Most Things in Life Aren't Free (Especially Hats)

I have come to believe that some people are under the impression that I'm going to give them a hat for free.

For those of you who don't know already, I make and sell hand-sewn fleece hats. Since I hand-sew these, they take quite a long time to make. Believe me, if our sewing machine hadn't tried to eat my hand, I would be using that instead. It would be much more efficient, but the last time I tried using it, I accidentally screwed up the thread in the machine and I really don't feel like trying to fix it.

Anywho, I put great effort into crafting these hats, and it pisses me off when I post a picture of one, then get tons of  replies/messages/comments from people asking if they can have one or requesting a custom-made one, without any mention of payment or price point.

Let me lay it out for you people: I'M NOT GIVING AWAY MY HATS FOR FREE.

Yes, I have given people free hats before. But that's only because a) they're one of my close friends or b) it was their birthday. If we don't have some sort of weekly conversation, don't know everything about each other, or we haven't done something together (movies, hanging out, etc.), chances are I won't just give you a hat.

Fleece hats are neither easy nor quick to make. I don't just pump these things out like a rabbit pumps out babies. Free fleece doesn't magically appear in my storage bin. I can't just project a design idea onto a hat and make it work perfectly. And I certainly don't have a replicator from Star Trek. I don't even have a working sewing machine.

I wish it worked this way, but it doesn't. D:

The only reasons I'd give anyone a free hat nowadays is if we had some sort of trade, you did something extraordinary that I felt deserved a hat, or if it's your birthday and I talk to you on a regular basis.

If you're wondering about a price estimate for the hats, I'd say that generally they're about $15. We can work out some sort of agreement if you can't pay that amount or more, or some other circumstance.

So yeah, that's my angst for today.

Anyway, there's a good chance I'm going to a Comic Con in Chicago soon, but I'm not entirely sure. If I do go, I might walk around and try to sell some geek hats.

Also, I'm going to Wisconsin for the weekend, and I'm not sure if I'll have wifi at the campsite, so don't take offense if I don't reply to anything for a couple of days.

I Was in a Good Mood Yesterday!

Yesterday was Wednesday, June 16, 2011. And fuck it, I had a good day.

My mom was home yesterday so I didn't have to deal with my brother on my own. Also, we went to Walmart. When we got home, I rode my bike a bunch, then my mommy told me that we're going to go camping soon, and that my dad is probably not coming with! He keeps bothering her about a new mattress for the camper, complaining and complaining that he doesn't like the one we already have. My mom doesn't want to buy a new mattress that we're only gonna use a few times every year. Anyway, if he doesn't come with, we won't have to hear his complaining the whole weekend.

For dinner we had twice-baked potatoes. Yum.

Later that evening, I had Kung Fu from 7-8, which was super fun 'cuz Jessie was there, and I got my first stripe! If I get enough stripes, I can get my next belt! Hurr hurr hurr.

And that was that day.

Today, not so great. My little shit-faced brother is being a douche and thinks he's cool by calling me names. I don't get why he hasn't learned not to fuck with me. I'm twice his size, I take Kung Fu, and earlier today I tried running him over with my bike. And still he laughs at me when I fall off my bike. One of these days I'm just gonna punch him in the face. Hrmph.

Easter Derp Derp

I would've been totally fine with going to church this morning. I would've been cool with it. But no. My dad had to screw that up too. He's always making everything more complicated than it needs to be. Honestly, how hard is it to get our shit together and go to an Easter service? Apparently it's really difficult.

So it starts off with my dad being a Nazi about clothes. He's all like, "Don't wear jeans yaddah yaddah yaddah." I don't really have any pants other than jeans. So I find a black pair of jeans and a top to go with it (the combination looked shitty because I don't give a fuck) and I anticipated a "That looks nice" from my dad, which he did say, blah blah blah. We finally get to the church and there are literally no seats open. We stand around in the crowded area, and then we decide to go over to the Catholic church to see what their service times were. No luck with that, either.

Long story short, my dad sucks at planning and blames us for not being able to go to church today.

Then we went over to my grandmother's house for brunch, which was Über-langweilig because I wasn't really hungry (we got McDonald's after our church fail) and didn't eat anything. I was somewhat harassed by my cousins' grandfather who is very annoying and nobody really likes him.

That was my Easter. Whatever. This just proves I don't like spending time with my family.

Don't Complain

To everyone who thinks they're ugly: I saw a woman the other day in Target; she had to have reconstructive surgery on her face because of some burn or whatever traumatizing event she was in.

For those who hate PE: Some kids are lying in the hospital right now, because they're in a coma or are paralyzed from the neck down. They can't move at all. PE is only there to keep you active and break up your day so you're not sitting down all the time.

To the ones who complain about their families: There are children in orphanages crying themselves to sleep at night, who have no family to claim them.

If you hate yourself for the small amount of flab you have: There's a man who's laying in his bed who needs a forklift to lift him out of bed, because he's too fat to do it himself.

So before you complain about how bad your white, middle-class, suburban life is, stop and think about how good you have it. The man who needs a forklift to get him out of bed, he'd give anything to be your weight. The children in the orphanages, they're dying for someone to love them like your family loves you. The comatose patients or paralyzed kids, their dreams would come true if they were able to move and have the opportunity to be active. And that lady at Target, even though she probably had to have several surgeries to repair the damage that had been done, she still had the courage to go to the store and shop for groceries, knowing people would stare at her like some circus act. And y'know what? That's what makes her beautiful.

Oh, and for those of you out there who think that nobody loves them: I love you. That should count for something.