Cats don’t care and will totally eat your last treat out from under your face.

I found these treats at Target that have catnip in them so naturally I bought them. I didn’t buy them because my cats behave all the time and need to be rewarded, or for the extra 2 calories in each treat that these fat assholes definitely don’t need.

I bought them because catnip makes these morons lose their damn minds just from smelling it (okay, Quigley sometimes eats dried catnip but he doesn’t know any better), so imagine if they actually INGESTED it?

Well, I never get to witness them losing their minds because every time I give them some, Browing scarfs his down quickly and then shuffles his fat ass over to Quigley’s pile and eats those, and this behavior makes me want nothing to do with them.

I even put them in two separate piles.


Doesn’t work. Browning must eat all the treats.


“Keep Away from Small Children and Animals” aka “Blah Blah Watch What This Dumb Cat Does”

Because it was Thanksgiving, I spent a couple days at my parents’ house. This is always a blessing because my mom’s cats are bigger dicks than my own and provide me with filler content.

Take this picture for example.

That’s my mom’s cat Peanut. Peanut is Browning’s daughter and basically the biggest dick of a cat I’ve ever met. If you upset her, she’ll shit in the bathtub to inconvenience you. True story.


Peanut couldn’t stand that there were cat toys in that bag. More specifically she couldn’t stand that said cat toys were not for her.


Obviously the next logical step in this scenario is to get stuck in the bag to somehow sabotage the toys for the intended cats.



The next logical step is to walk off, owning the fact that you’re stuck in a bag and it was exactly what you meant to do.

[Disclaimer: No animals were hurt. Peanut is alive and well and probably shitting in a bathtub right now.]

Mine, again.

This isn’t the first blog post like this, and it won’t be the last because cats are selfish and greedy little assholes predisposed to believe that everything you own is somehow theirs. Even though they’re cats, and what the hell are they going to do with a cheese grater? It doesn’t stop them.

Last night I stopped by Hobby Lobby to pick up a few things; one thing being a flower made out of burlap, AKA cat nip, apparently.

Phase 1: Discovery.


Phase 2: Surveillance, AKA “Did Quigley see this?”


Phase 3: Drag Prey to Make Believe Cat Cave and Then Remember You Don’t Have Thumbs.


Phase 4: Save Face by Rubbing Your Scent All Over it Instead, AKA: WIN.


Cats hate affection, always.

So, yesterday was a not-so-great day. In an attempt to make myself feel a little better, I first picked up this stupid, white, fat cat, expecting some sort of sweet emotion.


Moving on to the next one…I then woke up this asshole, and got this: a nice slap to the face.



This asshole.

So I drag my ass out of bed this morning because it’s been a long week and it’s too damn early for my liking.

After getting dressed and attempting to make myself look presentable enough to not get fired, I begrudgingly walk out of my bathroom and this asshole hits me in the face:


Don’t worry. I’ll go to work. You stay in bed. We’ll call it even.



I’m super proud of myself because I’ve finally had the self-control at age 23 to grow my nails out. And they look awesome, may I add.

So every time I try to file and reshape them, it drives my cats batshit crazy. And I have no idea why. Maybe it’s the sound, maybe they don’t like the texture, maybe it’s just another case of a cat being dick and trying to prevent you from doing what you want. Look at these assholes.