Get Frisky.

This commercial never gets old to me. Genius. Every. single. time.

It gets even better when you think about how much time and money actually went into creating this tripped-out, CGI, Lisa Frank madhouse world for cats who will most likely never even see the commercial. More time and money than I will ever have. Perhaps oddest of all, in my mind, I blame the cats for this commercial.

P.S. Speaking of cats, two black cats crossed my path simultaneously while I was walking home tonight, each cat heading in a separate direction. Does this mean that I will have REALLY bad luck or, hopefully, the cats will counteract each other and I will have GOOD luck? Or does that leave me with neutral luck?

Math is hard.

Yelling at people and things: a never-ending saga.

Look guys, sometimes you graduate from college and shit gets weird and so you think, well let's make it even weirder by reviving this blog. And so here we are.

Dear casting director of new off-broadway play:

Come on, let me AUDITION at least. I read the breakdown, you and I both know I’m perfect for that part. Well actually, you don’t know that yet, but I would be happy to show you. I think if you’d really like me if you just got to know me. And yes, by “get to know me,” I do in fact mean judge me superficially based solely on my appearance and a 90-second monologue. But I would be thrilled to receive that judgment. …no?! You’re not even going to look at me and my naïve, lovable face?! NOTHING?!

…yes, I would like to leave a headshot and resume thank you have a nice day.

Dear sketchy guy sitting next to me waiting to audition for the aforementioned play:

I’m sorry that I look familiar to you but no, we don’t know each other. And also, no, I don’t want to get to know you right now. Look, I’m sure you’re very nice. I’m sure you and your ponytail and your goatee are all a bundle of fun. But see how I’m reading this book? See how I’m going back to reading my book immediately after you finish sharing one of your many observations with me? See how I am now actually going back to reading my book while you are still talking to me? Take all this information, process it in your mind, see what you come up with.

Dear landlady:

So, I can’t use that washer/dryer set in the garage? Because I can see it every time the garage door is open, you know. And I would REALLY love to be able to just walk down the 20 stairs from our apartment to that garage and do my laundry. So…no? Because only like 6 people live in this “apartment building.” It’s actually just like, a big house. So what I’m beginning to feel like right now is that I’m paying to live with my mom, in her house, only it’s in Queens and she’s refusing to let me use the washing machine. But like she’s being really coy about the whole thing, which is only making it harder.

Dear self:

I think I hate you most of all right now. Because after you finish this BLOG POST (thanks for single-handedly bringing back 1995, by the way), you will go watch the latest episode of The Bachelorette. And you. will. love. it.

Dear shampoo dispenser that came mounted to our shower wall:

Surprisingly, it’s not actually spelled, “champu.” I know I know, I was confused, too.

You know what, on second thought I find you whimsical and delightful. You may stay.