For The Record

For this post, my dear Stalkees, there will be loads of sarcasm. I know shocking. For your enjoyment of this post, I recommend that anything that resides within quotation marks, such as "Hi, I'm Stalker Angie," should be read in the whiniest, nastiest, mocking, nasally voice known to man. Or woman. Think 5 year old children mocking each other with "I know you are, but what am I?" and you should be fine.

Hi! Me again. I think we need to set some things straight. I'm Stalker Angie. I stalk knitters. I crochet. I am a Crocheter. It's what I do. It's what I love to do. I do own knitting needles and they are quit pretty on their little knitting needle shelf where they will remain sitting pretty.

Don't get me wrong, I have knit in the past. A couple of scarves here, a hat or 2 there maybe even a cable once or twice. This does not even qualify me to be a knitter. I am so far from being a Knitter, it's unreal. Yes there is a difference between knitter and Knitter. You know there is. Here's my problem. In all my stalking and blog reading and such, I have become enamored with knitters and your gossamer lace shawls, your cabled sweaters, your fair isle cardigans, your quaint little socks and your felted purses. A lot of what you create has no equal in crochet. Well, not yet anyway. We're working on that and busting out of the granny square, but that's another tale for another time.

There are so many of you I consider friends and I know you mean well, but this has to stop, people. There are things in life I just don't do. I don't eat right. I don't exercise. I don't keep schedules worth a shit. I don't like cats. I don't knit socks. Stop suggesting the socks. Yes, I love sock yarn. I have lots of it. Why would I knit them? I have weird feet. I live in Texas where it is just hot as hell and we don't need socks. I don't like having my feet enclosed anyway, which is why I live in flip flops.

Every single time I wonder what project to move on to, what do I hear? "Oh, Stalker dear, you should knit some socks."

No.

"Have you tried knitting socks?"

No.

"Oh I bet you'd love knitting soooocks."

No.

"I'm not sure but look at these lovely socks I just finished."

Nice. No.

"Oooh, you could join our sock-a-long."

Hell no.

Stop it! I don't knit socks. I don't even like socks. Socks are the tool of the devil. It's like putting your feet in hell. I don't even own that many socks. Three pair of socks will see me through the winter and I only have to wash once a week. So for the very last damn time, I don't knit..


Well shit. Dammit, I blame all of you. I'm not going to start linking because it would take me forever. Oh there are some of you I blame more than the others, but I blame all of you. All of you with your parading of your socks and your self striping sock yarn. Your pretty little sock patterns that are oh so easy. You and your "Ooh look at me I knit socks." and "Aren't my socks so pretty?" and your "I don't know why anyone wouldn't want to knit socks."
Well, this doesn't make me a knitter! It's one sock! So I enjoyed knitting it. So I figured out DPNs. So I wanna make more socks. I am a crocheter! Wanna know why? Cuz 90% of you knitting suckers have cats. I hate cats! Noooo cats. I have 4 dogs. I am a crocheter. You can keep your lace and your cats all to yourselves. It's one damn sock. At least there's no..


DAMMIT! Meet Tinker. He showed up at Mom's house while I was binding off that damn sock. He lives with me and the dogs adore him. T adores him. He sleeps next to me. I blame you guys for this too. I give up. Someone hand me a crochet hook please.