So I had to finish this sweater for a cousin really fast because her birthday was in three days and I still wasn't finished with the back, nor had I started the sleeves. I was knitting every chance I got as I didn't want to waste a free moment. Perhaps I took it too far when I decided to see if I could knit while driving. That's not as bad as it sounds. I was on the expressway so I didn't have to worry about stop lights. There was very little traffic and the road was pretty straight, very few curves. So there I am, steering with my knees while my hands were happily knitting away. I was able to keep my eyes on the road for the most part because it was just a stockinette stitch, something I can do blindfolded. I'm almost at my exit when I notice a police car next to me with its lights flashing. I rolled my window down and I hear the policeman yell, "Pull over! Pull over!" I don't know what came over me but I just couldn't resist. I showed him my sweater as I said, "No, it's a cardigan."
As the policeman without a sense of humor was writing me a ticket, I had an epiphany. I would become a stand-up comic who told nothing but knitting jokes. I've been to enough knitting conventions and workshops to realize that they can often be drab affairs. What they need is someone to liven things up a bit. That's where me and my new act come in. Now I just have to write myself some hilarious material. Half an hour of jokes and funny anecdotes, all related to knitting. Ha! Easier said than done. I have a new found respect for stand-up comics. Writing good jokes is harder than knitting socks in a dark movie theater. After three weeks, all I have to show for my efforts are a few feeble jokes. About a minute and a half of mediocre material. I even went online to steal other people's knitting jokes. They were all pretty stale, though. Nothing that would keep a bunch of knitters in stitches. Wait. I take that back. There was one good joke about a woman knitting in church who kept poking her husband with her needles whenever he fell asleep. But the punch line was rather X rated so I can't repeat it in my G rated blog. I guess I'll give myself a few more weeks and if nothing brilliant comes out of my efforts, I'll give up this notion of becoming a stand-up knitting comic and go back to my plan of becoming the worlds greatest male knitter between the ages of 50 and 59. But while I have your attention, listen to this:
I was selling a woman some sock yarn at the store and I told her that one ball would be just enough to make two socks. She responded, "In that case I'll take two balls as I have to make two and a half socks." "Huh?" I said as I looked at her questioningly. "It just so happens," she said, "that my son who just joined the Marines, wrote me a letter from boot camp. He says that they're feeding him so well that he's grown another half a foot."
It was a slow day at the knit shop the other day. The good thing about slow days is that I make great progress with whatever it is I'm knitting at the moment. I was working on a project using Berroco Souffle, a wonderfully soft and airy yarn that, sadly, is going to be discontinued. (Plug for the store: The last of the Berroco Souffle we carry will be available at a discounted price at the upcoming Evanston Sidewalk Sale.) Suddenly, the door opened and a man wearing a kilt and carrying a bagpipe says, "Allo, Laddie. Do ye have any Shetland wool?" I answered without dropping a stitch, "Aye, that we do. But wouldn't ye rather knit with Merino? Not as itchy and a wee bit more profit for the store." He must not have liked my Scottish accent because he let out a nasty Ach! and left, slamming the door on his way out. The noise made me drop my knitting and Berroco Souffle being Berroco Souffle, it never rose again.
A couple of weeks ago, a woman came into the store and asked me if I could knit a wool cover for her husband's nine iron. We quickly agreed on a price and then I showed her some yarns that would make lovely golf club covers. She then said, " I don't really care what it looks like. I just want the yarn to be as thick as possible." "Why's that?" I asked her. She answered, "I just want to hurt the cheating bastard, I don't want to kill him."
An atheist was knitting a sweater while driving. Not surprisingly, he ended up wrapped around a tree. The next thing he knows, he and his knitting are in front of the pearly gates and a scowling St. Peter is giving him an admonishing look. "I know, I know." the dead man says. "You don't have to tell me. I reckon I won't be going through those gates because I didn't believe." St. Peter responds, "Oh you're headed downstairs, all right, but not because you turned your back on God. That's a forgivable sin if you led an honest life. But just look at that monstrosity," St. Peter says, pointing at the man's larger than necessary knitting project. "Who are you knitting that for? Shaquille O'Neal? You broke the greatest of the Knitter's Ten Commandments. Thou shalt always knit a gauge swatch before beginning a project."
Four jokes down, about sixty six more to go. And I suppose I better also write some good comebacks for hecklers, just in case.
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