Attention Kmart Shoppers!

Today's special is one crispy-fried mojo, found under the blue light on aisle 5.

My mojo is FOUND, baby. Turns out I had it all along. I stuck it in the pocket of an old pair of jeans I put on the other day and left the poor thing in there with the jean lint and a wadded chewing gum wrapper. Silly me. It needs a little love, some wiping off (lint is clingy), and maybe a big hug, so we're only focusing on the positive and all the changes that are forthcoming.

Change #1: Not really a change so much as a refocus...competition for July 29th is officially ON. Saturdy puts me at 16 weeks out. May the running, dieting, and obsessive-compulsive supplement taking, regimently scheduled eating and associated semi-crazy behavior begin. Forgive me if my posts begin to take on a drill sergeant-esque flavor. I have to be very determined and purposeful if this is to happen the way it should. I have two friends competiting as Pros, and Karen working her ass off with me, so this is a very good start.

Change #2: I'm looking at UGA's website, and as soon as we return to Athens I'm picking up a few classes. Specifically creative writing and magazing writing, and probably a few others. Since I'll be 30 soon and all, it's probably time to pick a career direction and stop fucking around. I may continue my current path until I can safely pursue another, though. And damn, I really wanna teach some day. So, writing and teaching, but first, whatever pays the damn cable bill and lets me continue to game.

So, the picture is becoming clearer. Change is afoot. And I really hate Kmart. Don't ask what prompted the blue light special. Maybe I need retail therapy.

Oh, here's a bit of progress on the Prairie Tunic.



About six more repeats of the pattern and I can start the shaping for the top section and start working on the front!

And the scarf I started in NYC, now officially called the NYC Scarf, is finished, but I am too lazy to put it on and turn the camera around for a self portrait. Trust that it looks smokin' on me.



Oooh, yummy purples. So pretty it kinda makes me tingle.

Lost: One Honey-Dipped Mojo, Reward if Found (intact, please)

Oh kids. It is one screwy day here in the Land of Lotus.

I'm fresh out of mojo today. Maybe it's allergies. Maybe it's that my sleep is being all wacky again. Maybe it's that I hate this town and I'm ready to move some place entirely more interesting. Bet on a combination of those things and you'd probably win some cash, baby. A virtual scratch and sniff lotto ticket! Smells like honey, win phat lewt! Add in too much caffeine, and you have a wild slurried Melanie cocktail.

My give-a-shit factor is usually pretty low anyway (minus my weird OCD things...shush about that, they are hardly relevant), but recently, it has careened into the negatives. Going to the gym? Blah, some other day. Running outside in the gorgeous weather? After my nap. Blogging? Ok, but it's going to take 3 days to put together a post. I do have the energy for gaming though. But only the chatting part. Keep your group alive? Maybe. If I'm not typing. And yes I'm auto-following you, please don't drive me off a cliff. That would really mar my conversation.

Feeling like this makes me very introspective. I'm slowing down and refusing to focus on everything outside, and really staring hard the things that make up my thoughts. This usually leads to a lot of writing, tears, more writing, silence, and finally...action. Cause I'm a woman of action, ya'll. Sure it takes me a while to make up my mind about something, but once I do, get out of my way, I have something to accomplish. I can already tell the direction this particular process is going to go, so expect big things soon. Big.

Since I'm lacking in pictures lately, this is a photoshopped-like-mad version of my pretty lotus tattoo found on a rather large section of my lower back, and this blog's namesake. The color is pretty true, the crackliness not so much, but I figured a straight up shot of my back is kinda tacky. Maybe it's not, but still. And no I can't fill in the white. I'm not that cool. And I don't care, clearly.



"You must be a lotus, unfolding its petals when the sun rises in the sky, unaffected by the slush where it is born or even the water which sustains it." ~Sri Sathya Sai Baba

Tammy Faye stole my grocery money

I am the debt slayer. Bow before me, my minions.

A few months ago I consolidated all my credit card debt to one account but left my cards open until all the balances got paid. Then I decided to buy junk. With those credit cards having zero balances. Stuff like plane tickets, hotel rooms, and shoes (they were important things! I swear!). Oops.

However, the checks are in the mail (seriously) and all balances are returning to zero post haste. Accounts are being closed asap. And now my checkbook says OOOWW. Surely I can live on $100 till payday right?

All of this to lessen my 'potential debt' as viewed by mortgage type folk so I can buy a house. My 'potential debt' (and I use quotes because, really, I would never ever max out all my credit, jeez) is around $25k. Credit card companies like me, ya'll. Actual debt is more than $8k, but less than $10k, if you don't count my car (please don't count my car). I *should* have closed all these accounts months ago, but I digress.

What's foremost on my mind is my rent (hence the twitching for a house). I'm tired of neighbors who stomp like no one lives below them and scream at each other at all hours. Mostly the "oh god" variety of screams, but that's a bit disturbing to my psychological health (I have an astonishingly active imagination, and I don't need any help fueling it, thanks. I also have a photographic memory, but that's a topic for another day.) and is not exactly my preferred method of being awoken at 3 am, if you gather my meaning.

Where was I? Oh yeah, rent. Sorry, distracted myself with the neighbors and...wait...ok..rent. Whew. Ok, really, RENT! Our complex got bought last month and the first thing they did was raise the rent. As of April 1, it is a full $200 more per month than it was when we moved here two years ago. $200 in two years in this area is a LOT people. And when I went to pick up a package today (yarn, no doubt), I discovered that Tammy Faye (I swear, it has to be her!) is now working the front desk. And driving a shiny new Cadillac. Ah, so THAT'S where my extra cash is going.

They try to call their demand for more cash 'staying competitive in the market'. Ya'll, I worked in the property management biz for a long time, and on that side of the fence, it's called 'bullshit'. It is also often referred to as 'we just paid 2 million more than this place is worth, and it's coming out of your ass, beotch, now fork it over'. So don't send me your grammatically incorrect letter informing me that my rent is going up AGAIN so you can pay for the new golf cart and your Caddy, Tammy Faye, and then smile at me and say how much you enjoy me being a resident. Of course you enjoy me. I paid your mortgage this month for your posh house on the island. Keep your plastic smile, face lift, eight inches of makeup and AquaNet hair (circa 1983) on that side of the desk and use fucking spell check next time you send out a letter to EVERY resident in the joint. Seriously. It's not that hard.

(Tiny disclaimer: I don't regularly lay into someone like that because I don't usually care that much. However. This woman is That. Fucking. Obnoxious. And my rent just went up. Again.)

But I'm letting it go, because I'm buying a house, damn it. And because I have better, more entertaining things to share.

I'm marinating in My Chemical Romance this week, particularly Thanks for the Venom. Such a fun song, with a 'throw all your shit at me, I can take it, but I might not give a damn' vibe. I even bought the CD, which is not something I usually do.

I like such a wide variety of music though, that I'll be over them by April. Or not. I can never tell.

I was also reminded recently of the most wonderful song by the late great Athens band Dreams So Real, who I happen to love. Click on "Melanie" (of course!) and listen with rapturous joy. Probably requires RealPlayer, but I know not how those things work, oops. This song is totally about me (don't believe that).

DSR should have been huge. Just like Dayroom. Sad, really.

See? Way more fun than that bitch Tammy Faye. I'm gonna go let the air out of her tires for shits and giggles. Muahahaha.

Prairie Tunic Rocks!

What a fun little knit this Prairie Tunic is turning out to be! Let's hope I'm doing it right, mkay? The pattern starts with the back piece of the tank, and it happens to be my favorite part.



Love the shaping and the shoulder baring-ness of it.

Here's my progress so far, from Saturday. I'm about twice as far in today.




Look at the cute lace stitches!



Definitely going to have to find some contraption to wear underneath. Pasties? Stick-on bra? The ponderation begins. Hmm...wonder how my tattoos will look under this all this pink laciness? The picture from the magazine is not well lit and the model is a good bit browner than I, so it doesn't *appear* to be very see-through, but ya'll, it is. And I want to finish it while the weather is still relatively appropriate. Spring is definitely here (as noted by my insane asthma attacks and inability to stay well for 3 straight days). In about a month it will be too hot for clothes of any kind. But running around naked is frowned upon in the Bible belt (along with having an opinion differing from that of the good ole boys, yeehaw!, but I digress), so I'll be wearing this top instead.

I won't, however, be wearing the Picovoli.



She was finished, washed, blocked, worn, photographed and loved. She then began to unravel and come apart in unsightly places. She declared herself my enemy and refused to take to any sort of re-stitching remedies. So I exclaimed with a heavy sigh and quietly, swiftly took the crochet hook and scissors to her. Poor girl never saw it coming.


But Murphy did, and he did his best to save her. To no avail.



She is now several balls of pretty hot pink yarn. To be recycled into something newer! better! neater! wow! Or just admired in the basket and bins of stash. This yarn's destiny has yet to be determined, stay tuned.

In other news, the purply Manos yarn I bought at Purl is becoming a scarf. And it is very happy to do so, I might add.



Easy, mindless 1x1 rib with a garter stitch border. Perfect for knitting on the plane, over dinner, at the movies, in the bathroom...you know, wherever the mood strikes. Purple scarf is soon to be about 4 feet long and have fringe. Cause everyone needs fringe. Shameless modeling is soon to follow. But I will not subject the dog to the model torture again, as he has yet to recover emotionally and still has hives.

NYC, Part Deux

Continued from some other day...Saturday in NYC. Shopping, flirty text messages and crazy phone calls. It wore us out. We spent the rest of the evening knitting, watching TV and relaxing (read: falling asleep at 11 pm). Also, Saturday was 3/11. 311 DAY ya'll. And I should have been in Memphis at the concert. I will go next year, mark my words. I will not be deterred or distracted.

Sunday was wet and a little chilly. Well, the natives were bundled, so at least they thought it was chilly. Stacy and I had breakfast at Hot and Crusty. That should describe our bagles, not us. We are the hotness. I will neither confirm nor deny the presence of crust-like substances.



Had to have a pic of the sign, because I take pics of things that amuse me.

Like my feet. Well my shoes.



Yay! Comfy shoes!



Oooh....aaaah...new shoes! New shoes with Velcro. Don't hate on the Velcro.

We decided that since it was our last day, we should soak up some culture, or at least do something that made us look like we'd had a profoundly interesting experience. Like seeing some art or visiting a library. Turns out, most museums are closed on Sunday. Except for the Museum of Sex, which boasts the slogan, "Because you don't think about Picasso seven times a day".

Damn straight.

Not at all what we thought it would be. But it was educational, enlightening and very cultural. Mission Accomplished.



You can guess what I bought, but you'd be wrong.

The most amusing thing in the MoSex?



You know it. A Jenna Jameson bobble head doll. How appropriate.

Sunday night was the best by far. Stacy and I made our way back to the Lower East Village for Indian food with Tash and Joey. Hot, spicy, and yum. I'm so glad I got a chance to meet these two, for they are awesome beyond compare, and if they don't hate me for being such a total goofball, we might be friends for, like, evah.

Then on to Karma for lots of smoking, drinking, shooting the shit and laughing. A LOT of laughing, ya'll. I think Joey called us a gaggle of fucking bad geese. Right. On.



Tash and I. Isn't she lovely? And insanely sweet too. Love the red. Rawr.



Me and Joey. More sweetness. But he needs a new knit hat, and I think I just volunteered.

See the knee highs sticking out of my boots? They are the new object of my desire. I bought at least six pair at various places in NYC and now I'm wearing them for absolutely no reason other than I like having them on. My gray and white striped pair with the pink skulls around the top make me giggle like a little kid hopped up on Pixie Stix and Mountain Dew. Mmmmm.

This concludes our commentary on the whacked out trip to NYC. There will be more pictures to come, but I'm on hold waiting for them to be emailed to me, so they'll probably just appear with a quick caption and no story. Cause I'm mysterious like that.

Oh and I'm officially taking up more bandwidth yo. You may now find me at MySpace in addition to this blahg. Karen made me do it. We love her, man.





Tristan says "Wow that was some long ass posting. We should take a nap. And please don't put me on a diet, cause you know you love my snuggly belly. You're getting veeeerrrrry sleepy; your eyes are closing. You need some Bear belly snuggles. Yeah, that's better. Psst...I rule this chick with my cuteness. Don't you forget it."

Gah! I knew it!

You Should Be a Film Writer

You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind. You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life. Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling. And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

I actually majored in that. Journalism, emphasis on Radio, TV and Film. All writing classes. And how to run a camera, not that I'd ever remember anything other than to NOT trip over mass tangle of cords...again. Damn, what the hell am I doing with my life?


And from the Department of: It's St. Patrick's Day and this guy makes me wanna pull out my hair. Each strand. Individually.

"Alberto! Fire up the bong!!"

NYC...Part 1 of 2 (I hope it's only 2, jeez)

It's just as gray, dirty and less-than-impressive as I remember from my trips as a teenager. Not to be insulting, I don't mean that. It's just not the place for me.

But I can navigate the subways, damn it.

Except for that one time (not at band camp) when I had to ask a super cute MTA guy, and he thought my southern accent was so adorable that we talked for like five whole minutes. Which is forever in NYC time, ya'll. Three whole trains had gone by. People panic if they miss a train. Panic! At the Subway! Screaming and running amuck!

I also knit on the trains. Yarn bought at Purl in Soho. Mmmm.



Makes it look like I'm a native. Eleven people asked me for directions, I swear. I counted them. And I laughed, and said "ya'll do NOT want directions from me". And then they knew by the "ya'll" that I was clearly not the person to be asking.

Want the play by play of four whole days in an overcrowded city? Well, you're getting it anyway.

Thursday I arrived early (and reluctantly) as I was furiously knitting Stacy's hat and was sooooo close to being done. Finally finished as she was walking up to get her baggage an hour after my flight arrived. Checked into our hotel on the Upper West Side and took a short nap. So tired from waking up at 3 am. Went to lunch down the street and met Adrian Grenier. So sweet, and far more beautiful than TV can portray. Holy damn, green/blue eyes for DAYS. I was too shy to ask for a pic opportunity, so I just smiled, nodded, and said "hi". Damn my shyness! Damn my politeness!

Spent the rest of the day figuring out where the hell we were and where we wanted to be, then hopped a train to Times Square, shopped and got silly drunk. Went back to the Days Broadway, took another nap, got pretty and went back out for dinner and more drinking. We abused the hell out of our waiter at dinner. He kinda seemed to dig it though. And he made sure we were appropriately trashed upon our exit. Wish I could remember where we ate...oh well. I'm sure my credit card statement will remind me.

Friday was Tourist Day. We rode the train all the way to the World Trade Center stop and stood aghast for a good 20 minutes. Walked around the site and took pics. Tried not to cry. Was not successful. Sunglasses hide such things though. Made our way over to the ferry and went to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.



Eep! A touristy shot! With the obligatory strange-yet-nice guy holding the camera!


Oh, and lookie! Ancestors! Don't google me like that ya'll. You won't find anything but a wedding gown designer and a dance teacher.




Stacy and I make bad tourists. Barely any pics. And nary a moment of milling about. "Got your picture? Good, let's go find food."

Friday night SLAM! Poetry Slam that is. At the Nuyorican Poet's Cafe. So. Much. Fun. We met Ove and Queen Sheba, two incredibly gifted poets who warmed up the mic for the competitors. The 5 of us (me, Stacy, Jenna, Karen and Jen) got to judge the 4 slam competitors, and man were we tough critics. Three literature/journalism majors make a difficult crowd. But we let them all live, leaving no visible scars.

Saturday. God Saturday might have lasted forever. Shopping Day. No sitting allowed. Ever. We began in Soho at Purl.



Yarn. Yum.

Then walked over to Little Italy for lunch. More yum. Lots of street vendors and stopping to look (Stacy) and chat/text on the phone (me). Thanks Joey for the hilarious and...um...entertaining texts and conversation!! The laughter was good therapy.

Oh, but look! My favorite shoes EVER. John Fluevog. And. They have HEMP SHOES. I could die happy, and I must have some.



It got really crowded so we grabbed a train to 5th Avenue. For more shopping of course. And gabbing. This time in actual stores. We only stopped for food and beer. Mmmm.



The dark one is mine. It was a lovely chocolate-honey flavor and I almost drank it all.

That's enough for now, I'm so tired of typing.

To be continued....

My SP Rocks!

Look at the drool-worthy stitch markers!!





My sweet friend Denise created these for my SP and brought them to me last week, just before I got on a plane to visit America's Dirty City...ahem...I mean NYC.

These are sooooo super cute!! I've already started using them on the Prairie Tunic I started on my plane ride home. I'm in LOVE. With the markers, of course.

Thanks SP!!! <3

Ch-ch-changes!

Bear with me, I'm messing around with my templates.

I think I prefer the black. The pink was making me wanna vomit just a little. It was just...too much. And pink. Black is better.

If you're here out of boredom, check out Lacuna Coil. Classified as "Doom Metal", whatever that means. I always prefer my Doom with a healthy dose of Gloom.

And leather and lots of piercings and tattoos, but hey, that's just me.

Home Sweet Home, part 2

Ah, Athens. How I love thee.

For the randomness of running into your old friends at a sushi bar while intending to meet new friends. Forgive the blurry pics, still getting used to the ultra-sensitive and tiny camera. Blame the waitress.



Alliene, Andrea, Drew, Karen, moi, Bryan, and Jack. All blurry, as it should be.

Karen and I just chatted with those friends.

We actually had sushi with these friends:



One very newly 25 Ben and his flambe fried birthday thing, and the lovely Brooke. The same Brooke who says things like "Oh my, there's rice in my arm hair. What an unfortunate sentence to have to utter." Indeed, how unfortunate.


One must also love Athens for the way it compels one to buy hot clothes and go downtown to drink. I did not own anything truly sparkly until this top. Karen made me do it. There are also knee high black boots and a dead sexy black skirt to match. Saving those for a night upon NYC. Look out ya'll.




Truly swoonable is The Grit for the morning after the Cosmo and two White Russians (seriously, what was I thinking?). Complete with coffee, cheese grits, and biscuits with white 'sausage' gravy. The best breakfast in town. Mmmmm, carbs. Yum.




Carbs were necessary so I could hit my knitting class, and produce this stunning piece of work. I'm a lace knitting genious, seriously. Forget the pattern in the background, you don't see that. Ok, ok, actually this is my knitting, but it's Annie's brilliance in the pattern not mine. The linked post will also make me famous and junk.



Moi and the Goddess herself. See the hat? That's proof of her divinity. Annie is just great, and her class was so much fun (after the first hour of my own blurriness and a few diet cokes). Pretend I'm wearing makeup and have had a shower.



Blurry. The buzz word of the weekend.

And then there's me and Ashley, doing our stunning (fuzzy) rendition of Gone With the Wind. Kinda makes a Northerner's trip to the south complete eh? The Scarlet hat was just icing.



And finally I love Athens for this little cute house currently on my home radar.



It's bigger than it looks, needs lots of work, is affordable and is in a good neighborhood. Who's up for a painting party? We can even knock down some walls if we're feeling frisky!