Spot the cat.

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How or why Casper ever got up there, I will never know…

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Ariel is such a ponce.

I’m reading Shakespeare’s The Tempest at the moment. Just a bit of light reading.

Anyway. The airy-fairy-spritey-nymph known as Ariel is a bit of a ponce.

“All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl’d clouds. To thy strong bidding task
Ariel, and all his quality.”

“Where the bee sucks, there lurk I;
In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.”

As if bigging himself up in the third person wasn’t enough, he even ‘does his sprinting gently’. I mean come on matey. Man up just a tiny bit. I realise you’re a fairy, but anyone who creates a verb out of ‘sprite’, and attaches a level of severity to it, needs to stop.

I jest of course. Really. I am a big fan of good old Shakespeare, and I liest not. (Thou list!) And Ariel’s okay really. Even if he does have the same name as the little mermaid and has wings and flounces about with cowslip bells and sucking bees.

Just thought I’d share that.

In other news; a photo of a rather patriotic taxi. Saw it recently, snapped a shot, and here it is.

Enjoy! :)

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The incredible true story of the powers of Yoda Cat and his dominion over history exams.

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So, after procrastinating constantly (I am the Queen of procrastination), and not revising for my History exam, I decided to use the force (see yesterday’s post), and hoped that the skills of Yoda Cat (aka Casper) would get me through the exam.

Read on, this is a good’un..

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They who drink beer will think beer.

Beer is the world’s most widely consumed alcoholic beverage. It is the third most popular drink overall.. after water and tea.

However.. I have a theory. It is as follows:

No guy actually likes beer.

It is so unbelievably vile, and I refuse to believe that it can genuinely be enjoyed by anyone.

Here’s how it goes in society:

  • Young guys go to the pub and drink beer to feel older, and more grown up. They have their first beer, and are shocked at the horrific taste. But they are being older and grown up, they have to finish it. It would be socially unacceptable not to. They force themselves to down it, and as the alcohol works its magic they find themselves ordering another. They feel manly, and part of the crowd. It’s just about worth it.
  • Older and more grown up guys still go to the pub and still drink beer, but now they do it to feel young again. It’s a habit now. Their taste buds are mostly dead. It doesn’t taste so bad now. They sit with their pub friends and reminisce about old times. Beer has been there for them through it all.
  • All men, no matter which of the above category they fit, drink beer and hate it. True, they become more tolerant of it, and it eventually doesn’t make them want to chuck up their insides as much as it used to, but perhaps that’s because the alcohol tolerance has gone up too.

    Their fathers drunk beer, and so did their fathers’ fathers, and fathers’ fathers’ fathers.. And so they will influence their sons to drink beer. It’s part of life.

    And to all you who still think you like beer. You don’t. You have simply been brainwashed from an early age into forcing yourself into thinking it tastes nice. Maybe you didn’t even realise at the time, but if you really think back to your first beer, let’s be honest.. you hated it.

    :)

    Friction between the sheets..

    Mature audience required for this post.

    Call me sick-minded, nit-picking, or just plain observant, but I’ve noticed a bit of a lyrical topic trend for our young male singers out there..

    Ejaculation issues.

    Firstly, we have the obvious; Jon Lajoie with his blunt song entitled “I Come Too Fast”. But then he’s the guy who brought us “Show Me Your Genitals”. I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t shy away from explicitly blunt songs. But it’s all in a sarcastic, comedic manner, so we can just about excuse him. (Hopefully you can just about excuse this post too, for the same reasons.)

    More surprisingly however, is the lads who we least expect being a disappointment in the fornication department. “Clockwatching” is an upbeat acoustic feel-good song by Jason Mraz (who just happens to be my lyrical hero and soul-soother), and it seems like an innocent enough song at first. But listening to the lyrics more closely, we realise he’s revealing some rather intimate home-truths.. “I’m off like an airplane, I’m licking your postage stamp again. I’m using my right brain and I’m praying that we don’t crash.. Who knew I’d come so fast? Well so what if a two-pump chump can’t last?”

    Sorry.. what??!

    And then, even worse perhaps, we hear the likes of Ed Sheeran, our most-loved musical ginger genius, describing his stamina problems in the trouser department. “I came fast, with the way I act, right, I can’t last if I’m smoking on a crack pipe.”

    True as this may be – it doesn’t take a genius to know that long-term coke addicts can experience some pretty bad sexual dysfunction (so don’t try drugs at home, kids..) – but is it really necessary for him to explain this to us? I think not Mr. Sheeran!

    I can perhaps.. possibly.. maybe understand the young male artists of today doing the complete opposite, and boasting about their multitude of notches on the bedpost, and their outstanding endurance achievements. Interestingly enough and contrary to Ed Sheeran, who unfortunately struggles with his performance when under the influence, it seems Drake likes to think it improves his stamina. “Good weed, white wine, I come alive in the nighttime”. Most likely it was during the daytime that he wrote the song.

    But even Pitbull, yummy yummy Pitbull (possibly the most vile-looking artist of today), even Pitbull “makes love” to us “endlessly”. Aren’t we lucky. Excuse me while I vom.

    The reason why I can possibly understand and perhaps even sympathise with these men, is because these poor guys have very small members. Very small. And they need to compensate for their very small members. They do this by writing an explicitly sexual song in which they play the lead role, such as Jeremiah who describes how he is “grinding with passion.. been at it for hours” . Later, he modestly informs the lucky girl, “I’m more than able to please you”. It’s highly unlikely that after hours of endless passion you would need to inform your partner that you were able to please them. They probably should have picked up on that bit themselves. So, we can draw the conclusion that either:

    a) He’s dating a big-boobed-blonde-haired bimbo who is somehow unable to realise when she’s had a ‘big O’ and needs to be told (no offence intended to the few who fit that description)..

    OR

    b) He’s so desperate to hide from his very small member and the fact that he cannot please a woman, that he creates a song for the nation filled with a bunch of lies about his non-existent sexual abilities.

    These guys are what I describe as Egos. They don’t have a life, a body, a job, a girlfriend, a passion, or a talent. They only have an Ego. (Just remember girls, the club cant handle Flo Rida.)

    So.. Let’s think about this.. If these Egos need to boast about their super-human bonking abilities simply because they don’t have any.. Does that mean our guys Ed and Jason actually have these abilities, and therefore are required to modestly ‘pretend’ they don’t??

    I certainly hope so.

    But perhaps I’m looking too far into this. Perhaps Ed was innocently talking about ‘coming quickly’ into the music industry, and how you simply ‘cannot last for long’ in said music industry if you take drugs. And perhaps Jason really is licking the back of the queen’s head, in a totally non-sexual way, before sending a love-letter to his fully satisfied woman. And this ‘two-pump chump’ that he talks about is simply a foolish guy he knows, working in a bar, who has two beer pumps that don’t last very long. Okay, we’re stretching it a bit far now.

    But come on. These are young guys. Probably still young enough to chuckle anytime the word “come” is mentioned, still young enough to shout “YA MUM” at (in)appropriate intervals. They know exactly what they’re saying.

    Lads. Thank you for your music. We love hearing your lovely voices.
    We don’t, however, want to hear about your sexual stamina (or lack of it), your ability (or disability) to please a woman, or how drugs affect your performance.

    Thank you.

    A little late for festivities, but..

    Thought I’d upload this anyway.
    I’m one of those silly people who buy presents for their pets. Casper received a lovely red and white ‘furry rustle sack’ for him to hide in, instead of his usual plastic/paper bag antics. Unfortunately I forgot to hide it away, and found him fast asleep in it several weeks before Christmas.

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    “Once a year humans put a tree in the living room for a few days. They hang twinkling little balls from it.
    This tree is probably for us cats… since we like climbing trees, and they know we like twinkling things.
    So, we climb up the tree and bat the little twinkling balls.
    But when the tree falls down, they get upset!
    You must forgive the humans.
    After all, it’s Christmas.”

    I love you, Mr. Thumb!

    “I want you to remember me, I’m leaving my fingerprints.. on you.”

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    I have hitchhiker thumbs. Apparently only 25% of the population does, so I feel somewhat special.

    When I was little I taped my thumbs to my palms, to see what it would be like not to have any, and to see how long I could cope without them. Despite my optimistic “thumbless week” intentions, it was so difficult that I didn’t actually last the remainder of the day. (I also remember when I was about 7 seeing how long I could keep pigtails in my hair, but after a week of washing around the pigtails, mum insisted that they come out. I was devastated, I had big plans for the Guinness Book of World Records, but that’s another story..)

    Never underestimate the power or importance of thumbs.

    Without them, we could never have sucked our thumbs as babies. As children, we would only have been able to count to 8. Classroom games and rhymes wouldn’t be the same – ‘heads down, thumbs up’ would be unachievable, ‘5 little speckled frogs’ would be no more. We couldn’t hitch a lift. We’d always have to SAY ‘well done’ or ‘that’s right’, instead of happily giving a thumbs up. We couldn’t snap our fingers to music, or send a text message with one hand, or flip a coin, or flick a lighter, or add ‘a pinch’ of salt to our food. Typing speed would be dramatically reduced; hitting the space bar would involve another finger. Zipping a zip, buttoning a button, drawing a picture, lacing up shoes, brushing your teeth; daily tasks would be virtually impossible. Even a simple high-5 would involve both hands.

    I might try the taped thumbs again.. See how long I’d last this time..