vegansaurus!

03/15/2013

It’s a photo set of a capybara named CHEESECAKE who is fostering orphaned dachshund puppies. That is all. #HOLYCRAP #WTF

It’s a photo set of a capybara named CHEESECAKE who is fostering orphaned dachshund puppies. That is all. #HOLYCRAP #WTF

01/21/2013

Baddass mouse is totally baddass  »

image
This is the grasshopper mouse, a carnivorous rodent found in Southwestern U.S. deserts. These wacky mofos are totally hardcore! They eat scorpions and howl at the moon. For real. And forget about digging their own burrows—they run up in other rodents’ homes and kick them out. And if times are tough, cannibalism is not beyond them. Damn, mouse, that’s some cold shit. This video is ridic:


[Can’t see the video? Watch it on Vegansaurus.com!]

OMG I want one! Why are they so crazy? National Geographic has another vid if you don’t mind some bug carnage. These baddasses don’t mess around. But remember: “Thug means never having to say you’re sorry.”

PS: you have to watch this

03/21/2012

NYT has a really cute video about nutria in Washington state! They won’t let me embed it though because they are total jerks but click through and you can watch it. 
This lil’ guy is so cute! All the fur stuff is a downer but it’s historical background—a lot of historical background is a downer. #truth

NYT has a really cute video about nutria in Washington state! They won’t let me embed it though because they are total jerks but click through and you can watch it. 

This lil’ guy is so cute! All the fur stuff is a downer but it’s historical background—a lot of historical background is a downer. #truth

11/17/2010

Hello, friends! It’s WTF Wednesday!  »

It has been hot outside, you guys! You know what’s worse than a mid-autumn heat wave? A low-grade fever during a mid-autumn hot wave. That way, you don’t know whether the heat is coming from outside or whether it’s your body boiling the evil little monsters that are giving you the sore throat and that light-headed feeling that makes walking an extreme sport. Really keeps you on your toes!

You know what else keeps you on your toes? Wild hamsters! Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I love hamsters. I became a vegetarian because I picked a hamster up off the street. In my day (before grad school/Allen/anti-psychotics came along), I ran quite a little menagerie out of my room—not apartment, room—which culminated in the Mouspice, a hospice for mice. I mean, I pretty much had every rodent available up in my hizzay. Hamsters were (and still are) my absolute favorite animal. They’re adorable, resourceful, and fucking vicious—to me, a charming quality—and these are just ordinary house-hamsters. Wild hamsters, friend, are a completely different story. They will take down anything, including Russian teenagers out for a good time. You just don’t mess with them. Actually, here’s an even better idea. Don’t mess with any wild animals no matter how small they are. And if you do, don’t complain that they bite you really really hard. That’s what small animals do! That’s how they defend themselves! Have you ever wondered why a small animal’s first reaction when you reach into its cage is to bite the hell out of your hand? it’s because your hand is huge and the animal is tiny. And that’s why you leave hamsters alone.

In related news, I was at the bookstore with Allen last week when he gasped and thrust a book in front of my face. Usually when Allen does this, it is because he has found another obscure book about how to do pushups ergonomically or how to activate your chakras with hypnosis, so I was surprised to find that it was actually a book I might be interested in. Allen was surprise by my elbow in his ribs. Like hamsters, I also react dramatically to sudden book attacks. Anyway, the book, Happy Hamster, is about cooking for your hamster, as opposed to cooking your hamster, which is apparently something some people do. I was on the bus once when a woman offered me $10 for my hamster and then started rubbing her belly suggestively. Since it was obvious that she didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak whatever language hamster-eaters speak, I grimaced in horror and screamed “NO! NO EAT HAMSTER!”* “Ten Dollar!” the woman shrieked at me and continued rubbing her stomach. I freaked out and got off the bus 10 blocks before my stop. And that’s how that story ended. Check out Hamster Tracker, though. There are some adorable pictures there!

Good news! A new-self cloning lizard has been discovered! Female lizards are finding they need male lizards even less than a fish needs a bicycle because a newly discovered species of lizard can clone themselves! Bad news! The lizard is on the menu of a restaurant in Vietnam. That sucks! Why do people have to eat lizards? I think I ask a question like that every week and offer absolutely no answer. Probably because there isn’t one. There aren’t any reasons to eat lizards, especially if you’re getting them from a restaurant. Thanks for the downer, Meave!

Also: In a scene straight out of Mary Poppins, porpoises rescued Dick Van Dyke from drowning! Apparently Bert was so tired after his magical penguin picnic on an enchanted island with Jane and Michael that he fell asleep while surfing back to land (tip: If you’re falling asleep on your surfboard, it is probably time to take up a different leisure activity). When he woke up, he was adrift and land was nowhere to be seen. Then, porpoises GENTLY NUDGED HIM TO SHORE. THIS IS SIMULTANEOUSLY CRY AND VOMIT UP A RAINBOW IT IS SO ADORABLE! I told you Dick Van Dyke was good people. I bet the porpoises wouldn’t have saved Sarah Palin.

That’s all for this week! Send me tips for next week and have an awesome day! OH AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY YESTERDAY, ALLEN! You’re the best!

*I don’t know why I burst into broken English, but I assume it is a leftover reflex from the time I spent living with Elvira, a real-life Peruvian witch with whom I had to communicate only in broken English. Last time I ever innocently answer a roommate-wanted ad.

06/24/2010

rosasparks:

fuckingdelicious:

These crosswords are way the fuck too easy.
To eat the living shit out of.
via reddit via i.imgur.com


One of my parents’ chinchillas died yesterday. She was 16. She died in her sleep, I guess; my poor mom found her little body—they’re small, but so much smaller dead—inside the glass fishbowl they liked to snuggle in together. My parents buried her in the front yard, next to some poppies; carved her a little wooden marker; cried a bit; skipped dinner.
Heartlessly, I feel bad for them, and for the sister she leaves behind, but I won’t miss her. They never really liked me, and I never really liked them, and we didn’t bond, and she was old, and if it was her time to die, then I’m grateful she was able to have what appeared to be a peaceful death.
I care about animals. But these chinchillas were supposed to be our pets, you know, our pals, and they were too wild, and we didn’t make enough effort to socialize them, and one gone eases my guilt for being a bad carer. If I’d known the responsibility that having chinchillas required, I wouldn’t have agreed to getting them so long ago; I was 11, what did I know except we missed our rats who loved us and kept dying, and chinchillas were adorable and long-lived rodents, and having them as pets meant they wouldn’t be turned into fur clothing, so why not?
So naive and selfish. I neglected my fish and he died a couple years ago; no more fish for me. I feel so guilty, like I have so much to make up for, regarding pets. I want my own animal friends so much—I like to think, you know, if they were mine, properly exclusively mine, I wouldn’t neglect them. Maybe that’s why I’m teaching these dogs new tricks, and commands in German? To prove that I’m not a neglectful, selfish asshole? Alternatively because I’m boring myself crazy.
I don’t miss the chinchilla. But I’m sorry for my parents, who do, and I’m sorry for her sister, who has to live alone for the first time in her 16-year life. I know how it feels to be left, at least. Honestly, shamefully, I’m a little sorry for myself for not feeling bad about this, but I can’t force it. It’s just—if they had ever acted like they liked me, even once, if they’d acted like they weren’t scared of me, or if I meant to them anything besides “big-faced thing that distributes raisins,” losing one might mean more.
I was slightly sadder when my mom’s mother died; barely knew her, either. Here’s a lesson: don’t neglect your family, even if they show zero interest in you. Don’t neglect the ones you love, even if they don’t love you back. What are we—OK, what am I—without an active heart? Without empathy?

rosasparks:

fuckingdelicious:

These crosswords are way the fuck too easy.

To eat the living shit out of.

via reddit via i.imgur.com

One of my parents’ chinchillas died yesterday. She was 16. She died in her sleep, I guess; my poor mom found her little body—they’re small, but so much smaller dead—inside the glass fishbowl they liked to snuggle in together. My parents buried her in the front yard, next to some poppies; carved her a little wooden marker; cried a bit; skipped dinner.

Heartlessly, I feel bad for them, and for the sister she leaves behind, but I won’t miss her. They never really liked me, and I never really liked them, and we didn’t bond, and she was old, and if it was her time to die, then I’m grateful she was able to have what appeared to be a peaceful death.

I care about animals. But these chinchillas were supposed to be our pets, you know, our pals, and they were too wild, and we didn’t make enough effort to socialize them, and one gone eases my guilt for being a bad carer. If I’d known the responsibility that having chinchillas required, I wouldn’t have agreed to getting them so long ago; I was 11, what did I know except we missed our rats who loved us and kept dying, and chinchillas were adorable and long-lived rodents, and having them as pets meant they wouldn’t be turned into fur clothing, so why not?

So naive and selfish. I neglected my fish and he died a couple years ago; no more fish for me. I feel so guilty, like I have so much to make up for, regarding pets. I want my own animal friends so much—I like to think, you know, if they were mine, properly exclusively mine, I wouldn’t neglect them. Maybe that’s why I’m teaching these dogs new tricks, and commands in German? To prove that I’m not a neglectful, selfish asshole? Alternatively because I’m boring myself crazy.

I don’t miss the chinchilla. But I’m sorry for my parents, who do, and I’m sorry for her sister, who has to live alone for the first time in her 16-year life. I know how it feels to be left, at least. Honestly, shamefully, I’m a little sorry for myself for not feeling bad about this, but I can’t force it. It’s just—if they had ever acted like they liked me, even once, if they’d acted like they weren’t scared of me, or if I meant to them anything besides “big-faced thing that distributes raisins,” losing one might mean more.

I was slightly sadder when my mom’s mother died; barely knew her, either. Here’s a lesson: don’t neglect your family, even if they show zero interest in you. Don’t neglect the ones you love, even if they don’t love you back. What are we—OK, what am I—without an active heart? Without empathy?

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