Tutorial: How to make a pin cushion ball gag out of a teddy bear

I have a confession to make: I hold my pins in my mouth while I sew.  I know, so dangerous. Yet so convenient! I've had an idea kicking about in my head for a long time (ever since Pulp Fiction came out) for how to have my pins right near my mouth, but not actually in my mouth.  But it wasn't until this year when I had my nasal cavity fixed and I became able to nose-breathe that I could actually try it out.  I'm so glad I did! 

What I did was to cut off the head off a small teddy bear, sew the neck hole closed, and then attach an elastic headband to make it hands free.  You want to choose a teddy bear with a pretty three-dimensional head; anything flatter and you could poke your pins all the way through and into your face. It is quite comfortable but you may find that you want to take it off a little bit before you leave the house to let the indentations settle down.

And here it is in action!  Just look how I'm able to sew effortlessly with both of my hands free and nary a pin making its way down my gullet.

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Happy Subversive Valentine's Day

To express my love and appreciation to my husband for his heartfelt card and the box of Gobstoppers (he will no doubt eat on the sly), I made Steven a really special card.

Are you sure about that?

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I see your Ludicrous Request and raise you one...

Nose: days one through four.  It's gotten less exciting since then.

Thanks for all your continued well-wishes on my recovery, kind readers.  Particular gratitude goes to the Anonymous commentors, who have left their good will / shop links no less that 27 times since I last posted.  I was gone, but surely not forgotten.  By the spammers.  You will (most likely) be pleased to know that the bruising and swelling have all but disappeared, my Transformers Mask is coming off tomorrow and I'm feeling much more like my old self.  And by 'my old self' I mean ornery and sarcastic.

Here's an actual email from a PR person today:

Hi Kitschy,

My name is Isabelle and I am currently working with xx A fabric shop in Melbourne xx. I came across your site http://kitschycoo.blogspot.com/2010/09/very-big-list-of-best-uk-online-fabric.html  . I love the content and the style of your articles. We were wondering if you would write a blog for us to be posted on your great site?

We were thinking the topic could be:

·         The right blinds to suit your home design

·         Types of blinds for your home

·         3 Reasons why you may want to install blinds

Or you could pick your own topic. And we just need a link back to our website in this.

Not a promotional piece just a general piece like the ones you've been writing.

Hope to hear back from you soon!

Obviously I skedaddled straight over to Facebook to elicit your collective outrage at such a cheeky request.  And then fell prey to (only minimal) pressure to email her back with a request of my own.

Hi Melbourne,  thanks for your email.  I clicked through to your site, I like your aesthetic and information on blinds.  Normally I don't take unsolicitated requests for blog posts to be written, particularly for non-UK companies and without any incentive or relevancy to my readers, but maybe we can work something out.  In exchange for me spending time writing a promotional post for you, I was thinking you could add some of my product images to the gallery on your great site?   You could add a picture of:

• Clothes
• Fabric
• Patterns

Or you could pick a picture from my blog; there's quite a few of me for example.  And all I'd need was a link back to my shop (http://www.kitschycoo.bigcartel.com/).  Like you, I can't offer any promotional incentive for featuring my business but if this is how PR works then sign me up.

I look forward to hearing from you soon!

Amanda 

I haven't heard back yet but will keep you updated.

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The Tormentable Tennis Skirt

Backstory: If you're not familiar with the children's programme, "Chloe's Closet", I offer my congratulations on a life well spent. And then this theme tune to memorise:


There are very few benefits for an adult repeatedly subjected to this invasive ditty. Until their daughter befriends a girl named Chloe, who then has a birthday and requires a present...

Me: So what should I make for Chloe?
Maia: I dunno.
Me: I was thinking of making her something for her closet.
Maia: Muuuuuuummmmm.

Steven: Well, dress-up is a game she plays.
Me: Yep. Each and every day.
Maia: You guys!!

Me: So what do you think she needs? Chloe's closet is a mystery.
Maia: RAAAAA!!

Disclaimer: No actual Chloes were teased in the making of this skirt, only daughters not named Chloe.

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International Day of Anticlimax

Well, I have to say that you guys have really upped your sneakiness this year. Last year I had 54 delurkers, this year a mere 19, despite an increase of 161% in my overall visitors. This leads me to conclude that not only are all the extra readers I've picked up this year sneaky, but that their sneakiness has somehow affected my long-term readers. Although I am sad that you just like me less than last year not to have reached the giddy heights of 2011, I keep reminding myself that:

• It is quality not quantity that matters. This was an excellent crop of delurkers.
  
• Most likely the majority of you gave up delurking for Lent.
  

Because graphs are fun, let's break down the blog visitors over the last twenty four hours:

According to Google Analytics, I had 620 unique visitors since yesterday's post. Regular commenters who continue to indulge my dorkiness are sneaky like a cat (i.e. just want to poop outside), the more elusive semi-sneaky raccoons are quite possibly sneaky but on this occasion magnanimous, and the brave squirrelly souls who genuinely delurked are sneaky but obliging. Visitors specifically to the International Day of Delurking post or to my general blog address who did not comment (46%!) are sneaky like almiqui, which have an inner sneakiness so profound that they successfully convinced the world they were extinct. That leaves the 44% of visitors who were to busy looking through my tutorials to partake in shenanigans, and 4% of visitors who are sketchy and came in via questionable search terms. I'm giving the side-eye to you, person who googled 'a girl pooping herself'.

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International Day of Delurking - 2012 edition

The absolute worst thing about being bed-ridden over the weekend was missing the anniversary of International Day of Delurking, my favourite event from last year. It is the day that we celebrate the army of readers-but-not-commenters, and invite them to say hello. Now, enticing a lurker out of their lurkiness (or even their Reader of choice) is never easy but I have recently disabled word verification to ease commenting, and I've prepared a whole new litmus test of my blog visitors' relative sneakiness. Horses, pandas and alligators are so 2011.


Google Image Search declares this cat the most sneaky animal in the world. Google, adjust your algorithms as this cat is not at all sneaky, but forlorn. Ironically, if he was allowed to poop outside, he'd probably be heaps more sneaky as he'd have to find places to do his business without the neighbours getting angry. On International Day of Delurking, the role of Obviously-Not-Sneaky-Cat is played by the regular commenters. Substitute a desire to poop outside with 'comment regularly and be celebrated for it' and we have a direct match.


Now we are into the grey area: the creatures that are allegedly sneaky but Google Image results do not prove beyond a doubt. Occasional commenters who would really prefer to lurk (but might have a question for me), today you play the role of Possibly-Sneaky-Raccoon. For photo-ops and meal-sharing you put on a brave face to hide your sneakiness but your true nature is the raccoon at the back.


At last, we have Legitimately-Sneaky-Squirrel who waits for you to be so preoccupied with capturing the perfect shot with your camera that you won't notice when he sneaks up onto your backpack. With the preponderance of photo-taking angst from me this year, all we need to do is substitute backpack for 'blog' and Sneaky Squirrel becomes the perfect metaphor for Kitschy Coo lurkers. Don't fret, lurkers, I've noticed you on my backpack and love you just the same.

Well, I hope I've done enough anthropomorphising to land me some comments. Regular commenters, do you relate to Not-So-Sneaky-Cat? Occasional commenters, which of the five raccoons best encompasses your nature (or are you best suited to 'raccoon not pictured)? Uber-lurkers, I am giving you one more bonus conversation starter:


The almiqui: super sneaky or super scary? Discuss.

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From the heart. You better listen.

I saw soooooo many creative and inspiring hand-made cards for Valentine's this year. But with it being half-term, there's no school and therefore no one to make cards for. Good news for me as I get to make zero effort, but also good for the six-year olds of Edinburgh because this is the collaborative effort from me and Jamie*:

Australasians, I'm sorry it's too late for you to print these to give to friends. North Americans, there's still time.

*When I say 'collaborative effort', I mean that Jamie drew it, wrote Happy Valentine's Day on it, and went to bed. The rest is my doing.

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The part of Robert Redford will be played by me. The part of fake refugee will be played by Branson.

I have been very touched by the collective good-will towards my finger. The little twins who live across the street have even been praying for me. Don't worry about me, God. Honestly, I'm fine. So I took my bandage off a couple of days ago. The nurse said four days, but I counted the day that she did it, and the day I took it off, and I stayed up very late on Tuesday and Wednesday so those days counted at 1.5 days. Really, it was very close to four days. Apart from Friday (technically the day I should have taken it off), when I had a Robert Redford in The Natural moment, it is healing really well.


To the people who won't get this reference: Robert Redford is a baseball player with a big game and twenty-year old bullet lodged in his stomach. He's at the plate and hits a home run and everyone is like, 'Just look at that guy getting stuff done he's a goddamn hero running around those bases like that WAIT A MINUTE IS THAT BLOOD COMING THROUGH HIS SHIRT WHAT IS GOING ON'. Me and my poorly-bandaged-by-me finger reenacted this scene fairly accurately except for the exploding overhead lights. I couldn't find a single screencap of this dramatic denouement and I was google image searching things like 'robert redford the natural bandage' and 'robert redford the natural blood'. No screencaps. But just look what does come up under 'robert redford bullet wound'...


My old enemy of yore. Nice try, Branson, you are no way heroic like Robert Redford in the The Natural. In fact, The Daily Mail reports the story as 'The Moment Virgin boss pretended to be a refugee and was 'taken hostage' by armed gunman'. According to the Daily Mail (so by rights I'm calling shenanigans'), this was an official simulation with the United Nations but I'm guessing that faking injuries and pretending to be refugee is not a one-off with this man.

For the sadists who wanted to see what it looked like when I took it off, knock yourselves out. Many apologies to my Flickr contacts who saw the picture without any say in the matter.

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The Alternative Christmas Gift Guide

It's that time of the year when the air is filled with the dulcet tones of my progeny chanting 'I want that, I want that, I want that' at every commercial and catalogue they see. Lengthy and precise letters to Santa have been written, and every adult within a ten mile radius (whether we know them or not) has been instructed what to buy.

Gifts for the girl
Steven and I have been arguing about to what extent to give into Maia's wish fulfilment. Never has a more gender-stereotyped child walked this Earth. The feminist in me objects to at least 80% of her list; she does not need anything in her life that solidifies her notion that girls are vapid and superficial.

The girl wants a Barbie head, ergo I will get her this one. I win.


The girl wants a My Little Pony, ergo I will get this one. Two- nil.


Gifts for the boy
Not as contentious as his sister's. Batman-centric.

I've mentioned before about Jamie's deep-seated fear of bears. Will a poster of Batman Bear change his mind?


Nah, probably not. This ursaphobia is seriously disruptive to our lives: the hall light needs to be on overnight with their bedroom door open, he requires a chaperone in every room in our own flipping house for fear of The Bear. Bat-Bear is cool, no doubt. But this level of fear calls for some aversion therapy:


Worried about finding youself inside a bear's stomach? No need. So plush and cosy.

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Dental reviews: Now 100 % more thorough

Long-term readers might remember the review I did of my dentist earlier this year via the medium of True Blood. Reviews are great, of course, but better when they are not stand-alone pieces. Everyone is left wondering, 'How is this dentist now?', 'What was her six month check-up like?', and 'Did the dynamics of their relationship change now they are more familiar with each other and have gotten over their initial-appointment jitters?' Courtesy of my first cavity in 15 years, I bring you a follow-up review....

Dentist: Hello there. How are you today?
Me: Fine, thank you. How are you?
Dentist (harassed face): Meh.
Me: Bad day, was it?
Dentist: You could say that.
Me: (thinks) I hope it wasn't a malpractice suit.
Dentist: So. You're here because you have a cavity.
Me: Yes.
Dentist: And would you like to have pain relief?
Me: (thinks) Is this a trick question?
Dentist: If you don't it will be sore when I drill.
Me: I would like pain relief.

Pictured: Needle to scale.

Dentist: I have given you two injections.
Me: Okay.
Dentist: Just about to drill. It might still be sore, the injections were only small. Let me know if you can't take it.
Me: (thinking) What does this guy have against pain relief?
Dentist: Here we go....

Pictured: My actual response.

Dentist: Would you like another injection?
Me: Yes please.
Dentist: Okay, done. We might as well clean your teeth while we wait for it to kick in.

Pictured: Routine teeth cleaning

Dentist: Nurse, can I have the suction?

Pictured: Dental nurse

Dentist: Is it fully numb now?

Pictured: All of the paralysed nerves and muscles in my face.

Me: Yes.
Dentist: I am going to put this thing in your mouth.

Pictured: approximation of apparatus

Dentist: Let's get drilling.

Pictured: Dentists everywhere.

Dentist: Okay, all done. You should rinse now.

Pictured: Pre-rinsed.

Me: Thank you.
Dentist: You're welcome. See you in six months.

The end.

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Send my prize this way

Despite my incessant whinging and pleading for an oven for approximately two years now, The Fairy Hobmother and I are still friends. Ish. Remember that old Chinese proverb, 'If friend does not have functional oven, other friend who sells ovens provides for her'? That one is under-appreciated. Anyway, he gave me the heads up that they are having a Christmas card competition through their facebook page where you design a card for them and they give me an oven or appliance of your choice. Never one to pass a competition up (except for most other competitions), I set my photoshopping skillz to the test. My original idea was to create a card that said, 'AppliancesOnline, giving bloggers other than Kitschy Coo ovens for (insert: time frame)' but:

1. I couldn't find how long they'd been in business and therefore giving ovens to other people for. 'Years' was too vague. 'Ages' is a better use of the vernacular but still lacking specificity. Personally, I liked 'far too long' and thought it most accurately reflected the situation but it sounds a bit menacing.
   
2. In general, this card lacked universal appeal. Personal appeal, not lacking. Universal appeal, perhaps.
3. Not Christmassy.

So it was back to the drawing board. How could I combine a 'Happy Christmas' message with my agenda to score an new oven? Here's how:


If you have not watched Mad Men and are not therefore an advertising expert like me, just look at this subtle design. Universal appeal? Check. Everyone looking at this card will be heart-warmed by the combination of Santa, nice people, and appliance wish fulfilment. Clear message? Check. People need appliances and appliancesonline makes it happen. Let me repeat: People need appliances and appliancesonline makes it happen. *cough cough cough*

Disclaimer: The Fairy Hobmother compensated me for my time in posting this. But not with a oven, because this is a cruel world. The competition to design a card / win an appliance is on this page and submissions close tomorrow. If you do submit a card, please don't make it better than mine unless you are planning to send me your prize.

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Branson: The Final(?) Chapter

'The European Court has found that pursuant to The Human Rights Act, all European Citizens are entitled to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of LOLCATs...'

'I think you'll find that Kitschy Coo isn't actually a European Citizen.'

'Now, wait one minute, Branson. She's a god-damn American citizen and we do not stand for this sort of thing.'

America doesn't stand for this sort of thing.

'Hmm. Let her phone the call centre two dozen times. They will have a script for that.'

India responds.

The religious respond.

'What is going on down there?'

Branson is busy.

'Sort it, Branson.'

'I guess I could let her speak to someone in the UK.'

A Scouser knows his stuff.


IS THAT THE INTERNET?


Kitschy Coo bathes in its glorious warmth.

((THE END. I hope.))

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A comedy of errors

I know, my internet woes are very boring. Each day this week it's been cut off an hour earlier than the day before and I was starting to worry that eventually it would be cut off before I actually had it and a whopping great hole would be ripped in the Time-Space Continuum and before you know it it's the apocalypse again. So I called Virgin this morning. Hereby follows a (fairly) accurate representation of my experience:

Virgin robot: Press one for..... press six for.... please enter character four.... press five for.... press six for.... press two for.... press nine for... please enter character one..... press two for.... press four for.... press one for.... press six for....
Me: Press. Press. Press. Press. Press. Press. Press. Press.

While I am on hold, other people* have breakfast:



Technician one: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah...
Technician one: Okay, let me somehow take over your computer so you are embarrassed you when you realise what sites you have open.
Me: Okay.
Technician one: I have fixed everything. It all works now.
Me: Oh really?
Technician one: I have fixed everything. It all works now. Goodbye.

After hanging up the phone, I confirm that the internet does not actually work. Let's start the process over. Meanwhile, some people take out their garbage.



Technician two: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah... Your colleague told me he fixed it but he didn't.
Technician two: Okay, see that blue light on your computer, is it on?
Me: Yes.
Technician two: Great, your computer is on.
Me: --
Technician two: See that green light on the monitor, is it on?
Me: Yes.
Technician two: Great, your monitor is on. You can see things, right?
Me: --
Technician two: See that green light on the router, is that on?
Me: Yes.
Technician two: You have the internet. Is there anything else I can do to help?
Me: I don't have the internet.
Technician two: You have a problem with your computer.
Me: No I don't. Every single device has the same problem at the same time.
Technician two: When you fix your computer, the rest of your devices will start working.
Me: That is not even possible.
Technician two: I am transferring you to the 'It's Not Me, It's You' department.

Meanwhile, other people are on the phone too....


Person three: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah...
Person three: Can I have your account details?
Me: Blah blah blah.
Person three: You do not have an account with us.
Me: You are a joker.
Person three: I'm going to have to transfer you back to the beginning. Ask whoever answers to 'warm transfer' you back to me.

Person four: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: The last person I spoke to told me to tell you to 'warm transfer' me back to him.
Person four: What is this thing you speak of?
Me: No idea.
Person four: Well, who were you speaking to?
Me: I don't even know what is going on.
Person four: I'm going to transfer you.

Meanwhile, in another part of the world....



Person five: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: You could come to my house and stab me to death.
Person five: Ma'am?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah...
Person five: I'm not authorised to speak to you as you are a 50mb customer. I will transfer you.

Person six: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah... You are the fifth person I have spoken to during this epic one hour and thirty minute conversation.
Person six: It is a known fault in your area.
Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME DID YOU ACTUALLY ADMIT THAT
Person six: There has been a fault for ages.
Me: I KNOW THAT I HAVE TOLD EVERYONE THAT
Person six: Your internet loses its connection constantly.
Me: THIS IS A JOKE I AM ON CANDID CAMERA

*Disclaimer for legal types: Any resemblance to real people, be they Richard Branson or not, is purely coincidental.

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The Amazing Psychedelic Holiday Experience

This is what going on holiday looks like when you're five. Or thirty one, pulling an all-nighter because you had twenty eight things on your To Do list and we're off to the airport at 3:30AM anyway. I am so efficient, people, you have never seen anything like it. Everyone else is getting up in half and hour, and here I am doing stuff. Amazing.

For those of you who follow the blog for the express purpose of finding out when we're away so you can burgle us, do not even bother. Reasons why:

1. Queen of the over-packers. There is nothing left to steal, not even my new epilator.
2. We live in a flat, in a building full of geriatrics. They are always around, they never sleep and they're nosy as hell. Before you even get the first load of random, worthless detritus out of our house, there will be a passive aggressive note about you co-signed by the chairman of our building.
3. Google Analytics: You think you're so clever but searching 'when can I burgle Kitschy Coo' shows up in my analytics and now I have your IP address so you're basically already in big trouble.
   
4. Two words: Friend Sarah. Not only is she a policeman with keys to our house and instructions to hang out here, our house is within her actual beat. She is so bad-ass that she already knows about your nefarious plans and has instigated a covert sting operation to catch you as soon as you are within 100m of our property.

Catch you on the other side...

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I am now officially An Expert

In case you missed it, yesterday I guest posted over on Sew Sweetness as part of her Photography Week. It was lovely to be asked, although I was quite nervous about unleashing my dorkiness on a whole set of blissfully-unaware-of-me readers. I shared my tips on Quick and Dirty Photo Editing using your standard issue Windows Photo Viewer and you should go read it.

Unsure of my credentials at photo editing? My friend Kat asked someone to remove a lady from one of her pictures. Here is the offensive lady:

And now she's gone!


I didn't charge Kat for my expertise (yet) but will be happy to accept commissions of similar work.

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