02 8 / 2014

30 7 / 2014

14 7 / 2014

07 7 / 2014

This artist is everything good about music. Find a way to listen to him!
Way to suggest ‘em, Spotify! I am just drunk on his music :)

01 7 / 2014


How to World Cup, as told by baby elephants.


(via theanimalblog)

01 7 / 2014

01 7 / 2014


Is he doing his shark attack bit yet?

(via spellsalmon)

25 6 / 2014

Though I’m generally ok at converting month numbers into month words (8 is August, 11 is November, etc) for some reason I always have trouble converting June.
So I have a diddy:
“June, June, sixy tune!”
I envision a raspy saxophone playing along.
It works for me!

24 6 / 2014

24 6 / 2014

"Who will help me rinse the berries?" the woman asked her friends.
“Not I,” said the first.
“Not I!” said the other.
The others followed suit.

"Well, who will help me chop the fruit?" the madame asked, hope in her voice.
“Not I,” said the cat, again.
“Not I!” the second echoed.
The others followed suit.

"And who will help me fill the crust?" The lady sounded doubtful.
“Meow, and meow again” the cats said snobbily.

"Sigh," thought the woman now, as the smell of baking pie filled the warm air. "At least the cats are greedy. Surely this pie will tempt them!"

Ding! went the kitchen timer. Ding! spread a smile on the Lady’s face.

"Ahem!" she addressed the cats. "You surely have noticed the fresh baked pie I have labored over. It is warm and juicy, ready to eat! And look, cream in a saucer, a perfect pairing!"
The cats blinked at her, barely curious. Since cats are born with much curiosity, it was the least they could muster.

"I asked if you would help me rinse the berries. ‘Not I!’ you mewed. ‘Not I!’ And then the fruit needed chopping. Again, ‘Not I’s were all I heard from you lot. Finally, the crust, I filled alone. No help from you, not a paw lifted.
Many years we have been friends, and many years we have lived together. Though you purport disinterest, you are my best friends. And now I ask, with this delicious spread before us—Who will help me eat this pie? Harold? Steve? How about you, Stewie? Margaret? No? Anna-May?”

And one by one, the cats either yawned and lowered their heads back into Nap Position, or stretched and showed the poor woman their tail as they headed out of the kitchen door.

The Cat Lady sighed again. Her head hung so low, she was almost in Nap Position herself. She sliced into the warm pie, heavy handed, and served herself a heaping piece. The sweet berries looked cheery to her peeking from between the steaming crusts. A blackberry tumbled into her cream, which she picked between her fingers and popped it into her mouth, burning her tongue.

"Whoo-ee! Patienth, Patienth!" she lisped to herself, blowing on her steaming slice of Very Berry Pie.

Now determinedly, she took her plate over to her favorite cushy chair, she slipped into her comfiest position, pressed a button on her DoEverything remote, and queued up her favorite show.

"I will have a good night," the Cat Lady thought to herself. She watched her Favorite Show, laughing when the hijinks ensued, and thought of the times she had laughed along with her human friends. She sighed happily when the Couple finally got together again, and she remembered the one time there was Love in her life. And at last, she remembered Hope, when the Friends went through so much pain, but came through it in the end.

Her empty plate now resting on the arm of the cushy chair, and the sun only just starting its descent, Stewie the Cat jumped into the woman’s lap. “Who will snuggle me exactly as long as I require it?” he meowed.
“Not I,” said the lady as she pushed him off her lap, brushing off the hairs he’d left behind.
“And who will stay in and feed me, as long as we both shall live?” meowed Margaret.
“Not I!” replied the madame.
“And who will be forever resigned to Cat-Lady-dom?” mewed the rest.
“NOT I!” exclaimed the woman, as she forged a path through the bunch of them, and grabbed up the rest of her pie.

She stormed out the door, only slowing down enough to catch herself in the decorative mirror on the way. Slicking down her cowlick, she stood up straight, and nervously yet thrillingly made her way two doors down.
Having knocked on the door, she held up the pie, proudly. She forced a confident smile as the door opened and a face appeared.

"My, my! What a pleasant surprise! What’s this?" a handsome fella exclaimed.
“I, well, I made a pie, and I thought it’d be better shared,” she nervously offered.
“YOU made this? All by yourself? It looks amazing!” The woman blushed.
“My Lady, I’d be honored,” he grinned. “Please, come in!”
They both giggled as she entered his welcoming kitchen, and sat down to stories and pie. A youthful gleam grew in the woman’s eye as it met his, and the friendly neighborhood acquaintances became friends.

The Beginning.