Why is this man stalking me?

It's just so inconvenient, but this man seems to be stalking me.


His voice (which is strong and clear but a little soulless) on my iPod, his face on my desktop, videos of him playing Captain Jack in Torchwood hogging my bandwidth.*

Speculation is that Captain Jack is once again traveling with the Doctor, and I can't tell you how worried I am that he may show up unexpectedly with this guy:


I may have to knit a Dalek just to defend myself.

* Yes, I used BitTorrent to download Torchwood Season 1. I was perfectly willing to buy the DVD's but I don't have a Region 2 player.

PS to Bloglines users: Sorry the pictures are so huge; didn't expect that. But then you're getting the full effect of just how homely these men are. (^_^)

"Here at Reality Tour Headquarters, we go through a lot of vermouth"

Matt posted a great re-cap of the XY Knitters' Trip to Mary Sheep & Wool. Left to myself, I probably would have down-played the farting, but Matt's account does paint an accurate picture. I can only add camera-phone snapshots and these assorted out-of-context nuggets of conversation.

Caution: slow moving wood.

It was an explosion of color. It was nice. (No, Don, you can't write that down; it doesn't count).

Here at Reality Tour Headquarters, we go through a lot of vermouth.

I don't like to crochet blankets when my colostomy bag is full.

Don't eat the brown guacamole.

SSS: Sleepy Sac Syndrome.

I think a booger just fell down my shirt.

I wanna see a full on throw down over some yarn.

Somebody's nuts smell really good.

Really no fun in making up a song about not farting.

Who just put on the peppermint scented Preparation H?

Next year we call it "Maryland Sex & Wool."

There's more in my journal, but it's best not to get too specific since it involves an unfortunate copy of the Koran, obscure snatches of music from West Side Story, or who was going to "accidentally" surprise whom in the shower. None of this comes close to showing how much fun I had. Thanks for the great weekend, gentlemen. All your blogs just got moved from the "Knitting" folder to the "Friends" folder in my blogroll.

Oh, and just to show that the weekend was not utterly lacking in dignity, here's Seamus posing with my traveling sock:

Impotent rage

As I've said before, what good is a blog if you can't bitch impotently about minor inconveniences?

After years of credit union banking, I have finally decided to switch to a "real" bank, with actual local offices and convenient ATMs. I chose Chase.

Account creation was easy and convenient, and I was prepared to begin the full switch. I logged into my old account, requested a withdrawal in the amount of my last paycheck, and when the check arrived, I used the local ATM to deposit the money into my new account. My Visa Check Card was declined a few hours later at dinner, but I didn't think anything of it since the account was new and I didn't expect the deposit to be immediately available.

Then on Saturday, I got two (2!) letters from Chase telling me they were placing a hold on my deposit for seven (7!) business days. I'm understanding up to a point: it was a new account, created on-line, with a first deposit of any size made through an ATM. But seven business days?! The letters gave me a number to call, where I was told this was at the discretion of local branch managers. I've just gotten back from speaking to the local branch manager, who said it's an SEC regulation, and they won't budge. Oh, if I go to the credit union (office in another town) and get an image of the cleared check and present it to Chase, then they'll lift the hold. But meanwhile, there's nothing I can do. And it will be this way for six months.

So my entire paycheck sits with a lock on it until Monday, May 7. We all know Chase has my money; they get to play with it and squeeze what interest and investment they can out of it, while I have to make do without it. Make do, when I could be spending it this weekend at the Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival.

I guess this post can only end one way, with the immortal wisdom of Little Edie reminding us that, "This is the worst thing to happen ever in the history of America."