Delightful Men and Their Siamese Cats

A few years ago, I wrote a post called "Beautiful Women and Their Siamese Cats."

Holy crap, it was six and a half years ago.

Where does the time go?

Over there. It definitely goes over there.

Anyway, it's become one of my more popular posts. I don't know if you know this, but people on the Internet like cats. Go figure. A lot of the hits come from people searching for cats, or Siamese, or, presumably, Jane Fonda with a cat on her butt. I don't judge.

But it's not only female celebrities who like Meezers. A bit of searching turned up a whole bunch of famous dudes cuddling with these soft, fluffy, affectionate, loud-mouthed little assholes. I thought I'd share some of them with you.

Anthony Perkins seemed to like Siamese kitties.

I'll resist the urge to say "one psycho deserves
another." Oh, wait.

Andy Warhol dug things that were weird and non-conforming, so it's a perfect match.

It's not easy to snuggle with tomato soup cans.

James Mason had a suave manner and distinctive voice, just like a Siamese cat. And also could be a little creepy, again just like a Siamese.

I'll bet this one was named Lolita.

Siamese cats are graceful and light on their feet. Just like Fred Astaire.

I know from experience that sticking your finger in a Meezer's
mouth is a good way to get gnawed on.

A young Michael Landon found a Siamese cat to be a fine reading companion.

Mind the claws, Little Joe.

I'm not sure what's on Peter Lorre's mind here. But if it's something diabolical, he's in good company.

I love how they're giving each other side-eye.

It's not just actors who like Siamese, though. Here's Tom Jones getting inspired to sing "What's New, Pussycat?"

His fans apparently threw cats onstage in addition to panties
and hotel room keys. Lucky cats.

Unfortunately, these bright-eyed kitties weren't enough to free Syd Barrett from his demons.

In which case, they were truly
powerful demons.

Fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld is said to be quite fond of Siamese cats.

He has excellent taste.

Poet, songwriter, and lover of Brel Rod McKuen took inspiration from Meezers (probably).

Everybody needs a furry muse.

And finally, if you follow Ricky Gervais on social media, you know his best friend Ollie.

Her little white-tipped paws are to die for.

Excuse me, I have to go pet the Siamese kitten now. She's in a rare state of being curled up and not having murder in her eyes.

But I'll still steer clear of her sharp point bits.

Phunny Photoshop, Trumph Phersion

This is one of the finest visual mashups I've ever seen:

I am the biggest crook ever. Believe me.
Bigly.

I wish I knew whom to attribute this image to. To whom to attribute this image. Whatever, the point is, bravo.

And also, I love that the resistance has a) a sense of humor and b) mad Photoshop skills. In the 21st century, you can't put a "Laugh-In" or an "All in the Family" on TV, but satire suckles at the fertile teat of social media.

Does that metaphor even make sense?

Anyway.

I decided to look for other brilliantly manipulated images of Presidense Trump. And I found them.

These are funny, you guys. That's all. Just funny.

Much funnier than the impending Constitutional crisis looming because of the current administration's delusions of despotism.

Check these out:

We are not amused.

Hello, America. *digusting smacking noises*

When art imitates life.

Lady and the Trump...too easy?

Did anyone else notice that both faces are Trump?

Actual photo from the New York Times, I'm pretty sure.

Creativity award to the artist that did this one.

LOOOOOL.

Notice that never once in this post did I refer to the President of the United States as an ape, a n****r, a Muslim, or a traitor.

I just posted funny pictures.

(I would be thrilled to provide artist credit for these, if received.)

God Bless the Hell out of America.

10 Things I (Now) Know About Prom

Prom 2017 has come and gone.

There were no casualties.

If you know me or have found me on my IRL Facebook page, you've seen the photos of Precocious Daughter and Precocious Boyfriend from last night. Between me and PBoyfriend's parents, we took roughly 30,000 photos of the kiddos before they left for the shindig. We marched them to the sweet little gazebo in the town square for the photo op and snapped away until their eyes were literally rolling back into their skulls.

That's the sign of great parenting, by the way.

I've never seen my child smile so radiantly.

I've never been happier that we are the same shoe size, because the shoes she chose are abso-frickin-lutely adorable. I can't imagine when I'll have the occasion to wear sparkly, strappy sandals with clear acrylic kitten heels(!!!). But if necessary I will wear them to Target. For real.

Lessons learned from my first prom-mom experience:

1. Everything will be fine.

2. Growing out a short haircut does not make for optimal styling options. But hold your tongue and step back, and the kid will come up with something amazing.

3. Do not show signs of stress. This is super-hard when your child begins to fret about literally everything. But stay upbeat, because...

4. Everything will be fine.

5. Prom night is not the best time to try liquid eyeliner for the first time. (Fortunately, I use a pencil, so crisis averted.)

6. Whatever you spend on the dress, the shoes, the makeup, the purse...it's all worth it. And that includes both the expensive formal-shop dress and the $10 Target clutch.

7. In the grand scheme of things, prom is not that important. But on Prom Night, it's totally not about the grand scheme of things. It's about a few precious moments of joy and pride and glamour.

8. Your child will show their disappointment that you are not an expert stylist, photographer, or (let's face it) parent. It won't matter once they step into the venue.

9. There is nothing wrong with being a not-religious person and praying that the kids come home safely.

10. And...everything will be fine.

Check junior prom off the list.

I got this.

Who Wants to See a Nude Photo of My Boyfriend?

I don't know what to do, you guys.

Not exactly an unfamiliar state of mind, though.

Last night I took a nekkid photo of Drummer Boy.

That's right, I'm an aging GenX-er, and I still do dumbass millennial stuff like taking nude pictures on my cell phone. We are the world, kumbaya, circle of life, whatever.

But I digress.

Technically, he wasn't naked naked. Because of emoji pillows.

You've seen these, right? They sell them on Amazon, at Walgreens, at Walmart...I got mine at Michael's. Because I just thought they were crazy adorable.

My decor is eclectic, all right?

Precocious Daughter and I like our emoji pillows. They're a pop of color, a fun accent, a thing to throw at the Siamese kitten when she starts scratching at the balcony doors to go out and potentially leap four stories to her death.

Also, like all the best interior decor, they will seem
ludicrously anachronistic in later years.

In short, last night, after we spent a wonderful afternoon together, Drummer Boy inexplicably ended up naked in my living room. It's baffling. Total mystery to me. I don't know how these things happen.

I threatened to take an incriminating photo. He called my bluff. He was fine with it. But then I had an even better idea.

I decided to censor the image with my emoji pillows. Then I took the picture, with smiling yellow faces over his face and  malehooditude.

It's freaking hilarious, you guys. I totally recommend you acquire emoji pillows for your next session of boudoir photography.

Oooh, sexytime.

So what's the conundrum? Well, Drummer Boy loved the photo. In fact, he gave me explicit, written permission to publish it. In fact in fact, he encouraged me to feature it in a blog post. After all, it doesn't show any naughty bits. It doesn't show his face. And it's...yeah, it's freaking hilarious.

My baby is comfortable in his skin and has a warped sense of humor. He's pretty much perfect that way.

But I'm hesitant to show the world this amazing photo. As I said, it's not explicit and it's totally anonymous (I mean, except for those of you who happen to know Drummer Boy, in which case I must revert to the whole it's not explicit thing and also don't dare use your filthy imagination to fill in the details). Drummer Boy has no problem with me putting it up here.

I'm going to chalk it up to lingering traces of Catholic shame, combined with being raised in an era when sex education was taught mostly in abstruse code, lest anyone actually learn anything about sex. Oh, and let's throw in some decades-old body dysmorphia, because hey why not?

The human body is strange and scary, amiright?

Bottom line: This post is about a photo of Drummer Boy and a couple of emoji pillows, but does not feature said photo.

My question is: Do you want to see it? Are you interested? It's PG-13 at worst, it's totes adorbs, it's funny as hell. I have permission to use it.

What do you think?

If enough of you weigh in yea or nay, I'll let you know the outcome. And I might post the photo if you guys tell me to go for it.

Here's your chance. Chime in, everybody.

Update: I just messaged Drummer Boy that I was going to run this post about the photo, and he replied (and I quote), "Go ahead, I told you to use it [smiley face emoji]."

So, yeah. I'm ready to go live with this if you guys say so.

Apparently Doctor Who Is a Reality Show Now

You may have seen Daniel Radcliffe's recent appearance on "The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon," in which he admitted he looks a lot of women in old photos.

Viz.

And while there's no denying the resemblance, it turns out Mr. Radcliffe isn't the only attractive British actor with a historical doppelganger.

Because I recently unearthed this photo of a battle-weary Soviet soldier from World War II:

Do you see it?

Do you see it?

How about now?

Between Daniel Radcliffe, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Doctor Who, it seems the Brits know something about time travel that they're not sharing with the rest of world.

Next you'll be telling me that Marcus Mumford is a dead ringer for Charlie Chaplin.

I am utterly convinced the TARDIS is a real thing right now.

Whoa.

Pictures of Animals. Yeah.

I owe you guys a post.

But I'm sort of in a BAD FREAKING PLACE tonight.

So instead of anything substantive, here are my favorite adorable pictures of animals.

Here is an owl riding a skateboard.

Here is a guinea pig (you guys know I love guinea pigs) wearing a SOMBRERO.

Here is a lil meerkat who just likes yellow flowers, OK?

Here is a sloth. In a bowl. I don't know what more you want.

Oh, and case you think I only feature mammals?

Here is a gorgeous green anaconda, y'all.

And a lizard who really doesn't give a crap what you think, because he knows he's all that

AND a goddamn caterpillar who wants you to know your problems don't affect her.

Being green. Easier than you think.

Life is pretty good. except the parts that are SHIIIIIT. But I can deal with those.

Enjoy the animals. I 'll be back tomorrow with angst and problems and shit.

Squee beats shitfuckcrap any day, right?

Right.

Tonight It's Pretty Much About Donald Trump's Hair

Drunkards, all I'm doing tonight is putting Donald Trump's hair on pictures of other things.

You know, like a squirrel.

My nuts are yuuuuuge.

And a dachshund.

I'm very, very attractive.
I might perhaps date me.

And a manatee.

How does it stay dry?

Of course, why should I stop at animals? Perhaps I could improve great works of art by applying Trump hair.

The Old Guitarist with Great Hair.

This is working, right?

OMG, my hair!!!

Or I could put the Donald's hair on fictional characters, such as the Third Doctor (my favorite after David Tennant).

Um.

Or this dude.

I'd worship that.

Maybe I should just stick to real people. Like Terry Crews.

Use Old Spice or my hair will find you and kill you!

Or formerly relevant singer Sinead O'Connor.

Nothing compares 2 this hair.

Or this guy. I'd love to see them show up at some event with the same coif.

This is oddly appealing.

As I said, this is all I'm doing tonight. I'll take requests if you've got them. Maybe tomorrow will be Vegetables with Trump Hair.

The possibilities are endless.

Live-Blogging These Four Random CDs I Just Found

So my almost-ex has begun the process of clearing out stuff so he can pack up and move on.

The same process I began months ago, but I applaud him for not waiting until literally the last moment.

One of the things I look forward to unlearning.

As we've each been rooting through our fondest, most cherished memories and dumping 90% of them into the trash, we've also been doing each other the favor of returning items that mean more to one of us but happened to end up in the possession of the other. For instance, I recently found his Bachelor's and Master's diplomas among my things, and I gave them to him. I helped him earn both those degrees, but that's not something I want to dwell on, so yeah...you take those pieces of paper in pretty vinyl covers, yeah.

He lost his class ring at an Ultimate Frisbee tournament in Tennessee
in 1990, so it's the least I can do.

In turn, he's turned some things over to me. Among them are a number of CDs with ambiguous labels like "Personal Stuff 1-29-06." Dafuq did I burn to a CD in January of 2006? I have no idea.

But I have four CDs here that contain files that were important enough to save at some point in my past. And I guess I'm going to make a blog post out of discovering what those files are.

Yep, just like Geraldo opening Al Capone's vault.
Google it if you must; I'll wait.

So here I go with CD #1: This one is unlabeled; I have no idea what it might contain.

OK, it's time-stamped January 23, 2009. That date means nothing to me, but let's go on.

There's a zip file that contains a ton of emails between me and Bestest Friend from the year her daughter and Precocious Daughter were born. SCORE! Those emails will someday become a book. Count on it.

Also, fragments of a short story that I have no recollection of creating, and assorted pictures of PDaughter as a toddler.

Not bad.

And now, here's CD #2. Also unlabeled.

It contains only a group of photos from PDaughter and her best male not-boyfriend, who was celebrating maybe his fifth birthday? Anyway, they and their friends are all tiny. They're, like, little grownups now. How does that even happen?

Just a touch less creepy. Please.

Moving on to the third disc. This one is actually labeled "Personal Stuff 1-19-06." That would have been my 16th wedding anniversary. (EDIT: Lol, not my wedding anniversary. First-date anniversary. Whatever.) So this ought to be interesting.

Oh.

Oh.

This one has so many pictures of PDaughter from when she was about five years old.

And so many pictures of Darling Dog when we first adopted him.

His face is almost entirely white now.

We taught him to never, ever hurt PDaughter, no matter
what she did. And he never, ever has.

We were so happy then.

PDaughter had a real thing for bologna in those days.

Good memories on that disc. The kind that...you know, shouldn't ever...

Goddamn memories, anyway.

And here's the fourth and final disc. It's labeled "Photos & Stuff." I was all about specificity in those days wasn't I?

So, this one is time-stamped September 2003. Let's see what we've got.

It's got...lots and lots of random stuff, from pictures of me and PDaughter to pictures I took while shopping for office furniture at a previous job to bits and pieces of an old website I used to maintain.

Wow.

So much stuff. So little stuff.

CDs are easy to keep. Small, and whatnot. I'll keep these.

Nothing groundbreaking here, I'm afraid, Drunkards. Capone-wise.

Life is made up of the small things.

And that's OK. In the end, the small things are what we wish we held on to. Like, on CD or something.

Just like that.