You know when you go to bed and your paws smell of bacon but you didn’t have any bacon and there’s no bacon in the house and you don’t know why you smell of bacon and you can’t get to sleep for thinking about bacon? Well, apparently you shouldn’t mention it to anyone else. Especially not the bit where you try the scratch and sniff method to work out where the bacon smell originally came from.

Moving on. I won another award! My second of the year, but it won’t be the last. My Eurovision preparation is picking up speed. I figure I can use the drugs to bribe the judges. This time it turns out I make Tan’s day. And why not? Show me one person who doesn’t like a sticky monkey and I’ll beat them to death with a whisk and I’ll show you their entrails a person with no hope of surviving the night joy in their belly.

I’m supposed to find ten blogs and do the same to them. Whoever came up with this idea wasn’t expecting someone as lazy as me to get involved. But I’m not going to do that thing where you tell everyone that’s reading that they should consider themselves nominated because that is LAME and you’re not. I don’t know who you are and quite frankly you could be the most rubbage person in the universe. THAT’S RIGHT DR DEMONICO! I’M TALKING TO YOU!

So here’s how it’s going to work. Firstly, I’m changing the award to something more meaningful.

Then I’m going to go and check my bloglines deely for sticky people. Some people find it hard to determine how sticky a person is just from words on a screen, but I have a radar for sticky. The Professor built it for me. It’s pink.

Spanner is the tallest cow in the world and can destroy whole universes with her farts. You can’t have any of the pictures I bagsied and the Eiffel Tower series is destined for the tree house hallway. Anyway, one time she beat up The Jolly Green Giant and stole all his sweetcorn to make jam with. True story.

Who among you could deny the sticky nature of the monkee? Again, I’m looking at you Dr Demonico. It’s actually an urban myth, or a jungle myth mebbe, that monkeys are ace climbers. They just have really sticky paws and use their natural tacky nature to cling to trees and the reason they fling poo is because it sticks to their bums and they have to pull it off with their sticky paws and then flick their paws to get it off them. FACT.

Erm. This bloke cleans up a lot of puke so he must be pretty sticky, right? I think I need to put some new batteries in my radar. Hang on…OI! This is just an egg box with a dead squirrel in it!

So last night, as the Professor was taping me into my hammock, we got to talking about how long each of us would survive in your standard zombie mutant chainsaw killer apocalypse scenario. The Professor reckons he’d die straight away to get it over with before the terror began. I think that might be a tad foolish. The first death is always the most gruesome and drawn out so as to set the scene for horrors to come. I think the tipping point between terror and pain is probably death number 3 where the corpse is usually discovered dangling from a tree with no explanation as to how it got there.

I couldn’t decided if I’d be the one who made it to the end, or the brave little monkey who sacrificed herself so that others might live and so that I got to do some ace fighting with high kicks and crowbars and bullet time and stuff.  Also, I’d quite like to drop to my knees at one point and yell ‘NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo……………’ whilst waggling my fist at an uncaring universe.  That was when the Professor said ‘Silly Super Monkey. You’re the scary monster that’s doing all the killing.’

Poor me.

Do you ever have one of those days where you type and type and type and never really say anything and there’s no one about to make you stop?

I might stop now.

Due to my utter lack of machine sewing talent, I’ve opted to handpiece my quilt. In between knitting, spinning, napping and snacking it’s going pretty slowly, but it is going and that’s the main thing.

I can go in a straight line so when it comes to the actual quilting I may revert to my machine, but I’m quite taken with the whole hand sewing thing at the moment, and it’ll only be a widgy quilt, so we’ll see.

This fussy cutting lark can be made far more tricky when there’s a spelling mistake on one of the dinosorrus’s names.  Ah well. As I understand it, dyslexa often went undiagnosed in prehistoric times.  I’ve decided that the stegosaurus is a team player, rather than a second typo that went unnoticed until after I’d sewn it up.

Still, it’s pretty classy.

To counteract the nippyness in the air I spun up some fuzzy warm yarn for a calorimetry. I get sore ears when I’m flying about scouting for criminals to beat up.

The colours hasn’t come out great, but it’s a proper bright cape red plied with purple. It’s merino that I got from Wingham in the summer, and there are lots of tutorials online about spinning for a specific pattern.  But bollocks to that, I eyeballed it and had about a metre left over when I cast off. It still needs a button. I’m not good at button shopping so I might make one from some Fimo. I’m not good at button making either.

This is Boteh in Smooshy. It turns out I’m not terribly fond of Teh Smooshy. I tried a couple of different sock patterns but I wasn’t feeling the love, so I crocheted it up into the scarf and it’ll go in the pressie bag until a recipient comes along.

I’m not sure if it’s the yarn or the colour or the texture, but there’s something I just don’t like about it. There’s an orange tinge to the semisolid purple and that might be it, but then it’s not that soft either. I haven’t washed it yet though, so mebbe it will soften up after that. I’ll post a better photo after it’s blocked but this is another one where the colour’s hard to get right. It must be a January thing.

These are Daisy socks in Lorna’s Laces Tickled Pink what Badger did get me for my buffday.

A fine pattern and fine socks.

Though they did divert my concentration away from the rooftop chase bit in the Bourne Thingamy. I caught up when they got into the bathroom though. The thing about Jason Bourne is he always ends up in the bathroom. I have an aunt like that.

Currently on the needles is Regia Color in Papillon, Stansfield 30. I’ve now knit up all the manly sock I own in to plain stocking stitch manly socks and now I only have a red pair, a green pair, another red pair, and a red pair to knit. There are two more pairs worth of 4 ply yarn unaccounted for but I don’t think they’ll be socks, so then that’s all my sock yarn done and I’ll move on to my lace stash. This killing of stash is really not so very hard at all.

It’s the new year and I am officially* the funnestest of ever. Funnestest means most ultimately awesome and bestest smelling. It would be churlish of me to deny it, and so I won’t.

*not official.

It seems a popular thing to do to be writing a plan of action for the coming year. Of course, back on Planet Donkey! Monkey! the new year doesn’t begin for another fortnight, and then there’s another one the week after that, and then I think the next one is in three years time. We have a somewhat erratic orbit since Dr Demonico unleashed his gravity conkers prompting the 100 Year Bouncy War. That was certainly an exciting couple of weeks and no mistake. I shall, however, comply with this quaint custom so as to better blend in with the puny Earth type humans and their silly ideas.

1. I will take affirmative action in my plans to take over this pathetic planet. I will write a chart topping song with a toe tapping beat and finally win Eurovision. My scheme last year was thrown into disarray by those filty deodorant swines stealing part of my chorus, but I believe that boom bing a bang bang may prove to be a stronger line than boom chick a wah wah anyway. In any case I will destroy my enemies and crush their wills beneath my adorable furry fists. May the best monkey win, i.e. me.

2. I will purchase a volcanic island and have the Professor kit it out with lasers and a monorail and one of those openy closey metal shutter deelies for the roof. Plus anything else that occurs to me. I want it to be really swanky, you know? The sort of place you won’t be embarrassed to kill spies in, but that you can still invite your mum round to for a cup of tea. Maybe some throw cushions and a shark tank.

I’ve been looking around the available real estate and it’s really expensive stuff. It leads me to believe that super villains aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be. I mean, if you’d just spent all that money to buy your island, do it up and recruit all those minions, where would you then find the cash to buy all the diamonds you need for your space laser? They have no choice but to resort to crime to fund their capers and I don’t think they should be judged badly. It’s the messed up property prices that are to blame.

It also explains why the minions are dressed in orange jumpsuits. There’s no money left for outfits and fabric can be really expensive. I bet Blofeld was always stroking his pussy as a way to soothe his sore fingers from all that sewing. If Bond had only thought to buy him a thimble I’m sure a lot of that rage could have been dissipated.

3. Make more me time. I think a good start would be somewhere in the range of 30 hours a day. This may require some sort of time dilation device to acheive. I’ll have to discuss it with the Professor.

4. I will suffer 20% fewer fools gladly.

Now for the important part. CRIMBO PRESSIES!

There’s Guitar Hero for the Wii at which I totally frigging ROCK! Some piratey stickers and colouring in. I’m pretty good at that but sometimes I go over the lines. The Professor says I should just relax and have fun with it, but I don’t know. The lines wouldn’t be there if they weren’t important, would they?

There are chocolate sausages and a praline slab that I haven’t eaten yet. Well, ok, one of the sausages is gone. I’ve put in some empty wrappers to symbolise all the things that didn’t make it to the photo session. My memory is hazy from all the sugar but I think there was quite a quantity. But there’s more left in the cupboard so there’s no need to panic.

The dinosauruses are from a quilt kit. I’ve already begun the cutting into pieces. I’m pretty nifty with scissors, it’s the sewing that causes conniptions. I got a big sewing box from my mum, so I’m all tooled up for the job but it WILL all go horribly and hilariously wrong. The only question is how and when. Except that’s two questions.

Then some books. I started the zombie book last night in my hammock, but it made me hungry. I’m not sure that’s a good thing. There was another book too on sewing bags, but I’ve put that somewhere safe. It doesn’t make me hungry.

The war of the worlds tripod is my gorilla pod. It means I can take those really arty shots that you see on all the fancy blogs.

There’s probably some other stuff that’s not there, besides all the edible stuff (the biscuits were lovely Badger), but I haven’t had breakfast yet and the sewing stuff would make more sense if I’d mentioned I got a sewing machine for my birthday, but my mum only handed that over a couple of weeks before Crimbo.

Now, shall I have peanut butter on toast or cereal? Or maybe noodles seeing as it’s lunch time? There’s a chocolate pudding and some clotted cream in the fridge. Maybe I’ll have that…