(diaryland) September 08, 2002 - 5:32 p.m.

I went to an embroidery and quilting expo yesterday. I'm mad for that shit. I love making huge samplers and whacking them on the wall after two years of eye-busting labour.

So, yeah. I went to the expo with Diane and Claire. They like embroidering pictures of Native Americans surrounded by tomahawks or wizards with sparkly things coming off them, kind of like the pictures you might see printed on velvet and hung in some Motorhead fan's house.

(I don't know how to do umlauts on this computer.)

Anyway, it was crowded. Very crowded. It was filled to the brim with little old ladies with too much time on their hands. That was expected. What wasn't expected was the fact that they were all goddamn bitches, scrounging for embroidery kits like packs of insane wild wolves. They kept hitting me with their bags (some of which they'd made themselves), pushing in front of me with their wizened elbows, quiet yet deadly. Bitches.

One of them dared to elbow Claire in the guts. Claire thought, fuck this, I've had it. I'm taking the power back. So she elbowed her, just like she deserved. The old lady gave her a most withering look, like she was the scum of the earth.

But Claire felt at peace.

I went nuts and spent over a hundred dollars on material and patterns and shit. The buying-up-big fever the old ladies had spread to me big time.

I got a sampler pattern with squirrels on it, a sampler pattern with cool flowers all over it, and some shit for my doll's house. Score!