Regardless of the look on my face, I really like it.
The Big Fat Liar hat is called the Big Fat Liar hat because it made a Big Fat Liar out of me. Anyone remember my rant about patterns and suckage and silly things in French? Yeah, I got pissy one day over the summer and denounced knitting from all patterns. And then I saw the pattern for this hat. The same day. And downloaded it. Right then. And went out and bought yarn for it. The next day. And cast on for this hat. As soon as I got home.
So yeah. I suck. But my hat doesn’t!
Pattern: A Slouch for All Seasons, by knittingdropout (Melissa something, I forget her real name. But her knitting rocks the awsome.)
Yarn: Cascade 220 superwash, teal, uno skein-o
Needle: I bloody forget
I also forget when I started and finished this thing, but both were when I was still in Southern California. So: it was a while ago.
The only thing I changed was the ribbing. I did a twisted rib. I like twisted rib. (Because it matches my DNA. I do like things to match.) Plus I did all of the ribbing on two needle sizes smaller than the body of the hat, instead of just the cast-on this way like it says in the pattern.
(Do you know that it’s quite fun to play with the focal length on your camera? I do.)
The hat has the requisite slouch.
Kind of like an old person’s boob, from some angles.
(To be fair to the obviously braless hat, I was looking up.)
But it makes me quite happy.
And while I’ve brought up that bygone pissy post, I have decided that steeking will not work with the O-wool I got at Purl. It’s not grabby enough, I think. O-well. I’ve decided that the whole Phildar pattern can eat my shorts anyhow. I got this in the mail yesterday…
…and I’m one smitten kitten. And my beloved O-wool now has a new purpose in life. This sweater.
(which I can’t find a picture of. But you can see here on Ravelry. But it’s the indigo playmate sweater and it is way cute. Take my word for it.)
But I think I will put some random cables on the sides. And maybe some ribbing. Or not. I’m just gonna go with it. Gotta find your own sweet spot, as sweaters go.
Oh, and speaking of sweet spots? To the person who found my blog by googling “ever had a orgasm that made you faint”–more power to ya, honey.