I'm going to be in Peoria, IL on Thursday night to attend the Yule Ball at the main branch of the Peoria Public Library (Draco and the Malfoys and The Whomping Willows will be playing). Anyone got any suggestions for where to go for dinner in downtown Peoria?

[Edited to add evil MySpace links on 1/5/07]

 

An unexpected and exciting development in our sad, urban-sprawled, poseur-city town was that we had another knit celeb sighting. Christine Selleck, the brain and bosom behind the Pointy Sticks podcast, not only showed up randomly at our fave LYS, not only bought some stickers that I had made, not only came back later for Stitch 'N Bitch, and not only made gratuitous use of the word fuck with us, but was so overtaken with joy to find out that The AntiCraft was based in the middle-of-nowhere to which she had traveled that her eyes rolled back in her head and she began speaking in tongues. Then she asked us for an interview.

Ok, I made up the part about speaking in tongues. I wasn't there. But she did ask us for an interview, which rocked… until Renée had to leave town for family holiday crap, and I was left to face the mic alone, with no one to reign me in when I go off on tangents or try to give waaaay too much backstory. Also? Christy Christine must have has some kind of infectious hyperactivity disease that could be spread through the sharing of needles (knitting needles, get it? a-hahahahaha!) because all the sudden I'm talking and it's like I'm on speed or crack, or both at once. The cool and composed Zabet that I know and love (but no one else has ever seen) was replaced with some hopped up chipmunk trying to express ideas when she could hardly hear Christy's Christine's questions past the screaming in her head. ("Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaah!" makes it hard to concentrate.)

So, you can listen to me discuss talk babble spew verbally about The AntiCraft on an upcoming Pointy Sticks episode, but you are absolutely forbidden to make fun of me. To my face at least.

 

Today Renée and I went to lunch with a friend. When all was said and done, she parted by saying, "I'm not going to wish you a happy holiday. I'm tired of wishing people happy holidays. Screw you." Renée nodded in understanding and responded with a hearty, "Bite me!" I beamed at my comrades and declared, "Fuck you all!"

So it is with love in our black (and, in my case, enlarged) hearts that we warmly extend these glad tidings to all of you. Fuck you all, every one. Mwah!

 

Hey, you last minute-holiday shoppers, this is for you! What to get the person who has everything? The answer is obviously a plushie Elder God. No? Well, how about a WWCD (drive everyone mad and eat them) t-shirt?

Cyclopean. Tentacular. Squid-o-riffic.
http://www.kthulhukitsch.com/

I can only hope that someone near and dear to me would send me such a thoughtful gift.

 

I love Diesel Sweeties If you love them, too, take part in a letterwriting campaign to have them in your local newspaper. Rstevens will even give you something he made in return, because he is AntiCrafty like that. If you don't love them, you need to re-examine your entire worldview, decide you love them, and then take part.

 

I have this tendency to throw things on my Netflix queue when I hear about a movie that I think might be half interesting. Of course, my Netflix queue is about 350 DVDs long (movies and TV series), so by the time something makes it to the top, I often don't remember why the hell I put it on there.

When The Happiness of the Katakuris arrived in the mail, the only thing I could remember was that it was supposed to be campy horror. I had somehow managed to forget entirely that it was also a musical.

Campy horror musical.... That sounds... familiar.

Except it's not. It's Joss Whedon on serious drugs. Not "Duuude, pass the bong" drugs. More like, "There is bad acid in the room. Repeat: Bad acid in the room. Only buy from someone you know!" drugs.

I recommend it highly.

 

Did you know that Britan's last witch trial was held in 1944?

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