. Or go into the woods to collect some fresh foliage and make one. Or steal one from the neighbors. Or buy a plastic one. Or hang a dead cat on your door. Anything but this.

Kids at the playground can be cruel sometimes. If you want to make sure they always are, knit your grandson a sweater that will earn him wedgie after wedgie. It’s yellow. It has a bear on it. The bear is a baby. The baby is wearing a diaper. A diaper. On a boy’s sweater. What the hell, grab a handful of underoos yourself once everyone is done opening their presents, perhaps it’ll be the makings of a beloved family tradition.

Pssst! When you told your sister that your wanted to make her a sweater for Christmas, she didn’t say “Oh, duck!”

Ding Ding Ding! We have a classic! For years, tissue cozies have darkened the doorways of people all around the world. Joyeux Noel, here eez a geeft for your tissues! Froehliche Weinachten, ve haf ways off making you keep your tissues cosy. Bono Natale, I hope-a you like-a the gift-a I bought for your-a Kleenex. Merry Christmas, I didn’t feel like spending any money on you or putting any thought into your gift, and I had all this cheap yarn to use up, so . . .

You know what this world needs? Fewer drunk rabbits in yellow pants ranting about the rising price of carrots and Medicare not covering the cost of his fake foot that those bastards thought was lucky – lucky for who, tell me that! – and another thing, I love you man. Merry Kizzm . . . kizzmu . . . kriszzmi . . . Happy Holidays ~belchhh~

So your nieces are well-adjusted and brimming with self confidence, eh? Makes you nuts, don’t it? Kids today need to learn that it’s not what’s inside that counts, it’s all about looks, baby. Size 0 clothing is on the rack for a reason, after all, and you’re not going to get on the Mtv by eating pizza. With this cool set of dolls, you can help them set those unattainable goals we all set for ourselves. This frumpy couple appears to be in love, but are they really happy? Do they look happy with those comfortably fitted clothes, oversized eyebrows, and outdated hair color? Click the picture to see what happened after they ate nothing but buttered beef for 6 months and subjected themselves to the ghouls at What Not To Wear. Zowie, now there’s a happy couple. Just don’t stand near them, they smell like rotting cows.

I am the Pom Pom King and you lesser Pom Poms will DO MY BIDDING! Go, my children, go into the night and bite the ankles of the unfortunate urchins who dared to receive me as a gift. They will rue the day they ever unwrapped that shiny, ribbony package and soon their delicious souls will be mine! Mwah ha ha ha haaaaa . . .

A lot of people thought it was cruel to conquer the planet of Floweria. Protesters were outraged when we captured and anally impaled its citizens for decorative purposes. But look how cute they are.

Live things are overrated and that’s why knitted plants are perfect. No challenge, no trying, no trying to try, no growth, no responsibility, no sense of accomplishment, no death. Isn’t that how life should be? Oh, and Happy New Year.

We at the MOKS were hesitant at first to include these Psychedelic Psnakes. They’re actually kind of cute. And therein lies their insidious nature. They’re almost cute enough to make. And when you give one to someone, you’ll do it out of genuine affection. They’ll even smile and say “How cuuuute!” when they open it. It will have prominent placement on the dresser for a while, but then it will start to be in the way. It will be moved to a shelf, but will keep rolling off because there’s not enough room. It will end up unknowingly kicked under the bed, where it will marinate in dust, old tissues, and toenail clippings. When it is recovered in 5 years during a frantic left-shoe search, it will be briefly mourned, maybe even dusted off a bit. And then it will be included in the next yard sale. To make it easier for everyone, please attach a price tag of 10 cents before wrapping to expedite the process.

In searching for items to enrich the Ho Ho Holy Crap Gallery, we came across a recurring theme among various craft patterns. It seems that whether you knit, crochet, sew, or just have a glue gun and some random offal around the house, you want to make a clown for someone. Yes you do. You do. Stop shaking your head and backing away and deal with the fact that because you are crafty, you want to make a clown. In just about every magazine we looked at, there are handcrafted clowns. Some happy, some crying, some evil, some disembodied, all wrong. And so in celebration of all things that would make the baby Jesus cry, we present for your dissatisfaction: A Very Clowny Christmas.

Hey, kid. When you go to sleep, I’m going to stuff you inside myself.

Now fussy babies can be scared straight!

Ooh, look! It’s Mr. Bear in his bow tie, Funky Monkey in his funny fez, and Conjunctivitis the Clown with his oozing eye infection. Let the puppet show begin!

At least some of these clowns are dead. And I have a pretty good idea who did it. Those live ones look pretty pleased with themselves.

This sanguineous fella is intended for decoration in a baby’s nursery. More specifically, for Rosemary’s baby’s nursery.

You may as well wrap a shiny new butcher knife with this lil’ treasure because when he comes to life, he’s just going to head to the kitchen to get one anyway. How else is he going to kill everyone in the house in a violent orgy of blood and screaming?

Thanks for dropping by, Happy Holidays!!

 

 

So I’ve been toying with adding a monthly feature to this little blog o’ mine. I love the idea of having a fun blog project due every month. I also hate the idea of having a fun blog project due every month. You can see my dilemma.

This feature would be a way to share another of my obsessions with people that I think would enjoy it. See, I have an unnatural need to buy every vintage ladies magazine I can find. I have piles of magazines from the 20′s to the 70′s (and don’t think I haven’t been eyeing the 80′s ones lately). They cover subjects like homemaking, interior design, crafts, embroidery, crochet, and yes – knitting. I’ve also got lots of old pattern leaflets of all kinds. I went through a brief pot-holder phase which culminated in my going cold turkey from eBay for almost 6 months.

Occasionally, when I’m supposed to be doing something for the good of the household, I just sit in the corner of a room pouring over the images and articles which range from beautiful to hilarious to mind-boggling. Instead of actually baking a cake, I page through a 1952 Ladies Home Journal and just imagine baking one then twirling around with it in the kitchen while wearing a fluffy 50′s dress. And pumps. You know how it is. Humor me, just nod politely.

Having just scored another great mag stash, I am inspired to share. And this new batch is a doozy. Mostly McCalls Needlework and Crafts from early 70′s, AND some terrific booklets from the Creative American Craft Series. No cake-twirling here, nosiree! Nothing cakey OR twirly about the 70′s, you’ll see.

So without further ado, I present my new and tentative feature: The Museum of Kitschy Stitches

For this first edition, we will be heading into the East Wing which houses the Seemed-Like-a-Good-Idea-at-the-Time Gallery.

This is Evelyn Richardson of Long Beach, CA. She is this week’s Guest Artist. “Hi Evelyn!”

 

According to the fine folks at the Creative American Craft Series, Evelyn’s enthusiasm for crocheted hats and purses led her to a unique brand of hand-crafting. That’s the understatement of the decade. Ladies and gentlement, I give you . . . Aluminun Can Apparel. All together now – “Thank you, Evelyn!”

 

And just how did she come to realize that cans were to become the medium through which her muse would speak? “Evelyn discovered that aluminum cans offered her a greater variety of color and design and were always available from her son and his friends who collected them on weekend trips.”

So her beer-soaked son, who I can only assume lived in the basement, led her to it. It’s starting to make sense now. And how does a woman living in denial of her boy’s rampant alcoholism manifest her concern? Why, with a lovely Coors Ensemble, of course.

Says here that it’s “nice enough for an evening out but still casual enough for that weekend get away!!” Probably no one at the opera will notice the sound of crunching metal as you fidget in your seat.

 

I wonder what’s worse. Having a six-pack of freezing cold aluminum cans on your head . . .

or piping hot ones?

 

And finally, what would humiliating clothing be without involving Dad and golf? I know mine would beg for another fish-shaped tie if he saw me coming at him with an empty can of beer sewn into a spunky visor or a kicky hat.

 I swear to you that the caption near the photo says “every man should have his own hat which tells everyone that he drinks”. My guess is that if he’s willing to wear it, everyone already knows.

Stay tuned for next time when we will learn that it is in fact possible to make skin-tight hot pants out of crocheted granny squares.