I remember reading a Peanuts cartoon a long time ago in which Linus had written and illustrated a story about a crabby girl (loosely based on his sister Lucy).
The crabby girl was having all sorts of problems until her younger brother was consulted. Perhaps, he thought, her ears were too tight. So he unscrewed each ear just a bit and then the girl was all happy.
The end.
In related news . . . except not a cartoon and not funny and also not related in any way to ears?
My socks are too tight and they are making me crabby.
They are only tight around my ankles, an irritating too-taut band of elastic pinching at my uncute flesh.
I do not have cute ankles. I have the sort of ankles that do the serious work of connecting my foot to the rest of my leg. All sturdy.
Cankles . . . doesn’t that sound like it should be short for cute ankles?
That’s not what it’s short for, people.
Anyway. My socks are too tight.
My regular socks are not too tight, but this morning I was all chilly. So in a moment of geniusity, I pulled on this long knee-length pair of bright blue ski socks.
Foot warmth! Yay!
I was all happy for about 20 seconds, and then there was this . . .
Oh my god, could these socks be any more itchy or less comfortable? My legs are all sweaty with icky heat! And my calves are all sausaged and fat-socked under my jeans and that is not good at all. Bleagh! I hate being so aware of my calves! And why are these socks squeezing so tight right under my knees? It’s like I’m being prepped for double leg amputations . . . First we’ll cut off all of your blood circulation and then we’ll just run your legs through this meat slicer until we get them shaved to just below the knee you won’t feel a thing and the blood loss will be minimal because of the sock tourniquets . . . ACK!
But by then I am all the way downstairs and no way am I going back upstairs to change my socks because then these socks win and I am not having that. Also?
Who are these socks designed to fit, anyway? Whose legs and ankles are this skinny?
Also? One time I was riding on the handlebars of my mother’s bike and we were speeding down a hill and it was fabulous and the wind was blowing in my hair and my mom was all happy and I was all excited and thrilled and then my foot slipped into the front wheel’s spokes and that hurt like a motherfucker and it was exactly like running my foot into a meat slicer and I am mentioning this fact now so that you will understand that I know what it is to feel meat slicer pain.
Still have the scars. One impressive scar on the inside of my right ankle where some small someone appears to have shaved off several dollar-coin-sized slices of my flesh for a smallish sandwich.
And that?
Is why I hate elves.
Evil carnivorous bastards.
Where was I?
Yes . . . not letting these socks win.
So I push the socks down to my ankles in two bright blue gatherings.
Fashion tip . . . pushing very long very thick bright blue socks down to your ankles?
Not ankle-flattering.
I now have scankles.
A way-not-sexy combo of sock, calf, and ankle.
And then my feet begin to tingle, because the elastic is too tight.
Seriously . . . who are these socks designed to fit?
But I am not taking them off, because I am not going to be defeated in this battle of wills with a pair of socks.
Defeated.
Hee hee! Get it? I crack myself up.
If I was a man, I would so not be able to wear a cock ring.
I would be all fucking swollen and fucking irritated.
Snort!
OK, now I am imagining that these socks are my anal penetration socks!
Stay with me.
If I leave these socks on for a while, the blood will not be able to flow away from my feet, causing them to become enlarged and throbbing.
Enlarged and throbbing feet are perfect for ass kicking!
You better not piss me off or . . . I will sockomize you!
That’s my new catchphrase of ass-kicking anal penetration.
And yes, I did need a new catchphrase of ass-kicking anal penetration.
Snort!
Mark walks by and glances at my screen, “What are you writing about?”
“I am writing about how my socks are cutting off my circulation and hurting me but I am going to rise to the occasion and be a big-throbbing-footed hero of not-sexual ass-kicking anal penetration. I am Sockomizer!”
He looks at me in disbelief, “Go change your socks, idiot woman.”
Sigh.
I call after him as he heads off in search of lunch, “Don’t you want to hear my catchphrase?”
“Is it I am all atingle with insanity and dysfunction?”
Snort!
I hurry up after him on pins-and-needled feet, “Oh, I am so going to kick your ass!”
But first?
I have to change my socks.
Ow.
I’m still trying to figure out how the elves fit into this post.
Maybe I need more sleep and then it will all make sense?
Issa -
The elves clearly used their magic evil powers to cause the bicycle spokes to shave off lunch-meat from my foot for their tiny sandwiches.
Duh.
Uh huh. Well that um cleared it right up for me. Thanks babe.
*walk away slowly, making no sudden movements*
I wouldn’t turn your back on me if I were you.
I am the Sockomizer, you know.
Snort!
“I am all atingle with insanity and dysfunction?”
That about covers it.
Carry on…
Bill?
You know you love me.
Carry on with that.
Kris
“I am all atingle with insanity and dysfunction” should so go on a new button for your blog. I love it!
Happy sighs.
Except slight annoyance that the line in this post everyone likes is Mark’s.
All that genius and you focus on Mark?
Annoying.
WHAT ABOUT ME?
Hmmph.
“I am all atingle with insanity and dysfunction”
That is the best catch phrase ever!
And? Foot in bicycle spokes. I have dome that. Yes. Unpleasant.
To win against the socks? Burning.
Always works for me.
Ooooh . . . a sock roast!
Yes!
In related news?
I am completely sane!
You are sane.
Um, I’ve been here before…
I do like to be soothed and reassured.
SOOTHE AND REASSURE ME, DAMN IT!
You are all atingle with sanity and function.
And I come here just for that.
I so am.
I so fucking am.
Happy sighs that you see that.
Swoon!
Wow. Elves, meat slicers, cock rings and socks. Yep, I think that about covers it all.
Nope.
That’s not all.
Because watch what I can do . . .
Too-tight Peanuts?
Sounds like too-tight penis.
And you thought that first bit was a throwaway.
I am all wily and insane over here.
Making connections of the “only Kris can see them but she is laughing like a maniac” sort.
Love when that happens.
Well with a cock ring, too tight penis was inevitable, don’t you think?
PS. Glad I’m not the only one whose brain takes these colorful journeys.
Mark is all scared.
I do love when he gets nervous.
What?
I’m sure right now he’s not sure which side of him is more dangerous to present to you. ;)
He is next to me at the moment . . . all sideways eyes of suspicion.
Ok, you cannot *accidently* google cock rings. Just sayin. :) And I could NOT read after the bike/spoke incident. My belly shivered, my feet pulled up onto my chair, I think I screamed. Elves, yes.
Kim -
Google should not just leave cock rings out where people can easily (and accidentally) find them by typing in “Cock Rings.”
Just saying.
Innocent people . . . scarred for life.
laughing too hard now.
I was all agreeing with you because, well, I wear a size 10 shoe. Women’s socks so don’t fit. Fits size 6 to 11? So much a lie. Really. And if I didn’t have cankles prior to putting them on? I definitely have scankles after. I like that – sock induced cankles = scankles.
So I steal my husband’s socks. Considering I buy them, it is only fair.
I think I will leave the ass-kicking stuff to you. Though the elves in my house? steal stuff like my keys. And my brand new drivers license that was just here a minute ago. Stupid elves. Maybe I will have to sockomize them. hmmm. possibilities.
Oh, that I have made you laugh?
I am all happy now.
Because I am giggling hysterically . . . so much more fun with company!
Thank you!
you are so plugged in! http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2011/01/oregon_bicycle_enthusiasts_in.html
little elves eating tiny cankle sandwiches? ok that is pretty awesome…on another note we have the nabisco factory on our side of town and everyday wafting scents of the elves at work. hmmm sugary honey cinnamon goodness blowing in the breeze and a slight undertone of cankle bbq.
You probably don’t remember that injury . . . the only time in my entire life I have ridden in an ambulance.
And the only time I have ever had to use crutches.
Not so long before we moved to Michigan from Round Lake.
Also?
That you see the humor in elves eating tiny cankle sandwiches?
This is how I know we are related.
Yay!
I’m back!! <3
YAY!
Engorged body parts, sigh.
If Sockomzier is a word, so is sockomization. Start cooperating or you’re in for a good sockomization! ???
Also, I am a fit girl and I cannot fit my arms or legs into the skinniness of (most) clothing these days. I do not know who they are designed to fit. Makes me feel very sausage-like.
Robin -
Engorged body parts . . . sigh?
That should be . . . happy sighs . . . correct?
And I prefer the verb form sockomize.
The nouninization that gives you sockomization? Eh.
I prefer action!
I will sockomize you!
Yay!
I am laughing so hard I can’t even leave a coherent comment!
Elves, slices of ankle for sandwiches, and sockomizing! Baahaha
Oooooh.
A moment of happy silence in honor of your incoherence.
Shhhh.
Plus also?
YAY!
No matter what socks I wear, they give me 2+ edema. I swear, I can take the socks off and two hours later the indentations from the elastic are still there. If I were a man and wore them on my penis I would get priapism.
What’s up with that, you think?
The sock strangulation, I mean.
As for the penis socks?
You ever seen a male stripper wearing one of those spangly penis socks?
Hee hee!
I think the sock is attached to a thong or something.
Just a regular old sock on your penis?
That’s weird.
Ask Sarah . . .
http://www.prettyalltrue.com/2011/01/oregon-plus-asses/#comment-47632
Really. Go look at what she said.
EEK!
god good, thankfully the sock in question wasn’t spangly….if it was all glittery and bedazzeled, we’d have a whole other set of issues in our family! LOL!!
OK, but how awesome a story would THAT be at family gatherings?
Happy sighs at the thought.
First, in elementary school I hit a station wagon with my bike got all caught up in the spokes and had all sorts of scratches and bloody bruises as I apologized to the woman for hitting her car. Did I mention the part about apologizing to the lady with the great big car cause I hit her? (Yes, that’s right, I was an excessively eager to please dysfunctional child.) Also, I have this deep mistrust for garden gnomes, can’t stand the sight of them really. I’m pretty sure that Travelocity gnome is the Bin Laden of gnomes is all I’m saying. And I think we can both agree that gnomes are relatives of elves so there’s that. Also, I don’t have cankles but my calves are the size of my head rendering me incapable of owning a pair of hot black leather boots in which to declare my own kickass catchphrase “Yes, I’m neurotic, but I have cleavage.” My point is this, there’s a good chance we were separated at birth, and this stream-of-consciousness post was awesome.
Heidi -
I love you.
That is all, long lost twin sister.
Damn the elves and gnomes for kidnapping you at birth and then fattening up your calves for snacking. Luckily for you? Elves and gnomes are terrified of cleavage, so once adolescence hit, they kicked you out of the calf-farm and they wiped your memory clean and delivered you all changling-like to the family you remember as your very own. That family? All aliens, as I am sure you know. The micro-chip that controls your every move is in your right ass cheek under the mole.
And that?
Is the truth.
Snort!
Skankles sounds like the combination of skank and skittles. I am imagining bright multi-colored candies. Pink and white swirl ones that taste like cummy vagina, purple ones that taste like unwashed vagina, bright red ones that taste like chlamydia vagina, bumpy yellow ones that taste like herpes-laden vagina and green ones that taste like rotting trout.
Mmmm skankles… taste the skank rainbow.
Also you are all smallish so I do not believe you have cankles.
Plus also perhaps the ski socks were so tight fitting because they are actually made for tiny ankle-sandwich eating elf feet.
I DO NOT HAVE FAT ANKLES!
I just do not have delicate ankles.
I have sturdy ankles that flow solidly from leg to foot.
Yeah.
Go me!
Honestly I don’t really know what cankles are supposed to look like. Supposedly overweight people have them? But I am drawing a blank. I have never looked at ankles and thought “Oh my! How tender and delicate and divine those swan-esque ankles are!” or “Oh wow. What solid and sturdy and olympian-esque ankles you have!” Nor have I ever looked at a beach ball-ish person and alarmedly screamed “WTF! THAT WOMAN HAS NO ANKLES!”
Ankles are just ankles to me. They are very same-ish and ankle-y.
I only think of one thing when I see them and that is, obviously, “MMMMM! SANDWICH!!!”
I KNEW YOU WERE A CANKLE-SNACKING ELF!
I knew it.
And your words of blithe reassurance that you have never focused on ankles?
That just means you have ankles of the delicate and divine sort.
I see you.
Actually I do NOT have delicate ankles. I have no ankles at all. I got hungry.
Also, yes, this does make me an elf. As if my smallish size, pointyish ears, love of green and general propensity for evil didn’t already give that away to you a long, long time ago.
Don’t worry, I won’t try to make sandwiches with meat shaved from your ankles, because I am already very full.
Also you may keep my tiny socks because, frankly? They smell like ass.
You?
You make me laugh.
You may stay.
Dear Haven -
I said in my tags that Skankles sounded like a delicious fruit-flavored candy.
One of us is clearly insane.
Hmmmm . . . which of us could it be, you think?
The one swelling her feet to superhero ass-insertion behemoths?
Or the one eating rotting trout Skankles candy?
Hmmmm.
Also?
Taste the skank rainbow?
Snort!
I’m so with Haven.
“Skankles sound like they would be a delicious fruit-flavored candy”???
WTF?
Skankles sound like a seriously deadly STD!
snort.
And “Taste the skank rainbow” is seriously cracking me up!
Cathy -
They so sound like Skittles.
Skankles . . . Skittles.
Yum.
Snort!
I have to admit that when I read “sockomizer” my mind went in a totally different direction. The post was awesome, just not what I thought. Especially after you tweeted you had cock rings over here.
P.S. LOVE the word “atingle”. I’m feeling atingly myself right now!
I am guessing your mind went more masturbatey.
But no . . . I am all clean and innocent over here with the sockomizing.
What?
Hush, tingly you.
Hush.