Saturday, March 27, 2010

Crochet Your Way to a Romance

So I've been up since the middle of the night, thanks to some back pain, and I found myself in front of the computer, trying to take my mind off the discomfort.  What better time to browse some free crochet patterns, right?  (I've found so many things I'd like to try!  If I ever do them all, I'll be buried under a mountain of crochet-- swimming through an ocean of afghans, throws, scarves, wraps, and doilies.  That sounds kind of fun, actually. . .)

Anyway, after looking through a certain number of patterns from the same company, you start to recognize the models.  One in particular stood out to me this morning-- a blond, blue-eyed Ms. Crochet Model.  As I found her in pattern after pattern, a story began to emerge (with a little help from my sleep-deprived brain). . .

Ms. Crochet Model led a lonely life.
Sure, she could crochet a mean afghan. . .


. . . (better make that several afghans [of varying temperaments]). . .


. . . but how many afghans does one person really need, anyway?  (Don't answer that question.  I'm currently pretending that there is a limitless need for afghans.  Otherwise, I'll never get to use all the patterns I've just downloaded.)

Ms. Crochet  Model did her best to mask her loneliness.  However, sometimes she tried a little too hard. . .


"See how happy I am with my crochet throws?  See how I smile?  Constantly?  That's because I'm happy.  Just me and my crochet afghans, lapghans, and throws. . . La la la. . . So very, very, incredibly happy. . . Really."


She thought for a while that she could fill the gaping holes in her life with crochet-- and she made an admirable attempt at it-- but deep down inside, she knew there was something missing.  She knew that she needed someone to appreciate her crochet-- someone to sit and watch her crochet for hours at a time.

Fortunately, Ms. Crochet Model also knew that, contrary to some bizarre myths regarding their stomachs, the way to a man's heart is actually through crochet.

Crochet Snuggies, to be precise. . .


Poor fella.  He never had a chance.
Before he knew what hit him, she had ensnared him in her cuddly web of crochet.

(What do you imagine he's saying on the phone in the photo above?  Maybe something like this:  "Bro, you wouldn't believe this girl I met!  I mean, sure, she's blond, blue-eyed and model-attractive-- with a blinding smile-- but you haven't heard the best part yet!  She can crochet like nobody's business!  I-- Now, I don't want to get ahead of myself or anything, but. . . I think she might be The One. . .")


Now that she's snagged herself a man, Ms. Crochet Model's life is so much more fulfilling.  Her crochet has a purpose-- she has to keep Crochet Model Dude warm and cozy.

(See how happy they look together?)


"No-one makes an afghan like my lady makes an afghan!"
"That's right, baby." 


What?  You don't believe that you can crochet your way to romantic happiness?


I'm telling you, I've spent nearly the whole night looking at patterns, and I'm here to say that it totally works. 

(For those of you who want a more empowered "don't-need-a-man-to-be-fulfilled" female in your crochet model fantasies. . . Sorry, but you really shouldn't take silly blog entries so seriously.  ;o))

P.S. The patterns featured in the photos above are available for free from Coats & Clark.  And that's including the awesome crochet Snuggie. (g)

P.P.S.  Do my bleary eyes deceive me, or is the man in the last photo (on the right) the same as the one with Ms. Crochet Model??  Why, that dirty, two-timing double-crosser!  (Or something. . .)

NOTE:  As you may have gathered, the joke here wasn't the crocheted items themselves (well, except for that abomination, the crocheted snuggie), but rather the repetitive use of that same model (and the goofy posing of the happy couples.  I actually quite like some of those afghans.

(Now you know another of my dirty little secrets:  I not only like doilies, but afghans, too.  And yet I really am not an 89-year-old woman.  --Not that there's anything wrong with being an 89-year-old woman, of course.  . . . It's just that I'm not one. . .)

1 comment: