7 Signs You’re A Crazy (Awesome) Cat Lady


  1. You frequently wake up to your cat head-butting your face for kisses and immediately oblige, no matter the hour.
  2. Your Instagram feed is entirely composed of photos of you and your cat.
  3. You spend an enormous amount of time showing people the above mentioned pictures and/or talking incessantly about your cat.
  4. You choose to stay home and have an “evening in” with your cat instead of going out.
  5. Your cat has started jumping in the shower with you and you’re kinda okay with it.
  6. Your cat insists upon peeing in her litter box while you’re peeing. And you’re kinda okay with it…
  7. All photos of your cat are sassily captioned:
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Luna is experiencing ennui

 

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If You’re Ever Feeling Ugly


Maybe you look in the mirror and notice that your chin hair (mine’s named Vern, so don’t be ashamed of yours) is growing back with a vengeance. Maybe you have a huge zit right in between your eyebrows, and it’s totally blocking your third eye. It’s possible that your butt grew two sizes overnight (sort of like the Grinch’s heart but in a really inconvenient butt way) and you suddenly can’t even fit into your sweatpants. Or perhaps your lips are so chapped that they’ve ripped apart and you can see the earth’s core in them, the cracks are so deep. Maybe your hair, which is typically voluminous and bouncy like a perpetual shampoo ad, is sticking up in 50 different directions and the when you try to comb it your brush gets stuck and now you have comb hair which isn’t even in style right now…

In any case, here are a few ways to feel less ugly!

1. Pluck your eyebrows. Sometimes they get scraggly and you don’t even notice until suddenly they’re covering your entire face and you have to go at them with a bush whacker.

2. Use a face mask to hide your entire face from the world. They usually feel nice and have weird things like peppermint bobos or teatree monkeys in them. Mine has volcanic ash in it, and that isn’t even a joke; my face is slowly turning into a volcano.

3. Make new pants out of your curtains. Who said only nuns can get creative with draperies?

4. Wear a cat on your head. We’ve all heard the story of The Cat in the Hat, but what about The Cat IS the Hat? That’s a long lost tale from biblical times, I think. Esther had just saved the Jewish people when she suddenly realized she was having a terrible hair day. She knew that she could not be taken seriously if her hair looked bad, so she picked up an alleycat and went about her day. Women are so resourceful!

5. Chuck all of those other tips in the trash. You’re not ugly. Ugly is a stupid social construct, and lately I’ve been on a “damn the man” kick. So say it with me! My chin hair is beautiful!

I Gots Opinions


Blogging three times this week may be breaking my record for the year. I miss you guys, and I really hope you missed me, because without you I’m just typing to myself while shivering because this apartment is so damn cold…and that’s just depressing. So hi! I love you all, and I’m really trying to get back to my blog-y self!

I realized recently that in the past two years, this blog really has changed. It started out as a humor blog, but as I grew up I faced a lot of real challenges: depression, anxiety, confusion about my sexual orientation, traveling abroad and getting e. coli, just being in college, dropping out of a sorority… It felt hard to be funny, you know? I’d sit down to blog and I’d either:

A) Have no clue what to say because my brain was so exhausted from my stats class that all I wanted to do was eat pie and sleep. Or…

B) Totally know what I wanted to write about but feel restricted. I think I feel like I’m not allowed to write about certain things because my parents and family read this, or because friends of mine subscribe and I wouldn’t want to offend anyone by what I say. Of course, there’s always the “I need a job someday so I probably shouldn’t swear too much or talk about any suspicious activities” but then I remember that I very rarely act suspicious and to my knowledge have not committed a crime (unless you count being too damn sexy). I’m an adult. I’m 22 years old, and even though I don’t feel 22 (Taylor Swift lied), I’m at least qualified to talk about things in a very direct and sassy way.

I gots opinions, y’all. They’re hilarious and totally worth your time, so here it goes:

1. Should you choose to be a dude and let your chain hang low (whatever the hell that means), maybe pull up your damn pants. If I have to see one more guy waddling around with a belt around his thighs with his little booty cheeks sticking out for all the world to see, I will scream. I will scream at your butt, sir.

2. Maybe we could all just stop driving trucks, because unless you need that truck to haul logs or move hogs or to dig out bogs, I would really appreciate you not getting 8 mpg just for the hell of it. Save your money and go on vacation or something. On a similar note…

3. Could we all put this “I’m country” act to bed? I grew up on eight acres of field with a little orchard. My neighbors lived far away from me. I went to school in a farm town. Technically, of all of us, I’m country. (Except dear God I’m not.) You grew up in downtown Seattle and dirt is a foreign concept to you. Have you ever seen a cow? Have you been to the county fair? So I know we live in a town near some wheat fields, but maybe stop talking with a totally unexplained southern accent, and take off your damn Carhartt.

4. Enough with Tinder. You aren’t going to find the love of your life on that stupid dating app, and to be honest you probably won’t even find someone to make out with tonight. I used it once, and ended up getting stood up like 3 different times and going on a few dates with a complete jackass. If you want to date someone, just walk up to someone in class or at the bar or in the freaking grocery store. If you want to hook up, walk up to someone in class or at the bar or in the freaking grocery store. You’re only ever going to find a bunch of weirdos who send you unsolicited pictures of their penises without warning, and nobody wants to deal with that.

5. If you insist on using dating apps, utilize spellcheck. Your phone has autocorrect for a reason, and that reason is: you can’t spell worth a damn. “Hay girl your hott” literally makes me want to vomit, especially if you’re a 26 year old elementary school teacher. Also, if you’re a 26 year old, stop looking for random college girls and start making friends your own age. It’s like when people would graduate from high school and come visit the sophomores at lunch. Everyone thought it was cool until they realized that those high school graduates were reeeeally lame.

6. Speaking of dick pics…what the hell. I still don’t get it. I’ve tried so hard to understand the motivation behind sending them, but I just cannot understand. There’s nothing inherently wrong with male genitalia, but I can assure you that it is much more pleasant when it is seen in person. When you want to see it. When it’s attached to a guy you like. Who is being nice to you. And who doesn’t just whip it out willy-nilly (get it, willy? HA) without any warning.
Basically, think of it this way. I have no idea what to do with a picture of your penis except yell, “OH DEAR GOD” and immediately show it to all my friends who also think it’s icky. You just sexually assaulted me via telephone, and my brain just exploded because why did you do that I can’t figure out why you did that and then it takes every ounce of my self-restraint to not throw my phone across the room in horror.
Most recipients of dick pics don’t sit there staring at the picture for hours pining for it. Most recipients feel violated and dirty and just want you to stop virtually rubbing your genitalia all over their phone.

xo

I Have a Few Issues With Bathrooms


Bathrooms should be sanctuaries. Sanctuaries where we poo. But lately I’ve been noticing a lot of issues with these supposed “tranquil” areas.

1. Why does the bathroom stall door open inward? Because when I’m on campus, wearing a backpack and a huge coat (it hath snowed, everyone), I already barely fit in the stall while the door’s closed. But then, upon attempting to leave the stall, I’m faced with a conundrum: how? How do I leave? I try to pull the door open and accidentally hit myself in the face! Now not only am I stuck in a poo “sanctuary” but I’m bleeding profusely from my schnoz and am possibly concussed. And then there’s always the possibility of an accidental falling-in-the-toilet situation. Which would just be unfortunate.
Someone needs to remedy this. I’m lookin’ at you, engineers.

2. What’s with those nonsense faucets that only spew water for about 2 seconds? You know, the ones where you lather up and then push a button with the back of your soapy hand, only to have a momentary spritz of water before the water stops. Those faucets are teases. “Oh, you want water? Sure, have some water. Nice, warm water to help you sanitize your icky hands…oh just kidding. I’ve run out. PUSH ME AGAIN.” Again. Engineers, you’re half-assin’ it.

3. Nothing you touch is sanitary. Ever. How can I exit the poo sanctuary in peace when the whole time I’m dodging bacteria like a germaphobic kangaroo? Those minxy faucets clearly are disease ridden, judging by the amount of times everyone has to punch them to get more than a tablespoon out. And the doors always have handles and open inward (both on the stalls and upon exiting the bathroom). I don’t want to touch a door handle after I’ve just washed my hands, because lord knows I’m in the minority when it comes to sanitizing my mitts after pottying. I’ve seen so many people leave that sanctuary uncleansed. Ew.

Basically, someone needs to do something about this, but it can’t be me. I’m too emotionally involved, and that would just lead to nonsense, like adding zen gardens into every toilet and having a toilet attendant who compliments you on your hair before you leave. Somebody. Do. Something.

Four Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Give a S***


bikini body

I found this photo online and couldn’t resist. The sentiment is just too perfect.

I’d like to begin this post by establishing that I hate Lena Dunham, and it has nothing to do with her appearance and everything to do with her mind – which is the opposite of why most people dislike her. I think the show Girls is utter tripe and that I could probably write a more convincing show about today’s youth, but whatever. All that aside, I admire her for one reason: she doesn’t give a shit. When I say this, I mean she doesn’t give a shit about what people say about her body. And, she says, “I am going to show my thighs every day till I die.”

I recently read an article  about this, and the author made a few amazing points. Why should she, or any other woman for that matter, be constantly preoccupied with her looks or her weight? Why should she feel sorry for how she looks (which is actually just fine, by the way)? Why should she be responsible for hiding herself and saving the rest of the world from the absolute misery of looking at her thighs, her arms? With that in mind, here are 4 reasons why you, like Lena Dunham, should tell everyone else to shove off.

1. If Your Clothes Fit, Wear Them – As long as you are wearing an appropriate outfit (and by that I mean wearing business attire to work, a swimsuit to the beach, etc) and it fits you (so that you are comfortable and feel confident in yourself), you’re golden. If someone has a problem with the fact that your thighs rub together a little bit, then stab them in the eyes and save them the trouble of looking at you. It isn’t your responsibility to make everyone feel comfortable when you don’t fit their skewed model of the “appropriate” female form. Just because someone else is attracted to unhealthy, bony women doesn’t mean that you have to become one or hide under a muumuu dress for the rest of your life.

2. It’s Not Your Responsibility to Fit the Mold, But it Is Your Responsibility to Break It – Do women all over the world a favor and be an amazing size 16. For goodness sake, as long as you’re not about to die of cardiac arrest, it doesn’t matter how big you are. I say this because I want y’all to be healthy, and I want y’all to feel good, but if you care at all about how your children are going to grow up, if you want your daughter to be able to be happy the way she really is, then start now. Start today and say, “I am wonderful, and I am not to be judged solely by how I look.” Go get a great job and be amazing at it. Raise your children the way you should. Have wine with your friends. Enjoy life. Eat some butter. Let the skinny girls worry about their upper arm fat and you just embrace yours.

3. If You Obsess About Your Weight, How Are You Gonna Live Your Life – I am speaking from experience here, y’all. If you’re constantly worried about how other people view you, you will not live a happy and productive life. I struggle with this daily, and I feel guilty for exposing people to my “grotesque” form sometimes (I quickly snap out of it, usually, but it isn’t always easy). But how am I going to grace the world with my amazing presence and talent if I can’t even walk out my front door without feeling terrible about myself? So, I encourage you all (myself included) to try to let it go. Just be amazing the way you are right now. If you want to lose weight, go ahead, but don’t obsess. Live, because you only have about 80 years total, and most of those are spent doing things you don’t like. So those other years, the amazing middle ones, should be spent giving the world your talents. Write, paint, dance, whatever, but do it in the best way you can. Be carefree, and tell everyone else to go shove it and worry about their own belly fat.

4. There Are a Million Men Who Love Your Fat – Seriously. Sure, there are a lot of guys who like super skinny girls, and that’s their prerogative. You like who you like, they like who they like. But there are a whole bunch of other guys who are worth your time who loooooove the way you look. And if you’re confident about it, they like it even more. It sounds like something your mother would say (I’m pretty sure mine did a few times), but mothers are typically right.

So take my advice (I’m always right, even if I don’t believe it myself). Adele is your new role model. Lena Dunham has empowered you. I have hypnotized you into believing me. Go out there and be fierce about your body, and let your arm fat wag about with wild abandon – just don’t feel bad about it.

Listen to Adam Hills. His defense of Adele starts around 30 seconds: 

Note: This all applies to men too, as Ben from Ben’s Bitter Blog pointed out! I just know nothing about the “male condition” as it were, so I didn’t mention it. But if you got it, boys, flaunt it! 

Wrong Number, Bro


You know when you get a call from a number you don’t recognize and you’re sure it’s a wrong number, so you just stare at the phone in terror (the terror part might just be me) until it stops ringing? That just happened 5 minutes ago. They left a voicemail.

“Yeah sorry, somebody was on the other line. But, uh, as I was saying, the 4th quarter projections are up. I know Tim was not so optimistic, but you know Tim, he’s always flying by the seat of his pants. What can you do, he’s not so smart. But yeah so if you want to call me back, we can maybe head downtown Friday, get some brews. I think the Chinks opened up a new bar downtown, so… I heard they like to party. Just hit me up and I’ll see you tomorrow.

I have so many things to say to this.

1. You made it past my inbox in which I say “Hey, it’s Cappy, leave me a message!” in a really peppy voice. How did you not realize I was not friends with you?

2. That damn Tim and his pant rockets. He needs to calm down and get himself an education. He needs to get on your level, because you’re a genius. Duh.

3. Brews.

4. Did you say Chinks? I definitely listened to that part 5 times to make sure, and you definitely said Chinks. This is upsetting on so many levels. But hey, at least they’re down to party.
If this was not a racist remark, you need to enunciate more.

5. I don’t want you managing my finances/being any part of my business because you’re an idiot and — dare I say it — a jackass.

6. I will not be seeing you tomorrow, and if you call me again, I will write another blog post about you. You’ve been warned.

How To: Name Your Baby


baby nameSo, I know my name is Cappy, and that might confuse some people. It might make other people angry that I’m writing a post about naming children when it seems that my parents named me under a haze of marijuana smoke and black lights. (Surprisingly enough, they didn’t. To get the full story behind my name, click here.) But I, an extremely opinionated and slightly grumpy blogger, figured I had something to say, so I might as well say it. Listen up, and save the crazy names for middle names.

1. Don’t give your kid a bizarre-noun-name. There’s nothing worse (or easier to make fun of) than a kid named after a tree (Aspen is alright, Birch is not).
Girl Examples: Harp, Cedar, Dream, Muse, Petri.
Boy Examples: Wrangler, Trick, Track, Cannon, Knight.
Exceptions include: Joy, Hope, Iris, May, June, Daisy. Don’t get too exotic with your flowers…your kid shouldn’t be named Hibiscus or Anthurium. There are no exceptions for boys except maybe August. Maybe.

2. Avoid names of continents, countries or cities.
Girl Examples: Africa, Europe, Italy, Wales (that one’s for more reasons than one).
Boy Examples: Scotland, Denmark.
Exceptions: There are a lot of exceptions. One of my sorority sisters is named Britain and I think that’s delightful. Someone else I know is named Sicily. But don’t call them Zimbabwe or Seattle or something, cuz that just sounds weird…and sounds like you’ve decided any word that exists can be a name.

3. Don’t turn your girl-child into a stripper. You shouldn’t be allowed to name your kid Chastity, because even if she’s the most chaste girl in the world, everyone will think she’s a dirty tramp.
Girl Examples: Verity, Charity, Trinity, Cinnamon (fun fact: I had a hamster named Cinnamon. Yep, just ruined it for you).
Boy Examples: Well, don’t name your boy after a girl stripper, cuz that’s just wrong. And don’t name him Magic Mike.
Exceptions: There are no exceptions.

4. Don’t go all Gwyneth Paltrow on your kid.
Girl Examples: Apple, Orange, Banana, Pear, Peanut, Flute, Lute…the list goes on.
Boy Examples: Rocket, Explosive, Banjo, Guitar, Picolo.
Exceptions: If Gwyneth Paltrow wouldn’t like it, you can use it.

5. You are not a flower child, and neither is your one-second-old baby.
Girl Examples: Wind, Flower, Breeze, Whisper, Peace, Love, Mist.
Boy Example: Random, Earth, Strength, Virility, Rain.
Exceptions: Skye might be acceptable, but only if they grow up to be super awesome.

6. Never, EVER, name your child after where they were conceived. Ever.
I met a girl named Kastle once and she said it was because right before she was born her parents went to this Italian castle and stayed there and loved it…I guarantee they did the don’t in there and she is the product of their sordid night on a bed made of stone. Don’t do it.
On another note, don’t tell your kid where they were conceived. 

7. After I’ve said all this, try not to name your kid the same thing as everyone else they’ll grow up with. It’s annoying growing up and being known as “Morgan F” because there are 5 other Morgans in your class. I’m not going to give examples, because they’re so obvious. Also, I feel like I’m going to offend everyone I know if I do.

Of course, there are a million exceptions and I’m a jerk about names, but a great rule of thumb is DO NOT NAME YOUR CHILD ANYTHING SARAH PALIN WOULD NAME HERS. Except Piper, cuz that’s cute.