Finish Your Cookie Young Lady

I never liked vegetables much as a kid. Only recently did I embrace the idea of salad as a viable source of deliciousness. And still to this day, when I go get lunch, I daydream about the bagels and wonder why salad can’t taste like that instead. So as you can imagine, if I had to be a vegetarian even for a day, I’d probably starve. Vegan... Let’s not even go there.

One of my coworkers is a vegan and I always feel bad for her when we get cupcakes for someone’s birthday or cater lunch. She can’t eat anything because she’s a vegan. Nothing about that sounds remotely awesome to me. As another of my coworkers once famously said, If we’re not supposed to eat them, God wouldn’t have made animals out of meat. Sound logic.

However, one fateful day I picked up a cookie at the local deli without looking at the label. It was pretty damn tasty, so when I realized that the label said 100% VEGAN, I was initially shocked. Thrown off a bit, but won over by the unique taste, I proceeded to eat this cookie frequently. Blindly I assumed that vegan meant healthy and never bothered to wonder how many calories it contained or what was actually in the cookie. Until today.

Mr. Cookie has 400, yes you read that right 400 calories. Considering it’s not made of anything that comes from animals, how is that even possible? Speaking of that, WTF is even in this cookie? It obviously can’t contain butter, eggs, or real chocolate chips because those are animal products. Isn't butter and chocolate chips why cookies have so much fat and calories? How many calories could be in flour or baking soda?? So I glanced at the ingredient list. Vegan zero trans fat margarine? Vegan chocolate chips? Egg substitute? These are completely crazy ingredients. What the heck is a vegan chocolate chip?? This cookie is almost as ridiculous as Tofurkey...

I Call Bullshit

My co-worker Colleen sent me a link to a CNN article about crazy inventions with the cryptic message "slide #2 is for you." Alas on slide #2 is a description of "CitiKitty" (which coincidentally I oddly once nicknamed myself back in the day), a toilet training kit for cats. I'm sorry, say what? A woman moved to NYC with her husband and her husband's cat (not HER cat, his cat) and couldn't stand the stench of kitty litter, so she dreamt up this system that teaches the cat to use the toilet. Based on the above picture alone, which makes me laugh and simultaneously cringe, I HAD to see this website.

And this website did not disappoint. There's a video of a cat using the toilet on it. The poor guy, who does his business with his back to us, even scratches at the toilet seat when he's done, pretending he's burying it! Watching this video made me bust out laughing at my desk and feel slightly dirty and voyeuristic at the same time. Did this cat approve of his private bathroom moment being posted on the world wide web?

I'm not really sure what to think of this. First off, Bailey would never do this. Anything that would potentially make my life easier, ie, the automatic feeder, he finds a way to tamper with and screw up. Secondly, what if the cat accidentally fell in? Or tried to drink from the toilet? This seriously cannot be safe. What if my cat has really bad aim? Lastly, and possibly most importantly, I would DIE laughing if I walked into the bathroom and Bailey was on the toilet. Should I leave National Geographic in there for him to read on the pot too...?

The Daily Bailey

I know I haven’t written to my loyal following in quite a while. I pray they are still loyal. You see, I am actually not allowed anywhere near the computer anymore when SHE is around because I either knock everything off the desk (on purpose) or step on all of the keys and potentially mistakenly screw up her Facebook stalking in progress. That said, I suppose you are wondering exactly how I am posting this right now. And you certainly would be justified in that wonder. Extremely justified.

Things have been pretty quiet for me recently. I’m just basically being cute, being hungry, being missed by everyone back at the resort, being sleepy, being left at home, and being a maker of weird noises that are not quite cries, purrs, or meows. Oh and being kinda confused. Specifically pertaining to if my Mom even really likes me or not. She’s always so extreme about everything. She’s either “Oh my god I freakin haaaaaaate you, you’re the worst” or “Mommy loves you sooo much Bail, who loves you!?” Well, to be perfectly honest crazy lady, I’m not quite so sure. Could we pick one and run with it? She seems to dislike me the most around 4am when I jump on her, over her, onto the desk, and/or play soccer with my ball that has a bell in it. I think we’ve discussed this before but nothing has changed. She still won’t get up and feed me at 4am, and I’m still hungry. It’s an ongoing problem. One morning she actually rose from bed like a lunatic Frankenstein and chased me into the kitchen while ranting “stop it right now! didn’t you hear me tell you to STOP? I’m not going to tell you again.” True Story. Seriously, true story.

Top Ten

Police: Woman bit off a third of sister’s nose

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) My brother and I used to fight, but wow.

9) Crazy nose biter was charged with “mayhem,” which is actually defined in part under a 1931 Michigan law as mutilating another person's nose. Apparently this happens a lot in Michigan. If you value your nose, don’t go there.

8) Did they call animal control? Sounds like someone has a case of the rabies.

7) Whatever happened to good old scratching and hair pulling?

6) And I thought I was having a hard time breathing today. NyQuil certainly is not fixin that puppy.

5) Damn vampire craze.

4) Something tells me it’s going to be a very awkward family Thanksgiving this year.

3) In the realm of potential acceptable reasons for rhinoplasty, my sister bit off my nose comes in way above deviated septum.

2) I don’t know about you, but I never thought about splitting my nose up into thirds. And in the context of any part of it potentially being bitten off... I’d venture that the percentage is pretty unimportant.

And the number 1 reason why this is a great headline...

1) Mike Tyson got hungry at the very thought of this.

Who Knew?

Out of all the things we take for granted, breathing is pretty important. How many times does one breathe in over the course of one day? Apparently a lot. The average adult takes between 12-20 breaths per minute. I never thought about this before because I did it effortlessly. However now, due to this awful cold, I can barely breathe at all. I need a quick fix. Isn't there some sort of voodoo I can do right here at my desk that will allow me to breathe again?

According to my friend Google, I can:

• Pour an entire glass of water down my nose and then blow my nose.
• Rub butter on the bridge of my nose.
• Stick my head into the freezer and breathe.
  
• Lay down. Put a penny on my nose. Imagine the penny rotating toward one side of my nose. When I imagine it has moved, sit up really quickly and let the penny fall off my nose. Breathe in.
• Roll up tissues and stick them into my nose until they are really far in. Leave them in as long as possible without being embarrassed.
  

I don't know about you, but those last two are batshit crazy. I'll probably just go with the trusty NyQuil.

Top Ten

School orders boy, 4, to braid long locks

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) I’ve sat here for an hour trying to figure out a reason for this. Safety? How long is the hair? Is he at risk for tripping over it? Are small animals living in it?

9) Braid? Really? Is this an Amish school? Polygamist?

8) Seriously, this is a headline? And I spent an hour thinking about it?

7) Are the girls not allowed to have long hair either? I used to eat my hair and I never got suspended.

6) Another thing to add to the list of ways to get suspended from preschool: Eat paste. Disrupt naptime. Knock over the block tower. Pull Suzie’s hair... or not cut your own.

5) Oh now we can order people to look a certain way? Can I order the freelance guy in my office to wash his hair?

4) The obvious thing here would be to order him to cut it off. Apparently they’d rather humiliate him instead.

3) I believe it could be interpreted that they’ve just ordered a 4 year old to get corn rows.

2) His long hair violates the “Dress code.” There are probably 4 year old girls wearing boustiers and fishnets, let’s get our priorities straight.

And the number 1 reason why this is a great headline...

1) I wish my elementary school could have ordered people to cut off their rat tails.

Couldn't get outta Dodge

A couple months ago when I joined a touch football team, I reminisced about my last team sport adventure. Alas, it seems I have once again joined a dodgeball team. Being that I was such a huge fan of my last experience and the general joy I feel when having objects hurled at me at high velocities, I can't see how I could not thoroughly enjoy it this time around!

Game 1 was last night. I'm always amazed when going back to elementary schools how tiny they are and how huge I feel. This gym was practically 2x2... (the better to peg you at point blank, my dear.) I realized quite quickly that the majority of the females on my team didn't really want to actually play. Every time a new game started, we'd all stare at each other and see who would flinch first and sacrifice herself. Basically the only thing I did last night was get grazed in the ear and look pretty. Hopefully they'll be more of the latter and less of the former.

Martha Stewart I am Not

The thought crossed my mind today to bake something for Meredith's 30th birthday celebration tomorrow evening. A person only turns 30 once and I know when I turn 30, I will probably want to die... so anything I can do, like bring my cooking to help the process along, being that I'm such a good friend and all. I looked at a bunch of recipes and immediately realized (to my horror, yet not surprise), that I have just about nothing on the list of required ingredients in my apartment, besides salt.

Ingredients:

• 48 HERSHEY'S KISSES Brand Milk Chocolates I will have no problem buying this
  
• 1/2 cup shortening Whatening?
  
• 3/4 cup REESE'S Creamy Peanut Butter My PB is like months old, scary
  
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar Nope
  
• 1/3 cup packed light brown sugar Def, nope
  
• 1 egg Again, no
  
• 2 tablespoons milk Still no
  
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Nada
  
• 1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour Not a chance
  
• 1 teaspoon baking soda Can't use the odor absorber kind?
  
• 1/2 teaspoon salt YESSSSSSSS!! I have this!!
  

Holy crap I am a frat boy. A frat boy with diet orange soda and diet nestea instead of beer. Is it still thoughtful to make the cookies that came in a tube? Please say yes...

This place sucks,... Where are we?

We joked last year that we should all apply for truck driver licenses, however I think this year we should just be awarded them. We certainly earned it. I volunteered to captain the first leg of the journey home and ended up with the hazards on going 45 mph in blinding rain while Jay and Meredith slept. What I was doing could have more likely been categorized as boating not driving. Then Meredith took over the driving in stop and go traffic and ended up slamming on the brakes causing Jay, who was sprawled across the back seat, to go flying into the back of our seats. Nothing was funny about that, however for some reason we could not stop laughing. The kind of laughing that is actually painful. He wasn’t moving, just moaning and giggling for 25 minutes while tears flowed down my face. After all of this excitement and completing 12 hours on the road I’m not sure why between 3 decently smart individuals, nobody bothered to suggest stopping at a hotel to sleep, but we didn’t...

I can now say that I’ve slept in a car on the side of the road. Although not much sleeping went on for me because it was so cold in the car, I was literally shaking. I suppose now I know what it’s like to be a homeless person, or at least a slightly sophisticated homeless person who has a car but is dumb enough to think it’s a great idea to drive straight from Florida to New Jersey. Meredith and I were so overtired and basically looked how you’d expect a person would look after spending 22 hours straight in a car... Like the grim reaper. At a rest stop we caught our reflection in the bathroom mirror and stopped, horrified. Not even a tan could help us in that situation. Finally we arrived in New Jersey at 8am to find 20 degrees and snow. I was seriously contemplating turning around and going back... immediately. Well maybe after a nap... or a hibernation...

Do you want my drink?, I'm done with it

Once again we rang in the new year at the Hard Rock Casino in Hollywood, Florida. This year however, the B52’s were there also... Which was... Cool? Had it been 1990. You know, the B52’s. Love Shack. Roam if you want to. Then Meredith says something about it being a Manic Thursday, citing she knows that’s the Bangles and isn’t really sure why she just said that. She’s wearing 3 happy new year hats and deciding she doesn’t want to possess them anymore so she’ll hand them out to random strangers walking by. She easily disposes of 2 then decides she doesn’t really want her drink anymore either and offers it to a guy walking by who looks at her like she is the strangest human being alive. From there she proceeds to the slot machines where she promptly loses $4.96 and cashes out her ticket for 4 cents. This is going to be a hilarious evening.

Meanwhile I am at the bar attempting to get a drink, bouncing along to Bon Jovi, and high fiving everyone over how cool Jersey is. The chick next to me was honestly the most wretched girl who was obviously jealous that I was better looking and having more fun than she was, so she kept giving me dirty looks and saying “sshhh.” Um, last time I checked this was a casino bar, not a library. She’s on the phone telling someone that I’m a whore, which makes a ton of sense because if standing at a bar waiting for a drink makes someone a whore, then I’m pretty sure she’s one as well. When I pay for my drinks, she asks me if I just spent my entire month’s salary. Who is this girl!? Was she sent here for my amusement because in a minute she was about to have my stiletto up her ass and honey, I’m wearing $600 shoes, clearly I am on food stamps, so why don’t you take your lame ass “disses” and go back to wherever it was you came from. Jay ran away when he realized that I was going to verbally annihilate this girl, leaving my friend Peri’s boyfriend to unsuccessfully try to put his hand over my mouth and muzzle me. Luckily my new year’s resolution this year wasn’t to not get into any fights. That one would be for naught...

I'm going to post it and label it empathy

The other day Meredith mentioned that she heard pale is totally in right now because of the vampire craze. Pale is the new tan? That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Jay commented. Oh, I concur. We’d now been down here for 3 days and on a scale of one to tan, Meredith and I were not quite satisfied with our brownness. We cannot go home without a suitable tan threshold. There are people counting on me to be obnoxiously tan when I get back, and really, how could I let them down. Tuesday was a whopping 64 degrees as Meredith and I sat by the pool, alone, shivering in our bikinis while her dad was at home with the heat on. This was quickly becoming an emergency. We were running out of time and needed some serious sun. Mission when we got to the east coast of Florida: Operation Brown. 2 days of intense sunning. We don’t leave until we look like mud.

At what temperature do Floridians think it’s acceptable to go to the beach? Personally I never knew being on the beach when it’s 73 and sunny labeled me as a tourist. However, our friend Mike who lives down here, and also wears SPF 50 (so really, he is a bad example) looked at us like we were crazy when we asked him to drop us off at the beach at 10am and not come back to get us til 4. He showed up to hang out with us around 3 wearing a pair of jeans. The next day we were able to convince him to spend the day with us and we all even went in the ocean! It must have felt to him what it feels like for me to walk around Times Square... If I was wearing a fanny pack. All in all 73, 64, 80, doesn’t really make a difference, they all easily beat 12 and snowing like it was at home while we were frolicking in the Atlantic. To stand in solidarity with our northern brethren, we took the above photo I call "Strange man digging" so you could see there was shoveling going on where we were as well. Don’t be jealous...

The Daily Bailey

Being that I’ve been stuck in New Jersey for 2 weeks, I thought it only fitting to climb on the bandwagon and get me one of those bumpin Jersey Shore nicknames that all the fabulous cool cat guidos have. I was going to gel up my fur and start pumping some serious iron, but I figured the nickname would be a start for now since I’m destined to always be white, never tan. And the verdict is... Wait for it... B-train. God I am the coolest. B-train sounds like a complete badass. B-train does whatever he wants, ain’t nobody messin with the B-train, back up off that train bitches... The B is bringin the trouble, a train of trouble, the trouble train...

And I did bring that train to the resort during my alone time staycation. Choo-choo. I could tell that the resort workers were totally falling for me, even though they kept insisting on calling me “bad cat” and I got yelled at on average every 2 or so minutes. I scratched the oriental rug, I hissed at people, but in reality I am like Raymond, everybody loves me. So like, whatever man. B-train ain't hearin none of that. Basically the entire week was like an extended game of hide and go seek. I kept hiding and they kept having to come and seek me. Most of the time I was in the one room that I was not allowed to be in, the one with the large custom constructed barricade in front of it. Nobody could figure out how exactly I got in there, and I certainly will never tell other than to just say I’m one hell of a cathlete. The other time I was behind the very hot cable box on a tiny shelf with wires around my neck. Nobody talked to or petted me for a couple hours after that one. I don’t think the resort workers will be too sad to see me check out. The B-train is about to leave the station...