Sometimes all it takes is the look of a grumpy cat to make the world seem a little brighter.
Yes, I said it… I am in favor of stricter gun control laws. I may lose a few fans and friends for it, but I have to speak my mind and tail.
I’m not totally delusional… give me a bit of credit. I know that no matter how many restrictions, laws, waiting periods, credit and background checks that are put in place, a bad crafter will find a way to get that glue gun. It may be out of the trunk of some car in a Michael’s Art & Crafts parking lot. Maybe a friend who isn’t using their legally obtained glue gun lets another friend borrow it for a while… the next thing you know there’s macaroni art all over the place and nothing, I MEAN NOTHING is safe from the dreaded bedazzled treatment.
Laws aren’t going to do it alone. We need proper arts and crafts education, in the classroom, at home and in the media. I mean, let’s face it, the young generation gets most of their education from the media anyway. Teach proper glue gun safety. Let the future know that it’s just not right to do bad crafts. It’s a drag on the ego. It’s a drag on friends and family. Macaroni was meant to be in cheese or in red sauce… not glued to a hat and painted green.
I will not rest until the world is safe from glued on macaroni. Oh yes.
The Golden Globes were a big old bust for bob last night. It didn’t help that I wasn’t even nominated for anything. That right there could cut your chances of winning down significantly. I still have hope for the Nobel Peace Prize but I think my entry form was lost in the mail.
I don’t need awards, right? What do awards do? Make you feel better about yourself? Let others know how good you are at something? Give you a sense of accomplishment for all the behind the scenes work you do day after day after day after day? Let you know that somewhere, somehow someone or even many someones are paying attention to what you do and want you to know it’s all worth it.
Okay, maybe one little award would be nice. It doesn’t have to be the golden globes… it could be something much smaller… like maybe that cheese those lab mice eat. Or one of those milk-bones Frank gives the dogs for not killing the mailman. I don’t ask for too much, do I?
Some days, trying might as well be a double marathon. What’s the point? If you allow yourself to think about it for about two seconds, you see that the cost of inactivity is far greater than any “rest” you’d get by being a lump. We’re all tired…tired of waiting for the break, tired of working for that break, tired of working for something invisible or in existence somewhere you’ll never be or see. We’re tired of eating and wondering why we’re eating this. We’re sick of wondering why we treat ourselves so bad when we shouldn’t.
We’re sick of hearing that, “you look tired, you should rest.” Rest? Seriously?
So, I keep trying… even though it seems I wake up more tired than before I went to sleep. Even though the aches and pains seem worse the day after and more worse two days after. I get up and I try. Because, that’s what I do. That’s what Frank does. I have to admire him for that. Well, there’s no rule that says I HAVE to admire him for that.
Maybe I’m just tired.
I’m about as into fashion as the next squirrel…which gives you an indication of exactly how fashionable I am. Real fur has fallen out of fashion… but there’s nothing I can do about that. I am a fur coat for the most part. At least it’s still with the original owner.
I love Frank, but honestly, would anyone wear a tie with a space helmet after Labor day?
The world is a wild, wild place. Not that I’ve been everywhere in the world… but I think that’s a fair assumption.
Apparently, the meat on me taste good to some… both human and non-human. I’d be lying if I said to you I wondered how I tasted. That is very sick, but I pride myself on baring my honest to tail soul for you every single day… multiple times if possible.
It’s probably a nutty taste… with just a hint of nacho cheese.
Straight answers are hard to come by. Like a four leaf clover in a patch of daisies. I’ll admit, extinction is a very strong word but it is a completely appropriate term.
If you question my observation, test it out for yourself. Go ask someone something. Anything. I’ll bet a majority of my tail that you’ll get an answer so crooked it’ll be pointing back and away from you at the same time.
I just call it as I see it. All I wanted to know was what the weather would be like tomorrow. I’ll save the answer I got for another time.
Why do so many dig reality tv?
Because it’s REAL, right?
C’mon. I’m more real than any of that refuse (I wanted to use a swear word in place of ‘refuse’, but I have an image to maintain) I’ll admit, even I at a certain point desired my reality be televised. Why should I miss out on that gravy train? I love gravy. If i had a gravy train I’d be getting loaf upon loaf of bread to sop all that gooey goodness up. You don’t get gravy without any meat. I don’t know how that applies, but it sounded good.
The thing of it is, if all the reality shows in the universe were to be banned tomorrow, chaos would reign. Not because the masses of fans would be rioting in the streets, but that there would be nothing out there to replace what was taken. It’d be Thunderdome time.
If this comes off sounding like jealousy, good. I admit it. I act a fool everyday online… might as well get an energy drink deal or a music contract out of it. Acting like a fool for ten weeks to set myself up for life? Wherever the signing needs to be signed, let me sign. I’ll hate myself in the morning… but I’ll get over it.
It sends the wrong impression to impressionable young ones… Why work? Work ethic? Wait, let me google that. Nah, all I need to do is get on a reality tv show. I don’t need to work any harder than it takes to get through the audition.
But will you?
Monotony is cruel… and not in a “this is for your own good” sort of way. Sometimes you need to stir it up some. That bit of advice is easier said than done… especially when your spoon is broken. I keep a spare spoon just in case I need to stir it up. But as I reach for the spare spoon I think, “Why?” Then I realize that I lent my spoon out and didn’t get it back. There was someone else out there who wanted to fight the monotony battle.
Hope they did better than I did. One does not seek rewards in this type of war…you just want to make it out less bored than you were going in.