2002-02-27 || 10:41 a.m.

|| lady chatterly's lover was a big fat piece of felt. ||

incidentally, i am so hot for felt right now. i am considering falling from the employment ranks (not a very far fall i am afraid.) to devote the waking hours to. well. felt.

i hate how the crafty hours are shoved to the wayside by workin and sleepin and going to bars. i want to make swallows and sparrows and flying fish out of felt. i want to string them up and affix them to coat hangers. i want to be the first internationally renowned ridiculously wealthy felty mobile mogul. i'm takin orders. do you want blue or red metal or wood?

errr. oh and hats, i can make hats out of felt. tell me your birthday and i will send you something eight months after the fact.

resolution: dear jenny, from now on you will wake up at a decent hour on sundays to cut felt and fishline with your sassy left handy scissors. you will. complete. projects. (this here is a shoutout to molly and megan fadeneon and belmondo and cleodawn, all who have projects in the works. please threaten not to talk to me until i send you your gifties.) the world is your crafty oyster, and you must dedicate hours within said oyster to get anything done. do you hear? no waffles for you, no lounging about watching cooking shows or wasting the day away in an unproductive fashion, my dear, until you flex that sexy crafty muscle and put out a little. can i tell you your hair is looking spectacular today? okay. get to it, hot stuff.

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