Uh oh

I think I may have lost interest.

Please stand by.

Happy Genocide Day!

Photo stolen from here.

I think this "holiday" should be called "Be Slightly Ashamed of Your Italian Heritage Day," or maybe "Fuck Indigenous People in The Fuckin' Ear Day."

It's not breaking news that Columbus didn't discover shit, except maybe a more efficient way of killing people off en masse. Italians created the best thing in the world...pizza...and Italian-Americans (or at least a large contingent of them, to which I clearly do not belong) choose to celebrate a genocide rather than that? We can claim Michaelangelo and Leonardo Da Vinci, and you choose Columbus as your hero? That's fucking great, kids. Thanks a ton.

It's interesting to me that under international law, as established after the Yalta Conference in 1945, it is illegal to venerate or celebrate genocide and/or perpetrators of genocide. (Look it up, if you don't believe me. G'head.) And yet, here we are, in 2007, still waving flags for Christopher fucking Columbus. Do you think that someday there will be an Adolph Hitler Day, that includes a parade in New York City where the mayor marches along waving a Nazi flag?

I'd like to say I'm sure that won't happen, but we live in a world where Dubya got elected. Twice.

Hey, but you know what's awesome?? KITTENS!!! WOOOO!!!

Catblogging is for douchebags

Which explains why I've become so fond of it.

Whatever. I've been asked for Grady updates, and today is World Animal Day, so there.

This is Grady at seven weeks old, shortly after he came home...


And this is Grady at four-and-a-half months old...


He's gained about a pound in the three weeks or so since the second photo was taken. He's totally yooge.

Not quite yooge enough, however. The other night, my little boy suddenly decided it was time to become a man, and rushed the big kitty with the clear intent of mounting her. He jumped on her back, grabbed ahold of her scruff with his teeth...and realized too late that his legs weren't quite long enough to reach the floor from atop her. He clung on for a few desperate moments, legs dangling in the air, weiner nowhere near the magic, until the big kitty rolled her eyes and shrugged him off onto the floor with a tiny, effortless twitch of her shoulder.

He looked kinda like this afterwards...

It was, like, a precious family moment, or something.

Thank jeebus yet again that I don't have human kids.

Open letter to a fellow straphanger

Dear Not-Otherwise-Unattractive Middle-Aged Woman on the 5 Train,

When dressing for work, you may want to consider wearing tops that actually cover your relatively sizable boobs. This is especially true in your case, considering the startling amount of hair you've got growing on those things.

I mean, I certainly think it's okay to exude a certain amount of sex appeal in the office...but when your mostly-bare jugs look like the fuzzy tops of baby heads, I'm guessing you probably shouldn't hold your breath waiting for that promotion.

Sincerely,


Helen Damnation



p.s. I'm telling you this, dear lady, because I care. No, really. -HD