Tag Archives: cats

Murder mystery book covers of pets who totally did that shit

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Don’t mind me. I’m just learning about your deepest fears so I can orchestrate the symphony of your untimely death.

Unless you buy me better cat food. Seriously. It wouldn’t kill you if you went here every once in a while.

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“Hey you wanna know what’s also by the bay? That body I maimed” – The dog

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The recipe requires just a dash of your blood—and by dash he means 3 pints.

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“Yeah. We did it. And we sipped on that sweet ass tea when it was over too”

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“Nothing to see here. Just a poodle selling flowers. What’s that? You want to go inside? Nah you don’t wanna do that. I got all these flowers out here! Look! I got…these pink ones…and uh I think these are lilac–what? You still want to go inside? OK just…um…I spilled a ALOT of red Kool Aid in there and it’s kind of messy…”

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OMG. GUILTY AS FUCK.

The 80 Cats Phenomenon

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Every year we are bound to run into a news headline like the one I saw on my Twitter feed today:

My first thought should be that the story is sad on multiple levels for the hoarders and pets who lived in squalor. Unfortunately, spending multiple years in journalism has severely depleted my compassion levels and my brain just simply isn’t wired like that anymore. It’s only wired to have the same reaction every time I see this story:

Why is it always 80 CATS?

Not 50 cats. Not 200 cats. Eighty cats. Every. Single. Time.

If you don’t believe me, type in “more than 80 cats” in a Google search. Below is only a sample of what you will find (most of these were just in 2011):

 

 

 

It should be noted that these people *willing* chose to have that many

 

 

Approximately 80 cats are apparently every home’s threshold for a contained atmosphere of feces, hairballs and general life failure before it seeps through an unsealed crack and into the air we breathe. Only then do we call animal control.

When the number crept up to 50 did neighbors say, “Well there are a shit ton of cats here but…I think it will get better”? It doesn’t get better after 50 cats. It wasn’t going to get better after 20 cats. Yet for some reason the number has to hover around 80 before any action takes place.

 

Unless THIS woman is your neighbor. Then you clearly get a pass

 

The Sharper Image of the Skies – Part 1

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One of the twin roomies and I took a flight en route to a very relaxing trip in Austin, Texas this past weekend. Despite being in the FML boarding group for our flight we lucked out and were able to get seats together. Before we even buckled our seat belts our eyes locked with the back seat pocket and we both exclaimed the following two words in unison: “Sky Mall.”

Sky Mall is the standard in flight magazine filled with a bunch of gadgets and ideas that either leave you shaking your head in disgust with America’s laziness, upset that people are capitalizing off of your laziness or angry with yourself that you never put the patent on self-cleaning diapers when you had the chance.

This is a three part series on some of the more ridiculous things I found in the summer 2010 edition of Sky Mall:

Part One: 3 Signs You No Longer Love Your Pets

Tell Whiskers I said good luck on her diving mission. I don’t know many felines who are big fans of water–let alone being submerged thousands of feet beneath sea level–but damn she’s brave.


Wait never mind. Are you shooting her off into space? I’m sorry I couldn’t tell because apparently you thought it was okay to put your cat in some type of claustrophobic piss pod. Pooping is an uncomfortable action that in an ideal situation is done in a comfortable setting. If the cat is trained to use the litter box then why make it more uncomfortable? They couldn’t even photoshop a happy looking cat into this photo.

Embedded sprinklers? Water timer? This is entirely too much maintenance when a walk outside of your building would suffice. If you were too lazy to take the dog for a walk what makes you think you’re going to clean that $300 dookie turf you just bought? I will laugh when Sir Woofs-a-Lot rolls around in a concentrated piss mat because he doesn’t–and shouldn’t–get the memo that this is supposed to be the equivalent of a walk outside.  This was the third one of these in the same magazine, FYI. (By the way, I would never name my dog Sir Woofs-a-Lot–especially if I tossed this magazine to leave it and he ran up quick to retrieve it).

If you potty train your cat before your own child you kind of deserve to have your child taken away. The child won’t be removed permanently, mind you, but just long enough for you to get your head straight.

If you agree to own a cat, you are making a verbal agreement with your conscience that you will be scooping crap on a consistent basis. That’s part of the deal. Remember that you’re the one who thought the companionship was worth a shit (pun intended).

Also you’re just creating even more competition for the bathroom in the morning before work. If they figure out the toilet they’ll start figuring out other things like door knobs and even worse, door locks.

Perhaps if you hadn't fed me that generic Fancy Feast you would have caught your train