Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! (on Thursday!) »
Now that I’m back to work I am much calmer. What Allen and his family would put up with because they still have some warm feelings left towards me will not fly with people at the office. I’m still knitting like I’m about to drop a litter of little Marks but at least I’ve stopped waiting for Allen in the dark, only to dramatically switch on the light and shake the ice in my glass as he enters, effectively giving him heart palpitations. I didn’t want to, but Allen said that it was either him or my imitation of Glenn Close on Damages (not especially close: I don’t own any crisp ladies’ suits, so I sit around in an African-print muumuu), and I want to keep this relationship going because Allen knows how to cook.
If I started questioning anyone again, however, I would start with a dog that likes guitar so much that he stops smiling when the guitar is not being played. Clearly the dog is on something, I would say intimidatingly, as I leaned over a desk to show off my middle-aged lady cleavage, and I am going to find out what it is is. And then, I would say slowly but impeccably enunciated, I am going to destroy you. I will take everything away from you. Everything.
My next case involves an assault. “Where’s the victim?” you might ask me, “it just looks like a confused bird.” That is my case. Why was my client being videotaped? Why was he being harrassed? More importantly, what kind of sick and twisted individual would get a bird drunk and then stick a decoy in front of him? Who would leak this to the press? (Amazing twist: I did it. The guitar-loving dog’s supplier had this video of one of my clients and was going to release it if I didn’t drop my suit, so I beat her to the punch and released it myself, making my client appear sympathetic).
Here’s one I don’t even have to make up dramatic plot twists for: A Chinese man was poisoned to death while eating cat stew. I can’t even say anything, you guys. Apparently people are eating cat stew now? And apparently other people are poisoning the stew for some kind of weird government thing? But also, rich people are eating cat stew? The guy who did the poisoning has been caught and I wonder what jail is like for poisoners. Are there levels? Do you get treated better or worse depending on the medium you used for your poison? Where does cat stew fall? I kind of hope that there is an animal-rights activist in jail with him. And that they meet. And that there is a reality show filmed about their encounters and also that the poisoner learns that it is wrong to both poison soup in order to kill a rival but also just as wrong to turn a cat into soup.
That’s it for this week. Please send me links for next week and have a court-free week. However, if you have to appear in court this week, please do so; my sentiment should not be taken as an instruction. Pay your debt to society and leave my name out of it.
Final note: for some reason your emails were going through a time hole and appearing in my AOL inbox, which I checked regularly in high school but no longer use. I have no idea how this happened but I am not ignoring you (I swear) and will use links everyone sent me this year (the ones AOL hasn’t deleted) next week. Promise.
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! (on Friday!) »
[Ed. note: Mark sent this to us on Wednesday this week, but some people fell down on the job and failed to post it until today! Blame us, not Mark!]
You guys, I’m better now, but last week was a low point in my holiday season. I generally love all the holidays and try to stay pretty chipper throughout, but it was pretty difficult last week. I was rolling through life with a sinus infection, and there was not much that could lift my spirits. When such things happen, there is generally one thing that can keep me up even during the toughest times. I am talking, of course, about the winning combination of small children and animals!
Here is a video of a baby human and a baby Yorkie having the best time ever. You know what is awesome about this video? What is awesome is that even though the dog is much smaller than the human, it happily knocks the baby down and proves its dominance. In like the cutest way imaginable. I mean, if a dog like this knocked your baby down, you wouldn’t even be able to say anything but “awww.” Even if the dog then happily made a snack of the baby you would be forced to find it adorable. Luckily, the Yorkie doesn’t snack on babies, it just locks them half to death.
If your baby is inconsolable, however, just get a cat to calm it the fuck down. I especially love the look on the cat’s face. It’s not like it’s all, “I care about you, tiny noise machine,” but more like, “I’ve got this. I’ve read Go the Fuck to Sleep. And by god you are going to close your fucking eyes and not bother anyone again until tomorrow.” This is also Allen’s approach, by the way. Every time he thinks I am making too much noise he puts his hand on my head and hopes that I will shut up. If I am making too much noise at night he gently calms me down by putting a pillow over my face. The last sentence was a cry for help.
If babies don’t cheer you up as much as they cheer me up, however, here’s a music video about breaking kneecaps. Breaking knee caps is also a cheerful holiday activity!
That’s it for this week! Send me links for next week and have an awesome holiday weekend. If you don’t celebrate this particular holiday, I still hope uou get Monday off!
[Christmas hamster photo by LuLu Witch via Flickr]
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! »
Mark is the cranky one.
You guys, I had a really good week in Modesto. I was really concerned about what I would do so I brought along every craft, portable video game system and textbook that I needed to write a lecture from. Then I spent my time eating Field Roast and napping. And abusing NSAIDs. I even got through about 10 hours of Final Fantasy VII before I realized that the entire game was approximately six hundred hours long and decided that I just could not make the commitment. When I told Allen this he said ” that game cost seven dollars. You’d better finish it!” Then he went back to watching 27 Dresses on non-cable television.
Allen loves to watch movies on TV, even though the movies he watches are movies he owns on DVD. In fact, they are movies I bought him on DVD. During the past week he has watched Up twice and been excited and surprised every time it came on. This is a movie that Allen owns the special-edition of and is still in its packaging. When I mention Allen’s behavior to him, he just says that watching movies on TV is fun, and that I need to either lighten up or finish the game I paid $7 for. Because nothing makes more sense than a person who will chastise me for not finishing a video game but will happily watch movies that he has paid for and that are five feet away from him on network television with frequent commercial interruptions. The result of this logic makes my head explode and Allen has to face the consequences of putting it back together and screwing it back on to my shoulders.
Consequences, by the way, are really important. While trolling around the Internet during a pre-nap relaxation hour I found out that one of the consequences of messing with a cat is getting the shit beaten out of you. I really hope that the little monster in this video has to watch this on a daily basis, because it will teach him two important things. First of all, don’t hit living things even if you perceive that they are weaker than you; second, those living things might fight back. No matter what logic you use, it is impossible to blame the cat for giving the kid what he deserved. One time, I reached into Bunny’s cage when she was sleeping and she bit me so hard I almost blacked out. You know what I learned from that? Not to disturb her when she is sleeping. What I hope this kid learns is that you don’t try to squash a cat with your fist. What I hope this kid’s parents learn is not to videotape their kid crying, and perhaps invite him to a visit with a practicing therapist. If you’re jonesing for a video where the cat is the aggressor, scroll down the same page and watch an adorable middle-aged baby get sucker-punched like a boss.
Besides douchebag babies, animals also seem to hate phones. Check them freaking the fuck out when commercials for the iPhone come on (animals are very cost-conscious) and kicking over the phone when it rings and disturbs their beauty rest. That is totally something I would do if I were a pet, too. Just knock shit over to let my people know that I do not have Stockholm syndrome. Ms. Cleo’s been doing that a lot. That and not letting me change her litterbox. I swear, every time I go to empty it she freaks out like I am stealing precious diamonds from her. Allen won’t even go near that because he is so frightened she will take a finger off. She has not been responding so well to Spanish.
That’s it for this week. Please send me links for next week and have a bite-free Wednesday!
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! »
You guys, next week is Thanksgiving, which means that I get a week off! Technically, it’s only three days, but Allen and I are getting the hell out of dodge and the hell into Modesto (no, for real) late Monday or early Tuesday. I actually really like Modesto for several reasons. First, there is sporadic internet access at Allen’s parents’ house now, so I can enjoy all of the internet gossip and frivolity that I usually enjoy at home. Then, about two days in I can generally convince Allen to drive me to Michael’s and buy me many presents! Then I do crafts with Allen’s mom. You know how I learned to knit? By chilling with Allen’s mom and watching Ghost Whisperer last Thanksgiving. I even remember that it was the Mary J. Blige episode. That is a good episode. Except for all of the Jennifer Love Hewitt in it. And the ghosts.
This year I am going to force Allen to take me to several movies (MUPPETS, HOLLA!) and also take me to the ’80s diner (because this is a thing in Modesto). One year, we did black Friday, which was a huge mistake because some woman spilled coffee all over me while trying to barricade herself next to the TVs. So we won’t be doing that. But we will be focusing on the things we are thankful for, and playing cards with Allen’s sister-in-law’s grandma. And losing heavily.
Here’s what I’m thankful for this year: Allen, Allen’s car (when it is fixed), my family, working steadily and the opportunity to teach, hamsters, and God of War. Video games in general, actually. And cats who box.
I was wrong when I said that the hedgehog video I posted last week was objectively unobjectionable, because someone objected — apparently the hedgehogs did not look happy. This week, however, I scoured the internets to find someone completely unobjectionable, and the cat beating the shit out of a garbage can is tops in that category. I wish there was one of a hamster kicking the shit out of something, but that was not possible. Also, I have to point out that Ms. Cleo has been really ornery this week. Allen was cleaning her litter box, and she tried to bite him. Then, she got into this little wooden tunnel thing we bought her and tried to beat the shit out of the litter box. It was like she was wearing adorable yet effective armor. I wish I had gotten it on tape, but my phone was dead. Also, she would have sued me.
Actually, I found a video of something even better: a chipmunk hairdresser.
How much do you guys want to bet that this chipmunk’s name is Pierre or Rodolfo or something equally exotic? I know that he probably just rolled up onto this woman’s hair, but I like to imagine him whispering into her ear as he teases her hair. “Eet eez ze latest style, cherie! Le hair teezed by ze great Jonquil!” Because Jonquil is also a name that this chipmunk could go by (even though his real name is probably Chauncey or Sniffles). I am thankful for chipmunks.
If you’re rich, you will be thankful for this tea, which costs $80,000 per kilogram and helps prevent cancer. One catch, though: It is fertilized with panda poop, which is high in fibers and nutrients. I love nutrients! I love pandas! Unfortunately, I have only $5 to my name so I hope that someone starts making a knock-off panda poop tea soon so that I can afford it. Until then, I can only purchase this, a delightful felted red-shirt bunny. Felting is really hard by the way. I tried doing it at a craft fair once and almost fell into a hundred year sleep in the enchanted castle because I was pricking my fingers so hard. Gotta respect the felters.
That’s it for this week. Please send me links for next-next week, and have the best Thanksgiving, which I am wishing you now because I will not have internet access next week!
[photo of a participant in the 2011 Modesto Graffiti Downtown Cruise by hharryus via Flickr]
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! »
Yesterday I was informed that I have high blood pressure. The doctor was so concerned about my blood pressure, in fact, that she would not let me leave her office without signing up for tests, agreeing to check my pressure daily for a week, and swallowing some kind of medicine. I was not pleased yesterday and I am not pleased today. The doctor’s advice was to work less and enjoy life more. My thought about that: yes, but who is going to show up for work for me? And who will do all of my paperwork?
I do not think it is a coincidence that this happened the week after Allen and I welcome my former friend and roommate Ms. Cleo into our home. You see, Ms. Cleo (who is a giant black female rabbit) and I do not like each other very much. We spent two years together, and while we were fairly happy—I would supply her with food and toys, she would supply me with bites and scratches—we parted ways after I moved in with Allen. This happened for two reasons: first, I am never at home. At the time of the move I was shoulder-deep in grad school and was out of the house so much that I was not able to give Ms. Cleo the proper attention she deserved. Second, Allen was scared of her. I asked him to hold her once when we first started dating and I was attractively cleaning her cage before we went to dinner. She scratched Allen so hard that he dropped her (on the bed. She was on his lap. It was like less than an inch). The she turned and stared at him until he got up and walked out of the room. Then she peed all over my comforter to teach me a lesson. Allen was not happy about staying over that night.
Anyway, I moved and Ms. Cleo moved in with the roommate I was leaving, with the understanding that I would invite her back if circumstances deemed it necessary. And I hoped circumstances never would. Then my roommate had to move, and now we are living with Ms. Cleo indefinitely. I am probably allergic to her. Allen, on the other hand, could not be happier.
That’s right; Allen is in love with his former enemy. I know this because he gives her his organic vegetables every day (and knows which ones she likes), because he texts to remind me to play with her, because he willingly took me to a pet store and made me buy the most expensive stuff and because he talks to her. In Spanish. Regularly.
"Allen," I said to him when I first walked in on him calling her Bonita and saying that she was très bien, “I do not think she understands that. She comes from an English-speaking household.”
“She gets it,” he said. “She speaks Spanish fluently.”
“How do you know?” I asked, wondering if Allen was some kind of modern-day Dr. Doolittle.
“Because I gave her a banana and said ‘eat the banana’ in Spanish.”
“And she ate it!”
“Maybe she just likes bananas,” I said.
“Maybe you should go see your doctor for an attitude adjustment,” Allen said, and went back to forcing pieces of bok choy through the bars of Ms. Cleo’s cage.
Perhaps I do. I do a lot of doom and gloom here on WTF Wednesday because doom and gloom brings me a lot of joy, but Allen has inspired me to do a “what’s good” week. Thank god the internet is happy to oblige.
First, there’s a dog who pisses while doing a motherfucking handstand. What is that? How awesome is it? Do you have any words, because I sure don’t. This dog just gets up on his front legs and says, “Watch this. This entire world is mine!” I think he is actually hitting a big area. I wish I could do this, but I can barely use the bathroom and can certainly not perform a handstand. Maybe I will have one of my yoga friends teach me. Then I can blame it on the rabbit and Allen will love her less and me more!
Here’s another thing that I like but I’m wondering if it is OK to. It’s a pack of puppies cuddling a kitten. Well, they are basically attacking the kitten, and then cuddling her. And she’s more like a full-grown cat. But they’re wagging their tails! And the cat ends up OK! And it is just so goddamn cute! Look at their little tails wag. What do you guys think? Is it all right for me to find this adorable? If it’s not, please take a look at this cat, who is more fashionable than either you or me.
Ok, fine, here is something unobjectionable: hedgehogs bathing! They are swimming! This is almost as cute as when I would bathe my guinea pig. She didn’t love it at first, but then she would get in the warm water and chill and squeak, just like these hedgehogs. I wish I could play this on loop. I wish I could give these hedgehogs a hug. I wish Allen loved me more than the rabbit. Wait…
That’s it for this week. Please send me links for next week and have an adorable Wednesday!
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! »
You guys, it is the season of sickness. I don’t know what’s going on, but since Monday I have been feeling cold, nauseated, and headachey. Sleeping doesn’t help, drinking water doesn’t help, even cuddling with Allen doesn’t help (especially when he falls asleep and starts kicking). I’m at a loss—there’s really nothing you can do about a cold except wait it out and suffer. And continue going to work where other people are sick and probably getting you to bonus levels of sickness. On Monday afternoon I just snuck into my office and took a 10-minute nap. That was great!
Besides sickness, there are two things that are not great this week. The first is the knowledge that in Japan, artists are murdering rats and painting them to look like Pikachu. The rats don’t even look that much like Pikachu. What they look like are fucking murdered rats painted yellow. What? Why? How does this even qualify as art? What is the message here? Capitalism? Anime? Mass-consumerism? I don’t understand it! What’s even more disturbing is that one of the comments I read about this monstrosity was a discussion on how the rats must have been killed in order to maintain their bodies. It turns out that in cases like this, people sometimes drown the rats in a cage, which is noted as being fast, economical, and relatively easy for the rats! Dude, what are you smoking? Drowning may be fast and economical, but having your lungs filled with water while stuck in a small cage sounds like anything but easy. It sounds like one of the top 10 worst ways to die, with number one being involved in some kind of trap from Saw. God, those movies are scary!
Here’s the other thing that isn’t great: people torturing cats because they’re depressed. OK, so cats can be kind of messed up, choking out hair balls, vomiting, and peeing all over the place. (My brother has like 15 cats. I hear stories.) Horrible. Yes, we can blame cats for all of these things (the same way I can blame a rabbit for pooping a lot, but then understanding that this is just how things are). Yes, we can whine about it. No, we cannot start blaming cats for our depression to justify strangling them. Seriously, people need to stop. Depressed people don’t torture animals. Most of the time they just don’t have the energy. Psychopaths, however…
That’s it for this week. I’m going to climb back into bed. Please email me links for next week, and I wish you a Wednesday filled with antibacterial handwash.
Hello, Friends! It’s WTF Wednesday—Avenging Hamsters edition! »
You guys, I need to talk to you about something serious. You know I’m all about fun and games and tormenting Allen for the amusement of others, but today we have to discuss an issue really near and dear to my heart: hamsters.
I get it; I talk about hamsters a lot. Perhaps, some of you may be thinking, I love hamsters a little too much. Perhaps you have never taken a nap with a hamster or involuntarily shared your oatmeal with one. Perhaps you have never given a hamster CPR only to be bitten in the face. Hard.
Fine, I love hamsters too much, but somebody has to. A lot of the time we do not take small animals seriously. You tell someone that a dog or a cat or a horse got tortured and killed and people go into a rage. You hear about someone who tortured and killed a hamster, and a lot of people are all, “Whatever, rodents…” When I took my hamster Bunny (RIP Big Poppa!) in for surgery once even the vet looked at me like I was a crazy person, and asked if I wouldn’t want to spend my money on “something else,” and just have Bunny euthanized.
For me, this was a huge problem, because not only was it insensitive, but Bunny wasn’t a something, she was a someone. She was a rodent, sure, but she also inspired me to stop eating meat—why eat cows when we don’t eat hamsters?—gave me good stories to tell other people, and kept me company while I was doing homework. One time she also bit someone I didn’t like in the face, which was awesome and taught everyone the importance of not putting an animal right up to your face and cooing at them, even if they are small and adorable.
I wasn’t really even thinking about this until this Facebook post started circulating. If you have not seen it, the gist is that some horrible person, who appears to be a female in her 20s, decided to let her orange hamster, Nemo, out into the wild to give him his freedom. Admirable as her intentions may be, this young lady apparently did no research and therefore did not learn that YOU CAN’T JUST FUCKING LET A DOMESTICATED PREY ANIMAL OUT INTO THE FUCKING WOODS!
Her reasoning was pretty romantic: Nemo would fend for himself and become big and strong. He would eat berries that he found in the forest and drink cool, clean water from the brook. He would build himself a fine home made of sugar and gingerbread and he would find another hamster to share his life with. Perhaps, he would return to visit once in a while, maybe bringing his partner around to say hi and nibble a carrot; reminisce about old times, check up on the old places. That would be nice. Too bad that Hamster was probably dead within 24 hours because, again, hamsters are prey animals that don’t know how to love in the wild. They’re not going to find brooks and berries. What they’re going to find are falcons and snakes and seagulls.
True story: I once had a pair of hamsters named Reggie and George (Dead Like Me FTW!) that had been rescued from the home of a disabled person whose main joy in life was breeding her hamsters. These hamsters came from the same families and had not been fed a very good diet; they came to me slow, bloated, and uninterested in anything. Especially the exercise wheel. Wanting to do them the most good and being very naive, I called an organization that prepared animals for the wild and asked what I should do. I was told that first of all, the hamsters would not be returned to me—they would be set free. I was also told not to do this because no matter how much preparation the hamsters had, they wouldn not survive for a long time. So that was the end of that.
Domesticated amsters don’t survive in the wild. Wild hamsters, like in Mongolia, look mean, like they know how to win a fight. Nemo doesn’t: In the pictures this woman took pictures of herself releasing Nemo, he does not look ready for hunting and foraging. He looks confused. And the outcry on this woman’s Facebook is an immediate “Nemo is dead,” which she does not seem to understand because it’s not like she left him on a highway somewhere, she let him go in the woods. With the fucking berries and the cold, cold stream. However, when someone points out that hamsters don’t really do the whole nature thing, her response is not a remorseful “Oh my god, what have I done? How could I have been so stupid?” but “RIP Nemo!” Honestly, where do these people come from?
I want to know how this woman is any different from the young girl who threw the puppies in the river. That girl was told to do it; this woman apparently just decided to release her hamster. She didn’t even try to rehome him to—evidenced by the “I would have taken him if you had told me” comment—and when she was told that Nemo was on his way to a certain and terrifying death, she didn’t show much remorse. Would we be hearing more about this if it had happened to a more “important” animal than a hamster? This makes me sad. And it makes me angry. And that’s not good for anyone, especially Allen, who has to listen to me go off about hamsters for hours on end. You guys should see us.
That’s it for this week! Please send me links for next week and have a Wednesday filled with happy hamsters!
[photo by moriza via Flickr]
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! »
Last week was tough for me, you guys. Not only did I work 13-hour days and torment Allen more than usual (“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON’T TAKE ME OUT TO DINNER???”), but I also stepped into a discarded fish and a puddle of vomit on the same day, one just minutes after the other. I was upset, as you are when you are walking down the street on your way to purchase a delicious lunch at 10 a.m. and step into the lifeless body of a fish that has been discarded in a torn-apart pink shopping bag. Man, was I upset you guys; upset not only because someone had fucked a fish over in this way but also because much of my job consists of taking to people in small, enclosed spaces with locked doors. A job which I would now have to do smelling of dead fish. Then there was my guilt about being mad at the fish on the ground, like it had swum its way out of the ocean and decided to die on a residential street in a quiet neighborhood. Highly irrational, I know, but I doubt any of us would be able to think straight during an incident like this.
I walked back to work feeling really sad about both the fish and my foot, but was only greeted by more unpleasantness. As I wandered down the hallway, I put my other foot (the one not covered in fish) straight into someone’s vomited-up breakfast. Then I had to go I to a small room and sit there on my own for several hours, debating whether it was worse to smell like fish or like vomit, and castigating myself for not looking where I was going.
In a way, I feel very much like the gentleman who robbed a convenience store while a police officer stood right behind him and snickered. He was not looking where he was going, not following the contextual cues. People were openly laughing at him as he attempted to rob the store, and he probably thought he pulled it off, all “Man, I am going to buy so many apple products with this money!” Then the police officer caught him and the only thing he got was the notoriety of being an idiot criminal with an ammmaaaaaaaazing mugshot.
I don’t know how I never posted about this cat before, but you need to know about him, because he takes the bus, which is awesome enough because “let me through! I am on important business!” but he also knows where to get off (fish shop, natch!) and got the awesome nickname Macavity! How awesome would it be if someone actually turned the song from Cats on whenever Macavity got on the bus? How long do you think the other passengers on the bus could stand it before going totally insane? Side note: I used to work at a video store that closed only this weekend (R.I.P. Film Yard) and I would play Cats all the time, to see what other people’s reactions would be. Lots of people would hum along, but one guy rolled in one night, heard the unmistakable melody of “Jellicle Cats,” said “Oh fuck! Oh no!” really loudly, and dashed from the store. I am pretty sure that he had just remembered something completely unrelated, but I like the idea of such a violent reaction to a musical about suicidal cats holding a pageant in a junkyard.
Finally, we have the touching story of Arizona cops shutting down traffic in order to shoo a bunny off the road. You don’t really hear about that a lot. I am really impressed that the officers actively did something to prevent the rabbit’s demise. That makes me feel a little better about life.
That’s all for this week! Send me links for next week and have a vomit-free Wednesday. Or try to.
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! »
You guys, I was really lonely last weekend. Allen was out of town so I had no one to torment, my parents were out of town so I has no one to fight with, and I was too tired to do anything but sit around at home with the lights on and wait vigilantly for the ghosts to show up and eat me. I am happy to report that none did, although, honestly, I could have used the excitement. On Friday night I tried to latch-hook the Super Mario rug I was making, but threw it across the rom in a fit of pique when the yarn unraveled for the fifteenth hundred time.
You can see how lonely I was. So I decided to adopt a hamster. Look how smart they are. So smart they have to wear glasses. That’s the animal for me!
The first thing I did was text Allen to let him know that I was going to track down a hamster and name hear Jeanine (because that is a name I have always liked). Ten minutes later he texted back in his usual unsupportive style, advising me not to make any rash decisions because he was going to be home in two days. “Also,” Allen wrote, “everything will smell like hamster pee.” He was right. I have had many hamsters before and while I loved them all very much and cleaned their cages like it was my job I could not shake the feeling that I always smelled like a hamster cage full of urine. My brother and I got into a fight about it once, actually, when he was giving me a ride to work. “Bitch,” he said, “you smell like you’ve been fucking a hamster farm. Get a boyfriend.” We did not speak for a month after that and I had to take the bus everywhere. Recalling these fond memories made me realize that perhaps I was not ready to invite a hamster into my home just yet and would have to think long and hard before I went out and made such a commitment. Allen, probably sensing my despair, sent me another text message. “I have an idea,” he wrote, “why not just look at hamster videos on YouTube?” Allen can be so callous sometimes (this is a sign of psychopathy, by the way. I have been reading The Psychopath Test and am pretty sure Allen’s responses indicate that he is a psychopath fairly clearly), but I decided to look at animal videos anyway. Except I was doing it for a different reason. I wanted to convince myself that I could live without a companion animal at this point in my life. The first video I looked at completely convinced me. Or at least it convinced me that I do not want to mess with turtles. especially because, as a male, I am possessed of a pair of testicles, which apparently turtles have been known to bite the shit straight off. Can you even comprehend the pain of this poor dog? He just nudged a turtle away from him for whatever reason, and that evil monster decides to go straight for the nuts. I immediately felt a pit in my stomach, even though I generally wear clothes and have never had the desire or opportunity to let a turtle crawl around me while naked (I am about to fifteen comments extolling the joys of having a turtle crawl around one’s naked body, aren’t I?) I could not help but feel a certain kinship with the dog in this video and have decided that turtles are not for me. At least penguins are nice, right?
WRONG! Penguins will fuck your shit up! You think a penguin won’t come at you, bro? No, a penguin will bring it the fuck on. And he will bring it so hard that you will try to run backwards and fall and the penguin will waddle towards you as you are laying on your back, frozen in fear and covered in snow. That penguin will come right up to you and kick you straight in the crotch while maintaining unblinking eye contact. And then he will call his friend the ice turtle (may not be a real creature) and they will take turns kicking you in the crotch and biting your withered and frozen genitalia. Penguins, much like Honey Badgers, don’t give a shit. And they give even less of a shit when it’s some Russian douche trying to come at them. Why is it always the Russians, by the way? As a Russian I am concerned that whenever I see a video of an animal being all “Come at me, bro” the person coming at it is some Russian teenager/twenty-something. Get jobs, you guys! You’re making us look bad on the internet!
Dogs get in on the act, too. No longer content to just chill out, sleep and take walks, they’re demanding to be dressed up in eighties fashions and jump rope to set a world record. Sure, you could blame the lady who is having them jump around and dress up like they’re Tiffany on a coke bender, but i like to imagine her as a poor helpless person ganged up on by dogs who just want to have fun (like a young Helen hunt!); dogs that just live to jump rope to the pulsating beats and alluring vocals of Yaz and Men Without Hats. Dogs that can’t be stopped. Dogs that are “teen wolves” and “teen witches” who go to “private school” and are “pretty smart.” and one of them is in a gang called “Foxes” and “she’s out of control.” Top that!
That’s all for me this week. Send me links for next week and for god’s sakes if your name is Carol Ann, stay away from lights this Wednesday!
Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday! »
You guys, Allen is going out of town this week which means that I have to sleep in our apartment all by myself. We’ve lived here for over a year and we both love it, but I cannot help my irrational fear that ghosts will find and eat me as I am sleeping. Anyone else have this kind of anxiety? I end up leaving all the lights on because for some reason I believe that ghosts only eat people in the dark, but then Allen comes home and lectures me about the light bill and power consumption and poor children who do not have the luxury of keeping lights on in order to remain undigested by malevolent spirits.
This brings me to another point about scary things. Last week I posted a clip of a horse doing a Dorothy Hamill and got soundly talked-to in the comments (I read all the comments!). Generally, I do not respond well to these types of things but in this case I really had no idea that it was not only unhealthy but sometimes fatal for horses to do aerial acrobatics, and that isn’t cool. However, once I saw the horse I wanted to see other animals performing amazing feats of grace and flexibility, so I looked for videos in which the animals did not look like they were getting hurt. That’s when I found this cat. Oh my god, what is that? It is climbing up the wall! Then it is just hanging there like it’s no big deal. Who does that? And I am certain the cat is fine, because cats climb shit all the time (trees, scratching posts, your back). I just haven’t seen a cat climb a wall before. To be honest, I would also do anything for a laser pointer. Remember how cool those were in eighth grade? Man, I still regret not purchasing one for grad school and then pointing at random stuff on the screen and looking super-professional. I want a do-over. Not the papers and the classes, just the opportunity to point at stuff and act professorial!
We move on now to an animal that I do not believe I have ever featured here on WTF Wednesday: the amazing Epic Frog! Observe as the frog jumps, jumps, and jumps again. Thrill as the frog falls, and pulls back up! Watch the frog escape vicious predators! Gasp as it performs death-defying feats of froggery! I bet ghosts wouldn’t even try to eat this frog; they’d be too fucking awestruck by its powers!
You know what else would stop ghosts from eating you? A giant inflatable fish that swims through the air to the delight of children and Mark! I can’t even get over how cool these things are. I was never into RC cars or planes when I was a kid, but a radio-controlled flying shark that I can send down hallways and sic on Allen while he is in the bathroom? Priceless! And just think, here I am in the dark, pretzeled into a protective symbol, trying to get to sleep when the ghosts show up. “Aaaaauuuughhhhhhhooo, Mark! we are here to eeeeaaat yooouuu!” they cry, because I imagine ghosts are lacking in both tact and subtlety. “Not a chance, evil spirits!” I cry. Then I hastily release my air shark from its hiding place and it chases the ghosts back to the living room, leaving me both protected and entertained by its antics. Then I get a good night’s sleep!
That’s all for this week! Send me links for next week and have a ghost-free Wednesday!