oh, dear.
So, ever get the feeling that you've reached new, possibly unhealthy levels of your chosen guilty pleasure? I totally just did. If it wasn't apparent, I'm a geek. Not just a little bit. A dyed-in-the-wool-die-hard geek. I call my cell phone my "Jedi Communicator", my "comlink", or my "Sub Etha Sens-o-matic" just depending on what DVD's I've been watching, for chrissake. So, I got really bored earlier. Just terribly bored. And, being on a diet, I was having these terrible urges to go snack on stuff. In desperation, I went to my fabric stash, fully intending on making a new pair of bloomers, since I've recently discovered a lot of extremely cool, extremely easy online...well, maybe not "patterns" per se, but, well, instructions on making basic garb pieces. So, I get to my stash and find this 5.5 yard piece of a cotton/linen blend I bought on mega sale forever ago at Jo-Ann's or somewhere, fully intending on making these bloomers with enough left over for a hip-length chemise, when I realized that I never actually printed out those instructions. So, I came back to the computer, printed them, and then the ADHD kicked in. So, after meandering over random sites for over an hour, I wandered upon some cool kilt wrapping instructions here. So, of course, I got to wondering just how hard it was, then reminded myself that I don't actually have 6 yards of plaid. Then, what to my wondering eyes did appear, but 5 and a half yards of folded fabric, sitting innocently on the table. 2 minutes later I'm in a pair of shorts and my belt is on the ground next to said fabric, as I'm pleating it. I figured I'm a bit smaller than your average big, strapping, sexy Scotsman, so I could get away with slightly less yardage. So, I get it all pleated, lay down, put it on, yada yada, and, next thing you know, I've got Tartanic blasting from my speakers and I'm dancing around the house, admiring myself in every shiny object I see. Enter Mom. The look on her face was priceless. Her words were better. (In a voice of extremely forced calm) "Lauren....I've come home to you parading around the house in a jedi robe, pajama pants, and rubber duck slippers, playing with a flashlight[lightsaber]....I've come home to you doing the same thing with the flashlight [lightsaber]noise playing from the computer....I've come home to you storming throug the kitchen in a black cloak, pretending to be Darth Vader, Imperial March blaring. Hell, one day, I came home to find you adjusting your boobs under a steel-boned bodice. This is too much. You are wearing a kilt, for Chrissake..." At this point, I was rathere abashed, then, all of a sudden, she went and redeemed herself "...if you're going to wear it, wear it well! Now get your highlander butt over here and let me fix your pleats, MacLeod" Can we say w00t!?