Ask Poops, Please

Putting my two cents in.

My Photo
Name:
Location: Belmont, New Hampshire, United States

Born and bred in a small New England town, I am convinced that I know something about everything, and that my opinion matters. If only to me. Well, you'll see what I mean. And I love to knit, so you'll see what kind of things I'm doing when I should be vacuuming the living room.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

I Got the Shaft

So far all I’ve got is a shaft. And the glans. But it’s looking penis-like to be sure! I was making it up as I go along, and believe me when I say I wanted it to be longer, but that is literally the end of the brown yarn. I had just enough left to weave in the ends.

Today, the scrotum.

Does it not look nice modeled by DH's underthings? It's flaccid because it doesn't yet have any testes. Though I don't believe one needs testes to have an erection. I'd have to look that up, but I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that it's possible, contrary to popular thinking, for a eunuch to have a love life. I'll get back to you on that.

I did a bit of shaping on the edge of the "helmet" where there is natural shaping in real life, but it doesn't show in the top pic. So I took a second one so you could see. It's just some strategically placed running stitches.

Nice girth, huh?

Lest I be branded a hypocrite for knitting something fairly useless, and thus making an item that is “art for art’s sake,” this is not at all like knitting a motorcycle. Okay, it’s kind of like knitting a motorcycle. This dong isn’t going to keep anyone warm. It makes a statement, rather than serve a function. Normally, this irritates me.

But this is a knit PENIS. You can see the difference, can’t you? Yeah, I know, I’m on shaky ground here. Perhaps it just has to do with liking penises and not liking motorcycles. I do love this giant knit glove. Why? Because it’s functional, and it’s a cozy! Everything needs a cozy. Even giant, hand-shaped chairs.

Natalie, who clearly did some research before submitting her question to the Blog Contest, asks “If you ‘cannot fathom knitting a motorcycle’ is there anything you would do on or with one? For example, I would never ride one, but I would pose for a picture next to one but not in a knitted bathing suit!”

Ditto on the knitted bathing suit, my friend. That is wrong on so many levels. Bathing suits are why God invented spandex.

I have an anti-motorcycle bias. Just about everyone in my family and my husband’s family rides one. We don’t. I don’t like riding as a passenger. They feel “tippy” to me, and I fear wiping out constantly, so I can’t relax and enjoy it.

All summer long, I have to listen to them. They are, for the most part, loud and obnoxious. I’m not speaking of the old guys on their big Gold Wings, but of the 19-year-old boys on crotch rockets, and our local dirtbag population on the loudest pieces of machinery they can get to pass inspection. We have a neighbor that starts his up in the morning and revs it over and over and over again, and it is deafening. So bad in fact that if I didn’t fear him shooting me (literally, not figuratively), I’d sneak over there at night and take out some vital parts a la the nuns in The Sound of Music and get some piece and quiet while he figures out while it won’t start.

I don’t enjoy sharing the road with them. I will do most anything to avoid following one. The entire time I’m behind a bike I’m thinking that if he dumps that bike for any random reason that I’m probably going to run him over and kill him. The highway is the worst. It’s very stressful.

I live in fear of my family members on bikes getting hit by cars. My mom’s ex had been riding for 40 years when an elderly driver cut him off on the highway. He dumped the bike and was hit by another car and lost his leg. A local motorcycle cop was clipped by a driver that didn’t yield to incoming traffic and lost his leg. I spend the warm months praying that I don’t get a phone call that someone I love is in the ER or the morgue.

So no, there’s nothing I can fathom doing with a motorcycle, or on one. But that’s okay. They’re not my thing. And covering one with yarn renders both the yarn and the bike useless. I would make motorcycle accessories, though, like helmet liners and scarves and such. We only have a couple of months of really hot riding weather. The rest of the time, bikers up here are bundled right up. It seems a better use of wool to me.

Now you see, when I started writing that, I had no idea it would turn into a rant about motorcycles. Crazy where that took me.

Of course if you love the open road, the wind in your hair and the bugs in your teeth, I don’t hold it against you. But you do make me nervous and I will be praying for your safety. Be careful out there. People are idiots.

But enough about bikes! Let’s talk about Monica! I knit like a madwoman yesterday and got it right up to the straps. I tried it on Bobo this morning and well, I’m not happy. It fits perfectly at her waist, long enough, just the right ease and all, but at the armpits it’s huge. She’s swimming in it. I have a feeling that if she had boobs it would be perfect, but she’s only three. No boobs yet. Just nooblies. I wonder if it should have had some shaping in that area. I’m going to make the straps and tack them into place and see if I like it better then. If I make them on the short side, the sides will need to “droop” a bit so as to make an armhole of sorts, so I’ll futz with it.

And in the round is the way to go. I still can’t see why you’d knit two sides and seam it. Unless you’re just mad about seaming. Power to you if you are. Me, I’m with Bezzie. In the round raglans all the way, baby!

And thanks to Bezzie and the other Knittyheads who helped me get some buttons over there! To the left! They’re links! Click them and see them do their magic! Bezzie’s having a Kootchie Extravaganza that everyone with a uterus should see. I’m looking forward to the old cooter rootin’ this year because it means it might get me some yarn. How cool is that?

Speaking of pains in the crotch, it looks like I might be teaching 9th grade confirmation class next year. Nothing’s definite yet, since things are still being shuffled around, but it looks like I’m going to have myself some freshmen to mold in my image.

*insert maniacal laughter here*

Be afraid. Be very afraid!

(I am...)

6 Comments:

Blogger Bezzie said...

You're the queen of seques (and mittens). You start with a penis and end up with 9th grad confirmation class. Classic!

10:22 AM  
Blogger Jess said...

I.don't.know.what.to.say.
That's a HUGE... um... coughs... hand?

12:42 PM  
Anonymous OLPP said...

Your penis puts a special feeling in my special places.....

4:31 PM  
Blogger Ali said...

Poops has a penis! I never thought that sentence would ever come out of my mouth. You are a trip :)

4:31 PM  
Blogger xx A said...

Well well well... tell me. Is that a UFO in your pants there, or are you just happy to see me? *wink nudge*

I so need to knit my sister one of these for Christmas this year. Can you imagine coming down the stairs to find a knitted glans peeking out of the top of your stocking?! Classic.

4:41 PM  
Blogger ZantiMissKnit said...

My hand chair need a cosy. And maybe a giant knit penis to fondle. I think that is the most bizarre thing I have ever typed.

12:35 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home


Free Recipes