sign me up

i've recently joined a club.

a very exclusive club.

one that grants me access to heavenly joys of unfathomable proportions. and a $70 bill, but let's put that aside for a minute.

let's shall.

these are my brand new 2.5mm, 8" signature dpn's, which i lovingly allowed myself (read: my visa) to purchase. because i totally deserve all the crazy-ass hi-fi knittingy gadgets out there.

because i just do.

you may well ask, "what the hell is all this brouhaha about signatures? they're just needles, for pete's sake."

in short, they're long and pointy. and sharp. so sharp, in fact, that they'd gone straight through the fancy little pouch they came in. i thought my suzanne ebonies were sharp, but these babies are so much sharper. they tore my left index finger right open when i first swatched with them, that's how sharp we're talking about.

dear ebony--consider yourself usurped

but sharp is good, and pain is better. blood and blisters are a small price to pay for catching stitches more perfectly than jesus himself ever could, and i bet jesus was a really awesome knitter. of course eventually i'll develop a calice the size of texas on said finger, which not only makes knitting even more pleasurable, but also attracts guys like a freakin' cock magnet.

what's possibly even more important is that they have the perfect grip. and i do mean perfect. if you've ever knit with them ponies or pretty much any metal needle (except kollage squares, who's my five-headed lesbian mistress) you're familiar with the distinct 'cling' sound you get when the needles slip off from the stitches, and also the 'fucking fucking fuck' sound which inevitably follows.

signatures are textured ever so slightly at the shaft, rendering all such traumatic experiences null and void. no more clings and fucks, just an adorable, cheerful wooshing sound as you gently move the stitches towards the tip. "ribbed for her pleasure", as knittersreview affectionately wrote--which not only provides the singularly most awesomest selling point for knitting needles anywhere, ever, but also proves once and for all that i'm not the only one with a warped mental connection between knitting and sex. fancy a threesome, clara?

you can't see it but it's there--also applies to my lady bits

they're also pretty. very, very pretty.

see? pretty.

add to that all sorts of hi-tech industrial newspeak, a lifetime warranty and an awe-inspiring balance between weight and material, and an apparent care for the environment too-- i don't know how exactly, but they use words like 'brite dip', 'anodizer' and 'EU directive RoHS', which simply must mean they're saving our fragile little planet one fossil-fueled machine-carved needle at a time--and i'm completely sold.

so in total, signatures are the perfect combination of snooty exclusiveness, outrageous pricing and humbling precision that inevitably, irresistibly makes me want to throw my money at them like it was burning a searing hole in my butt pocket. bob's scolded me on such behavior before, but i don't care. even the fact that you have to pay an extra $10 to get the fifth dpn (which by any other standards would qualify for the biggest douche of the universe award) somehow seems totally reasonable when you're convinced you're on the brink of the greatest discovery ever recorded on the history of mankind.

of course, you're not. they're just needles, for pete's sake.

but they're pretty fuckin' cool nonetheless. and fuckin' cool is plenty.