Domesticated.

It all started with a single rabbit.

Her name was Truffle. of Truffle-lumpagus. Or Bitch bunny from Hell~ depending on her mood.... and mine.

But Truffle was an only child...er only bunny.....

So I, with my infinite wisdom, decided she needed a friend.

I ended up coming home with 4.........

Truffle, Tobias (aka Toby) and the twins: Basil and Aspen.

The twins look like toasted marshmallows. The main reason that Aspen got her name was so that I could shorten her name to the first two letters. She really is a little a$$.

BUT.

I love them, and now there are BUNNIES EVERYWHERE.

Bunnies are the best pets ever. They are so small, there is no way that when they look at you, they are thinking "ya, I'm totally going to eat you." In fact, their field of vision is probably very similar to the one depicted above. Besides, if a bunny makes you angry~ it is socially acceptable to eat them and turn them into slippers.

My bunnies? they eat hay. and carrots. and little mass produced rabbit pellets that they feed stores tell me is good for them. They don't look at me like I am a giant piece of steak like my next door neighbor.

I really don't understand the logic of people who want pets that want to eat them.

I feel like if I had a conversation with one of those people the dialog would be along the lines of this:

them: "My giant cat from a foreign country that has malaria loves me so much, so does my 30 foot long boa constrictor that I had smuggled out of Africa."

Me:"........... what kind of cat is that?"

them: "Oh don't worry, it's just a large carnivorous jungle cat I had smuggled out of Zimbabwe~ but can't you tell she loves me."

Me: "yes..... I can tell she would love to eat you, and why is your snake stretched out perfectly still next to you?"

them: "He loves to snuggle."

Me: "Actually, in my animal physiology class we learned that means they are sizing you up to see if they are big enough to ingest you...."

......awkward silence......

Then one day the scenario depicted below will come to pass and said individual will become another tragedy on Channel 10 news of a pet owner who was viciously killed by exotic pets.

The moral of this blog, is that you should stay away from Tigers, unless you happen to go to Thailand and you can take touristy pictures with one and post it on Facebook, because that is all the rage right now in the networking community.

Save your life. buy a bunny.

the scourge of the washing machine.

Before I begin this story, I should give you some background. This is how the world really is.

OH! GLORIOUS IPOD!

How oft I do listen to thee!

Thine streamlined edges leave me in awe~

and when mine teacher speaketh incessantly,

thou givest me heavenly lyrics~

from Taylor Swift to viking death metal.

Thou art the perfect significant other,

for thine exterior is both stylish and optimal,

for thou art not cumbersome, like unto in-laws or chores. or heavy laptops.

I feel that this excerpt is sufficient in demonstrating the over abundant love that the human race has for this small device that captures audio and plays it at the touch of a button. The ipod. A modern interpretation of the god of music.

Sometimes, tragedy strikes our beloved electronic pet. Today's tragedy has come in the form of a washing machine. Most people are of the opinion that washing machines are blessings. well..... they are not. Washers are the electric powered washing device in the form of SATAN. They are so vile they might even be the spawn of Satan.

Don't believe me? think about the clothes you wash. Have your clothes ever looked happy to be in the washer? No, of course not~ that is utterly absurd. They are soaking wet and pathetic looking, not to mention that they fade a little with every wash. Think of how traumatic that must be. The washing machine in and of itself looked like a stoic gapping mouth. If I was a little cotton T-shirt, I would be utterly terrified.
Finally, the EVIL washing machine shows forth its true colors when it claims your beloved ipod as a victim. As you rescue your clothes from its vile grip, you notice your sweet darling ipod in the bottom of the mouth, and your heart sinks. Gone. GONE. 10,000 SONGS ARE GONE. your ipod looks at you with that guilt-inducing look, the one that plainly speaks "why did you not check your pockets??"
You want to blame everyone. You blame the pants. EFF YOU PANTS. you deceitful little tramp. I hope you are really proud of yourself for killing Ipod.
Then you realize that Ipod and his little headphone friends were all together in the washing machine. That brings the total casualties to 3. Ipod and the left earphone are dead, while the right earphone can only make sad, sad sounds. The right earphone is in critical condition and will probably shortly follow the same fate.

How do you feel about the vile washing machine now? I told you it was heartless. How many electronic devices has it claimed? my beloved pets are all dead. My theory? the washer is jealous because it is the fat cow of the electronic/machine world, so it destroys all that is wholesome and good.

Now what do you do? how do you keep on living without your dearest companion? the one that was closest to you? and I really do mean closest~ Ipod was always in your left buttcheck pocket. You enter grieving and enter a sting of meaningless relationships with other music portals. scratchy radio, out-dated CD players,... and your giant laptop that weighs as much as your football player cousin who is a descendant of Goliath after Thanksgiving.
Listening to your music has become joyless. You cannot dance with a lap top. The weight of it throws your equilibrium off balance and you become clumsy and you cannot do your awesome arm gestures if your arms are being encumbered about with laptops and chords and Ethernet cables (which are really just corporate tapeworms).

music listening has become.... drudgery.

Because you have to carry around your lap top while you sing and dance, you develop scoliosis and a hunchback. You also no longer have free hand movement for things like hygiene. Hygiene includes things like brushing teeth and combing your hair for all of you who may still think of hygiene as a foreign concept. Because you are so busy holding your laptop, you lose all your teeth save one snaggle tooth and your hair becomes skimpy. The music begins to feed off of your negativity and eventually, the music notes themselves mutate into carnivorous entities. They devour you, and you die.

this calamity could have been avoided if you checked your pockets before washing your jeans and used my washboard abs to wash clothing instead of the vile washing machine

In commemoration of Single's Awareness Day

Another Valentine's Day has come and gone, yet you prefer to refer to this holiday as S.A.D~ the dreaded "Single's Awareness Day." Welp... you are an idiot if it took you all year to realize you were single.

You should have realized it on a Friday night when you sat at home playing x-box by yourself, or perhaps when you saw this kid crash his bike into a skateboarder and as you pulled out your phone to tell someone, you realized you didn't really have anyone who was obligated to think that your story was funny, or interesting for that matter. You also should have realized you were single when you went to the theaters to watch a romantic comedy and in a particularly moving scene reached out to grasp a certain someone's hand, and only felt the empty air; or perhaps when you were walking at the park, and you saw a couple very much in love walking around hand in hand being jovial, while you strode sullenly with your hands in your pockets. If you didn't realize you were single in any of these moments, you deserve to be single.

Nonetheless, I have taken pity on your plight of patheticness. I am going to give you the Kylie Fool-Proof Guide on how to avoid a "SAD" February 14th.

STEP 1.) you obviously begin by selecting a person to be your valentine. DO NOT MAKE THIS SELECTION IN THE DARK. the reason behind this logic? everyone looks better in the dark. ensure that you are in a well-lit room when you make your selection to maximize Valentine attractiveness to full capacity.

the following pictures present a scenario of a dimly lit room and the quality of people in it.

once in the light you become aware of the fact that your Valentine is grotesque and misshapen. This situation could have been avoided if you had been in a light area to begin with. Now, you must suffer with your cross eyed cow or gangly nerd for the duration of Valentines day and awkwardly bestow gifts upon these genetically inferior beings.
STEP 2.) Now that we have learned lesson one, we can progress to step two. Once you have made a valentine selection in broad daylight, you must let your Valentine know that he/she is in fact YOUR valentine and the object of your latest infatuation. A simple way to communicate this knowledge of possession is by bequeathing a heartfelt(or idiotically punny Valentine jingle) saying on a card. Puppies, kitties, bears, bunnies and all other fluffy creatures are appropriate depictions on cards due to the fact that we(humans) are hardwired to respond positively to neonatal features. This means that the card with a giant fluffy animal on it that you give your valentine will induce instant fondness because the disproportionately large eyes and other helpless features induce the desire to care and nurture, particularly in women. StarWars, bugs, and other boyish oddities are probably more appropriate on men's cards.
STEP 3.) You probably have only picked out your valentine card at this point, and then chickened out on actually giving it to your Valentine. That is OKAY. Valentine's Day is all about super creepy secret admirers, and love letters. This is the only day when it is socially acceptable to write a letter pouring out your heart and soul in professing your love to someone who hardly knows you. In addition, mailboxes are accepted forms of love letter transport. I know you are all awkward, so this is perfect. no face to face contact? win.
Sometimes, when you think of your beloved, you may experience the same paralyzing fear as Harry Potter when faced with a dementor... you may even pass out. However, you should find solace in knowing that your valentine cannot suck out your soul like a Dementor and leave you as just a soul-less husk. Your valentine may feast upon your insecurities like a dementor however.... and in that situation it is probably acceptable to pass out.

Sometimes, the undesirables (that would be the unattractive people we saw earlier in this post) are referred to as Dementors, because they are ugly, and wretched, and other negative adjectives. Unfortunately, the expecto patronum spell does not work on them and will not ward them off. Social experiments are still being preformed to find out what does work. Studies have shown that if you are a woman, not shaving your legs works. If you are a man, snoring and bad smelling feet also work. however, these antics also ward off those whom you ARE attracted to.

STEP 4.) In order to keep your Valentine's interest, you have to abide by social norms of conduct. Ladies, this means doing hair and makeup and applying deodorant.
Men? this means you have to bathe. and use soap. use gratuitous amounts of soap. If you do not use soap, no one will love you, and because no one will love you, you will never have children, and because you will never have children, your name will be forgotten. forever. does that sound lovely? no, no it doesn't. USE THE SOAP.

if you follow my dating counsel, you could literally see love on Valentines day. Love is the embodiment of all things heart related, unicorns, flowers, and rainbows. Follow the aforementioned steps and you will receive reciprocation.
and not rejection.
like Jill.

Better luck next year, and happy hunting.

The Drain Monster

It happens to us all, the dreaded Drain Monster appearance. The scientific community refers to these little boogers as "Drainlings." Essentially, they exist to destroy the bliss that is known as "shower time." I hate them, I will proclaim my territory and defend my kingdom. My domain? the bathroom.

Typically, the bathtub looks like a pristine paradise encased in enameled white, or a porcelain dish, waiting to hold the main entrée (you). It sparkles, and shines, it literally glows and emanates light. Every molecule of its being beckons you forth... and then... it happens.

What happens exactly? well.... your little microbial free oasis is invaded by a full fledged Drainling. Its a stubborn, cross eyed little hairball (literally) filled with hate and cantankerous resentment. Its also snaggle-toothed and knobby-kneed. Even though it is only several inches tall in stature, its little being is enough to inspire you with fear and horror. (if you have never experienced these kinds of emotions, just imagine... being a toothpick in the midst of a termite colony)
This little creature entirely changes the mood of your bathroom. Gone is the calm, clean, and fresh feeling. The overall mood become dark, dim, and.... dangerous. It would be like going to Shelob's lair with Gollum (that would be the Giant spider cave in Lord of the rings, and Gollum is the untrustworthy, nasty scrawny creature). The dank, bottomless hole in the bathtub is, in fact, the Drainlings preferred place of residence. They are actually only found here in the wild and that is how they acquired their names.
Perhaps you are currently being plagued by a drain monster. How would you be able to tell? Well, the first sign is when you go to take a shower and you suddenly find yourself in a bath. You look towards the drain, and you know it could only be one thing.... a drainling... There is really one thing to do at this point. Quit being a pansy and establish the bathtub as your rightful domain and rid your kingdom of evil.
of course... you should know a few things before engaging in such a risky endeavor... Such as Drainling body language. Below is a helpful illustration of a Drainling in neutral, as opposed to a defensive Drainling. Defensive Drainlings should be avoided, however~ if you should encounter one there is an extremely effective method of dispatching it (remember, they have an iron grip)
Poor, defensive, well-pedicured woman being held hostage by a Drainling.
You will need a weapon. A simple wire coat-hanger will do. just go and steal the hanger from your boyfriend's freshly dry-cleaned shirt~ he won't mind. especially if you crumple the shirt on the floor. Anyway, discombobulate the hanger, so it is no longer a hanger, straighten it, and make it a hook on one end. now you have a Drainling Skewer. It is 346.7% effective. which is almost always. and a half.
Now, go forth and remove the scourge of the shower that you may experience your exfoliating body scrub in peace.

New Years is for people who hate themsevles.

Has anyone ever truly analyzed the importance of the supposed holiday called New Years?

of course not, you know why? because it is a joke. Even April Fool's Day makes fun of New Years. New Years should be renamed, "Let's get absolutely smashed with unmeasurable quanities of alcohol and make an impossible list of things we would like to improve, but after the second week of January, will promptly forget about." Essentially, New Years is for people who hate themselves.

excuse me? what was that? was that skepticism? you don't think New Years is for people who hate themselves? ...... what was your reasoning? because you don't hate yourself and you participate in the great scam that is New Years? Your reasoning is flawed, you do hate yourself. you are in denial. I saw you stuffing your face to hide your low feelings of self worth.

Anyways, moving forward~ now that you have been enlightened, I'm going to tell you the story of the typical New Year participants.

{Once upon a time} there was a pathetic excuse of a man. He suffers from numerous social ailments. lack of courage, the short end of the stick concerning "attractive" genes, and no social skills. he probably also has a lame job. I will give you a hint as to what that job is.... "would you like fries with that?" need I say more? ya.... I didn't think so.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, there is also a pathetic excuse of a woman. she has low self-esteem and absolutely abhores her appearance. this is probably due to the fact that she eats her emotions away. Mr. "McDonalds Man" is an enabler in this situation... maybe someday these two will gravitate towards one another and begin an entirely dysfunctional relationship that will spiral madly out of control based on the low self images of the two parties involved. oh she also indulges in massive amounts of cosmetic products to alleviate her lack of self worth, however, due to the fact that she is trying to alter her appearance so durastically, she comes across looking like the rodeo clown's girlfriend, see below picture for confirmation of this fact.
On New Years, there is an odd social reaction. If it was described in scientific terms, it would go something along the lines of this: Pathetic man+ alcohol = brazen imbecile who can now interact with women with a thimble full of confidence and be socially accepted. Of course this is obviously glorified and unrealistically dreamt about by the pathetic man. What have you really accomplished by becoming so drunk that the women on the very bottom of the social food chain now accept you? nothing. its like a man beating up a 12 year old girl, or my father beating me at chess. It's just sad, wrong, and unworthy of mention. Congratulations on being an idiot. Besides, the women were drunk also, and they never really accepted you, they just had severely inhibited sense of judgment.
Furthermore, the pathetic woman takes a much more idealistic approach to New Years that absolutely trashing herself. She makes a list. of things she wants to change. about herself. because she hates herself. I told you New Years is for people who hate themselves. the stereotypical list for New Years usually consists of dieting in some form.

That is the true reason why women are so temperamental. It has absolutely nothing to do with PMS. Women are truly unhappy because they are starving themselves and abstaining from that great goodness known as food, more specifically carbs. They take this frustration out on everything. Not even inanimate objects are safe. New Years is the birthplace of hatred. imagine how the world would be if there was no New Years, think of all the relationships that would have been saved and the devastatingly delicious pastries that would have been eaten.

However, not only do New Year resolutions absolutely obliterate all happiness, but they rarely work. They provide too much unrealistic hope. Lets face it, some people were not meant to look like Angelina Jolie in the movie, Salt.
Unfortunately that is when Reality steps in. She can be such a big B!%@&. All participants in New Years should expect some backhand action from her well manicured hands.

(if the act of being backhanded by reality wasn't a metaphorical action, but a literal one, it would look something like this)
Too late does the unassuming New Years partier realize the true effects of New Year related alcohol assumption. that realization goes a little something like this....
as you can see, this trend is, overall, undesirable. Vomit is never attractive. Its presence will make you lose the low self esteem girls you scored earlier in the evening. I bet you really hate yourself now. You are womanless, you smell weird, and.... you are back to your meaningless existence in square one. You also have no more alcohol. It's like playing Pacman and running out of lives. there is no way to remedy the situation~ just give up the quest for the cherry, succumb to the ghosts and die.

the pattern for the pathetic woman's New Year deterioration is extremely similar to the shift in emotions regarding alcohol. However, the result of the sad endeavor known as resolution writing ultimately leads to numerous negative aspects and in the end, you have far more problems than you initially began with. take for instance: dieting. you said you could do it, but you didn't. you failed. you are are a failure. you obviously have no sense of accomplishment. you are a motivationless wreck.... you only had to lay off of the snickers, but you couldn't do it.you are a disgrace to the human race. In addition, you increase your sugar consumption because you feel so terrible at not being able to follow through, as a result, you've gained quite a bit of weight. you now look like a hippopotamus having a fat day, and it is definitely worse than a beached whale. no one will love you because you don't look like Angelina Jolie, you look like 5 of her... in one. you now have depression. you no longer set goals for yourself because you know you won't be able to achieve them. all you had to do was eat your salad. if you were feeling a little rebellious, you could have tossed a few croutons in the salad, maybe added some ranch if you desperately needed it. However, it's the third week in January. you have already failed and come to a whole new awareness for your self-loathing. Essentially, you only participate in New Years if you enjoy pain and suffering on your own behalf.

...and that is why New Years is for people who hate themselves.

A Silent Affair

this, for the most part will be textless. A blog about a silent dance party should be silent as well. although, I must interject my thoughts on occasion. behold, the greatness that occurred on December 3rd.

I was there. Can you see me in the crowd?

the party had ended within four minutes and the horde had more or less cleared out (probably rushing off to some ungodly final). yours truly was asked to give an interview. By interview, I thought they would ask my opinion and jot down a few well phrased quotes. NOPE. They definitely whipped out a nice camera. I always hate camera interviews, you never know where to look, the person asking the questions, the camera, the attractive body of flesh holding the camera.... its just so visually overwhelming. It makes it look like they interviewed a crazy with darting eyes, and therefore, makes you feel 27 different kinds of ridiculous. then they pull one of these on you....

They ask you a question, that is only loosely associated with the topic at hand and makes no sense.

"How do you think your finals will go now that you danced?"

hmmm.... I wish I had said what is stated above... instead I stammered on something along the lines of ".........g-g-ooood..?........." I told them I had a final to go to so they would leave me alone.... they asked me if I would dance on my way to my final... I, in my awkwardness, said yes... then I danced away to avoid further social embarrassment.

and that is what happened.

"and thus began the academic apocalypse"

HEAR YE! HEAR YE!

the academic apocalypse is upon us, dark are the days at hand. Many of us are prone to violent allergic reactions, including (but not limited to) uncontrollable eye leakage, sleep deprivation, malnutrition, academic based TRETS, and loss of basic knowledge of fundamental living principals~ such as verbal communication. Welcome to the age of wailing and gnashing teeth.

Every year, we each experience this horrible social and mental pandemic called... finals. It always begins the same way. I have included some figures so that you could see exactly what happens to the human condition in this horrible blight upon humanity.

the above picture depicts a brain that has not yet become infected. Notice the lack of inflammation and the lovely robust nature of the tissue. Now, look at the picture below. It is riddled with inflammation, and is prone to violent tremors. In addition, all the creative juices have flowed out of the brain along with basic facts of hygiene, spelling, formulas needed to be used to ward off finals, and knowledge of childhood memories. In fact, at this point, the inner child has died. Finals are like AIDS of the brain. Eventually it will kill its host through ridding it of all protection, primarily happiness and creativity.

After a short time period of this intensive stress on the brain, the brain implodes. The resulting host is left brainless and subject to a mediocre existence.