*update: to my readers, some of you have emailed to ask if I am really going to teach a needlepoint class at Yankee Stadium. The answer is no. This post is a spoof. I wrote it with Don Dellilo’s Mao II in mind. I’m kidding. I will very soon be going to NY, yes, but, sorry, no Unification Church-style needlepoint cult events scheduled on my itin. ps read Mao II, if you have not already; awesome book, great writer! Also the title of this post is a pun on the Anthony Weiner nonsense, conflating it with a NYC restaurant with a similar sounding name, which no longer exists. The link to the matchbook in the text ought be self-explanatory!*
Erin is teaching at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx
Hi everybody… Erin here.
I’m getting ready to go back up “Noh-th” and teach next weekend at Yankee Stadium, in da Bronx, NuevaYawk, at one of my trademark outdoor stitch-out events.
It’ll be kind of like the open air mass marriage ceremonies once performed by the late Sun Myung Moon. I’m calling it the Fob Begone Stitchdig!, since my focus will be how to free oneself from that baffling and often devastating addiction to key fobs that afflicts so many of us needlepoint stitchers.
In case you’ve been living on another planet, the cheesy red line that I’ve drawn on the pic to the right shows the planned trajectory of my trip.
So I’m just giving a shoutout here to all you rabid Needlepoint Land fans not to worry if you don’t see a lot of parrot posts coming your way in the thick of the doggie days of summer.
Now as many of you know, I come from up Noh-th, but I’m no snowbird. I’m a suncrazed Floridian, now, and am quite happy to live in a state that resembles one of Carlos Danger’s d**k pics (not that I would know anything about that).
As far as I’m aware, folks from NY do not hold out their palms or even their d**k pics to show where they live, but I will tell you that it’s the latest fashion, per the Times (see link), in Manhattan these days, for young men to go about, gasp, shirltess.
It’s what they do in Florida, too, no big deal, except here it’s more the, er, moobs set who end up topless by the time they get to the back 9, usually after one too many reach downs into their golf cart coolers.
Whatever. I can’t wait for the magic to beguine. All my bags are packed, and I’m ready to go. My kittie’s already barfing in anticipation of being sequestered in the vet motel. He’s such a funny little guy, that one. As I’ve often said about my various cats, sometimes when they look at you, well, you can’t really tell if they’re looking at a fly, or there’s an ax murderer looming behind you.
Oh, before I cut out and blow this popstand, if you don’t know what a needlepoint key fob is, don’t ask.
It’s just better that way.
Cyber hugs… Erin.
Erin McGrath and Needlepointland.com, 2012 – 2016.