Need a holiday handknit? Time for a Schmatta!

Pardon Me (I’m Sure Your Wig Is Here Somewhere)

Pardon Me (I’m Sure Your Wig Is Here Somewhere)

Dear Ann, Gee thanks. I couldn’t sleep last night because of that creepy baby-faced kid. As a public service, I’ll see your Baby, and raise you one: Vampire Baby. (I agree, she’s not nearly as scary as Creepy Baby. But she’s trying.) What’s frightening about this picture is that Ben’s skull was made by a real Florentine mask artist. For practicality, the satin ribbons were replaced with a piece of...

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Letter from the Castle

Letter from the Castle

TO OUR MOST NOBLE AND virtuous correspondent KAY, Elizabeth her humble co-blogette wisheth perpetual felicity and everlasting joy. We had a most trying evening. These ragamuffins appeared, one boldly claiming to be Slash, a member of the band Guns ‘n’ Roses. We pointed out that the Slash we admire so deeply is at least a foot taller, and still this one declared himself the one true Slash. We attended a function where our consort,...

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Goth-am

Goth-am

Dear Ann, Where I grew up, trick or treating was a simple, if terrifying, procedure. You wore yourself out going house to house, trying to be cool despite the fact that your mother was shadowing your every movement, trying not to get beat up by marauding big kids if you got too far away from your mother, and trying to avoid the houses that you believed were haunted even on the non-Halloween days of the calendar. (Remember that old lady with the...

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