Unapologetically Mundane » super furry animals

Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures

katie ett — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 14:00:30 +0000

Since Kamran spends all day sending me photos from the Aww subsection of Reddit, I decided to take some of my own puppy pictures while we were out walking this weekend.

Bulldogs (especially French bulldogs) are my absolute favourites, so we followed this waddling little fella for a few blocks before he stopped for a rest and I had a chance to ask him to pose. I swear his owners said he was named Rudy, but when I repeated that, they said, “No, Fruity.” But Kamran says they actually said Ruby. So maybe he is a she. I’m calling him or her a combination of all three names: Fruby.

We met Kodak outside of our grocery store on the way home, and though he looks adorable, Kodak was viciously barking at my camera like crazy, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to his owners much. He’s a Japanese dog, right? Maybe a Japanese Spitz?

Now go Like my Ettible Photography Facebook Page for many, many more!

j/k, there aren’t any more. I’m sorry I tricked you. But please go Like it anyway, thx.

No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within

katie ett — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 16:00:51 +0000

On Saturday morning, I took a cue from Han + Diana and invited Kamran and our friends Nik and Marco to The Dutch for herbed cocktails, fried chicken, and pie so tall you could use it for a baby’s highchair:

Marko is the thoughtful brother, and Nik is the outrageous brother, and together, they’re a very good time. We spent most of the meal signing each other up for the Draw Something app on our various Apple products, and then I tried Kamran’s tripe and almost threw up in my mouth because it’s cow stomach lining, but then I stopped myself because it’s delicious. And it should be, because it’s made by the same chef who owns Locanda Verde with Robert De Niro. I tell you that so you’ll be dazzled by my brushes with celebrity.

Afterward, I went back to my own apartment and spent the next ten hours marathoning the entire first season of “Game of Thrones” with my friend/roommate/landlord/co-worker, Jack, and my friend Kim, whom I will always refer to as “Kim of Good Hair, Kim Luck”, even though her website has been defunct for almost a year now. As soon as I arrived, Jack handed me a save-the-date postcard for Beth‘s wedding, and Kim acted as if it’s weird that I actually want to attend the nuptials of a person I only know from the Internet, even though there was a time when I only knew Kim from the Internet, and now we’re NYCBFFs.

We ate direwolf cupcakes with grey sprinkles, looked at The Khaleesi’s boobs, and picked and re-picked our favourite characters from 6 p.m. to 4 a.m. and then had a sleepover for all of five hours before I had to get to Kamran’s and Kim had to get to the gym or something ridiculous, and then neither of us watched the premiere of season two. So don’t spoil it for us. A-holes.

And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers

katie ett — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 17:00:51 +0000

Kamran and I had failed to reserve a bigfancydinner for Saturday night, so we were doing a very romantic load of laundry at 10 p.m. in the basement of his apartment building. We stepped onto an elevator that already had two women and a little dog on it, and I smiled at both of the humans, and neither of them smiled back, but it’s sometimes hard to make your mouth muscles work in the two seconds you have between the time you notice someone smiling at you and that person looking away, so I didn’t hold it against them. They made some mundane talk behind us while Kamran and I chuckled over the fact that his laundry bag was splitting down the side seam so badly it was a wonder the thing could hold any clothes at all. (I tell you this little detail because it shows that I’m able to talk and laugh with at least one person in the world while I’m not busy abusing animals.)

I could see out of the corner of my eye that the dog was rarin’ to get out of the elevator, but Kamran and I were nearest to the door, so I let him step out first and then followed him, a little bit pleased at myself for making the dog wait. I feel the same way whenever I get into the bus in front of an overeager child who’s trying to go out of turn. I just need the excitement taken down a notch, you know?

But as soon as I stepped out of the elevator, the dog let out this horrendous howl/yelp/yip noise that hurt my ears, and I thought it was upset at me for cutting it off, so I turned around and just stared that thing down. I’m a little bit proud of how cold I can be sometimes, and I put every bit of cruelty I have into that glare. I wanted to show that little mangy rat who the alpha dog was. And it barked at me! It was kind of thrilling. I really felt like I’d threatened the thing and that it had felt it.

The elevators in Kamran’s building are rigged so that you take one set down to the lobby and another set down to the lower floors, so I stepped across to the other bank, where Kamran was already waiting. The owner of the dog told the other lady, “She stepped on his foot.”

I said from the other elevator, “No, I didn’t.”

She said, almost apologizing for me, “It was accidental.”

I leaned out the elevator door and said, “NO. I didn’t.”

And our elevator doors closed, and we rode to the laundry room in silence. While we unloaded the bag into the washers, my blood was still boiling, but I had this sudden, overwhelming feeling of guilt. I was only wearing flip-flops, so I’d think I’d feel a dog paw under my foot, but what if I hadn’t? What if I really had accidentally stepped on that dog, scrawny and yippy as it was? On one hand, Kamran’s building is overrun with dogs who get treated better than people and are allowed to sniff and lick whomever they want on the elevators at will, and it was the owner’s job to keep her dog back until the path was cleared, but on the other hand, I handled the situation so badly.

It would’ve been so easy just to say, “I really don’t think I stepped on the dog, but please accept my apologies just in case.” And the woman might have thought I was clumsy or reckless, but at least she wouldn’t have thought me a total DOG-HATING BITCH.

Tongue Bath

katie ett — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 16:00:41 +0000

I really love the idea of dogs. I usually find something cute about even the mangiest of them, and the thought of having this constant companion who cares about everything you say, wants to go wherever you want to go, appreciates your cooking so much he jumps onto the table to get it, and makes strangers baby-talk to him out of nowhere is pretty attractive to me.

When I’m actually around dogs, though, I’m reminded that they poop with abandon without ever offering to help clean up, force their pointy little heads into every available just-washed palm for petting, are so difficult to bathe that their owners rarely do it, and have no concept of the difference between Thanksgiving turkey and bird crap.

So watching this bit of face-licking go down through the lens of my camera on Christmas at my parents’ house gave me palpitations:

My sister’s beagle. My stepbrother’s baby. Endless nightmares.

Crazy Cat Lady

katie ett — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 20:00:04 +0000

Like I told Cassie today, I took 238 pictures while I was home in Ohio for Thanksgiving last week, and 237 of them were of Tracey‘s cats. (The other one was of myself, naturally.)

I can’t quite tell if cats are like kids in that they’re only cute if you actually know them (or have read extensive blog posts showcasing their darling personalities), so these pictures might make your day or cause your hand to cramp from all of the lord-just-get-me-through-this mouse-scrolling.

Rupert is the loving one. He’ll slink around the kitchen when he knows you’re in the living room and just meow his fool head off, waiting for you to pay attention to him. He’s always the first to play with any toy and the last to cut your thigh open while you’re just trying to trim his nails, though he will politely box your face.

Graham has been the shy one ever since Tracey and her husband, Dan, bought a house and moved him from the apartment they had when they first adopted him. When he was a kitten, he was the frolickiest thing I’d ever seen; one of my fondest/scariest memories of spending the night in Tracey and Dan’s old apartment is sleeping on the couch and waking up to see Graham jumping from the armrest to the back of the couch, claws splayed out as he flew over my head.

But Graham is also the most easily-entertained. Tracey keeps scraps of paper from her scrapbooking and taunts Graham by pushing strips of it in between DVDs on their bookcase so that it hangs out over the shelf, way too high for him to ever reach. He and Rupert will sit staring at these things for minutes at a time, making this little noise that they taught each other to do by clicking their jaws up and down.

WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING AT?

Tracey claimed that Rupert likes it when she does this. And then he immediately bit her.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I think I can officially be called a crazy cat lady now.

The Practice Thanksgiving

katie ett — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 16:00:55 +0000

One of the things about living in NYC that I’ve found hardest to adjust to is not hanging out at people’s apartments. We all either live in places too small to hold more than two people at a time or places too out of the way for anyone to want to travel to. If it’s not one, it’s the other.

But this year, my friend Ash was determined to have a practice Thanksgiving at her apartment and went all-out with impressive invitations, a massive menu, and promises that she would hunt us down and stuff us if we didn’t make it worth her while to take up her entire refrigerator with a brining turkey for two days. So we took cabs or spent three hours navigating weekend subway construction to make it to her and her husband, Michael’s, Queens apartment last Saturday night for a pre-Thanksgiving feast our families will have a hard time topping tomorrow.

Michael and Ash got rid of about half of the furniture in their place to make room for this new dining table they bought especially for the occasion. Well worth it, I say.

Ash carved a turkey for the first time and looked smokin’ doing it.

The turkey was about the moistest meat I’ve ever had in my life. The stuffing was fruity, the sweet potatoes spicy, the twice-baked potatoes bacony, the cauliflower casserole creamy, the green beans smoky, the apple pie belly-warming, the lemon cheesecake rich.

There was gravy, too, but I never eat gravy. Am I the only one who thinks it’s tooooooootally weird stuff?

Michael was in high spirits,

Ash was being Betty Sue Homemaker,

Jack was his usual pleasant self,

Jeff was complaining that the ice cream was regular vanilla and not vanilla bean,

Gizmo was pretending to innocently play with a ball under the table while secretly waiting for dropped turkey,

and Penny, the cat we found in the Hamptons, was acting like all of us would be about two minutes after dinner:

Success!

Avian Holocaust

plumpdumpling — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 16:00:40 +0000

This morning, my co-worker Anthony sent me this photo and asked, “Is this too gross to put on Facebook?”:

I wrote back and said, “Um, NO. It’s beautiful! And it’s the state bird of Ohio.”

He said, “I knew you would appreciate it, and I agree, but I got some very strange looks while I was shooting it.”

I said, “I’ve taken more than one photo of a dead bird in my time, so I know those looks well.” I didn’t mention that I’m also the girl who takes pictures of stray food and URINE, FOR GOD’S SAKE.

This one was stuck in the revolving doors of my office building. I wanted to get a really down-and-dirty picture of it, but all of my co-workers were waiting for me outside for our monthly dinner club, and the security guards were staring me down like I was some sort of freak for wanting a lasting memory of a crushed bird.

This one was on the stairs leading up to Tudor City from the United Nations headquarters, and I appreciated that someone had . . . I don’t know . . . scooped it onto a pile of cardboard and given it something to eat but still left it there in the middle of the stairs to get stepped on in the dark? Now that I look back, I’m slightly worried that the thing was clinging to its last breath, and there I was, repeatedly flashing a bright light in its eyes for my blogging whims.

Dog Debris

plumpdumpling — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 17:15:34 +0000

Even though I would never even consider stealing snotty, germy, needy little kids, I’ll admit that the temptation to untie this little guy from the trashcan and run away with him this morning was pretty intense:

As much as I love that dogs are allowed into so many places here, I almost like it more when they have to wait outside.

I wonder how many of them get stolen every day by girls with allergic boyfriends who just want a couple hours of slobbery fun. I’ll bet the Bramble in Central Park has been colonized by kidnapped puppies released back into the wild.

New York City is Supposed to be Devoid of Nature, and That’s Why I Moved Here (17)
Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures (23)
No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within (16)
And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers (11)
Tongue Bath (9)
Crazy Cat Lady (20)
The Practice Thanksgiving (16)
Wordless/Worthless Thursday (18)
Avian Holocaust (16)
Snow Day 2011! (14)

Giant Rats Sneer at Construction Scabs

plumpdumpling — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 17:00:07 +0000

Ahhhhh, remember when I had just moved here and was working this terrible job as a slave to an investment banking firm with the lady-owner who hated all other women, and I was so innocent, and everything was brand new to me, and I wrote this adorable LiveJournal post?:

On the sidewalk one block north of Macy’s and one block south of my office, a giant inflated black rat sat on its haunches this morning. It was probably 12 feet tall, with red eyes and claws and a sneer. All of the real New Yorkers passed by as if they didn’t notice, while the tourists and I looked at each other with “Seriously?” eyes.

It seems to me that maybe this isn’t the best way to welcome people to the city for the holiday season. Of course, I was only a public relations major for a quarter.

I was reminded of that when the inflatable rats showed up this morning in front of the building next door to taunt the management company’s use of non-union workers. I’m pro-union as it is, but the rats make it all the more fun.

Long-Lost Videos of 2010: Part 3

plumpdumpling — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 17:00:41 +0000

Okay, okay, I know you didn’t watch any of the videos I posted last week. But these are great and seriously deserve to be seen. Well, the second one, at least. The first one is purely fish porn.

Kamran and I spotted these guys in an Asian grocery store while in California last August. Of course I had to set them to Ween’s only good song.

Jack and I test the strength of my new bathroom walls against fart sounds. Because you have to know how much noise you can pollute the bathroom with before everyone in the living room can hear you.

Who Will Join Me in “Ave Maria” at the Rat Funeral?

plumpdumpling — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 17:00:24 +0000

I love the 34th Street subway station at Herald Square. The street above is tourist shopping heaven–every awful American retail chain, plus the Manhattan Mall, and Macy’s, which claims to be the largest store in the world–with all of the annoying crowdedness of Times Square but none of the pretty lights to distract from the family in front of me walking 8-wide across the sidewalk and stopping every five feet to decide which Jonas Brothers photo they want to buy from the street vendors.

But in the station itself, when you’re waiting for the N/Q/R train, you can peer down the platform and see into the tunnel for what must be blocks. All of the different lights, the spot where the express and local tracks come together, the way the train comes around the bend seeming so small and slow but roars past you seconds later–I still get a thrill out of that after seeing it for more than five years.

The only thing that could possibly make it more exciting for me? The dead rat I saw on the tracks yesterday.

It’s getting pretty hard to be seen in public photographing dead animals, half-eaten food, and what is probably urine. But I do it all for you, dear reader.

RAT ATTACK! (7)
In Which a Black Rat Crosses My Path on Friday the 13th (8)
Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures (23)
No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within (16)
And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers (11)
Tongue Bath (9)
Caught in the Train Doors (10)
Crazy Cat Lady (20)
The Practice Thanksgiving (16)
Aint Wet (4)

RAT ATTACK!

plumpdumpling — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 17:00:20 +0000

Okay, more like RAT RUN AWAY!

One of my very favourite NYC sights either way.

I’m GLAD You Were Bitten

plumpdumpling — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 16:00:40 +0000

I was on my way up to Kamran’s apartment last night after the first meeting of my bowling team. In the elevator was a guy about my age with one earbud and a Chihuahua on a leash.

(I have to mention the leash part, because people in Kamran’s building love to let their dogs loose in the elevators, which I of course find extremely fun but Kamran finds kind of annoying, as he’s allergic to anything cute.)

Across from me was a slightly older woman who reminded me of an even uglier version of the detestable designer Ivy Higa from this season’s “Project Runway”. They were both looking at the floor. The Chihuahua came to sniff my jeans, and I said, “Hello!”, which usually inspires dog owners to chat with me, but this guy continued to stand quietly.

We were still waiting for our elevator doors to close when the elevator across from us opened up, and an elderly lady and her dog stepped out. It seemed like some sort of Beagle mix to me, small and kind of dopey-looking, and it made a beeline for the little Chihuahua. The lady let out her leash a little so the dog could come over to us, and the two pets sniffed each others’ noses adorably for a second until . . .

The icky woman across from me suddenly said, “Okay, I need to fucking GET OUT OF HERE. I can’t handle this,” and began jabbing at the button that closes the doors. The older lady quickly gave her leash a tug, and the two dogs were pulled apart.

I thought maybe she was in a real hurry or something, but even so, I was pretty grossed out by her display. As our doors began to close, I said, “Woooooooooooow. That was really . . . angry.” The woman just stared at the floor.

The guy with the Chihuahua said, “She was bitten by a dog.”

I said, “Oh, you two are together?” in what I’ll admit was a disgusted voice, and he said, “No, but she just told me that.”

I had no idea how to respond. I mean, I can be the queen of irrational fears when it comes to spiders and weird things at the bottoms of swimming pools, but I couldn’t help thinking this woman was dumb. It’s one thing to be afraid of some rabid 80-pounder baring its teeth at you, but this was a CHIHUAHUA politely sniffing things. GET A GRIP and go get yourself another elevator.

We got to the guy’s floor a second later, though, and I cheerfully said, “Goodnight!” as he exited, and he completely ignored me, so maybe it really is me who has no idea how to act in public.

Are Pets Allowed on the Subway?

plumpdumpling — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 22:00:08 +0000

This morning, the bus came to a halt at the 2nd Avenue stop, the back doors opened, and through them, I spotted a girl with the cutest little French Bulldog at her side. Now, French Bulldogs are my very favorite kind of dog, and this one was blonde instead of the usual black, so I had to will myself not to bolt out the door to coo over it. When all of the other passengers had boarded, she picked up the dog, dropped it in a large tote bag, and got on the bus herself.

Now, I’m all about pets on public transportation. The sensitive part of me likes to ogle cuddly things, and the sadistic part of me likes to see them cower in the corners of their designer carriers whenever we hit a bump. But having a boyfriend who sneezes when he so much sees a picture of a cat has made me sensitive to being in close proximity to fur, so I was a little bit mad at her for having the gall to so flagrantly show off her dog. It was made all the worse when she began taking photos of it with her cellphone.

I checked on the MTA’s website, though, and it turns out that pets are allowed on NYC public transportation “when they are carried in kennels or similar containers that can be accommodated by you on your lap without annoyance to other passengers”. (Harnessed service animals are always permitted, of course.) This girl wasn’t following the rules by having her dog sticking out the top of a tote bag, obviously, but it’s interesting to know that pets are allowed on the subways and buses.

(Click here to see the article on Examiner.com and earn me a pretty penny (literally).)

Ohio Weekend Photodump!

plumpdumpling — Tue, 25 May 2010 16:00:26 +0000

My second-cousin Keith got an elbow to the stomach from his new bride, Rachael. Their wedding photographer only seemed to be taking super-serious photos, so I felt self-righteous about this one.

But then Keith made the photographer let the groomsmen pose for this picture, and all was right with the world again.

My cousin, Bethany, and my sister, Joanie, were in attendance and looking as stunning/ridiculous as ever.

I attempted to teach my 85-year-old great-uncle to use the laptop I bought him while my best friend, Tracey explained the Internet to my great-aunt:

Tracey: You can use Google to search for anything!
Crazy Aunt Dorothy: Oh, we don’t want that.
Tracey: It’s just a website you go to if you want to look something up.
Crazy Aunt Dorothy: We don’t really need the Internet. Just take us to that Circleville Pumpkin Show website.
Tracey: Uhh . . .

Tracey took me to a movie at the indie theatre in Columbus, the Drexel, and the ceiling fan vent looked like giant-sized art to us. But maybe that’s because it was midnight and we were running on five hours of sleep.

Tracey’s cat is a wild animal. I go home to visit pets as much as people these days because I like her cats so much. Except when I wake up on her couch in the middle of the night to see one of them flying over my head with his claws outstretched as he jumps from armrest to armrest.

I also went to an 80s dance party, ate the Splenda cheesecake at Cheesecake Factory for the first time, visited my friend Katie and was forced to hold her six-day-old baby (Evelyn) but did not drop her, went to visit my cousin Ethan and his six-day-old baby (Kaydence) and used my newfound not-dropping-baby skills to also hold her, celebrated my sister’s birthday with our parents and her husband, and explained to my parents that the smoke monster in “Lost” makes the same sound that a taxicab’s meter does.

I really, really love going home.

New York City is Supposed to be Devoid of Nature, and That’s Why I Moved Here

plumpdumpling — Fri, 21 May 2010 16:00:42 +0000

I spent my entire morning commute yesterday thinking that something was crawling on me. Now, my morning commute is only five stops on the train, but rush hour trains are always held up at the stations by passengers trying to cram themselves in, so five stops can take a half an hour. So picture me feeling itchy all over for a half an hour, adjusting the tags on my shirt and jacket in case that was the problem, furiously scratching the places I felt it most.

At first I thought it might be my imagination, because I do drop acid before going to work every morning, after all. But at one point, I actually felt like something was crawling on my ear. And I felt like the guy across from me on the train was watching it happen. I tried to distract myself with my Kindle, but I kept having to reach up every two minutes to brush existent or non-existent things off of my face. I wanted to get out a mirror and have a look, but I thought it was better to not know for sure, considering what my reaction might be.

I had it in my mind that it might be a spider, and I am totally scared of spiders. Like, scared in the way that if someone put a fake one in my lunch or on my pillow, I would never talk to that person again. Growing up on a farm, I was running downstairs nightly to wake my dad up and make him kill one I had or had maybe spotted on the wall beside my bed. Even now when I go to Ohio to visit, I’m on a constant look-out for spiders all over the house, and last time I was home and made my sister kill one for me that was dropping from the ceiling, she asked me, “How did you manage to survive twenty-some years in the country?” In that same trip, I made my best friend, Tracey, reach across me while we were in the Taco Bell drive-thru to pluck one of those little hairy spiders off of the armrest attached to my door. I really think I’m more equipped to deal with cockroaches somehow.

Anyway, I finally got to work and ran to the bathroom to check out my face. I didn’t see anything, so I officially chalked it up to my wild imagination and did my business. As I was washing my hands, though, this cute little spider came down on his web right in front of my face FROM MY HAIR. It was then that I remembered walking underneath a tree and noticing a spider hanging from it at the very last moment that morning, but never did I consider that it might have jumped on me. I tried to scream, but only air came out, and even though the last thing I want to do in the world is purposely touch a spider, I reached up and smacked it away.

And then I frantically checked the floor for it, but it was nowhere to be seen. And then I spent the rest of the day itching myself and being completely miserable.

Keep a Little Memory of Your Pet with You All of the Time . . . by Beheading It and Stringing It on a Necklace

plumpdumpling — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 16:45:58 +0000

My best friend, Tracey, sent me a link this morning to a Craftzine blog post showcasing a necklace made from a dead bird’s head. My immediate reaction was along the lines of, “Cool! I’d buy that and love it and wear it every day if it wasn’t $350.”

When I read all of the comments on the post, though, I noticed that 90% of them were along the lines of, “Gross! This is barbaric and despicable, and you should warn us before you post things like this.” And any comments that were positive received replies along the lines of, “Shut up.”

What’s the big deal? The bird died of natural causes and is being celebrated as art. It wasn’t harmed to make the jewelry, and I imagine that if animals could express their preferences for their remains, they’d choose to be displayed proudly on necks rather than be stuffed in shoeboxes and tossed in holes in the ground. Of course, I could be a little biased, because I think the giant stuffed moose head on my neighbor’s wall in Ohio is rad.

When I suggested that I might like to cut off my dead mother’s ring finger and have it taxidermied to display in my home, wedding ring and all, Tracey agreed that it wouldn’t be offensive. My friend Tim tells me that in Papua New Guinea, mourners wear necklaces of their loved ones’ digits to honor their memories. My friend Anthony thinks people have may desecration of the dead issues with that in the U.S., but Tracey came up with the solution of donor cards that allow you to choose whether or not to permit your family to use your parts postmortem. Wouldn’t you love to see stuffed hands and feet on mantles like any other tchotchke right next to your Christmas stocking?

My friend Nik imagines that most of the people who threw hissy fits at the dead bird head are the same ones wearing leather shoes as they type, and I agree. It’s another example of the way people generally have no problem squashing a cockroach but freak out when anyone harms a cuddly bunny. Of course, I totally understand why someone would protest the squirrel feet earrings, but that’s only because they’re ugly.

And Tracey, you’re getting a cat hair handbag for your birthday. The $400 kind, because I care.

Giant Rats Sneer at Construction Scabs (8)
Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures (23)
No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within (16)
And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers (11)
Tongue Bath (9)
Crazy Cat Lady (20)
The Practice Thanksgiving (16)
Avian Holocaust (16)
Dog Debris (9)
Long-Lost Videos of 2010: Part 3 (8)

Nostalgia About the Early Days of the Internet

plumpdumpling — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 18:07:13 +0000

Remember how much more important the Internet seemed in its youth? How we didn’t rely on it for everything and didn’t entirely take it for granted?

I don’t remember how I knew what it was exactly, but I do remember the first time I ever used it. My best friend Tracey and I were going to a Men’s Glee Club concert at THE Ohio State University one day in our early years of high school, and we stopped by her older brother’s campus apartment beforehand to waste time and use his computer, which included what must have been the slowest modem ever made.

As I remember, it turned out that we’d left our tickets to the concert in her parents’ car, so we spent the entire afternoon looking up song lyrics and pictures of our favourite bands of the time: silverchair, Megadeth, Bush, and Nirvana. Recently, we had spent an entire Friday night at her house watching, pausing, watching, and pausing Bush’s performance of “Insect Kin” on “Saturday Night Live” that my mom had taped for us so we could figure out all of the lyrics. Which took hours. So yeah, the Internet and all of its tricks seemed AMAZING to us at the time.

I bring this up because my co-worker Nik was hovering over my desk this morning, swinging the laces on the hood of his hoodie back and forth over my monitor like windshield wipers, and somehow, it reminded me of the eSheep I had back in high school.

This little Sheepy would hang out above the taskbar at the bottom of your screen, walking, running, sleeping, and occasionally getting bug-eyed and dying. You could pick him up with your pointer and drop him, causing him to bounce, but that’s literally all he did. AND I THOUGHT IT WAS AWESOME.

Still do, to be honest. And thankfully, there’s a 4-minute+ video on YouTube to help me relive its glory.

So tell me: what did you love about Web 1.0?

Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures (23)
No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within (16)
And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers (11)
Tongue Bath (9)
Crazy Cat Lady (20)
The Practice Thanksgiving (16)
Damien Jurado and the Greatness of Growing Up (11)
Avian Holocaust (16)
Dog Debris (9)
The Strange Places Your Favourite 1998 Rockstar Shows Up (8)

An Extra Chromosome of Cute

plumpdumpling — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 00:24:40 +0000

I was running out to meet Dr. Boyfriend for dinner last night and passed a guy with the cuuuuutest dog ever standing in the park outside of Kamran’s apartment building. He was this muscular blonde gay guy who obviously just bought the dog to pick up other muscular blonde gay guys, but I can respect that. I really wanted to pet the thing, but Kamran’s sadly allergic, so I passed by without a touch, knowing that I’d later Google the thing and ogle pictures of its breed.

The first picture I found?:

Sooooo cute, right? When I showed Kamran, he said, “It looks retarded! It’s like it has an extra chromosome of cute.”

Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures (23)
No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within (16)
And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers (11)
Tongue Bath (9)
Crazy Cat Lady (20)
The Practice Thanksgiving (16)
Avian Holocaust (16)
Dog Debris (9)
Giant Rats Sneer at Construction Scabs (8)
Long-Lost Videos of 2010: Part 3 (8)

Banksy’s Village Pet Store and Charcoal Grill

plumpdumpling — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 18:10:09 +0000

The night before Halloween, the good doctor and I went to see the second-to-last night of the Banksy exhibit, The Village Petstore and Charcoal Grill. We weren’t exactly sure where we were going and wound up in a as-seedy-as-the-West-Village-gets part of the West Village full of gay bars and fetish shops and thought we were soooooo cool for going to such an underground, out-of-the-way showing. And then we realized it was actually on 7th Ave., right beside a SushiSamba and a Jekyll and Hyde. Lame!

There was a bit of a line, and some British-accented douchebags walked by and yelled, “You’re waiting in line for this?! It’s not worth it!” But a minute later, we saw him perched outside one of the windows, taking photos with everyone else. We were hoping one of them was secretly Banksy.

The sign outside welcomed us in for some mechanically-retrieved meats,

and the walls inside beckoned us to buy treats for our pets:

From the outside, a sleeping cheetah, complete with a swinging tail and belly that inflated and deflated to show breathing:

From the inside, a cheetah-print coat. AMAZING!:

A chimpanzee watching a pair of other chimpanzees on television, pausing during the humping parts:

An ancient-looking Tweety Bird, his feather lying at his feet:

A spider in a gumball machine, inexplicably:

My absolute favourite, a pair of swimming fish sticks:

This is the thing that–when I saw a video of it online–made me say, “I HAVE to see this!” And it was even better in person:

Many types of snakes, made of many different kinds of sausages, including baby snakelets:

Chickens made of nuggets, pecking at their sauce:

And a rather disgusting/awesome nugget just hatched out of its egg:

A pretty bunny:

A video camera bird with its birdlings in a nest:

Love the flashing “liquor” and “wines” sign in the background.

The obligatory penis in the guestbook:

And finally, a netted dolphin that we swear is actually always outside of Jekyll and Hyde and accidentally became a part of the exhibit:

I managed to talk Dr. Boyfriend into riding it while I videotaped, but I forgot to ever hit record. To compensate, he allowed me to take this picture, which is, I’m sure, the only time he’ll be near a farm. Even a faux one:

Funny how mechanical food can somehow seem cute, huh? I didn’t take away any bigimportant message about the ethical treatment of animals or anything, but I did take away feelings of amazement and awesomeness and a whole lotta gladness that I live in the city I do.

Unapologetically Mundane » super furry animals

Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures

Related Posts

No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within

Related Posts

And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers

Related Posts

Tongue Bath

Related Posts

Crazy Cat Lady

Related Posts

The Practice Thanksgiving

Related Posts

Avian Holocaust

Related Posts

Dog Debris

Related Posts

Giant Rats Sneer at Construction Scabs

Related Posts

Long-Lost Videos of 2010: Part 3

Related Posts

Who Will Join Me in “Ave Maria” at the Rat Funeral?

Related Posts

RAT ATTACK!

Related Posts

I’m GLAD You Were Bitten

Related Posts

Are Pets Allowed on the Subway?

Related Posts

Ohio Weekend Photodump!

Related Posts

New York City is Supposed to be Devoid of Nature, and That’s Why I Moved Here

Related Posts

Keep a Little Memory of Your Pet with You All of the Time . . . by Beheading It and Stringing It on a Necklace

Related Posts

Nostalgia About the Early Days of the Internet

Related Posts

An Extra Chromosome of Cute

Related Posts

Banksy’s Village Pet Store and Charcoal Grill

Related Posts