There was a soft wool sheep that lived on a farm. That sheep didn’t know, but it was being killed today to be turned into a wool blanket for a child to put on their bed. The wool blanket will be so soft, and warm.
wool is comfy.
you can do whatever you want with wool. you can make a hat or a scarf or a top of some sort or some really weird pants or booties.
wool is comfortable and is there when you feel creative.
and on those cold winter days when you are lying on the couch with your little puppy beside you that wool blanket can be a lifesaver.
Reminds me of sheep, sweaters, and Starbucks. Winter, is also a major role. No one would wear wool things in the summer, thats just ridiculous. Sheep reminds me of farms.
i have not been here in a while, but when I was younger, my family and I would always watch walace and gromit.. I have no idea how you spell it though…
This word reminds me so much of the sheep one.. haha i’m pretty sure it was a close shave? maybe. It sounds right… It was about the sheep, but i’m pretty sure the sheep or someone.
wool. you said this already. too repetitive. lame as balls. that’s what you are. wool is pretty lame, too. extremely itchy. ha don’t moths eat wool? or cotton? something like that. ha. wool. loow. that’s my new word. loow. i love wool :)
There is a lot of wool coming down from the sky today. A lot of the neighbors seems to think it’s some sort of omen, some type of textured position about our place in the universe, or wherever we are. My father reads newspapers and groans about the ‘end of time’, but I think that we cannot stretch out hands so far in the air. We are the end of time, right now, this moment, when we decide that it doesn’t really exist.
What the fuck. I’ve always hated sheep. Wool reminds me of dirty sweaters of the visitors of third world countries, searching for something to make their lives feel more important than they actually are. No one is important, but no one is unimportant. this is the world we live in, this is the world I hate.
How can something so soft be so barbed to me? She just gave me this blanket and tossed me aside. Garbage. Outside the building. Freezing cold. Dripping wet – like a soggy piece of newspaper. Nothing. Not to her.
There is a lot of wool coming down from the sky today. A lot of the neighbors seems to think it’s some sort of omen, some type of textured position about our place in the universe, or wherever we are. My father reads newspapers and groans about the ‘end of time’, but I think that we cannot stretch out hands so far in the air. We are the end of time, right now, this moment, when we decide that it doesn’t really exist.
wool sweaters wool sheep bwaaah i am a sheep and my coat looks fuzzy but it isn’t. dirty wool. grey wool sweaters that make my friend’s eyes swell and redden and tear. i hate wool. i truly do. cashmere, or faux fur or anything else soft especially a sweatshirt material. that is nice. not wool. disaster.
My nickname from high-school! Wooly mammoth! It came about after I got this godawful hair cut and dyed my hair a really dark brown. I thought I resembled a wooly mammoth, and so did my friends.
alright, i totally already did this but everything got erased. let’s start again: social hypochondriac. why do i mess things up? what if there wasn’t really a problem? worse yet… what if there is? I just can’t wait until next week to find out. either way, i think leaving it that long will potentially cause irreparable damage to our relationship. this isn’t fair; why in the world do i think so much about things? i need to relax, step back, and chill.
The air tasted like wool. that was the strangest thing, he thought as he looked at his skin dripping off of his fingers and onto the flare gun. Wool? Chocolate wool? And how am I supposed to know what chocolate wool air is supposed to taste like, he thought.
he looked at her through what seemed to be a hazy fog. she was so unobtainable, yet so beautiful. the wool fibers of her sweater were so visible in the sunlight, as were her highlights and the way her eyes sparkled when she had a brilliant idea. i just wanted to reach out and touch her, feel like fabric, be one with her.
Sheep are something that we all should aspire to be like. They sit, stare and eat. None of that crazy shit humans try to do. Then fail. Sheep should be gurus. Nuff said.
woolysheepmerinowool woolyjumper is woolly spelt with double ll as well as double oo fuck knows woollywarmsnugglybuggly long fibres short fibres course fibres itchy scratchy smooth and mooooove
The sock is made out of wool. The only reason I know that is because it tastes like sheep. I don’t like sheep. They smell and are just pure ugly. Soft? Maybe, but not my type of animal. I prefer cows, cows may smell, but they have produce much more useful stuff, like meat, and milk. And cows are just prettier, I want to race cows at some point, it would be a laugh you know?
What am I going on about? Some idiot kidnaps me and all you think about is farm animals?! That’s typical. Typical me. I can’t open my eyes, and resolve to thinking about wool again. I have a sweater made out of wool, it’s itchy, but warm.
there is nothing like a new pair of socks. they fit so snugly and have a softness they lose after first worn.
in the winter, warm wool socks are employed by our feet and though they dont have the softness and comfort of the usual socks we wear, they give incredible warmth that our feet are ever grateful for.
is scratchy and itchy, but sometimes it isn’t. Wool longies can be put over cloth diapers and wick moisture away from baby. I know how to knit with wool. Wool is actually kind of a boring thing to write about to be honest. It is good practice for me though. I need to learn to just free write. Free writing about wool is as good a place to start as any I guess.
The thick wool covering my body. sinking into my skin. smothering the ice and filling in every pore of my being. willing everything to fall away, only thing left being the very wonder of darkness.
The wolf crawled among the sleeping sheep, his threadbare stomach rumbling with hunger as he dragged it along the ground. So great was his fortune that so many morsels had been left out before him, unattended and unprotected, that he did not notice the cyclopean figure rising above him, an abomination composed of aspects both of the sheep and of the unholy, layered in rotted strands of rusty wool.
Derived from sheep, this material is included within a large assortment of today’s fabrics, including (but not limited to): clothing, blankets, and towels. Very versatile.
wool sweaters are perhaps one of the greatest inventions ever. Although at first touch they may seem rough and abrasive, there is nothing softer than a well worn pure wool sweater. I can think of nothing better to segue to here than an analogy for love…love at first sight is overrated, nothing is sweeter or softer than a well worn love.
Siempre vienen en dos. Nunca solos. Uno no puede sobrevivir sin el otro. Están pegados en el medio. Comparten un pedazo de piel. A veces algo más. Siempre son diferentes. En la oscuridad uno podría pensar que están separados. Pero no lo son.
wool blanket draped over shoulders
coffee in one hand; a pen in the other
notebook on lap
you feel a cliche
but you do it anyway
because you like it
sometimes we stray from conformity
when “conforming” would make us happy
do we really need to be all that
different?
wooly hairy fluffy soft and makes jumpers and comes from sheeeps fat and small and big. farmers like wool. they sell it in shops. old people use it. its used for making clothes. its all different colours. its cheap. its nice
She curled up, protected beneath the soft confines of his wool sweater. She could feel every stitch gracefully caressing her skin, and in a way, he was there too. It felt kind of itchy, but it was a good itch, like an urging sting. And because of the sting, she wouldn’t forget.
The wooly sweater was just what I wanted. Complete with a tacky snow scene and real bells sticthed to the fabric. It was perfect, and best of all… It looked warm. Oh so warm, and cosy.
My older cousin who was my best friend and I use to “prank call” our parents and ask if they wanted to buy wooly socks. It always mad us giggle for hours and my mom still smiles when retelling the stories of us prank calling her in funny accents asking if she wanted any socks.
One time, a little child was born. His parents, them hippies, named him Wool after the fabric in the sweater that he was wrapped in. At 18, he legally changed his name. But he still kept that wool sweater.
made from a sheep. Makes awesome sweaters and socks. looks like it could be an anagram for owl but its not. Looks soft on sheep, but it’s kinda itchy. Comes in black and white.
I think I’m allergic to wool. Maybe not. But it makes me really itchy. Does it make everyone itchy? Or just me. I’ve always wondered. I love the look of wool sweaters though, I just wish they would feel like cotton instead. Wool is kind of pointless then if every one finds it itchy- don’t you think?
There were several sheep owned by a poor family. The family loved the sheep, but they could not survive the harsh winter with their battered clothes. The father sheered the sheep, the mother made the clothes, and the sheep got eaten by wolves.
He was a charmer. He bought her flowers and took her out to dinner, but all the time he was cheating. She picked her Sheltland sweater up off the floor as she realised that all the time, he had just been pulling the wool over her eyes.
I pulled your sweater closer to my damp skin, it reminded me of you. I sat on the boat, and my hair dripped with the rain. I tried to remember the summer, when the boat was actually still in the water. When I could still bare to be around you. I pulled the wrist to my face to wipe away my tears, and i could smell the sleeve. It smelled like you; like beer. I took the sweater off, and tossed it into the sound as I drove away. Happy birthday dad.
There was a soft wool sheep that lived on a farm. That sheep didn’t know, but it was being killed today to be turned into a wool blanket for a child to put on their bed. The wool blanket will be so soft, and warm.
wool is comfy.
you can do whatever you want with wool. you can make a hat or a scarf or a top of some sort or some really weird pants or booties.
wool is comfortable and is there when you feel creative.
and on those cold winter days when you are lying on the couch with your little puppy beside you that wool blanket can be a lifesaver.
Don’t take up knitting. It’s a pain in the arse. (If you’re good at it, go you.)
Reminds me of sheep, sweaters, and Starbucks. Winter, is also a major role. No one would wear wool things in the summer, thats just ridiculous. Sheep reminds me of farms.
i have not been here in a while, but when I was younger, my family and I would always watch walace and gromit.. I have no idea how you spell it though…
This word reminds me so much of the sheep one.. haha i’m pretty sure it was a close shave? maybe. It sounds right… It was about the sheep, but i’m pretty sure the sheep or someone.
Wow, this was a really bad entry…
wool. you said this already. too repetitive. lame as balls. that’s what you are. wool is pretty lame, too. extremely itchy. ha don’t moths eat wool? or cotton? something like that. ha. wool. loow. that’s my new word. loow. i love wool :)
There is a lot of wool coming down from the sky today. A lot of the neighbors seems to think it’s some sort of omen, some type of textured position about our place in the universe, or wherever we are. My father reads newspapers and groans about the ‘end of time’, but I think that we cannot stretch out hands so far in the air. We are the end of time, right now, this moment, when we decide that it doesn’t really exist.
What the fuck. I’ve always hated sheep. Wool reminds me of dirty sweaters of the visitors of third world countries, searching for something to make their lives feel more important than they actually are. No one is important, but no one is unimportant. this is the world we live in, this is the world I hate.
How can something so soft be so barbed to me? She just gave me this blanket and tossed me aside. Garbage. Outside the building. Freezing cold. Dripping wet – like a soggy piece of newspaper. Nothing. Not to her.
There is a lot of wool coming down from the sky today. A lot of the neighbors seems to think it’s some sort of omen, some type of textured position about our place in the universe, or wherever we are. My father reads newspapers and groans about the ‘end of time’, but I think that we cannot stretch out hands so far in the air. We are the end of time, right now, this moment, when we decide that it doesn’t really exist.
pulling the wool over someone can be a sweater of sorts but really means being deliberately deceitful and dishonest to even someone you know
wool sweaters wool sheep bwaaah i am a sheep and my coat looks fuzzy but it isn’t. dirty wool. grey wool sweaters that make my friend’s eyes swell and redden and tear. i hate wool. i truly do. cashmere, or faux fur or anything else soft especially a sweatshirt material. that is nice. not wool. disaster.
My nickname from high-school! Wooly mammoth! It came about after I got this godawful hair cut and dyed my hair a really dark brown. I thought I resembled a wooly mammoth, and so did my friends.
alright, i totally already did this but everything got erased. let’s start again: social hypochondriac. why do i mess things up? what if there wasn’t really a problem? worse yet… what if there is? I just can’t wait until next week to find out. either way, i think leaving it that long will potentially cause irreparable damage to our relationship. this isn’t fair; why in the world do i think so much about things? i need to relax, step back, and chill.
The air tasted like wool. that was the strangest thing, he thought as he looked at his skin dripping off of his fingers and onto the flare gun. Wool? Chocolate wool? And how am I supposed to know what chocolate wool air is supposed to taste like, he thought.
he looked at her through what seemed to be a hazy fog. she was so unobtainable, yet so beautiful. the wool fibers of her sweater were so visible in the sunlight, as were her highlights and the way her eyes sparkled when she had a brilliant idea. i just wanted to reach out and touch her, feel like fabric, be one with her.
Sheep are something that we all should aspire to be like. They sit, stare and eat. None of that crazy shit humans try to do. Then fail. Sheep should be gurus. Nuff said.
woolysheepmerinowool woolyjumper is woolly spelt with double ll as well as double oo fuck knows woollywarmsnugglybuggly long fibres short fibres course fibres itchy scratchy smooth and mooooove
The sock is made out of wool. The only reason I know that is because it tastes like sheep. I don’t like sheep. They smell and are just pure ugly. Soft? Maybe, but not my type of animal. I prefer cows, cows may smell, but they have produce much more useful stuff, like meat, and milk. And cows are just prettier, I want to race cows at some point, it would be a laugh you know?
What am I going on about? Some idiot kidnaps me and all you think about is farm animals?! That’s typical. Typical me. I can’t open my eyes, and resolve to thinking about wool again. I have a sweater made out of wool, it’s itchy, but warm.
there is nothing like a new pair of socks. they fit so snugly and have a softness they lose after first worn.
in the winter, warm wool socks are employed by our feet and though they dont have the softness and comfort of the usual socks we wear, they give incredible warmth that our feet are ever grateful for.
is scratchy and itchy, but sometimes it isn’t. Wool longies can be put over cloth diapers and wick moisture away from baby. I know how to knit with wool. Wool is actually kind of a boring thing to write about to be honest. It is good practice for me though. I need to learn to just free write. Free writing about wool is as good a place to start as any I guess.
The thick wool covering my body. sinking into my skin. smothering the ice and filling in every pore of my being. willing everything to fall away, only thing left being the very wonder of darkness.
The wolf crawled among the sleeping sheep, his threadbare stomach rumbling with hunger as he dragged it along the ground. So great was his fortune that so many morsels had been left out before him, unattended and unprotected, that he did not notice the cyclopean figure rising above him, an abomination composed of aspects both of the sheep and of the unholy, layered in rotted strands of rusty wool.
Derived from sheep, this material is included within a large assortment of today’s fabrics, including (but not limited to): clothing, blankets, and towels. Very versatile.
sheep baa itchy itchy don’t wear a wool sweater. No turtlenecks. wool comes from sheep. sheep sheep sheep lamby pie sweetie bear.
Soft, fuzzy, hard as steel, concrete, touchable – so thick people try to pull it over other people’s eyes!
wool sweaters are perhaps one of the greatest inventions ever. Although at first touch they may seem rough and abrasive, there is nothing softer than a well worn pure wool sweater. I can think of nothing better to segue to here than an analogy for love…love at first sight is overrated, nothing is sweeter or softer than a well worn love.
Siempre vienen en dos. Nunca solos. Uno no puede sobrevivir sin el otro. Están pegados en el medio. Comparten un pedazo de piel. A veces algo más. Siempre son diferentes. En la oscuridad uno podría pensar que están separados. Pero no lo son.
gently caressing his skin, the wooly willy warmer was oh so snug, lovingly knitted by his 93 year old grandma.
wool blanket draped over shoulders
coffee in one hand; a pen in the other
notebook on lap
you feel a cliche
but you do it anyway
because you like it
sometimes we stray from conformity
when “conforming” would make us happy
do we really need to be all that
different?
wooly hairy fluffy soft and makes jumpers and comes from sheeeps fat and small and big. farmers like wool. they sell it in shops. old people use it. its used for making clothes. its all different colours. its cheap. its nice
She curled up, protected beneath the soft confines of his wool sweater. She could feel every stitch gracefully caressing her skin, and in a way, he was there too. It felt kind of itchy, but it was a good itch, like an urging sting. And because of the sting, she wouldn’t forget.
The wooly sweater was just what I wanted. Complete with a tacky snow scene and real bells sticthed to the fabric. It was perfect, and best of all… It looked warm. Oh so warm, and cosy.
My older cousin who was my best friend and I use to “prank call” our parents and ask if they wanted to buy wooly socks. It always mad us giggle for hours and my mom still smiles when retelling the stories of us prank calling her in funny accents asking if she wanted any socks.
One time, a little child was born. His parents, them hippies, named him Wool after the fabric in the sweater that he was wrapped in. At 18, he legally changed his name. But he still kept that wool sweater.
made from a sheep. Makes awesome sweaters and socks. looks like it could be an anagram for owl but its not. Looks soft on sheep, but it’s kinda itchy. Comes in black and white.
I think I’m allergic to wool. Maybe not. But it makes me really itchy. Does it make everyone itchy? Or just me. I’ve always wondered. I love the look of wool sweaters though, I just wish they would feel like cotton instead. Wool is kind of pointless then if every one finds it itchy- don’t you think?
There were several sheep owned by a poor family. The family loved the sheep, but they could not survive the harsh winter with their battered clothes. The father sheered the sheep, the mother made the clothes, and the sheep got eaten by wolves.
He was a charmer. He bought her flowers and took her out to dinner, but all the time he was cheating. She picked her Sheltland sweater up off the floor as she realised that all the time, he had just been pulling the wool over her eyes.
I pulled your sweater closer to my damp skin, it reminded me of you. I sat on the boat, and my hair dripped with the rain. I tried to remember the summer, when the boat was actually still in the water. When I could still bare to be around you. I pulled the wrist to my face to wipe away my tears, and i could smell the sleeve. It smelled like you; like beer. I took the sweater off, and tossed it into the sound as I drove away. Happy birthday dad.