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Furrfu.
She did this:
Then she had the chutzpah to say this:
?
Am I the only one with cognitive dissonance here?
The OP said:
It's a good thing you were there and not me, I'd've said "It's even ruder to snap your fingers in someone's face. Now if you have a question for me, go to the end of the line please, there are people in front of you."
Uhm, you have to be careful how you pronounce that.
Warning: rambling ahead. Skip if desired.
I can barely figure out what to do with a needle and thread myself; it's just not one of my skills. My great-grandfather, on the other hand, was a tailor by trade (actually both my mother's grandfathers were tailors). He had a Singer sewing machine, vintage 1913, foot-powered, which sat in his house. In the morning he'd unscrew the "head" or whatever you call the actual machine part, strap it to his back, and take it to a clothing factory where he'd install it in their base (table, whatever) and work his shift. Then he'd unscrew the thing again and shlep it back home, while the second-shift guy came with his machine and installed it in the same table so he could work his shift. Once he got home, he'd set his machine up again and continue working; he did piece-work at home for extra money. He never electrified his machine: it was pedal-powered to the end, and still is (one of my cousins owns it now). He claimed you couldn't control the speed properly with an electric motor, and he was probably right given that the electrified Singers didn't have speed controls, only a clutch. It was either off or working at full speed... Those old Singer machines are like the Kodak cameras of that period: built like tanks, and no collector's value, because they made so many and they're mostly still around 90 years later. (Now if you just want a working sewing machine that you can hand down to your grandchildren when you retire, then it's a worthwhile investment. Just don't expect to be able to retire on the proceeds if you sell it.) My grandmother used her father's machine for the rest of her life; it mostly served as the table for the fancy Japanese machine that she did much of the lighter work, but once in a while, when she was making curtains or blankets, or repairing one of her grandchildren's school knapsacks, the fancy machine went on the floor and the old dinosaur would wake up. I don't care how heavy the fabric was; she could drive a needle through leather with that thing when she needed to.
Talking of buttonholes, one of Jay Leno's books of weird or typo'd advertisements showed an ad for a sewing machine featuring an "automatic buttholer".
Leno's comment was "I don't even wanna know what that is..."
She did this:
SC: Hey, hey, hey (she snaps her fingers in my face. I glance up) Show me where the patterns are.
SC: How Rude,
Am I the only one with cognitive dissonance here?
The OP said:
Me: Miss, I think it would be even ruder for me to leave these people who have been waiting patiently.
My mom was (still is, I suppose!) a terrific sewer.
Warning: rambling ahead. Skip if desired.
I can barely figure out what to do with a needle and thread myself; it's just not one of my skills. My great-grandfather, on the other hand, was a tailor by trade (actually both my mother's grandfathers were tailors). He had a Singer sewing machine, vintage 1913, foot-powered, which sat in his house. In the morning he'd unscrew the "head" or whatever you call the actual machine part, strap it to his back, and take it to a clothing factory where he'd install it in their base (table, whatever) and work his shift. Then he'd unscrew the thing again and shlep it back home, while the second-shift guy came with his machine and installed it in the same table so he could work his shift. Once he got home, he'd set his machine up again and continue working; he did piece-work at home for extra money. He never electrified his machine: it was pedal-powered to the end, and still is (one of my cousins owns it now). He claimed you couldn't control the speed properly with an electric motor, and he was probably right given that the electrified Singers didn't have speed controls, only a clutch. It was either off or working at full speed... Those old Singer machines are like the Kodak cameras of that period: built like tanks, and no collector's value, because they made so many and they're mostly still around 90 years later. (Now if you just want a working sewing machine that you can hand down to your grandchildren when you retire, then it's a worthwhile investment. Just don't expect to be able to retire on the proceeds if you sell it.) My grandmother used her father's machine for the rest of her life; it mostly served as the table for the fancy Japanese machine that she did much of the lighter work, but once in a while, when she was making curtains or blankets, or repairing one of her grandchildren's school knapsacks, the fancy machine went on the floor and the old dinosaur would wake up. I don't care how heavy the fabric was; she could drive a needle through leather with that thing when she needed to.
Talking of buttonholes, one of Jay Leno's books of weird or typo'd advertisements showed an ad for a sewing machine featuring an "automatic buttholer".
Leno's comment was "I don't even wanna know what that is..."
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