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Guest Blogger

19 Sep
Laptop. Lap cat. Oona is a helper.

Laptop. Lap cat. Oona is a helper.

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Sorry, are you winking at me?

14 Sep

I don’t know how it happened. Really, I don’t. I’m a dog person, I swear. I was just getting used to the fact that I had adopted Odin instead of a dog (many reasons went into that decision that I will go into another time), when THIS photo was sent to me.

oona

Meet Oona

Look at that face. Tell me, what would you do? Okay, perhaps you wouldn’t have immediately emailed the shelter and applied to adopt her like I did, but you see where this is going. And that’s not an eye pun. Speaking of eyes…

odnoeye

*wink*

As you can see, Odin is one eye down since we were last here. After multiple vet appointments, it was determined that his left eye was doing him no good and causing him quite a lot of irritation, so last week we made the jump to a two cat, two eye household. How I ended up suddenly with two one-eyed cats, I don’t know, but feel free to check us out on odinandoona@instagram.com for lots of pictures of them being ridiculous, and ridiculously cute.

Also, for those who are reading this blog from here and going backwards in time, please note (if you have not already picked up on this) that I am a massive animal lover). Any language used to refer to animals as jerks or harsher (i.e. my entire “Animals are A-holes” series) is meant entirely in fun. I mean, I was woken up at 4:30am by the above two tag teaming knocking over one of their water bowls, just for the fun of it. They are brats. But they are brats that I can’t wait to get home to at the end of the day.

 

Oh, Odin

24 Mar

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written here, but it should surprise no one that the occasion of adopting a new kitten/cat/baby cat (age is up for debate currently) has already afforded me with fodder for a blog that is often about animals being assholes. Lets take, oh, the last twelve hours, shall we, to elaborate my point? First, let me show you a picture of the adorable executor of the soon-to-be described assholery.

 

odinface

I may be almost blind, but I can clearly see how to annoy you already.

After nipping me multiple times throughout the night in an attempt to get me to “play,” I was woken up terrified by an insanely large crash coming from the kitchen at about 3am. I jumped out of bed to find Odin on the impossibly high counter I never thought he could reach, having just smacked everything he could from the counter to the floor, including a very heavy crystal vase that amazingly didn’t break but did cause the ear shattering and most likely neighbor-waking noise. I lured him back to bed, only to be woken later by him stepping on my face, where he slide on the uneven terrain and sliced my lip with his razor nails. I chose to feign sleep through the pain so as not to further entertain/provoke the prowling feline.

odinprariedog

Can hardly see but I’m looking for trouble

In the morning, after snoozing my alarm multiple times due to lack of sleep, I got out of bed and took approximately one step before Odin excitedly darted between my legs, causing me to go sprawling across my floor. He dashed away, like a Lilliputian trying not to get crushed by a giant, which is what every woman wants to feel like in the morning. After showering and dressing, I sat down with a can of soda to put my makeup on (don’t judge, most of us get our morning caffeine from somewhere; I get mine from Pepsi). As I cracked the can open, Odin jumped onto my coffee table to exam the noise for a possible food source.

odinchest

Trying to knock over a bottle of water while on the “coffee table” (it’s a chest) because he obviously doesn’t have enough toys.

Having not learned my lesson from him denuding my counter of everything it had, I took my eyes away from him to apply mascara and bam, he smacked the open can to the floor, where the soda shot out and sprayed angrily, covering not only the carpet and chest, but my pants, purse, and Odin himself as he darted through it like a kid in a sprinkler. “ODIN!” I shouted, because shouting always solves things, especially with cats. I cleaned up the best I could, which means I threw paper towels on the mess while saying “Ewww, Ooooodiiiiiinnnnn,” leaving both cat and floor sticky after trying to wipe them both down with a damp sponge. I finally fed him, to his high-pitched sqwaky-meowed thanks, and I went off to work a half-hour late, sans-makeup and in soda covered pants.

odindouble

Who, me?

 

It’s not even been a week since I adopted him and man, do I love this cat, even if he does appear to be an asshole in training.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

13 Jan

I think we all know that breaking up is not fun. Whether the one broken up with or the one doing the dumping, in general, ending a relationship that was once full of love (or at least a lot of like), laughter, and promise is not something most people enjoy. It is, though, of course always more painful for the one on the receiving end of the break. If you are reading this and thinking “Well, I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been broken up with,” well, I know you think things have been going swimmingly, but I no longer want you reading Ophelia’s Prozac anymore. There! Dumped! BOOM knife to the heart and you didn’t see it coming. (I’m kidding pleasedon’tgoIloveyou).

plscat

Now that that’s been taken care of… Let’s discuss dealing with the pain of a breakup, shall we? While there are a lot of things that can be done to make the process easier on everyone (mature things like being open and honest, communicating clearly, and spending time with family and friends, and less mature but more helpful things like eating a lot of crap foods and crying while watching Youtube videos of people receiving puppies as presents), I have recently come across an article that I think clearly illustrates the number one, letter A, top of the list thing you should NOT do after you are broken up with: Do not attempt to break into your ex’s home by nakedly shimmying down his or her chimney. You read that correctly, and that is not a euphemism for something risque. That happened. Someone attempted this. So now you can just cross that off your “Things I was Considering Doing” list immediately. You aren’t Santa. That shit won’t work. Case in point: real photo of the naked, soot covered legs of the aforementioned female, who is wedged inside her ex-boyfriend’s chimney after taking off her clothes. (Did she think that would make it easier to fit? Was she trying to be sexy? I have so very many questions.) Click photo for larger version, you know you want to.

Just hanging out, don't mind me!

Just hanging out, don’t mind me!

It took California firefighters two full hours to get this thirty-five year-old mother of three (God help those kids) unstuck, and I can’t imagine if it was more painful, uncomfortable, or overwhelmingly embarrassing. I almost wonder if someone who gets herself into that situation in the first place is even capable of realizing how ridiculously embarrassed she should be; I mean, everyone knows how much easier it is to nakedly squeeze through dog doors. Sheesh. Have some dignity, people.

Empty chimney: Watch out world, that women is loose.

Empty chimney: Watch out world, that women is loose.

*Chimney photos borrowed from the NY Daily News*

Thief

3 Sep

You’ll never believe what this woman allegedly (ahem) stole from a store in Arkansas on Labor Day:

I look damn good and I know it.

I look damn good and I know it.

Almost $150 worth of eye makeup. Shocking, right? She got belligerent when she was confronted by store employees and an officer inside of the store, saying they had no proof that she stole anything and claiming that all of the makeup she had just shoved into her purse was hers to begin with. Since Ms. Allen was unavailable for comment, I spoke to a few experts for some of their thoughts on the matter:

Rainbow Dash thinks she's REALLY overdoing it.

Rainbow Dash thinks our thief is REALLY overdoing it.

Rainbow Brite thinks she should cut back on the makeup and work on her clothes.

Rainbow Brite thinks Ms. Allen should cut back on the makeup and work on her clothes.

Cheer Bear the Care Bear gives a thumbs up to our eye shadow thief, because she is a sweet rainbow bear and appears to only have thumbs.

Cheer Bear the Care Bear gives a thumbs up to our eye shadow thief, because she is a sweet rainbow bear and appears to only have thumbs.

Gawker article on the makeup thievery.

Back in Time

1 Sep

I’m taking a short detour from my posts about my London/Ireland/Scotland trip to write about a more recent journey… to the 1920’s. With a quick (and free) ferry ride to Governors Island, my friends and I found ourselves at the Jazz Age Lawn Party. It was our second summer attending so we knew what to expect, but we were still impressed by the clothes, hairstyles, dance moves, and picnic spreads the attendees had on display. 

A view of the crowd.

A view of the well-dressed crowd.

Ripping up the dance floor.

Ripping up the dance floor.

With hair to match.

With hair to match.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking around and checking out everyone’s outfits and watching them dance was worth the ticket price alone, and if you don’t bring your own food, they had various food and drink packages you could purchase ahead of time. Being lazy, we went for this option, and ended up with some tasty gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches, awesome St. Germain mixed drinks, and more than one bottle of champagne that was wheeled and dealed from a bartender by Andrew and Laura (well played, guys!).

Andrew, Laura, and champers.

Andrew, Laura, and champers.

Kenda and Masai enjoying the ambiance.

Kenda & Masai enjoying the ambiance.

We grabbed some grass by the smaller of two dance floors/stages and had front row (front blanket?) seats to both professional acts as well as amazing amateur dancers.

Well, hello there.

Well, hello there.

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She was not messing around.

One couple in particular was really awesome; you could tell they were having a great time and they were both fabulous dancers. I spoke to them briefly and they said they were friends that danced with each other at various events, and their names are Kevin Tan and Ila Myers. They were so much fun to watch.

Kevin Tan showing us how it's done.

Kevin Tan showing us how it’s done.

Kevin Tan & Ila Myers

Kevin Tan & Ila Myers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kevin Tan & Ila Myers

Kevin Tan & Ila Myers.

We were lucky to sit next to fabulous blanket neighbors, Terry, Matthew, and Steve. They are the epitome of class, were perfectly dressed, and calling their set-up a picnic spread is insulting how gorgeously done it was. We had a lot of fun chatting with them and admiring their outfits. Terry, Matthew, and Steve, we bow down to your Jazz Age Lawn Party expertise! If you read this, hit me up, I have lots of great shots of you guys that I’d love to send to you.

Looking amazing without even trying.

Looking amazing without even trying.

We hated to see them go, but damn do they look good walking away.

We hated to see them go, but damn do they look good walking away.

A few more shots of the day: 

Nice set-up.

Nice set-up.

Foot shot.

Dance floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Masai.

Happy Masai. 

Dancing the day away.

Dancing the day away.

I also learned that day that if I am ever in an emergency, I want to be with Andrew. Check out the goods that he carries with him at all times. That is preparedness, organization, commitment, and insanity of the best form all at once. Andrew, you are my new go-to person.

Need anything? Anything at ALL?

Need anything? Anything at ALL?

After a quick ferry ride back (after a wait in a LONG line for it), we stopped for a snack at Stone Street, and I met the wonderful Miles and his parents (you didn’t think I’d have a post without an animal in it, did you?). He has these amazing white markings across his face from harder times, when some horrible person tied a muzzle around his face and left him in the dessert. The white markings are what remains from him being tied up like that and left in the sun. As you can see, I was very happy to meet him and his wonderful parents who adopted him.

Me & Miles, my newest boyfriend.

Me & Miles, my newest boyfriend.

Instant friends.

Instant friends.

We had a great time spending a Saturday in the 1920’s. It was another reminder to me that no matter where I travel, Manhattan is such an amazing place. There’s always interesting, friendly people, amazing dogs, and awesome events right around the corner, or in this case, just a free ferry ride away.

The Ravens

10 Aug

My favorite part of the Tower of London is definitely the ravens. Finally, some real animals up in this joint instead of ones made out of wire and chained by their ankles with sad, pained looks on their faces. And ravens are total bad-asses, otherwise known as assholes, and if you read my blog, you know I have a long and storied experience with asshole animals. These birds don’t mess around: they eat raw meat, raw eggs, and the occasional “treat” of whole rabbits. Yum. And they are huge. Just look at that guy.

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But don’t misjudge them, there’s a softer side to the ravens, too. They mate for life, and that’s not a paltry commitment as they’re known to live a long time for bird-years. A raven named Jim Crow lived until he was 44 years old at the Tower. They can only be handled by their Yeoman Ravenmaster, who they consider to be another raven; anyone else would get their fingers taken off by their raven-beaks. Yeoman Ravenmaster: How’s that for a cool-as-hell  job title?

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m an accountant, you?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just a Yeoman Ravenmaster at the Tower of London.”

“Oh, um. That’s cool. I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

Bite me.

Bite me.

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Raven house

But why are there ravens at the Tower? Well there’s a pretty cool reason. As the helpful sign pictured below explained to me, the legend is that King Charles ordered that all the ravens who had decided to make the grounds of the Tower their home be destroyed because picky astronomer John Flamsteed complained that they were flying around and messing up his work. Astronomers can be so annoying, am I right? However, before the birds were killed, Charlie got wind that there was a prophecy that his kingdom and the Tower would fall without the protection of the birds. This prophecy is likely linked to the legend of the giant Bran, whose name means “raven.” Bran ordered that his head be cut off while he was dying in battle and it be buried to protect the kingdom. The ravens symbolize the giant’s strength, which is nice, as I’d much rather come and visit ravens then a severed head. Just saying.

Anything that has a legend behind it is automatically awesome.

Anything that has a legend behind it is automatically awesome.

I think the ravens and the legend surrounding them are pretty awesome. Shout out the marketing people at the Tower though: why don’t you sell raven stuffed animals at the gift shop? I would have left with like five of those buddies, and I highly doubt I’m the only one. Get your marketing team on that, stat. As it was, I was left buying my niece a princess wand, which I told her a real princess from a real castle in England gave to me for her. She took it from me very reverently, looked it over, and then promptly asked me why it had a price tag on it if a “real princess” gave it to her. Move over, animals. Little kids can be assholes, too