Author Archives: anotherintro

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About anotherintro

Jane-Rebecca Cannarella is an editor at HOOT Review, a cat lady, and a Nutella enthusiast. When not poorly playing the piano, she chronicles the many ways that she embarrasses herself at the website www.youlifeisnotsogreat.com. She occasionally drinks wine out of a mug that has a smug poodle on it, and she’s not great at writing in the third person.

Trash Fridge: the Final Chapter

Trash Fridge the Finale

 Just like that weird song based off of those bible verses, there is a season for everything before you have to turn on it (or something?). And this was the season to empty out trash fridge. The fridge was so fecund with trash that it really couldn’t accommodate anymore even if I had wanted.

I gathered some support:

cleansing fire

cleansing fire

And faced my figurative, and more than likely literal, demons.

The heavenly light is like a taunt

The heavenly light is like a taunt

Did I mention that there is a freezer that came with my refrigerator?

cause there is

cause there is

Things were relatively fine. I managed to wage war with an oozing black liquid that reminded me of Hexxus from FernGully: The Last Rainforest 

Remember me? I was just in hiding again

Remember me? I was just in hiding again

But like every war there is a particular battle that essentially determines the winner. And when it came to the final foe in The War of the Garbage Fridge (2011 -2013) I honestly couldn’t be sure who was going to come out the victor: me or vegan chili in the back of the fridge.

Before you start looking at following pictures, please play the following song.

[audio http://www.conteadiwagner.com/audio/sf.mp3]
the humanity

the humanity

I cried.

But at the end. What was once filled with only garbage was left, a little shaken, a little barren, but filled with some edibles:

kind of?

kind of?

And this was the only expression I could think of that would accurately sum up really the whole experience.

Spot is letting me know that the person I truly let down was myself

Spot is letting me know that the person I truly let down was myself

 

 

 

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Filed under apartment, food

Conversation topics with my dearest friend

Obviously my cats are my best friends. The only problem with that is their ability to communicate back is somewhat truncated; the conversation is mostly one-sided and responses are generally meows and shedding. Whenever I need to have the deep, soul barring conversations that are so necessary in deep relationships I turn to my other best friend.

giving me the good advice

giving me the good advice

Cats can really only give me so much biased self-validation. When I need tough unbiased love, I consult Google. And here is a sample of the sorts of deep and searching questions that I address to Google when needing to divine the meaning of only the important existential crises

the big questions

When reinspecting my most recent talks with Google I noticed that the searches look exactly like what a teenager from the 90s would ask (if they had Google! Unlucky sods). It also is representative of someone who has almost exclusively been watching Jurassic Park and Degrassi: The Next Generation for the last two weeks because all of their other DVDs are packed away.

And when asking the big questions, Google is sure to deliver with the results. Such as bringing up this gem pertaining to my Jimmy Brooks question (also known, currently, as Drake).

I am confused...wasn't Drake shot in real life in order to make his Degrassi performance for authentic?

I am confused…wasn’t Drake shot in real life in order to make his Degrassi performance more authentic?

Cause, like, he was in a wheelchair in the show. But now that he's a musician he can walk again. What's the deal, Google?

Cause, like, he was in a wheelchair in the show. But now that he’s a musician he can walk again. What’s the deal, Google?

Thank you Google, for filling my apartment with laughter. But also thank you for filling me with consternation pertaining to the state of education in the United States, and the infrequency that our children are required to learn about Helen Keller. She was the one in the wheelchair that also created stickers in the 90s, right?

A recreation of Helen Keller overcoming her obstacles.

A recreation of Helen Keller overcoming her obstacles.

Thank you, Google

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Filed under cats, celebrities, hilarious, horrifying, tv

The delicate sensibilities of decorating

I am a You life of discerning tastes.  And when it comes to decorating my abode I like to pick only the most special of prized finds to accompany the dust bunnies and tumbleweeds of cat hair

scientific illustration of cat tumbleweeds

scientific illustration of cat tumbleweeds

So when I saw this, I knew it had to come live with me, and that weird mold that has started growing in my refrigerator, immediately.

A flying cat/dog with a basketball on it's ass

A flying cat/dog with a basketball on its ass

Welcome home.

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Filed under apartment, cats, doodles, pets

Another day, yet also another year of writing You Life

I am an old person today. And to remind me where my priorities have laid for the last many years, my best friend emailed me to remind me about friendship and love:

Ahh yes, it's you my old friend

Ahh yes, it’s you my old friend

And again, see you later on tonight Jack Daniel’s.

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Filed under birthday, Booze, Holidays

The destructive return of You Life

Sorry for the lapse in updating. Not to fear. I’ve been up to my normal antics.

Such as turning this:

And it's you, and me, and the screwnacorn makes three tonight

And it’s you, and me, and the screwnacorn makes three tonight

(yes, that was a Cherry Poppin Daddies references – say something, I dare you)

Into:

a castrated sadacorn

a sadacorn

This is what castration probably feels like.

Goodbye, corkscrewnacorn, you lived a noble life and died a nobler death at the hands of $5 wine.

 

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Filed under unicorns, wine

I need a hobby

Outside of this:
Dr+Dre+OUT046332

Funemployment has taken a dark turn to focus on Dre, cats, and Microsoft paint

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Filed under Animals, apartment, broke, cats, crafts, music

The brave death of the skillet

It shouldn’t be surprising, but it seems that with unemployment I have  become considerably lazier than recent memory recalls. With getting laid off I’ve noticed that it has opened up a world of possibilities, such as more time to shower but also less impetus to get out of bed.

Also, re-making Dre’s 2001: The Chronic to make it cat friendly for my kits:
new dre

hey-eh-eh-ay catnip everyday

But I’ve been neglecting more than just my personal hygiene and commitment to sanity. I’ve neglected skillet

It seems as though when I was making skillet work double duty as a pasta-maker, I didn’t consider that the noxious combination of pasta water and the bottom of the balsa wood VHS organizer would create something considerably unholy.

this is the tool I use to steam pasta in a cast iron skillet

this is the tool I use to steam pasta in a cast iron skillet

This is what the bottom looked like after I steamed the pasta:

that ring was not an original feature of the organizer

that ring was not an original feature of the organizer

And this what happened after letting the fumes, and poison, and remnants of pasta that I couldn’t fish out percolate for about a week (read: a month):

Sweet mother of God

Sweet mother of God

It gets worse:

It's my very own version of the Origin of Species. But, ya know, in my kitchen

It’s my very own version of the Origin of Species. But, ya know, in my kitchen

When the mold started I did what any person would do.
hide the mold

I put the VHS organizer back on top of the skillet so as not to deal with it.

Until today. Now the little community of, what can only be evil and villainous, mold can live free in the skillet for all of eternity.

In my trash.

But I played Taps while heaving it into the dumpster.

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Filed under apartment, cats, cooking, food, horrifying, music, pets, science! technology!

Welcome to this apartment

I found the perfect welcoming sign to hang on my door to the apartment. If my neighbors weren’t concerned and confused by this

I can only imagine how they feel about this:

despite being a lady, he insists on calling me "dad"

despite being a lady, he insists on calling me “dad”

And the boy that I am referring to?
kitty bruises 2
My bouncing baby cat-son.

Happy Father’s Day, ya’ll. And happy Father’s Day to me, Liono calls me “Dad” after all.

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Filed under apartment, cats, Holidays

It’s the final countdown

Believe it.

Just like all good things must come to an end, all shitty things come to an end too.

In celebration of never working at Y** again:

a car got post-it'ed

a car got post-it’ed

It was revealed that it was no hallucination, someone has been eating all of your frozen food:

you bet your ass it was

you bet your ass it was

And then in an effort to ensure that no beauty is in this office my co-worker and I decided to steal the Cezanne prints from the corporate side of the office. (They might not be a reproduction of Cezanne prints, fuck it).

Only to get caught by a grumpy man that’ll still have a job come Monday.

So we did what anyone would do:

classing up the loo

classing up the loo

The infamous toilet from this

And then a fellow co-worker stole a chair.

Also, I kept the artwork.

Thanks for the blog fodder, job, see you around.

 

 

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Filed under work

I just can’t quit you, so you fired me

It’s the final week of working at my job after getting the lay off notice six months ago. In efforts to appear supportive, the team that is replacing us sent us a gigantic fucking card thanking us…for our jobs. Which are now their jobs.

To paraphrase a co-worker, how dare they use cats to further their agenda?

To paraphrase a co-worker, how dare they use cats to further their agenda?

But then those Canadian bastards raised the bar on emotional (and…in a way physical) manipulation.

They collaborated with a bakery in Philadelphia to send us all fancy cupcakes

which I handled with my typical self-restraint. I took two and am circling the remainder of them like a shark around a wounded seal

which I handled with my typical self-restraint. I took two and am circling the remainder of them like a shark around a wounded seal

My heart melted.

Until I of course remembered that with a paycheck I could just buy my own damn cupcakes. I will not be satiated by a gift of fancy cupcakes (physically yes, and to a degree emotionally, but not monetarily).  I know your tricks, Canada

Take to the internet
blame canada revenge
blame canada revenge 2

Listen up, Canada, I’m coming for you. And when I say “you” I mean:

 

Real Canadian heroes

Real Canadian heroes


Actually, I’m just going to take another cupcake and curse you. 

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Filed under broke, cats, food, letters, work