Rage Against My Machine

I don't think I have said so many F bombs my entire life. Simon thought I might be murdering someone. But no, it's only my new Love/Hate relationship with The Beast.

The Beast is an industrial sewing machine that sews like A ZILLION stitches per minute, and kicks my little home-sewing machine's ass. The zig zag stitch I have to do on The Sweat Sacks takes FOR-EVER to accomplish on my home sewer, so I bought this guy from Vanity Fair (they moved their sewing shops overseas - boo) to enable me to sew faster, hence sell more!

First of all, this sucker was delivered bolted to a palate, and took me an HOUR just to get unwrapped and unbolted. Then, after buttering up SUPER HOT and MUSCLY husband, he helped me shimmy it from the garage to my sewing room. And I do mean shimmy - this sucker must weigh over 200 goddam pounds. Yup, he loves me!


The machine itself AND the giant motor underneath that runs it is all made of cast iron. Plus its bolted to a giant table with a metal foot pedal, so we both got hernias trying to move this bitch. He carried one side, and I the other, and, with red shiny veins popping out of our necks and foreheads, we would move it about 3 feet, then stop to rest.

It took us AN HOUR to move this guy to his final resting place. Then began the hell-on-earth that was learning to use this thing.

It hates me.

I seriously think I am headed straight to hell simply for the lava of filth that flowed from my mouth that first week. Patience is not a word I am familiar with, clearly! But, after a LOT of time spent and a good cry, I got this sucker to hum!

Now, I might say I am in love. I can whip through bags like a slave child who needs to bust out 100 bags before he gets a bathroom break! This machine is going to launch my biz, baby! I've tamed the beast!