Books, Breasts, and Forgetfulness

I have a system. It is, in actual fact, somebody else's system but I'm not going to mention who in case they'd rather I not.

The system is that if you loose something and can't find you sit or lie down and mope. The action of the moping will cause the thing to be found. It works for us. Which leads me to the moral of my half arsed story. Sometimes it's good to have a tantrum, to mope, to cry, to whinge, to rant. And why am I saying this, today of all days? No fucking clue, I'm actually quite cheerful. In fact I'm running around squeaking because I'm moving out soon!

Oh yeah… knit blog. I'm going to guiltily shuffle my feet over this one because I left my knitting bag at my Mums when I brought some books here. Speaking of books my Librarything now has the majority of my craft books in. So I have a special little craft book thingy bellow my novels. I'm hoping that it will show something other than Stitch 'n Bitch books eventually. Maybe if I hit reload enough.

Anyway. The pictures show the result of frantically trying to pick clothes out to visit Tom the weekend before last. I was getting an early train so I thought it would pay to be efficient. It only made me more neurotic. I couldn't find anything I wanted to wear. So I snipped some holes in a plain black tank fed some ribbon through (recycled from a size 12 corset… what was I thinking, other than not being able to close something past my breasts is a great look) pulled and tied. In the space of a Simpson's episode it went from a sack to a sack that draws attention to my breasts. The idea shamelessly stolen from Generation T

It also appears I got spammed yesterday. I don't delete any comments as a policy (unless they are flaming somebody other than me) so if you are wondering why they are still there, that's why.