She seamed surprised.
Sew watt?
They always drop their needles.
He had to...Steel wool.
She's knot your average lady!
Sorry wrong thread
Twelve individuals have been attacked in the last 48 hours.
The Police have announced that the attacker could be following some kind of pattern
I have seen all the patterns.
is a mitten knit.
Glancing at the car he was astounded to see that the elderly woman behind the wheel was knitting
The trooper crank down his window and yelled to the driver “pull over”
“No!” yelled the woman “it’s a cardigan”
Because they always drop their needles... Ho Ho Ho!
but it's knot.
It's a stocking cap.
Gee you knit!
They call me Scarf Ace
Woman shouts back, "no actually, its a scarf."
Me: Sew it seams.
Whoops, wrong thread.
They seem pointless.
Amazing, I didn't even know they could knit.
I didn't even know they could knit!
I told the cop it’s my first time knitting, so I’m pretty slow at it.
She wrapped it around her neck, and got her mouth and nose covered as well:
Me: Hey, you look like a wooligan!
She: ... (glaring..) and you look awfully proud of yourself.
Indeed I was.
I was about a fourth of the way through knitting a scarf, and I turned to my friend and said, "Damn, I'll never finish this by Wednesday...unless....I PULL AN ALL-KNITTER!" She was very disappointed, and I felt ready for fatherhood.
...is that I've heard once you've tried it, you're hooked.
She was disgusted, and told me she didn't want the Knit-ty Gritty details.
knit-picky
She's a real knit picker.
We all call him a knit-wit
He said, knit
We were talking about European history and this happened. Me: You know how Austria and Hungary used to be combined but split? Him: Yeah, but I heard that they aren't called Hungary anymore. Me: What do you mean? Him: I guess they ate.
I squinted at him, and then realized that he just produced perfect dadjoke material.
It was a tight knit group
Friend: "Did you know it takes three sheep to make a sweater?"
Friend's dad: "Huh... I didn't even know sheep could knit."
The sun shone into my office through the lowered blinds all clumsy like, fumbling through the gaps between the venetian slats like a drunk fishing for loose change in his pockets; trying to see if he has money enough for one last drink or maybe the bus ride home.
The dame looked me up and down, clearly disappointed by what sat in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Three days of salt and pepper stubble clung to my my crude boxer’s jaw and the bags under my eyes were so big half the bums downtown could sleep in there and not even know anyone else was with 'em. That was ok. This broad wasn’t hiring me for my looks and I wasn’t looking to her for approval. We both knew what brought her in here, it was the name on the door.
Max Dad P.I. - that’s me. Private Investigator’s sure not the profession my mother would have picked out for me, but it keeps me in whisky and it keeps a roof over my head and that’ll do for now. The dame parted those cherry red lips of hers as she took another pull on that just-lit cigarette and nervously stubbed it out in the ashtray. My eyebrows knit together slightly. I hate seeing things go to waste.
“So as I was saying, Mr Dad,” she began.
“Please, call me Max”
“Alright, Max… well, as I was saying, my bag is missing. Stolen, I think. I urgently need it back. Shall I describe it to you?”
“No that’s alright miss. You got nothing to worry about,” I replied, sliding a bottle out of the desk drawer and pouring a big slug of scotch into to my morning coffee, “I’m sure it’ll be a brief case.”
I didn't even know they could knit!
I didn't know they could knit!
That’s amazing. I didn’t even know they could knit.
