The Ultimate List of Puns: 62 That Hit Different
I’ve been keeping a running list of puns for about three years now.
My yarn stash has officially outgrown my closet, my spare bedroom, and my sense of shame. I’ve been knitting for twelve years now and I still can’t walk past a fiber shop without blacking out and waking up with three new skeins of merino. Anyway, I’ve been collecting knitting puns like I collect WIPs, obsessively and with no real plan to finish.
I’m so knit-picky about my yarn choices that I once spent forty-five minutes in a shop comparing two skeins of the same colorway. The cashier asked if I needed help. I said, “I needle little help, actually.” She did not laugh. I bought both skeins.
Don’t get your knits in a twist.
Why did the knitter break up with her boyfriend? He couldn’t stop telling her to “just relax” while she was trying to fix a dropped stitch. Actually that’s not a pun, that’s just a valid reason. The real answer: because he was too knotty.
I’m purl-fectly happy when I’m knitting. That’s it. That’s the text I send my friends when they ask why I’m canceling plans on a Friday night.
I’ve been trying to get a gauge of the situation at my local knitting circle, but everyone’s tension is completely off. And I mean that both emotionally and in terms of their stitches. Sandra brought up politics last week and three people dropped a stitch simultaneously. The gauge swatch of human interaction, that group.
I’m on pins and needles waiting for my new yarn delivery.
(This one writes itself. I’m not proud. But I’m not sorry either.)
I’m hooked on knitting!
Yes, I know hooks are technically crochet. Every crocheter reading this just felt their blood pressure spike. I’m sorry. Kind of.
Let’s knit this party started.
My friend asked what I was doing this weekend. I told her I was just trying to make ends meet. She got really concerned until she saw me weaving in the tails on a blanket that’s been 80% done since March. The relief on her face. The disappointment when she realized I still wasn’t going to brunch.
What do you call a knitter who’s always daydreaming? Wool-gathering. This is literally already an idiom and I love that it exists, English did the pun work for us on this one.
Don’t needle me about my WIPs. I know I have eleven. I know.
Feeling a little loopy today.
Perfect Instagram caption. You’re welcome. Pair it with a photo of your yarn swift going and you’re golden.
I told my husband I was feeling sheepish about buying more yarn. He said, “You should be, that’s the third order this week.” Fair point tbh.
I’m just trying to cast my worries away. Cast on, cast off, cast out the existential dread, it’s all the same motion really.
This yarn is fleece-tastic! And before you say that’s a stretch, yeah. It is. I’m including it anyway because sometimes you need filler rows and that applies to blog posts too.
Meanwhile: I’ve been trying to spin a good yarn about why I need more storage bins, but my family isn’t buying it.
Feeling a little frayed around the edges.
Why did the knitter keep frogging her work? Because she couldn’t resist going “rip-it, rip-it, rip-it.” If you don’t know what frogging means, congratulations on having free time and disposable sanity. For the rest of us: it’s when you unravel your work because you made a mistake seventeen rows ago and your only options are denial or destruction.
I’m just trying to thread my way through this lace pattern. It’s got yarn-overs I don’t understand and my stitch markers have all migrated to the couch cushions.
What’s a knitter’s favorite pickup line? “Nice cables, mind if I twist with you?”
I’m feeling completely un-ravel-ed.
“How’s the blanket going?”
“I’m trying to get a-round to it.”
“You said that in April.”
“Circular needles, circular timeline.”
Asked my knitting group if anyone understood short rows and German short rows specifically. Someone said, “I find the whole concept rather wrap and turn-ing.” Dead silence. Then applause. That person is my hero and I’ve never seen them since.
I’m feeling blocked. And I mean that in the knitting sense, I literally need to pin this sweater to a foam board and let it dry. But also in the creative sense. Both are accurate.
Side note: blocking is the most underrated part of knitting. Your lumpy disaster goes in wet and comes out looking like you actually know what you’re doing. It’s the Instagram filter of fiber arts.
I’m feeling a little knotty today π
Send this to someone. Anyone. See what happens.
Just trying to weave a tale about my knitting adventures, but honestly most of them end with me on the couch watching the same three episodes of a show I’ve already seen while counting stitches wrong.
I’m completely wrapped up in my latest project.
Why did the new knitter fail their first project? They couldn’t get a grip on their tension. Honestly this is just a factual description of learning to knit. The pun is secondary to the trauma.
I’m just trying to make a point with these needles. Several points, actually. That’s how double-pointed needles work.
Feeling un-wound after a long knitting session. There’s genuinely no better form of therapy than the rhythmic clicking of wooden needles. My therapist would probably disagree. She’d be wrong.
What do you call a sweater that’s too tight? A close-knit garment.
My superwash merino keeps pilling and I’m starting to take it as a ply-sonal attack.
If you understood that without thinking about it, you’re my people. If you didn’t, ply refers to the number of strands twisted together to make yarn, and I will not be explaining further because the magic is in the confusion.
I’m feeling cast-off by my unfinished projects. They sit in their bags, judging me. The half-finished sock. The one-armed cardigan. They know what they did. (Nothing. They did nothing. That’s the problem.)
Knitting: where you can have a ball and still be productive.
That’s an Instagram caption right there. Screenshot it. Use it. Tag me. Don’t tag me. I don’t care. Just knit.
Why was the knitter such a good storyteller? She really knew how to spin a yarn. Yeah I basically already used this one but it’s too good to only deploy once.
“What’s your gauge?”
“Emotionally or on the swatch?”
“…the swatch.”
“Loose. Same as emotionally, actually.”
I’m knit-witted when it comes to reading charts. The symbols look like ancient runes and I’m convinced pattern designers are just making some of them up to see if we’ll notice.
Just trying to keep my head above water, one row at a time.
My friend asked why I keep buying hand-dyed yarn I’ll never use. I told her it’s not hoarding, it’s a fiber portfolio. Diversified across weights and colorways. It’s basically investing. She’s an accountant and she blocked me on two platforms after that conversation.
What did the skein say to the knitter? “You’re winding me up!”
I’m feeling a little stitch-y after sitting on the couch for six hours. My back hurts, my eyes are blurry, and I’ve somehow only finished four inches of a scarf. Time works differently when you’re knitting. It’s like Narnia but less fun and more repetitive strain injury.
Also: I’m completely yarn-ed out. Marathon knitting sessions sound romantic until you’re on hour five and your hands are claws.
Alpaca my bags and head to the yarn store.
I tried steeking for the first time and let me tell you, it takes a lot of guts to cut into your finished knitting. Or as I told my knitting circle: “I’m just trying to make a clean break.” Three people gasped. One person cried. The colorwork survived. Barely.
If you don’t know what steeking is: it’s when you knit something as a tube and then CUT IT OPEN WITH SCISSORS to make an opening like a cardigan front. Yes, on purpose. Yes, it’s terrifying. Yes, the Scandinavians have been doing it for centuries like it’s nothing.
I’m just trying to get along with my fellow knitters, but Linda keeps telling me my increases are uneven and honestly Linda can mind her own selvedge edge.
Life is short. Buy the yarn.
(Not a pun. Just truth. Moving on.)
What do you call a group of knitters? A close-knit community. I KNOW this is obvious. I know. But it had to be on the list or it would be weird not to include it, like leaving “Bohemian Rhapsody” off a Queen greatest hits album.
I tried to explain intarsia to a non-knitter and they looked at me like I was describing a war crime. “So you have, like, twelve separate balls of yarn hanging off the back, ” “Stop.”
The pun: intarsia is in-TAR-sia-bly complex. That’s barely a pun. I know. I’ve been at this for a while and the well is running dry.
Wool you be mine? π
Valentine’s Day caption sorted. You’ve got ten months to embroider it on something.
I’m just trying to get a-head of the game with my holiday knitting. Started the Christmas sweaters in July. It’s now December and I’ve finished one sleeve. The math isn’t mathing.
Someone once told me knitting puns were the lowest form of humor. I told them that’s a pretty knit-picking thing to say. They groaned. I considered it a compliment.
Anyway, if you need me, I’ll be over here trying to figure out why my row count is off by one. It’s always off by one. Purl-haps I miscounted.
I’ve been keeping a running list of puns for about three years now.
Color is the one topic where puns basically write themselves, and yet somehow I still managed to spend three hours on this.
Geometry is the only branch of math where you can be wrong about everything and still say “well, at least I tried a new angle.
So You Searched “Pun Pun.” Let’s Talk About That. Here’s the thing about searching “pun pun.
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