Luck It Friday

As in, this Friday, you get a luck-of-the-draw, whatever-I-want blog post.  And a pun.

There is a new favorite cat toy —

Ok, an aside:  People keep trying to convince me to get a third cat.  This is not really a problem, as I cannot have a third cat where I currently live (and don’t want a third cat, because three is the legal limit in my city, and if I end up in a serious relationship, there’s a good chance that relationship person will be a cat person and will likely have a cat, bringing the total number of cats between us to three.  This makes perfect sense to me, just like how I’m growing my hair out now so it will be long in 5+ years when I could possibly actually get married maybe.).  But I think people are trying to convince me on account of the fact that I talk about my cats ALL. THE. TIME.  What they don’t seem to realize is that if I had a third cat, I would talk about my cats approximately 150% compared to how much I currently don’t shut up.  Point here: Yes, I’m talking about my cats again in this post.

— in our house.  It is a santa hat.  Ruby especially loves it.  She will pounce on it and groom it and kick the crap out of it.  It is part bed, part small furry animals, part NUMBER ONE ENEMY to her.  Here is a picture of her burying her face in it:

It is blurry because she never holds still while interacting with this thing.

It is blurry because she never holds still while interacting with this thing.

I was trying to come up with something to say about this, and somewhere in my mind crazed by finals, the ant invasion, and the discovery that the occasional itchy red spots I get on my fingers are probably hives (#hypochondria?orscrewed?), I decided to rewrite the lyrics to Must Be Santa, with the new theme of my cats.

Here we go:

Who’s got two fangs and loves to bite?
Simon’s got two fangs and loves to bite

Who likes to cuddle but only at night?
Ruby likes to cuddle but only at night

Cuddle at night, loves to bite

Must be Simon
Must be Ruby
Must be Simon and Ruby

Which fat cat has a name of red?
Ruby fat cat has a name of red

Who has a lot of snot in his head?
Simon has a lot of snot in his head

Snot in head, name of red
Cuddle at night, loves to bite

Must be Simon
Must be Ruby
Must be Simon and Ruby

Who’s got lots of claws on her toes?
Ruby’s got lots of claws on her toes

Who cries this way: MROWWOOOOO
Simon cries this way: MROWWOOOOO

MROWWOOOOO, claws on toes
snot in head, name of red
Cuddle at night, loves to bite

Must be Simon
Must be Ruby
Must be Simon and Ruby

Who is a pretty shade of gray?
Simon is a pretty shade of gray

Who must always get her way?
Ruby must always get her way

Get her way, shade of gray
MROWWOOOOO, claws on toes
Snot in head, name of red
Cuddle at night, loves to bite

Must be Simon
Must be Ruby
Must be Simon and Ruby

I know this is mostly only funny if you know my cats, but you’re welcome.

A Life Philosophy: Thursdays are the Worst Days

I have ants.  Again.  Badly:

Hello, friends!

Hello, friends!

 

This is partly a result of my cats being messy eaters and partly a result of my weekends-only-dish-doing (working grad student, that’s how it goes!) and partly a result of it being way too cold to take out the recycling.

 

It should be noted, however, that I have enough ants that I brought some to work with me today.  This is gross.

 

Why don’t cats eat ants?  I have seen Simon eat a live millipede.  And Ruby chases everything, including water drops in the shower (post-shower, of course)!  Ants must taste bad or something.

 

I recently made a gingerbread house with a friend.  It’s super cute.  Look:

Screen Shot 2013-12-12 at 6.14.51 PM

Luckily, I insisted she’d take it home (because Ruby would probably lick it, which is true).  Of course, had I kept it, she’d probably now be licking ants.

 

 

Why “Thumpity-thump-thump” is an Inadequate Way to End a Song

In high school for summer reading some year, we had to read How to Read Literature Like a Professor, which can be summarized as such: authors put all sorts of symbolic stuff in their work that you will probably react to whether or not you know it, but you can look way smarter if you recognize it.  Sex scenes are tasteless.  Rain always means rebirth.  Colors always mean multiple things (except for rainbows, those just mean gay  — just kidding, that wasn’t in the book).  And Christ figures are freakin’ everywhere.

Last Friday I was driving home, listening to Christmas music, and I came to a very profound realization, you guys:

Frosty is Jesus.  Like, totally.

Christ has risen!

Shall we review?

  1. “There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found” — Frosty the Snowman, like Jesus, has mysterious, magical beginnings – in winter – that we can’t quite explain.  In other words, Frosty’s existence is a miracle.
  2. “He was made of snow, but the children know how he came to life one day”  — Frosty has believers, and they are adamant.  They also happen to be children, in line with that whole meek, innocent, etc thing.  Either that or Frosty has some misaligned intentions.
  3. “The children say he could laugh and play, just the same as you and me” — Frosty is just like us, just like Jesus is human, just like us.  Luckily, Frosty has entered this century and at least knows how to shave.
  4. “Frosty the Snowman knew the sun was hot that day” — Frosty knows his end is imminent.  Random question of the day: would you rather melt or be crucified?
  5. “Running here and there all around the square” — Frosty has a whole bunch of followers that he leads all over the place.  Didn’t Jesus do that?
  6. “But he waved goodbye saying, ‘Don’t you cry; I’ll be back again someday'” — Frosty meets his imminent end with a promise to once again return.  And be awesome.

Verdict: Frosty is a Christ-figure, if not Jesus himself.

DaVinci saw it, too.

DaVinci saw it, too.

How to Celebrate Christmas

If you don’t have an advent calendar – you know, one of those ones with chocolate hiding behind cardboard flaps that you can get at the dollar store – you’re doing it wrong.

 

My sister is doing it wrong.

 

Me: Want a chocolate?  I’m like two weeks behind.

Megan: No, I don’t like those.

Me: Here, you can have the 8th.

Megan: They taste like wax.

Me: They taste like your childhood!

Megan: I don’t remember my childhood tasting like ass.

Me: Mmmm a drum…