Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday!  »

You guys, I am going to end this semester with superpowers. This is not because Allen and I have been experimenting with disastrous chemical compounds or doing dry runs of superhero vs. villain (Allen is the reluctant villain, of course) in our spare time. No, it is because I spend one evening a week yelling at people in a darkened basement. This by itself is OK, because basements aren’t that scary and I have full audio/video hookup to play as many Real Housewives videos as I want, but I am also across the hall from the “cancer risk” lab and next door to “possible radiation.” Down the hall is a room full of cut-up dead people that scared the shit out of me when I was forced to visit it in high school (not as a punishment but as a science learning experience).

I’ve been trying to figure out what kind of power I will develop, and I’ve narrowed it down to something that would have to do with being slightly dangerous, overwhelmingly adorable, and able to take naps in any location or position (god, I love to nap). In short, I will likely be able to morph into a sloth at will.

Being a sloth will be awesome because sloths are really in right now. For instance, only recently, amazing celebrity Kristen Bell (omg! I have all of Veronica Mars on DVD! I once cut a whole week of college just to watch two entire seasons of that show!) had a full-on panic attack upon discovering that a sloth was nearby.

Could you imagine how awesome it would be if your superpower was to make other people have anxiety attacks of happiness? No one would be able to rob a bank while I was nearby! Murders would be a thing of the past! “Adore my cuteness!” would be my battle cry!

After fighting evil (Allen), I would happily go and hang out with my sloth friends on a sloth farm and eat bananas and leafy greens. I would just have to make sure the other sloths wouldn’t be as adorable and try to take over my turf. They’ve already beaten Lady and the Tramp. Check out the two adorable sloths that are sharing some sort of bean. Adorable.

Although I would be a sloth I would also be an honorary opossum and chill with my pals Pear and Pearl. I know I’ve featured Pearl before but this was before I knew that she was certified in the art of animal psychoanalysis.

I went to school for many years in order to practice therapy on humans, but I can’t even come close to the way Pearl handles rapport, alliance, and resistance. I wish she would open her own graduate school where I could supplement my degree with a Ph.D in hanging out with adorable animals. Call me, Pearl, I want to enroll!

That’s it for this week. Please send me links for next week, and try not to rob a bank this Wednesday. I haven’t gained my superpowers yet!

[baby sloth photo by Lucy Cooke. Can’t see the videos? Watch them on!]


Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday!  »

Are you watching as much reality T.V. as I am? I’m watching more trashy television than I ever have. Before you get worried, it is important to realize that I am categorically NOT watching anything that involves the Kardashians. That is strictly Allen territory. Allen and Ernie territory, actually. For anyone not familiar (which would be everyone), Ernie is what my father likes to call himself. He would also like you to call him that. At my last birthday party one of my friends mistakenly referred to him as Mr. Shrayber and my dad looked at her like she was crazy before loudly exclaiming “Who the hell is Mr.Shrayber, man? My name is Ernie!” in his thick Russian accent. My dad is hardcore. And he loves the Kardashians. And talking about the Kardashians with Allen. Which is good, because I was always worried that my father and my boyfriend would have nothing to talk about before Kim Kardashian’s sex tape came along.

Speaking of reality T.V., who else is enjoying the hours of cringe-worthy entertainment of Platinum Hit and The Glee Project? Honestly, I don’t even know how this Glee monstrosity is a thing; it should be a crime to put teenage drama club members on television. There is just so much crying and overacting and “feeling vulnerable” that I don’t know how the camera people are not constantly dropping their equipment to throw up. That’s got to be a liability lawsuit right there, and the worst part is that it would probably just give these teenspians (I just made that up! It is a combination of “teen” and “thespian”! Now I am going to write a book, just like Teresa Guidice!) more fodder. One insufferable young monster named Lindsey (aren’t they always?) would be all, “When Rodney dropped his camera and upchucked into the bushes, I knew that I was doing something right. He was obviously touched by my heart-wrenching and vulnerable performance of Katy Perry’s “California Gurls.” She is probably going to win.

There is a better class of reality shows out there, but you’re not going to find them on television. For instance, I am certain that not even Logo (which runs basically anything, if you’ve seen The A-List or Setup Squad) would air this delightful tutorial on how to give an opossum a pedicure, even though it is probably one of the most entertaining things you will ever see. The video features jokes (“I said hoary!”), admonitions to never put false fingernails on an opossum, and best of all, five minutes with Pearl, the creator of the video, whose backstory claims that she was raised by squirrels. After watching this entire thing, I am not sure it isn’t true. I am also not entirely sure that this isn’t just Mary Steenburgen playing an elaborate prank on all of us (favorite actress ever) but who cares? The "Opossum Pedicure Song" makes life worth living!

On a side note, I have no idea how this woman makes it so that the opossum lets her paint its nails. I used to have to give my rabbit a pedicure and let me tell you, that was an ordeal. I would have to first trick Ms. Cleo onto a towel or blanket, and then swaddle her in it as quickly as possible in order to disarm her and make sure she did not take huge chunks out of me with her claws and teeth—once she scratched the inside of my arm and it totally looked like I had tried to slit my wrists; I had a lot of explaining to do when Allen got home—before pulling out a paw to check for overgrown nails. And even then there was like a 75 percent chance I’d get scratched in the face. I was barely able to cut her nails, let alone file and paint them. How does she do it?

In case you don’t believe that animals can be incredibly evil, I introduce you to Animals Being Dicks, a compendium of .gifs that exhibit our furred and feathered friends at their very crankiest and most evil. I particularly like the video of the dog projectile-defecating on the woman who has just lifted his tail. Yes, very disgusting, and it teaches us an important lesson: one should not go around inspecting the private areas of another loving being without due cause. This I learned in preschool as I ran screaming from my friend Luyba as she lifted up her shirt to show me what she had under there while we were behind her house. I ran all the way home and told my mother, who forbade me from ever playing with Luyba again. Which was good, because besides wanting to show me things I had no interest in seeing, she was also incredibly mean, always finding ways to get me in trouble. Moral of story: private parts are private. That’s all for this week. Please send me links for next week and have a non-volatile Wednesday!

[opossum photo by forever souls and rabbit photo by stirwise via Flickr]


Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday!  »

Several years ago I was very lonely. I was working full-time in a video store and had very few career aspirations; I had just ended a spectacular stint of dating with someone who was awesome and attractive but with whom I had very little in common; and when I wasn’t yelling at people to put their returns on the goddamned shelf of the counter that said “RETURNS” in large capital letters I was crying and playing video games. That’s when my friend Pali (who runs Rocket Dog Rescue) called and asked if I might like to adopt a pet.

"We’ve got a lot of hamsters here." she said.
"I have now had several hamsters," I replied. "I would like to move up in the world."
"What were you thinking of?" she asked.
A rabbit. A big one.”
"There are plenty of those," she said. "Get down here before six o’clock."

I jumped into a cab to the SF SPCA immediately, and within the hour returned home with a giant black bunny whom I respectfully named Ms. Cleo. This is a good story, but it gets better. Let me tell you something about bunnies: they poop. A lot. And chew. They chew everything. Oh, and they live forever! Had I had my degree in psychology already, I would have understood that I was transferring my desire for a  ”good object” (read: a boyfriend) onto a furry animal of the wrong sex and expecting too much out of her. In time, Ms. Cleo and I came to love each other very much, and frequently hung out on my bed watching television and eating celery and pellets. However, I must stress that rabbits—and all animals, while we’re at it—are a big commitment; you really need to decide whether you’re ready to have all of your cables/clothes/bed frames chewed and pooped upon before you decide that you can adopt one. I remember (before my stint at In Defense of Animals, of course) how horrified I was to read that a tradition of the Hilton family—the Paris Hiltons—was to buy up a whole bunch of rabbits and chicks on Easter, and then give them away after the holiday was over and their cuteness had worn off (Source: Paris Hilton’s wonderful Confessions of an Heiress, which I totally own!). I also thought that this must be a very isolated thing and that most people don’t treat animals this way. Au contraire, mon frère: people are fucking ridiculous.

First, STOP GIVING ANIMALS AS PRESENTS!!! Remember the stuff I wrote before about Rabbits being a huge commitment? Yeah, that doesn’t change just because it’s their year! This seems pretty obvious to me, but in China rabbits are multiplying like crazy and wreaking havoc. Here’s what happens: Someone gets a rabbit for the New Year, they get all excited, buy a cage, and think “awesome! Now I have a friend!” Then the rabbit chews up everything and sometimes scratch. In the case of one woman, the rabbit, while adorable, chewed through every cable in the house and ate her resume to boot! Not such an awesome gift anymore, right? You know, especially since she didn’t even ask for or think of taking care of a rabbit. And you know what else? If you don’t have them fixed, rabbits will breed, leaving you with a whole bunch of offspring to deal with. Of course, some people step up to the task, but others are giving up very quickly ensuring that shelters and rabbit rescues are overflowing with rabbits whose only crime was being an animal on the Chinese Zodiac. And being criminally adorable, but that’s another story.

Second, STOP SENDING ANIMALS IN THE MAIL! Again, this is something I thought would be both common knowledge and common sense. For example, “Man, I need to return these awesome Bones DVDs to Netflix and this copy of “Band Hero” to Gamefly. OH SHIT! I forgot that I have to get John’s dog back to him tomorrow when he gets back from vacation. Hmmm, maybe I should just box and mail him as well. That way, John and the dog both arrive tomorrow and I can watch some more television instead of taking care of responsibilities—nah, too dangerous!” Don’t you wish everyone thought like that? Me too! Except people don’t! They send puppies priority mail in airless boxes with the added bonus of no food and/or water! Why? No idea! Perhaps the woman who did this thought it might be cheaper or easier to send a puppy this way. She actually went back for a refund of her money after being charged with animal cruelty! I cannot believe she did not know that mailing puppies is not the preferred way to get animals to their destination. She’s now trying to get the dog back, but that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen any time soon—or at all, if everyone involved is lucky.

God, seriously, let’s look at something happy for a second before my mind explodes into a giant volcano of rage and sadness. What have you got fur us today, internets? OH MY GOD, a cross-eyed opossum, you say? That can’t be! and yet! And here’s the story of Heidi the cross-eyed opossum’s rise to fame.

All better! send me links for next week and have a safe Wednesday out there!

[photo of Nuage and Bells the buns by Potentially Nervous; photo of Heidi by Sebastian Willnow/AP via the Guardian]

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