False Sense of Productivity

so, I woulda brought this to sangria night or something, to show you guys my little sweater that I made, but, alas, this will have to be the forum. I finished it up last night before frantically packing my funeral wear (are you really still supposed to wear all black to funerals?) for Mr. Mister's uncle's funeral this weekend, and then crashing into my sweaty-sticky bed.

It looks really nothing like the pattern
was intentioned, and I kindof feel like
it's a little silly, but also its cute :)

So, obviously, you realize that this is
not me, so lose the confusion there
here's the designer's version:










And here's a little close up of mine. . .
the closeure is a pretty little hair pick
that sarah gave me. . . that i thought i'd
give a little chance since I can't use it right now:









It's obviously bigger than inteded (I actually think it kindof resembles football pads), but i've long thought the yarn was really pretty and its a finished product out of many starts with this yarn i've had for years and years. Makes me feel mildly accomplished, while the blanket that the stuff was purchased for (in 2001) still boasts about twelve inches of width in a basket on the universal shelving unit (ikea barf). Apparently, my filler for time in lieu of lovely lady friends (sounds like I run a harem) has become useless craft-ish projects. I don't even clean anymore.

At least I took out the garbage and rotten leftovers yesterday.