Our boss is less than pleased about Corey’s snide remarks. We’ve been telling her it’s out of our hands – Corey has a mind of his own. And it’s filled with bitchy retorts
Category Archives: Animals
The disillusionment of Liono
It’s not a secret that I like to wear costumes. During times that it’s probably inappropriate to wear costumes:
because it was Tuesday and I needed to go grocery shopping
But it’s no fun to dress up alone. Sometimes you need a companion
I have an idea who I might ask to dress up with me
And most of the time I feel like Liono enjoys it
But I might have crossed a line. Because I was recently here and purchased something:
cats love it
And if I love one thing more than cats, it’s unicorns. And a unicorn-cat named Liono seemed like a dream come true. So I went for it:
There is a decline in happiness
this isn’t the face of a cat loving it
this is the face of a cat that’s completely given up on anything good or fair in this world
Maybe I should stop dressing Liono up, for both of our mental and emotional health.
Corey Albertson
The very best sort of day
May your Fridays be filled with dinosaurs and your hearts filled with love
I need a hobby
Outside of this:
Funemployment has taken a dark turn to focus on Dre, cats, and Microsoft paint
It is our mighty banner under which we fly:
This is a universal truth.
The finer details of fire safety
The other night I decided to make nachos as a celebratory meal for finishing a Tuesday well done. And also because I feel less pathetic cooking dinner for one (plus cats) when it’s a featured item on the Chili’s menu.
Some people think “nachos” and this is what is brought to their imagination:
whoever made this is a miracle worker of culinary proportions
I make a less traditional nacho, comprised of only two ingredients:
This is more my speed
After throwing those into the broiler there are some that might diligently wait by the oven and wait for the cheese to melt and then proceed with feasting. But I am not some, and instead walked to my local 7-11 to get additional grocery-like supplies.
I returned to a miniature conflagration in my kitchen.
Since I paid attention in grade school I knew that I needed to get a fire extinguisher right quick. I ran to my hallway to grab it and that is where I found:
Happy 2013!
As it turns out, a fire extinguisher two years expired doesn’t work on a molten mass of flaming triscuits. So I did what any person would do. I grabbed six towels, opened the window, and threw the firey food into the softly falling snow.
And then I left a PSA where the expired fire extinguisher used to be for my landlord to see
The hows and whys that involve me buying frozen vegetables
It’s a very special day in a young woman’s life when she gets to explain to people that the black eye that she is sporting is because an overweight cat jumped on her face while she was sleeping.
This will make the boys come a-runnin’
I would love to claim that this was the first time that I was bruised because of my cat. But, of course, that wouldn’t be true.
And I would be lying if I didn’t say I was mildly concerned about what Liono’s actual motives are these days.
I’m coming for you
A very special You Life: George’s eulogy.
Yesterday, on Christmas, I spent an entire day on the train traveling back to my apartment. I purchased myself some holiday PBRs and got ready to have a full blown solo Christmas pity party. All of my intentions were focused on feeling totally sorry for myself because I was spending Christmas alone. However, George had other plans.
His plan?
Dying
This is exactly how he wanted to go, on Christmas: a day usually reserved for family, and happiness, and joy. Those are all of the things that he hates and stands against. Misery? Pain? Mournful tunes on the banjo? The last chapter of Oil? Ruining gift giving holidays? George knew that those were the real simple pleasures in life.
And, obviously, hating you. That was another of his favorite things.
Except, of course, there is more pleasure in dying. So, after a hundred and fifty thousand years of life George went to meet him maker.
I think we all know who George’s maker is
And I, for one, will miss the ever loving shit out of that miserable cranky cat bastard. And, while his cold dead body rests in the space heater box in my living room while I am at work (HE WOULD HAVE WANTED IT THAT WAY DON’T JUDGE ME), later on I will be memorializing him in the best way possible: playing The Ballad of Georgie on the ukulele and whiskey drankin’.
Bye, littlest evil.
You life is not so great 