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verbicideMy friend Jeanne is quite the prolific knitter. She's outdone us all in the six months since she's started. And she decided that even though she's allergic to the little bugger, she was going to make Hobbes a Kitty Pi. She saw this on a website and was utterly delighted--it was really very cute.
So the day we did our Buffy-thon, she sat there and churned out a Kitty Pi (meanwhile, I eke away at Jeff's scarf a millimeter a month).
Behold the pictures! Hobbsie loves it and has dissed his old basket in favor of being the furriest pie filling alive.
"I feel pretty! And witty! And briiiiiiiiiiiiiight!"
"Leave me 'lone. I have my pi and I don't have to share it."
And what's funny is that when I see these pictures, I don't think: Awwwwwww, cute kitty! I think: FUCK. I still haven't painted the motherfucking mantle.
So the day we did our Buffy-thon, she sat there and churned out a Kitty Pi (meanwhile, I eke away at Jeff's scarf a millimeter a month).
Behold the pictures! Hobbsie loves it and has dissed his old basket in favor of being the furriest pie filling alive.
"I feel pretty! And witty! And briiiiiiiiiiiiiight!"
"Leave me 'lone. I have my pi and I don't have to share it."
And what's funny is that when I see these pictures, I don't think: Awwwwwww, cute kitty! I think: FUCK. I still haven't painted the motherfucking mantle.
