I have insomnia so I’m getting a head-start on National #Boobquake Day; a day when women are encouraged to wear their most immodest outfit to see if immodest women do, in fact, cause earthquakes as reported by Iranian media. Apparently this is a real concern. So I put on my most low-cut corset and used my computer camera to take some pictures but my cat kept getting in the way and I was all “WHY MUST YOU BE IN EVERY PICTURE?” and then Victor woke up and wanted to know why I was screaming and taking half-naked pictures of myself and I was all “Uh…it’s an experiment to see if my boobs can create earthquakes?” and Victor just stared at me and shook his head in confusion and shuffled back to bed and I’m all “I’M DOING THIS FOR SCIENCE, ASSHOLE“.
It was weird though because I always heard that it was girls who didn’t understand science.
Also, I just realized that my cat has a ton of nipples that are never covered so I guess technically she should actually be part of this experiment too. Touché, cat.
PS. If this does, in fact, cause some sort of horrible earthquake then I blame the cat who has like 4 times as many nipples as me. Honestly, it’s like she wants to cause an earthquake. That cat’s kind of a dick.
A few weeks ago I linked to a post on Alone with Cats and the chick that writes it sent me a very sweet, unexpected thank you card filled with cursing, threats of violence and tips on befriending wealthy, dying relatives and there was a tiny package under the card and inside the package was was the single greatest, random, bizarre gift that I’ve ever received:
Yes, people. It’s a dead, stuffed gambling squirrel holding a tiny pistol and when I pulled it out Victor said “Oh, what the fuck now?” and I was all “This, Victor, is what happens when you make a difference in people’s lives” and then he made me put it out in the garage with James Garfield because apparently our real estate agent thinks having hilariously awesome taxidermied animals in your house scares off prospective buyers. I prefer to think that we’re hiding them so that buyers won’t assume that they come with the house because really? They totally tie the fucking room together.
Google suggestions once again makes me weep for humanity while inadvertently nailing the difference between the sexes:
Feels like there should be a fourth random thing here. Something about badgers or pandas, maybe. Or badgers mixed with pandas. I think my sleeping pills are kicking in. Ooh, leprechauns…
Comment of the day: When my dad died, we had him cremated at Cress Funeral Home, aka “The Taxidermy Museum”. I think you would appreciate its charm although I’m undecided if mourning enhances or detracts from the experience of seeing dead squirrels ride bicycles and perform topless dances. We may need to perform an experiment to determine the effects of grief on taxidermy appreciation. Fortunately, I’m a chick, so I totally get science. ~ Sarah P.