Archive for the “Humor” Category

One of my bunnies, Bun-G (pronounced “Bungee”) is elderly in rabbit terms. He’ll be about 8 years old this fall. Bunnies live about 8-10 years.

Despite his senior citi-bun-ship, he remains hip and cool to the latest trends. In fact, he’s a huge fan of the Dramatic Prairie Dog video that has swept the nation.

Bun-G is convinced that if he could just master the look, he’d be the next hot thing on the internet. Let’s check in on his rehearsals, shall we?

Who he is trying to emulate: Dramatic Prairie Dog (aka Dramatic Chipmunk or Dramatic Gopher, even though it’s painfully clear he’s probably an overweight prairie dog.)

Let’s see Bun-G’s try:

Well, you look good. But you don’t have that shocked look about you. Try again.

That’s not “shocked”! That’s the typical “Paris Hilton trying to get the paparazzi to get a shot that doesn’t show her droopy eye” pose. Try again.

The face has what it takes, but there’s a little too much paw-flailing about. What else you got?

Dude, maybe you should try imitating the cat playing the piano instead.

I like to grab a Cunningham Muffin.

Oh, you WILL eat a muffin. You’ll eat it and you’ll like it!

I don’t know why people keep writing erotic stories to post on the intraweb. There are literally hundreds of billions, if not thousands, of stories. When said stories are written by a man, they all go like this:

(Text is not work safe - expand at your own risk.)

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For those that didn’t know, back in July both me and all my pets made the Cute with Chris show (new show every Monday, bitches!).

Chris calls me the Crazy Animal Lady of the Day in this show, but he had emailed me beforehand and let me know that he intended to make that joke and would I mind. I told him he was pretty perceptive and to go ahead and preach the truth.

In case you’d want to watch and see my furkids, here’s the vid:

I can’t do this because I’m not a dude. But if you’re reading this and you have a penis (or at least had one before “the accident”,)  maybe you can do it?

First, you have to lead your entire life in goodness and purity. You also have to be sure you’re Catholic. It would probably also help if you obtained citizenship in a European country.

At the age of 14, be sure to start reporting miracles happening to you, like God sending you a message through your Alpha Bits cereal or something. But just report it to the church, not to anyone else or to the news media. You’ll need this evidence later.

Then, at the age of 17 enter the seminary and get your doctorate in Theology. Try not to let your cornhole be violated while you’re there. All the while, be perfect and display no vices.

Spend the next 40 years working your way up through the power layers of the church until you’re a cardinal in Rome. Then, all you have to do is be humble and pious and wait for the current Pope to kick off. Be patient; the Pope is God’s favorite person on earth, so God often lets him live unnaturally long, suffering horribly in the process.

Once the Pope dies, you will be a natural choice for his predecessor. Accept the honor humbly. Then, the second there is white smoke coming from the chimney…

Jump up and yell, “PUNKED, BITCHES! YOU’RE SOOOO PUNKED!” Name yourself “Pope Cuddlebumps the Fifth”. Take off your little cardinal dress to reveal a Hawaiian shirt and bermuda shorts. Open a can of beer, jump on the table, and gyrate your hips wildly while singing “Louie, Louie”.

Now obviously at this point all the cardinals in the room are planning your assassination. So you have very little time. Be sure you make all kinds of laws and doctrine ex cathedra so that they cannot be reversed later. Make it so that all Catholics have to eat crab stuffed mushrooms at Joe’s Crab Shack every Friday during Lent, and that all Catholic girls must be put on birth control so that they’re not tempted to have sex to make a baby. Let priests get married to either men or women. Really shape that dusty old institution up!

After you are assassinated, we will remember your work fondly and often chuckle when reflecting on your zany hijinks.

Yeah, that would be cool. You should totally do that.

One of my co-workers went to the rodeo for the first time last weekend. She’s never had allergies before, but when she walked in, her throat became tight and she ended up in the back of an ambulance getting three back-to-back nebulizer treatments.

“I don’t know what I’m allergic to at the rodeo,” she said. “I just know I can’t ever be exposed to it again or it could be serious.”

I replied, “You’d better hope it wasn’t the bull shit you were allergic to. This is an election year.”

Ba da boom * ching *

Propaganda cats are any cat you’ve ever met that is cute, affectionate, or adorable. These cats are rogue Al Quadea cats. These cats wish to suck us into their illusion of coolness and cuteness. “I’m cute and fuzzy!” they convey. “I’ll sit on your lap and purr!” they assert.

FILTHY WHORISH LIES!

No “real” cat is this way. REAL cats never let you pet them. In fact, you never see a REAL cat except for when you fill their food dish, and when they appear out of nowhere to scratch the shit out of your calf, then disappear again.

So if you meet a cat that’s cuddly and sweet, that is a terrorist agent for the Propaganda Cats. Their mission is to pretend they’re something they’re not (i.e. pretend they’re a decent pet), infiltrate every American household, then overthrow the US Government using a strategy of spreading a toxiplasmosis endemic, coupled with coast-to-coast unprovolked scratch marks which lead to minor infections.

Don’t be fooled!!!