We all need a laugh tonight

See subject line.

Suffice it to say that work this week has been one thing after another, after another, after another.

But somehow the gods of humour, who usually stand by me pretty good, swooped in and gave me what I need.

How in earth did I miss the new Butterick patterns?

My email is mostly out of control. It seems that a lot of stuff is going into my Spam folder, including the notices from Vogue and co. which I miss, even when I periodically clean out my five hundred spam messages asking me where they should send the million dollars I won, or warning me of the dangers of surgery I never had, and telling me that there are lonely married seniors in my area, not that I believe that for a moment since they all have dogs.

I sometimes wonder what random searches I ever did that has attracted some of this lint.

For example I am on some Google alert about Spam. 

The kind in the can with the aluminum key that breaks off and has that block of jellied pink jelly drop out like a lump onto the plate. 

Personally I haven't eaten the stuff since my grandmother died but Google thinks I do. You know every time you open your gmail you probably have ads across the top about online M.B.A.s

Me I see recipes for Spam. Spam El Fresco (sandwiches presumably for picnics) and even more frighteningly Spam bourguignon, Spam fettucini,  and Spam mousse.

A different recipe everyday. 

I am trying not to take it personally that somewhere the world's largest search engine has decided I am running a low brow operation around here.

You don't think I have been outed by Google Maps do you?

Some random shot of me eating cereal on the front steps (done a lot on my street), blogging in a polar fleece housecoat at 11:00 on a Saturday morning in front of a sink full of dirty dishes.

Anything is possible. There is no privacy anymore.

OK, back on topic.

Well, something came over me tonight,  it was like a little voice in my head was saying:

"Stop with the marking, stop with the marking, go have a look at the Butterick site."

I mean it was eerie how this urge came over me.

Well anyway I opened a new window, one without any student papers on it, and surfed on over.

I was not disappointed.

Some real beauties there:

Can't you just tell from her face what this model  is saying here between clenched teeth. "If you laugh one more time you are dead."  The world's first below the boob flying bow. Words for once, almost fail me. Where was that bow before it dropped? I have seen crocheted dog coats with more class, no insult to dogs or crocheters.

Another nervous model. This little number would make my mother look like a hooker. OK obviously designed for folks whose legs are their only good feature but no way anybody's husband wouldn't say "yeah but where are the pants to that outfit?" This is sort of a pre-wadder, you would know before it got that far.

It takes real skill to made a size zero look like she has a big butt and a big belly but this one manages that. The skirt is in pleatherette BTW in case you missed the point the first time. Even I wouldn't have worn anything like this to a junior high dance which is about the most extreme statement I can make about lack of style since I believe I set new standards for poor taste throughout those years.

A sleeping bag dress. It has to be.
This unit has to convert to something useful. I am willing to lay money that if you undo that zipper and unfold the middle you have a nice little tent that sleeps five.
This dress has to be a disguise of some kind.

There you have it. I am all cheered up.

No idea why I am no longer getting notices from the pattern companies when the new patterns come out.