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The Daily Bailey

2011-08-17T16:15:00.002-05:00

I was trying to see if I could create a new record for longest span ignoring my blog. I did a pretty good job, no? I've really only come back to promote myself and my brand new Twitter account, that I'll post to religiously until I lose interest in that as well.

check me out @DailyBailey_NY

The Daily Bailey

2011-01-24T17:16:00.004-05:00

Now that I've assembled my Pussy Posse, or what I like to call Bailey's 4, it seems that everyone wants in on the action. In order to pull the ultimate con, and escape all of our captors, I suppose it makes sense to assemble a bigger feline field team. Meet the newest members of the now Bailey's 6.

My oldest friend DJ. His mom actually found me on the mean streets and hand picked HER as my caretaker. I harbor no resentment against DJ for that.

And this one is Ruby. She lives with Sam (my wingman), and she definitely has the sinister thing down pat. I will not be messing with either of those two. They will be the muscle of the operation.

I'm currently still accepting applications. Because Bailey's 11 has a nice ring to it....

The Daily Bailey

2011-01-20T11:31:00.006-05:00

The winter time is no time to be lonely. It's cold and depressing, and I'm starting to get in a funk. This is usually about the time when tomcats realize the merits of having some sweet pussy to hang around with. The summer is prime prowl time. Now, I could really use some companionship... something a little softer and sweeter to keep me warm than this stupid radiator... or HER. All you men out there are pickin up what I'm puttin down. I gotta get me some lovin...

I need to start socializing, getting myself out there. She keeps telling me about how a ton of her co-workers have recently rescued and adopted cats, like she thinks she started some sort of trend or something... like she's a trendsetter. And joking about how she's going to start a monthly "cat club" where they all get together and tell dumb stories about how cute we are... but we're not even invited. F that. Let me meet these other felines and we'll start our own cat club where we talk about how annoying you humans are. It's perfect... I'll have a wingman...

Sam

and two sweet ladies to romance with my manly charms...

Mia (ME-OW!)

And this one, that has apparently yet to be named, but I'd call her Sweet Lips...

The Daily Bailey

2011-01-04T14:17:00.003-05:00

Happy 2011 internet blogosphere friends. 2011 is the year I will finally make my great escape. The Meowshank Redemption. I’ve been planning it for almost 2 years now. I don’t really need to get into my many motivations for this prison break, I believe that you know the injustices that are put upon me day in and day out. The treats that are withheld and replaced with faux love and gay ass nicknames. SHE finally managed to find me a suitable male role model, but then I overheard him talking about having me de-clawed and my little kitten heart broke into a million pieces. F this, I will not be conspired against... In my own house no less. I have rights too... Just ask PETA. The mean streets of NYC aren't as mean as my captors... I am outta here...

I needed a good plan though, especially since I planned to make a break for it while I was staying at The Resort, which may seem free and expansive, but is really more like a kitty prison since I am watched constantly. I decided that I would pull my caper when she least expected it... While she was deep in slumber. I would use a classic move that would be completely undetectable to her. When I arrived at The Resort, I hired a lookalike to pretend he was me. She would look down and think that I was cozy in my cat bed, as I tried to pry the door open and escape. I really thought this could not fail, but alas... while executing my genius plan, she saw the imposter in my bed and started to laugh uncontrollably. Seriously, I get zero respect... that cat looks just like me...

The Daily Bailey

2010-12-25T10:24:00.002-05:00

Meowry Christmas from The Resort. Santa skipped my house apparently, I will be taking this up with the North Pole. Although SHE did remind me that I've been quite naughty this year... better luck next year.

The Daily Bailey

2010-12-16T13:43:00.003-05:00

Another day, another punishment. I thought girls were supposed to like bad boys? SHE is apparently the exception to that rule and basically hates me lately. I suppose I deserve it... I broke into the treat cabinet again and devoured a bunch that were housed in some weird Chinese takeout container (meow-goo-gai treats?). But in my defense, I was merely practicing in order to audition for “The Treat-Off”—this reality show HE told me about in which the cat who breaks into the cabinet and eats the most treats first wins! I’m not really sure what I’d win, maybe a lifetime supply of treats... But I partake of those now pretty much anytime I please. I’m only in it for the glory, to hear my name announced as the rightful Treat-Off Champion. Meanwhile she should be cheering me on and getting me trainers to help in my quest, but instead she pointed her finger right in my face and branded me “Worstest cat.” Sticks and stones, Harlot...

Look, I am SO getting on this reality show. Double sided sticky tape, magnets... These are no match for me. I can get in that cabinet anytime I want. And I did again once she went to sleep. I creeped over in the dark, jumped up on the counter, pawed open the cabinet, stuck my nose in to sniff out the treats... But didn’t smell anything. Hold up, where are my treats? I was just in here a couple hours ago, I know they are here. What is this garbage? She moved treatsville? There is nothing in this cabinet except claw clippers and my special cat brush... Neither of which are remotely tasty. I’ve been foiled!! How am I supposed to get on The Treat-Off now?!?! Arrrghhhhhh I’ll get you next time Gadget, nexxxxttttt time...

The Daily Bailey

2010-12-10T10:23:00.004-05:00

Holla! It’s my birthday! Or so SHE says, and at least this year she’s told me straight out instead of asking “who’s birthday is it Bailey?? Who’s?” I am 3 years old. As usual, I have received nothing from the birthday grinch, besides a not even overly enthusiastic “happy birthday buddy” when I pawed at her face at 3am to commence celebration. I did however clean up during that other recent holiday and now have tripled my toy stash. So I suppose the only thing I’d really like for my birthday is some respect. In fact, I think I’ll break into song about it... Go Bad Bailey, it’s your birfday...

This palace is mine
You know that’s right
Doin what I want
All day and night

Uh

Well you say stop behave,
And I say screw you
But my friends you have seen nothing
Shut up and clean my poo

Because I’m bad, not Brad
Come on
(really, really bad)
You know I’m bad, not Brad
Meowmore
(really, really bad)
And the whole world has to feed me right now
Cuz I’m hungry once again
Who’s Brad?....

The Daily Bailey

2010-12-08T16:01:00.004-05:00

I’ve been grounded now for 2 whole days stemming from TREATGATE. I’m not really sure what the repercussions of this are supposed to be, besides the fact that she keeps inviting HER friends over to rub in my face the fact that I am supposedly not allowed to have any over. Which might seem like a tragic punishment, if I had any friends who ever came over... Or any friends at all. I seem to still be allowed to watch television and stay up as late as I want, so I’m thinking I’ve gotten off pretty easy. Besides the whole vet office sodomy thing.

Unless my punishment is being put on a strict low-treat diet and judged against some stupid drawings of feline body types. I did this to myself really. These increased trips to health care professionals only serve to highlight my love of food and my need to use it as a coping mechanism to deal with being forced to live with her. And I suppose I was the one who opened the cabinet in the exam room, allowing HIM to discover this satanic diagram pictured above that alludes to the fact that I am overweight. Way to make a guy feel bad about himself. I don’t claw out pages from the Victoria’s Secret CATalogues or Men's Health magazine and put them up around the Palace. Next time you’re so sure you’re not going to share your food with me... You might want to glance at those photos and reconsider... Just sayin...

The Daily Bailey

2010-12-07T16:49:00.003-05:00

It wasn’t my fault. I just wanted to feel no pain. Specifically hunger pain. I wanted to feel the golden warmth of a full belly... To be in a food coma, not an actual coma. Look, I swear that I did not try to off myself again... I swear. I know that life is precious. Life is like a box of treats.

Although apparently my breaking into a cabinet above my head, getting a hold of a bag of Pet Naturals of Vermont Hairball treats (see above) and eating 40-43 of them was of some slight concern to her. At first I simply got a serious scolding while HE went to buy contraptions to lock the cabinets so I can no longer have access. However while Bob Vila was gone, she examined what was left of the treat bag and started to freak out. From what I gathered, it said something about an accidental overdose. My full stomach was making me really tired, and she kept yelling at me to “WAKE UP... Don’t close your eyes.” And then the treats hit the fan.

Next thing I know I’m at an animal hospital being sodomized by a vet tech who thought she was serious when she said my name was Bailey, Bad Bailey. He actually scribbled that down on my intake sheet. The emergency doctor was confused and thought my name was Brad, but after we straightened that out, he agreed that Bad Bailey would be a totally bad ass name. So a bad ass I decided to be. While awaiting my diagnosis from a consult with poison control, I tried to open all of the cabinets in the exam room to see if any stray treats were left laying around.

$261 and some fluids injected underneath my skin later, I’m on my way home to jump up on the counter and see what other treats are in the cabinet. Wait, what did she say? I’m grounded and being enrolled at the Huntington Learning Center for degenerate felines? But, punishment doesn't work and I said I’d do better. Ugh FINE saying it and doing it are indeed two different things. If I do it, can I get a treat?... Too soon?

The Daily Bailey

2010-12-02T21:18:00.003-05:00

As I was pacing around in the dark tonight dreaming of being free and waiting for HER to bother coming home to feed me, the greatest thing in the entire world happened. HE arrived instead, without her. The door opened, I stuck my face right there and almost got crushed by the opening door as usual, and like out of a dream, I looked up and there he was boasting "HI BUDDY!" DAD! Is it really you? Where’s the wicked witch of the west side? Did you finally pour water on her? Oh Dad! What should we do? Well first let’s eat. Please be sure to give me a man’s portion... A manly man’s portion. Not those girly ass portions she always gives me that I devour in one bite. I want to seriously eat until I feel sick, then for you to rub my fat belly like a buddha.

What else is on our MANgenda? I would very much like to misbehave. And I think you would condone and/or encourage that. Can I do some catnip? Drive a car? What’s this you are offering me, alcohol!? Did you just say we could call some “alley cats” to come over and party with us!? You are the cat’s meow! Bros over hos! Scooters over hooters. Bail over tail. Kitties over titties. Pussies over... Wait nevermind.

The Daily Bailey

2010-11-29T15:46:00.005-05:00

The top three purrfectly wonderful moments from my holiday week at the Resort (in completely random order):

3. Luckily we didn't have to go around the table and say what we were thankful for because I clearly would have said the fresh turkey I was being fed from the table which was in addition to my regularly scheduled calamari dinner feast, or my insanely good looks, deep green eyes, and luscious fur coat. I definitely would not have said HER or the shelter and what passes for love that she provides. At the risk of sounding selfish, the whole thing would have been truly awkward.

2. One of the Resort workers constantly forgets that when I'm visiting, it is not a good idea to leave any kind of food or food-related item unattended. In the span of 5 minutes I taste tested his cereal and a tub of cream cheese. It's always slightly amusing to see his face when he catches me on top of the counter with my nose where it doesn't belong. Hey buddy, you left it out... not my fault.

1. As you can probably gather, I seriously enjoy eating. And when I'm done (begging for more), I like to indulge in some quiet time of licking my chops, fantasizing about more food, and relaxing. I do not like to be tossed in my carry case and put in the car. Isn't there a rule about that? No carry case for a half an hour after you eat? Anyway, not surprisingly I got a little meowtion sick, and vomited all over my carry case. After a couple cheap shots about "ugh this better come out of the Sherpa lining," SHE did seem to look kind of sympathetic (or just pathetic) as she cleaned up the remainder of my entire thrown up dinner. Who's thankful they adopted a cat?

The Daily Bailey

2010-11-08T15:50:00.004-05:00

Scene: SHE has a black eye. HE is apologizing profusely. Ice is being frantically pulled from the freezer. I am lounging on the chair looking adorable and not at all at fault.

10 minutes earlier...

He’s really starting to grow on me. Whenever he’s over, there’s a lot better looking food arriving... Not that crap that comes out of the microwave that not even I’d beg for. And we get to watch football instead of dumb girly soap operas. I truly need this male role model in my life and I treasure my testosterone time. It pains me to see him washing her dishes and filling up her water glass. Man up, man, she should wait on you just like she waits on me. In fact, you should demand this treatment father. Are you my father? We are both ruggedly handsome, so I will accept this as plausible. I am willing to share my man of the house status with you if in fact it allows you to be treated with the respect you deserve. Please don’t ever go home, adopt me and stay forever.

Wait... Where are you going?? You are leaving me? Here, with her? I demand that you answer me immediately!! You cannot leave!!! He starts to head for the door and I sprint ahead and plant myself right in front, blocking his way. If I had time, I would have made a sign that said “hell no, please don’t go... Yo,” but alas, the door is opening, as I walk behind it to stare through the slit and make sad cat eyes into the hallway. He acknowledges me and sticks his finger through the slit, which I promptly try to grab with my paw and pull him back inside. He obviously thinks we are playing, but this is not a joke to me... If I could just grab a hold of him... Oooh I think I’ve got you now!!! However he jerks his hand away and it promptly collides with her face as she was bending down to see what was going on. WHACK! She got punched right in the eye!!! Holy Spaghetti and Meowballs, that was amazing. He looks really upset (stop apologizing, she deserved it) as I run away because clearly I’m going to be blamed... And this is not how it went down in my dream of him punching her in the face. However, now he’s coming back inside... So looks like I WIN... As usual. Too bad about that collateral damage... you might wanna consider wearing some dark glasses tomorrow Tina Turner.

The Daily Bailey

2010-10-26T15:07:00.003-05:00

Ahhh where does the time go? It’s almost Halloween and I have once again began to research my dress up options. Last year I was a terrorist and as much fun as that was, I’m thinking of going with something a little less inflammatory this year. Something cutesy that everyone loves, because really, last year, I put myself in a situation to receive lots of tricks... And this year, I’m only interested in treats. “And what are you supposed to be little cat??, Oh me? I’m a suicide bomber!!! Give me all of your treats infidel!!!!” You can imagine how well that went over. And since I did have a rough year, in which I unsuccessfully attempted to take my own life, I doubt SHE'd see the humor in that costume. My initial hope was to be a CATerpillar, but I could only find stupid dragon and frog costumes, so instead, I’ve decided to now unveil my 2010 Halloween costume to the waiting masses. I'm going to be a penguin. They are black and white. I am grey and white. They have happy feet. I have four paws. We are both part of the animal kingdom. I mean this thing is precious... Who wouldn’t just melt and hand over all of their treats to an adorable little penguin? This is a foolproof plan. Good luck thinking about anything else the rest of the afternoon.

The Daily Bailey

2010-10-19T11:47:00.002-05:00

I’ve never been to church. Really I’ve never been anywhere besides the Palace, Palace 2.0, the vet, and the Resort. I don’t get out much anymore, it’s disappointing. I’m not even sure if church is the place I should be going... If I want to talk to God. I just assumed that my religion was CATholicism... But last year when Christmas rolled around and I desperately searched for a tree to bat ornaments off of, I was told we don’t do that. Confusion set in. I am Jewish? Is this why all of a sudden I’m being called Bailey Avraham, and HE is trying to put some little hat that looks like a frisbee on my head? Look, I don’t care what I am... I just wanted to have a minute with God to confess my sins. I did a bad, bad thing.

A couple of weeks ago when HE was being all babyish laying around with his gimpy ankle, I kinda felt bad. I know it may not have seemed that way from my scathing review of the whole situation, but there was a smidge of pity in my heart. He always gives me craploads of treats, styles me with the most up-to-date and relevant fur-do’s... Like the fauxhawk, and generally doesn’t tell HER all of the bad things I do. So as I sat there making fun of him relentlessly, I thought to myself... Too bad this didn’t happen to her instead. AND THEN IT DID. Ooopsies, did I do that??? The other day was complete deja vu, except the pussy icing an ankle was her instead of him. I really think this is somehow cosmically my fault and I was starting to feel really guilty until he said something about “falling over her own teammate.” God, what a dumbass. Pray for her.

The Daily Bailey

2010-10-13T11:14:00.003-05:00

I have received nothing but accolades on my hostile takeover of this blog. It really was a no-brainer and any attempt at pushback would have been met with a swift dismissal. I own you, blog. You belong to me-ow. Not surprisingly it seems that someone in this equation is being a bit of a sore loser and cannot handle the fact the SHE is no longer in demand, and that all the blog fans, the like 2 that she had including HIM, are now screaming my name (but I am not running to them, I don’t do that, I’m not a dog... I ignore them and it only makes them want me more). So recently, blinded by jealousy and rage, she’s decided to belittle me and tear me down through various psychological warfare techniques such as locking me out of my own room (ie, closing the bedroom door in my face) and trying to drive me crazy by magically making a red dot disappear and reappear, all the while laughing and mocking as I chase it relentlessly around the Palace.

When I see that red dot, I become a search and destroy cat killing machine. My mission: triangulate the red dot’s current location, be really stealth, sneak up behind it, POUNCE, and snuff it out. I totally thought this was a foolproof plan at the time of first deployment. There really was no way this could fail. It always works when I jump out of the darkness and attack HER leg... But apparently this red dot is indestructible. I could not capture it even with my feline speed and agility. Must. Kill. Red. Dot.

Get over here dot!

You will not escape me!!!

OOOH I GOT YOU!

Hey, get off my paw!!

This is infuriating!

But I would not give up... Until I was out of breath, needed to rest for a minute, recalculated my attack plan, and struck again. This went on for quite a while. Current status=Red dot:100, Bailey: 0. Sigh, I’m tired now, I would like to catnap in my bed... What is this?! Open this bedroom door immediately woman... Do you hear me??? Meow! MEOW!!!! Me... (sniff sniff) ow?? Cry. I'm sorry I stole your blog...

The Daily Bailey

2010-09-27T14:49:00.003-05:00

It seems apparent to me that I have now taken over this blog. It is basically now my blog, since I’m the only one who ever posts. And I should get all of the credit, because I am the man. Isn’t that the way it works in this world? Which is why I am strongly suggesting renaming it. The Daily Bailey. Bailey’s Blog. Meow Memoirs. The New Feline Times. Confessions of a kibble-aholic. Cat Blog. Any of these fine names will do. Anything that is all about me. Everything should really be all about me. I don’t like not being paid attention to. Do you think it’s easy being this cute all of the time? I know I am small, but I should not be overlooked, or ignored, or taken for granted, or pushed aside. Especially not so SHE can take care of HIM. Take care of MEEE! I used to be the man of this house! I don’t care that he “hurt his ankle,” his sad face is not nearly as convincing or utterly adorable as mine. Although that ankle doesn’t look so hot ironman... I hope she doesn’t have to put you to sleep.

HE is getting the king’s treatment. Feet up on the table. Beer. Ice pack. Dinner. Kisses. What happened to you gimpy? Did you trip over one of my cat toys? No? Oh, too bad. Maybe next time. Listen, my paw might not be swollen to 100 times its natural size mr. cankles, but inside... I am in pain. Most likely from witnessing this charade. Hello?! I am over here looking precious on my chair. Where is my compassion? I want dinner (more specifically whatever you are having). I want kisses. I want to go on the table. This is out of control! He wasn’t in the war... He’s just a klutz. I see this game you’re playing male human and I’m onto you. Man up and quit your crying. Stop being a pussy... I am the pussy in this house.

The Daily Bailey

2010-09-16T15:03:00.002-05:00

Right now I am lying on my little patch of rug in the direct sunlight, as I make my daily futile attempt at becoming not as white. SHE is so dark lately, and that pool boy she hangs out with looks like mud. Whyyyy am I so white??? I am apparently their child since she always says “Bailey, mommy’s home!!” and when HE comes over he says “Hi Son!” How did I end up with this elderly pallid coloring? So here I lay, taking in some rays. Nothing like sunbathing with the air conditioning on. It’s always pretty cool in the palace that I’ve renamed the Scoogloo. Brrrrisk. She must own stock in the energy company, because she certainly never opens the windows. There’s even a sign that states “Please do not open the windows” for all the strangers who come over and aren’t aware of the mandate. My catsitter thought that was dumb, along with the 400 notes she left him about my likes and dislikes, where my treats are, and how my automatic feeder has to be taped shut because I’m a boy genius. Let’s not tell her he said that.

The window thing is quite a big deal. There are no screens and she’s sure that I’ll end up doing a Superman out of it 10 floors to my impending death. Hence why they are practically bolted closed like a crypt. I think she was slightly offended when HE mentioned that the place was feeling like a tomb, I believe the word was “stale”, and maybe it could use some fresh air. So every night, while I’m relaxing far enough away from the window, she’ll go over and open it while standing in front of it with her arm on the handle. Air pours in, I get curious, start to make my way over to explore, and she immediately shuts it. This is the really dumb game we play all evening. And supposedly I'm the one who has the smaller brain...

The Daily Bailey

2010-08-26T10:50:00.003-05:00

Apparently it’s National Take your Cat to the Vet Week. For real. I swear. Who even knew such a thing existed? SHE came home laughing about this the other night, clearly without a card or gift for me in honor of the "holiday"... While she attempted to lure me into my posh carry case... To go to the vet. I could let you believe she’s solely taking me to the vet because it’s the cool thing to do this week, but seeing as I JUST went two months ago, I’ll disclose that I’m being taken because I was having some, uh... Gastro issues. I can’t wait to be held down and told I’m fat and have excessive tooth tartar again.

For this trip she smartened up and had her man friend come help her carry me to the vet’s office. I’ve however smartened up as well, and when I see the case I know there’s a 50/50 chance I’m either going to the vet or the resort, and this time I didn't like my odds. So I ran as far away from the case as possible, only to be grabbed and shoved in there with no compassion for my cute little meows of mercy. The vet said I probably ate something I shouldn’t have (there are such things??), felt up my tummy, claimed I gained half a pound since last time and that my “fat pad” got bigger. Listen bitch, if you keep spewing these lies to my guardian, I will stop partaking of delicious treats. And if you try to stick your finger in my mouth again... watch what happens. What the hell is a “fat pad”? You made that up. Then you charged her $100. Now she’s mad at me and going on about “remember who pays your bills” and “cost as much as this sweater.” Don’t look at me, all I did was have the runs...

The Daily Bailey

2010-08-23T15:57:00.003-05:00

I’m still young, even though I’m fast approaching 3 years. I have my whole life ahead of me to follow my calling and find my ultimate destiny. I thought it was going to be feline modeling. I really had my heart set on that. I practiced doing my little turns on the CATwalk, on the catwalk, yea, I shook my little tush. I was too damn sexy for your party with my disco dancing. But it doesn’t seem to be working out, I’m not getting any gigs. My sweet puss face has yet to take over the world. So alas, I must find another avenue to pursue. Like gymnastics. I’ve been sprinting and vaulting around the palace like a 3 foot tall, 65 pound, underdeveloped 14 year old Chinese girl. I was built for this! On the internets it says that gymnastics is “exercises requiring physical strength, flexibility, agility, co-ordination, balance, and grace.” Score! I have all of those things!!!!

I pushed over the garbage can that weighed 6 pounds... Half my body weight.

I can put my hind leg over my head and lick my ass.

I can leap refrigerators in one bound.

I’m a cat.

I’m not so sure about the leotard thing though...

The Daily Bailey

2010-08-11T15:53:00.002-05:00

So yes my fine followers, I’ve been a complete slacker for the past 6 weeks. I don’t even really remember what I’ve been up to for all that time, since time really doesn’t register for me. I spend my days chillaxin, eating, and ruining things and really one day becomes another and all of a sudden it’s 6 weeks later and people are mad that I haven’t been sharing the goings on in my 9 lives. Allow me to catch you up.

We got a rug in the palace. I like to scratch it. She yells at me.

I apparently now have this thing called a cat sitter. Some old gentleman who came by to see where my food and box are, identify me as the cat of the house and pick me up and annoy me. He’s kinda lame. He’ll be coming to check on me when SHE’s away... So I’ve been studying some movies called Don’t tell mom the babysitter’s dead, and Home Alone for ideas on how to improve this situation.

I got dragged to the vet. They manhandled me, gave me 2 shots, said I needed to have a “waist” ie, stop feeding me, told HER to try brushing my teeth because I have tartar buildup (I will eat her hand), all the while I pretended to look scared to death and she almost cried.

I was THIS close to devouring a chicken pita she left unattended on the table. Curiously that strange man she hangs out with didn’t seem to care. I think he realized the injustice of me always begging for food and never getting any. Unfortunately mid-bite she spotted me and lost her shit. I got yelled at. Better luck next time.

I found this really cool brown paper bag house. I pretend I live there. Alone. Without her.

The garbage can became really, really heavy and difficult to knock over. Almost like there was a 5 pound weight in the bottom of the can. I actually think there might be. Ever determined, and bored, I decided to do some kitty push-ups and shoot up some FgH (feline growth hormone) and finally succeeded at knocking that puppy over the other day and chowing down on the salmon scraps that were in there. I then promptly threw up all over the entry way... and got yelled at. Are you sensing a theme here?

The Daily Bailey

2010-07-01T10:56:00.003-05:00

Oh woe is me. I hate my life. I have this great new palace, with tons of room to roam around, much to explore, endless toys, and a brand new couch to monopolize. But, I don’t have any friends. When SHE leaves, I am alone. So very alone. O solo mio, with no animal pals. Playing with the stuffed dog, weirdly small cat with no whiskers, and red felt crab thing is only fun for so long since they don’t play back. They just fucking lay there like pansies! WTF I’m biting you, say something! And now that it seems SHE’s gotten a life, I spend a lot more time solo, moping around. So I must find ways to amuse myself or allow my despair to envelop me and remove myself from this cruel, cruel world. Can’t you see I am crying out for help here?

The other night while she was out and I was spiraling downward in my heart of loneliness, I decided to end it all. I opened up the freezer with my nimble paws and I looked inside. Brrrr man. Why is it so cold in that cubby? I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in there, I have very delicate fur that is most likely prone to frostbite, so I decided to just go back to my couch and sleep it off. When she got home, she was too busy on the phone to give me my proper greeting until she noticed the wide open freezer door. She was definitely talking to the resort worker she keeps referring to as my “grandma” because I could hear screaming and shrieking coming through the phone and something about “he could have killed himself!!!!!!!!!!!!,” and “I love that little man. You’re gonna have to lock the freezer!!!!!!!!!” This sent me into a frisky tizzy. Lock the freezer!? SHE’S crying and begging me not to hurt myself, the phone is now squawking about “bungee cords and duct tape,” and you are wondering why I wanted out of this life??...

The Daily Bailey

2010-06-18T09:58:00.003-05:00

There are tons of new things for me to do at the new palace, Palace 2.0. It’s so spacious! Not nearly as spacious as The Resort, they have stairs and tons of doors there... But Palace 2.0 is definitely an upgrade from that first dump I was forced to live in. There are cabinets here! Cabinets above that I can climb ON TOP of and explore the ceiling. Cabinets below that I can easily pry open with my paws and dutifully explore. Cabinets that are not big enough to contain that big black can where all the leftover food and my dirty plates go... So I’ve knocked it over a couple times to scavenge around. We also now have a really big screen thing that SHE keeps going on and on about “HD” something or other and I keep getting screeched at to keep my paws off. “No paws on the screen”... Fine shrew, I’ll just wait until you leave...

Lest we forget that I run this new palace, it might be a different space, but the same rules apply... she’s only here to pay the bills, provide food, and cater to my every whim. If I want to touch your big screen, then I will. If I want to lick your boyfriend’s arm fur, then I will. If I want to knock over your garbage can, then I will. If I want to claw the heck out of your leather chair (that I see you brought from the other palace for my enjoyment) then I will. I’ve been your captive for a year now, why isn’t this getting through your thick human skull? By the way, I’ve noticed that you’re coming home a lot more now in the middle of the day thinking that you’re being all sweet to come check on me. You are interrupting my nap time, and every time I see you I think it’s dinner time, therefore throwing off my whole schedule. Please stop “checking on me,” I’m touching your screen and knocking over your shit... There, I told you, no need to come see for yourself...

The Daily Bailey

2010-06-11T17:11:00.002-05:00

Apparently I did something wrong… and then I did something really right! I was cruising along, lounging around, day in, day out, being me… when all of a sudden I was shipped off to the Resort for 12 days. Look, I’m not complaining, that place is an all-inclusive heaven: I have my own room, belly massages, manicures and other assorted grooming, 2 meals a day, unlimited water package, a track for my relay races, wait staff… however, whatever SHE was doing while I was banished, she could easily do with me around.

This is BS. You can’t just get rid of me whenever you want! You adopted me… I’m an equal decision maker in this relationship! In fact, in matters that have to do with my own travels, you should really defer to my opinion. Upon my return, I see we’ve upgraded to a new palace. I, of course, again was not consulted about this, but after careful review of every nook and cranny, I give it two paws up. Except for the weird man who comes in to fiddle around with things in the apartment. I’m not allowed to talk to strangers… not that it matters, I can’t understand a word he says. I don’t think he’s from around here. I could get used to this place...

The Daily Bailey

2010-05-25T13:25:00.003-05:00

I’m definitely a people feline. Most other cats would hide under the bed or keep to themselves around company, but I jump up and run to greet all visitors. Largely because I am trying to escape out of the door, however I am also excited to sniff someone else whom I may decide I like better and might save me from being stuck eternally living with HER. We don’t get that many visitors to the Palace, odd considering how luxurious it is, and by luxurious, I mean not at all luxurious. Recently I’ve made a new visitor friend. I think his name is strange man, but I call him Steve. Although it may be Jim? Or... Josh? Josh, sounds right. He’s been hanging around HER a lot lately. Boggles the mind. I’ve tried all morning to come up with a reason for it, since I have nothing better to do. Does she control all of the human food as well? I mean, what other reason could there be? I think he likes her, but I prefer to think he likes me more. Because who wouldn’t?

I guess I kinda dig him, except for the fact that he sleeps in my spot in my bed. I’ve got him right where I want him. Despite being a self-proclaimed “dog person”, which was a huge scarlet letter, and really a terrible opening line when being introduced to me, he’s already been suckered into how damn adorable I am. He clearly sees how much SHE loves me (even though it’s not mutual), and now he’s stuck doing whatever I want if he wants to make her happy. I am playing him like a fiddle. When she yells at me, cool strange man says “aw he’s just playing” or “it’s okay leave him alone, he’s a good boy.” When she goes out of town, cool strange man comes to check on me and feeds me insane amounts of treats, never realizing it directly correlates to how much of my crap he’ll have to scoop out of my box. What a sucker, I love this guy! Maybe he’ll let me come live with him! And we can do manly men things, like sleep, and EAT... And I can lick his arm fur... And we can forget about HER... Bros over hos!

The Daily Bailey

2010-04-12T10:22:00.001-05:00

I’ve been thinking about pursuing a second job as a feline male model. Obviously I wouldn’t let it interfere with my first job of being the lazy, pampered, and awesome king of my castle, but maybe if I had an actual revenue stream, I could finally escape this place and become an emancipated minor. I had a list of other possible careers in my head, but decided since SHE keeps saying that the camera phone loves me, this might be my destiny. Instead of being a zoo animal, I will be the feline Zoolander. Now how do I land my first gig?...

How tough can this be? I’m way cuter than the animals on the Whiskas and litter commercials. Some of those cats are like furry butter faced beasts. I definitely have the X factor. I can look cute, playful, mysterious, scared, surprised, distinguished, tired, hungry. I do a really great hungry. And my spotted grey nose could be as famous as Cindy Crawford’s mole. Look, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ve lived the rough life. I’ve done my share of catnip. If I have to sleep with people, then so be it. I already sleep with HER, so I’m willing to sleep with whomever to get what I want. What? That doesn’t mean what I think it means? A different kind of sleep with? Oh, ew... What about make love to the camera?

Erasers are for the noncommittal

2010-03-16T10:21:00.004-05:00

Welcome to March Madness. I’ve been writing about this phenomenon at this time of year for as long as I can remember. And I still can’t make decisions pertaining to it. However, the decision I have made, is to not submit myself to any bracket challenges or office pools (to be fair, my office isn’t running a pool, otherwise I may have been tempted) because it only brings heartache and WAY too much pressure. Instead, the last 2 years, I fill out my bracket, cry, erase, erase again, ponder, worry, question, have second thoughts which leads to more erasing... For no competition whatsoever except for the one for my own pride.

This year my first decision was pencil or F it and use pen. Judging by the amount of times I almost erased through the page, I made the right call. I could go with the easy call and put Kansas in the middle because I cannot under any circumstances put Syracuse in the middle (even though I will secretly admit I did, then quickly erased citing the MEGA JINX factor). At this point I pretty much give up because I really can’t decide. I guess you just go with your gut...

Katie: I can’t commit in my midwest and west brackets. I’m acting like every dude. Now I know how they feel when there are just too many good options out there....
Katie: Kansas or Ohio state??!! Aahhh
Jessica: tough call
Katie: F it, I’m doing two brackets
Jessica: so... date them both is your solution??

We're all doomed...

Going Mad

2010-03-15T12:00:00.002-05:00

Tournament facts I’d like to forget:

In 2005, Syracuse unexpectedly lost to Vermont. I was at Coppolas for dinner with my family. Yes, I remember that.
We play Vermont on Friday night in the opening round of the tournament.
Last year I watched both our Big East tourney game, as well as our NCAA tourney game at a bowling alley for friend’s bowling birthdays. We lost both of those games.
I am invited to a bowling birthday party Friday night.

OH the irony. Andrei, you know I adore you... but I am peacin out of that alley before the game, so fast, that fate forgets I was ever even near a bowling alley Friday. GO ORANGE!

Size Matters

2010-03-08T11:00:00.003-05:00

The bagel place by my office is crazy good. My co-worker Courtney and I go every Friday for what we've deemed "Bagel Fridays" because for two people who work at a creative agency, we couldn't come up with a more creative name. Hey whatever, it's straightforward. There are 2 sizes of bagels at this place. Regular bagels and what they call mini-bagels, which are actually what used to be considered normal sized bagels. What I remember from my childhood as mini-bagels would probably be called infinitesimal bagels there. The bagels are huge. Enormous. Behemothic.

Everything is now skewed based on this new size assessment. So when I was in Hoboken at my friend Katie's apartment this weekend and we had bagels, they looked tiny. What is this!? Where are my giant bagels? These things are like kid toys. I guess it's like hooking up with Black guys and then going back to Jews. I mean, not that I'd know. I meant, I suppose it's like that. Pure conjecture.

The Daily Bailey

2010-03-04T13:42:00.002-05:00

Not only am I intensely good looking and debonair, as evidenced by my new headshot above... the camera phone loves me..., I also happen to be a genius. Seriously, I am not full of myself. It just happens to be a fact. Everyone knows cats are smarter than dogs. Dogs have owners, cats have staff. And my maid has been doing a ton of work catering to my particular needs over the last couple of weeks. Starting with cleaning up all of my shedded hair. I don’t mind the special cat brush once a day, however, my extra shiny and baby soft coat happens to shed a lot and unfortunately this is not the wild wild west. Clean up the tumbleweeds of my hair that I see floating by, even if this becomes a once a day task. If I don’t have a Swiffer to chase often, we have a problem. Also while you’re at it, can you remove all of the excess fur that has been accumulating on my bed. And by my bed, I mean your bed. Oh and thanks for your timely removal of my vomit at 2:00 AM the other night. The service here is quite good, but there’s always room for improvements...

While I’m home all day making a giant mess, I spend most of my day strategizing and problem solving. How do I get out of this apartment? Where the hell did all of my toys go? How can I kill that dog I hear barking downstairs? And most importantly, how can I break into this feeder that SHE has left out for me? Good news friends. I have solved that last one. However, I also got caught red pawed, twice. How was I supposed to know she was going to come home at 1pm from work due to snow and see that I’d already eaten what was supposed to be my dinner? To tell you the absolute truth, I haven’t really thought much of it. In fact I think it’s pretty funny as I sit back and watch her try to break in to the same feeder, mumbling “WTF Bailey. How the hell did you get in here? I can’t even get in here...” Who’s the master now biatch...

Lookey who's #1!!!!

2010-03-01T13:17:00.002-05:00

Conversation I just had with my brother:

Brother: Polls just went up they're (Syracuse) #1 in both
(lack of any punctuation such as extreme use of exclamation points is worrisome...)

Me: I knooooooooooowwwwwwwwwww, I'd been hitting refresh for 3 hours!!!!!!! Because, I am not sane.

Brother: Well they (the polls) don't come out till 1

Me: Oh, well aren't you just a smarty pants

Best Site in the World

2010-02-22T11:45:00.002-05:00

translate.google.com

I am working on a project for which I have to name a program that will be deployed internationally. In these instances, it is imperative to ensure that whatever that name is, it will translate effectively into other languages. So in my quest to research this, since I clearly don't speak other languages and rarely speak English properly, I stumbled upon the Google translator. This site will translate anything you type in instantly into a number of different languages... including Icelandic, Yiddish, and Macedonian. People still speak Macedonian?? This really came in handy this morning when I instant messaged Andrei "hola" not realizing we were going to have an entire conversation in Spanish, a language neither of us speak. He also didn't realize I was cheating.

Andrei: como estas?
Jessica: bien, y tu?
Andrei: estoy bien
Jessica: me llamo jesseeeka, no habla espanol
Andrei: me llamo andres
Jessica: me gustan los gatos
Andrei: que?
Jessica: donde esta la biblioteca?
Andrei: donde esta mi pantalones?
Jessica: en el parque de casas rodantes
Andrei: con queso
Jessica: aj, ako su syry
Jessica: that's Slovak for I like cheese

The Birdcage on Ice

2010-02-17T15:04:00.001-05:00

I have a confession. I’ve sinned. My last confession was well... Never. So, we could be here all day. This one is fairly minor though. I confess that I haven’t watched any of the winter Olympics. Like not even a minute. I am NBC’s worst nightmare. Although that may be an overstatement considering everything else that network has gone through recently. I just haven’t really found my Olympic spirit this February. I’ve never been much for winter sports, even though I did a couple of involuntary, completely ungraceful ice dances on my way home last night and nearly wiped out many, many times. However, back in the day I used to truly enjoy watching figure skating and yelling “TOE PICK.” It’s so not fun now that noone is getting clubbed in the leg anymore.

But after I heard from many coworkers, including an impassioned plea from Andrei, that I HAD to watch the men’s short programs from last night... I decided to do some investigating. Can I watch this shizz online? YES! Yes, I can. (After I sweet talk the IT guy into upgrading my HD video capabilities.) Jackety pot. Welcome to my afternoon. If you like spending the afternoon at The Birdcage on Ice. Hank Azaria would be so proud.

First up, Johnny Weir. Oh sweet Jesus. Who picked out your costume? Fredericks of Hollywood? That is indeed exactly how Andrei described it, a “pink and black corset.” Except it has ruffles... And one tassle. I really hope nobody can see my computer.

How can that possibly be topped? Evan Lysacek in black sequins and feathers. I am not necessarily a fan of a man in tights and feathers, however I am a huge proponent of the scruff. Well played Lysacek, well played. I feel a tiny bit less embarrassed watching this than you’re pink laced up teammate’s performance... I said a tiny bit. I think we’re done here...

Top Ten

2010-02-12T16:51:00.001-05:00

Love stinks! Farmer creates manure Valentine

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) The words love, Valentine, and manure will probably never appear in the same sentence ever again.

9) Is there really anything besides fertilizer that is worth making with manure?

8) I am not ungrateful, but it's the thought that counts has never seemed like a lamer excuse.

7) That definitely beats the pants off a new Lexus with a life-sized red bow.

6) This is probably one present best observed from afar.

5) My high school boyfriend sent me flowers a couple of days before Valentine’s day one year because it was cheaper. And I thought that was shitty.

4) This dude clearly has a very loose interpretation of the word “gift.”

3) First guy who assembles city sidewalk dog shit into a heart will win my eternal devotion.

2) On second thought, I very much enjoy being single.

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

1) What’d you get for Valentine’s day? Shit. Oh like nothing? No, actual shit. Oh, that sucks.

A Whole New Meaning to J. Jew

2010-02-12T11:23:00.002-05:00

In advance of my forthcoming 30th birthday, I believe you will find it hilarious that I used my undergraduate college ID twice this week to secure student discounts at J.Crew. Before execution of the plan, I thought long and hard about the ethics of this. Would this be wrong? Well, yes... But how wrong? How wrong is too wrong? Isn’t paying more money than necessary also wrong? Do my 2 wrongs make a right? Then I asked some of my coworkers if they would judge me. The overwhelming consensus revealed that by taking advantage of the 15% discount offered to me solely because my Syracuse ID has no graduation date on it and I still look like I’m 17, I would, in fact, be a student of divine opportunity, coincidence, and manipulation. Therefore, I’d be doing nothing wrong. Do they have continuing education courses on those topics because I’d really like to sign up...

Of course, I am a play by the rules kinda girl. So whenever I bend the rules slightly, which rarely occurs, I always get nervous that something is going to go wrong and I’m going to get caught. Like the time I told the gym that my roommate was my half sister so that I could take advantage of the amazing family deal they were running for membership. I prepared answers to every possible question. Why do we have different last names? My mom married her dad. She’s adopted. I legally changed my name. It didn’t matter, they asked me nothing and I have a half price lifetime membership. Exactly what happened when I shyly inquired whether or not J.Crew still runs their student discount and plopped down my Syracuse ID. The sales lady glanced at it and I got an instant 15% off. Sometimes it really does pay to not be such a goody-goody...

Snow Job

2010-02-09T11:30:00.002-05:00

Let me tell you the story of a little girl who went to sleep all snug in her bed last Friday evening dreaming of awakening to a winter wonderland filled with fluffy white snow. That little girl would be me, and the fact that I would even care to see snow after spending my college years in Syracuse is quite peculiar at best. However the point of the story is that upon daybreak, ok fine afternoonbreak, there wasn’t a flake to be found. I don’t like being lied to, and we all know what happened to that little boy who cried wolf. Well actually I forgot, but I think he got eaten.

If I was wrong at my job as often as meteorologists are, I wouldn’t have one. And I’m working with pure intellect, creativity, and maybe a thesaurus and dictionary every now and then. These are far rudimentary tools compared to fancy ass Doppler 5000, NEXRAD satellite supercomputer radar models. Accu-weather my ass. You’ve got a lot of nerve calling yourself that. I’d advise potentially adding a question mark to the end. Accu-weather?, seems more accurate. Your forecast for tomorrow’s “snow event” looks like the ramblings of crazy people. Crazy people who are very careful to use the most unabsolute language known to man (ie, lawyers.) The maps “suggest”, “could see” snow mixed with sleet, “accumulation potential”, “must not be completely ruled out”... that it will be 80 and sunny tomorrow. Oh you’re good Bill Evans, real good. You’ve got me totally snowed... tell me more, I’m intrigued.

Thesaurus: my favorite dinosaur

2010-02-05T16:15:00.003-05:00

Tool: instrument used to shape, form, or finish
gadget, gizmo, implement

Tool: person who allows himself to be used
chump, creature, stool pigeon

Really? REALLY? Which one of these was I not expecting to see as a listing? Yea I'm pretty sure that's self-explanatory.

The Daily Bailey

2010-02-05T11:51:00.002-05:00

They say the early bird gets the worm and even though I don’t think I like worms, although I never tried one, I’d still like to see if I could get one. So today I woke up at 3am. And alas, I didn’t find any worms, instead I found an extremely angry Mommy. She’s apparently been formulating plans in her head ever since the whole Frankenstein incident about what her next course of action would be if I continued to rise before the sun. It seemed this morning’s genius plan was to put me in the LIVE ANIMAL carrier that I’ve been using as a step stool to get to my window perch. I haven't been in there since the day I was brought to this dump, so when she finally figured out how to open it, after 10 minutes of unsuccessfully trying in the dark and eventually turning the light on, my curiosity got the best of me and I stuck my head in only to be shoved and locked in. Damn you. I really should have seen that coming.

Once inside, I promptly decided I wanted out. It was in no way as fun or interesting as I imagined it would have been. But my constant thrashing and scratching only served to get me airlifted to the bathroom and the door shut. 2 hours later, after I’d shredded every last piece of newspaper that was in the carrier, I was finally set free. SHE barely looked at me, then left in her gym clothes. Upon her return, she greeted me “Hello Bailey” the way that Jerry guy talks to Newman on that show I once watched at the resort. Sooo, I suppose this means she’s angry with me? How could anyone be angry at this face?...

Hungry Hungry Hippo

2010-02-04T12:07:00.002-05:00

Recently, my team decided to try and compress all of our meetings into a couple of hours in the morning to enable us to use the rest of the day to get work done at our desks. In theory, this sounded amazing. However, in practice, I sit at my desk all day watching the minutes drag by while eating everything in sight. It’s not even lunch time and I’ve already had oatmeal and a granola bar, drank a liter of water hoping it would fill me up, and started dreaming about what I can cram in my craw for lunch.

My thoughts of food don’t end at lunch. I am also unashamedly thinking about how badly I want to eat a pound of pasta with clam sauce for dinner. This may seem random and/or excessive, but know that I did exactly that a couple weeks ago (and then subsequently had the worst stomach ache). Regardless, it was an "I'm alive" moment. Forget jumping out of planes or riding motorcycles, I want a Cinnabon or a big ole grilled cheese sandwich. Extra cheesey pizza or that ginormous croissant that the coffee cart man sells that looks like a giant crab. Jelly Beans. Bagels. Sour cream. Frosting. Double stuf Oreos. And no I am not pregnant.

Kate Moss once said "nothing tastes as good as being skinny." I beg to differ. Being skinny is the hardest thing I've ever done precisely because everything that helps you stay skinny tastes like shit. Additionally, if you’ve ever seen the exercise equivalent estimate for certain foods, you would never eat again. To burn off that donut, you practically have to do 12 hours of housework, a triathalon, or swim 3,000 laps. It’s a daily losing battle that I have been losing badly lately. Short of having my mouth permanently wired shut, I will need to figure something else out since I have another 6 hours of sitting here, and getting up to go to the bathroom every 1/2 hour just to have something to do... Isn’t working.

I Call Bullshit

2010-02-01T14:40:00.004-05:00

I find things that are sold on tv to be extremely interesting. Why are they exclusively sold on tv? Why can’t I buy them in a store? Because stores don’t want to stock these items since most likely nobody will buy it? Because it’s special? So special that I should pay extra to have it shipped to me and purchase it sight unseen? It took me like 5 years to figure out what the hell “No COD’s” meant and it’s obvious I still have many burning questions about tv products.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to these items and I even own a few, but I never called and ordered them off the television. I waited until they were available in stores. It’s always some ingenious invention that’s going to work miracles like the Ab Roller or the contraption that holds your bra straps in place (both of which I own, but don’t use.) However for all of the ones that seem truly amazing, there are more of them that truly border on the uncomfortably ludicrous. Ones like the Neckline Slimmer, of which I saw a commercial for while I was on the treadmill the other day.

The Neckline Slimmer is a gadget that has springs in it and basically allows you to do what looks like sit ups for your neck. I can firm, lift, and smooth my neck in just 2 minutes a day! What ever has my loose, droopy, coarse neck done without this?! I wonder if it works as well as that exercise they did in the 50’s while singing “I must, I must, I must increase my bust.” The website has the usual testimonials and most likely doctored before and after photos, but I do have to say I was pleased to see no uses of the term “turkey neck.” Too bad Heidi Montag wasn’t aware of this nifty device, it could have spared her the trouble of undergoing neck liposuction. We are a seriously twisted and sad society.

Finish Your Cookie Young Lady

2010-01-29T15:25:00.003-05:00

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

2010-01-27T16:21:00.003-05:00

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

2010-01-22T14:36:00.003-05:00

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

2010-01-20T16:29:00.002-05:00

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?

2010-01-19T15:05:00.002-05:00

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

2010-01-12T11:45:00.003-05:00

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

2010-01-11T13:58:00.004-05:00

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

2010-01-08T16:04:00.003-05:00

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?

2010-01-02T09:59:00.004-05:00

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

2010-01-02T09:54:00.002-05:00

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

2010-01-02T09:46:00.002-05:00

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

2010-01-01T09:38:00.003-05:00

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...

I think I can see New Jersey from up here

2009-12-29T08:26:00.002-05:00

I’m all for adventure. Well, controlled adventure. I suppose I’ve never been much for thrill seeking and living on the edge. Hmm, ok not true... I went on the Cyclone in Coney Island, but I try to block that memory out. But, we are on vacation, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and be all that I could be. Actually I just really didn’t want Jay to call me a pussy all week. Last year when it was just me and Meredith, the craziest thing we did was to not flip over on the beach chair, but this year Jay is stuck with us and doesn’t much appreciate just laying around all day. Apparently the effort that goes into the fine art of tanning doesn’t interest him. On his list of things for us to do: wave running, parasailing, scootering, dirt biking, and swimming in the little pond in Meredith’s dad’s complex. Since we immediately nixed that last one citing the probability of alligators lurking in there, we ended up agreeing to wave running and parasailing. Let it be known that I have previously done neither of these activities, so I think my adventure quota for the next couple of years has been met, if not exceeded...

There was absolutely no way I was getting on the back of Jay’s wave runner, and also probably no way I should have gotten my own, so Meredith and I decided to ride together. She’s been on one before so I let her drive first and I sat behind her and basically put her in a strangle hold. We thought we were the biggest bad asses going like 40 mph as Jay zoomed by doing like 60, standing up, waving, and doing turns. Yup, fully would have died riding with him. Died or been thrown into the ocean, or both. Well now that I’d done that, I was starting to feel like I was invincible. Parasailing, sure why not!? 1200 feet? 2 dips? Bring. It. On. It’s not like I don’t like heights or anything. Jay had $20 on me freaking out up there, but besides the fact that my feet were turning purple from the cold, I was a trooper! There’s still no f’ing way I’m getting in that little pond though...

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

2009-12-29T08:11:00.002-05:00

This one goes out to airport screeners and the Department of Homeland Security. I know we don't profile people blah blah blah, but here's a little story for you.

Once upon a Christmas, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab boarded a plane in Amsterdam, originating from somewhere in Africa. His father had recently contacted the US Embassy with concerns over his son becoming radicalized. He had a one-way ticket, and no baggage.

Really? Should he also have been wearing a big red neon blinking sign that said I am going to blow this plane up?

Let's get our shit together here. There were a thousand clues that this douche was going to try to light his underwear on fire. Hellooooo??

The Daily Bailey

2009-12-28T16:40:00.001-05:00

At this point, I am pretty much used to getting my way. Whoever said “you can’t always get what you want” is a damned fool. It helps to be annoying and adorable... And annoying, but 9 out of 10 times, I get what I want. However, it never occurred to me to heed the warning sung by the awesome band The Pussycat Dolls... To “be careful what you wish for cuz you just might get it.” They are truly visionaries. Yes, I may have openly wished to be free or that SHE would leave and never come back, but maybe deep down I didn’t really want that. I do tend to follow her around, sit on the bathmat and wait for her to come out of the shower, and attempt to look as cute as possible when I see her putting her coat on... Maybe I kinda like having her around... And now she’s GONE, and I am at the resort alone... ALONE! Well, besides the resort workers...

Since I seem to be stuck here by myself for an indefinite amount of time, I really hope these resort maids and cooks are up to the level of elite care that I demand. I apparently have my own room here, which is nice and all, but whose face am I going to jump on when I want to be fed in the morning? Is my food going to be served on the little white paper plates that I like? Am I going to be lovingly groomed with the special cat brush? Are they going to formally address me as Bailey? What about Scooter? McBoo? Mr. Scoo?? CRAP! I want my mom baaaaaaaack!! This is garbage! Where is she!?! Why has she left me?!? If you bring her back, I promise to never wish her gone again. Ok well maybe not never...

The goal is to have as many friends as possible

2009-12-27T20:25:00.003-05:00

We’ve finally arrived in Ft. Myers. The trip never seems quite so bad in hindsight once we get here, but jesus that took forever. It definitely would have been faster to fly, but at least I can trust that Meredith nor Jay will attempt to blow up our car. It was nice however to get a good night’s sleep in a big fluffy bed and a real cup of coffee. The bed at Meredith’s dad's is amazing. Much more comfortable than the Comfort Inn. I have dubbed this the new Comfort Inn, and the Comfort Inn is now the Uncomfort Inn. The complete opposite of comfort.

Meanwhile Jay has been trying for days to log into Facebook to access someone’s email address, but had forgotten his password. Finally this morning he had a successful attempt and can see what the rest of the world has been doing for the past 6 months. He proclaims that it’s scary when girls you used to know contact you on Facebook after years. “Why are they contacting me? Do I have a kid out there somewhere? This chick has a picture of her and her baby. Does that baby look like me? I have like 15 friend requests, who are these people? Did I sleep with her?”

I really don’t even know what else to write after that...

I guess I just really wish I had two mouths

2009-12-26T22:14:00.001-05:00

To say that no planning goes into the Road Trips I suppose is a bit of a stretch. I researched cool cities to stop or attractions on the route. This year the stops were Hilton Head Island, SC and Brunswick, GA and the Golden Isles. Of course, because of the car debacle and the fact that Jesus wasn’t born until the 25th, Hilton Head was not meant to be. I am fairly confident it will still be there for me to visit another time, so I wasn’t that upset. We did however decide to check out the working lighthouse I found in St. Simons Island, GA. Apparently you can climb to the top of this puppy, which is 104 ft in altitude... Up a narrow and windy staircase. So, we did. Me with my 4 inch heeled boots, claustrophobia and the fact that I fully forgot to bring any deodorant on this road trip. Once at the top, after my harrowing climb, we attempted to take photos of the 3 of us and Jay bobbled my camera and almost dropped it 104 ft to its doom which would have gone over superbly with my father considering the camera is 4 days old and my camera ruining track record. Luckily, he recovered in time to have not been the next thing to take a flight off of the lighthouse.

And he lived on to consume the “grande meal” at Taco Bell. The one people probably order for a family of 4. The best thing about going on vacation with Jay, is that no matter how badly I pig out, he will ALWAYS eat more than me. Therefore I don’t have to feel badly about myself as I stuff my craw with 3 soft tacos. I can look over, see him double fisting his 10 tacos, and almost not want to go into the bathroom and throw up. Almost.

It's better to not know where we're going on the way to where we're going

2009-12-26T08:38:00.002-05:00

The truck driver road trips are notorious for having somewhere between loose to no plan whatsoever. We typically just start driving and worry about stops and stayovers en route. However, when you have what amounts to no plan to begin with, it’s difficult to have a contingency plan as well. So when faced with the fact that Meredith’s car had been in the shop for what seemed like as long as I could remember and would not be ready in time for Road Trip 09, we were forced to scramble. 27 hours on a train? A flight that could cost as much as one to the moon? Squeeze into Jay’s Infiniti 2-door? Hitch hike? Walk? We were in full on emergency mode...

The contingency plan is as following:

What: Road Trip 09 v.2.0
Who: Meredith, Jay, Jessica (the truck driver reunion)
Where: NJ ---> FL then back again
When: Friday December 25 (after Jay sees Santa)
How: Automobile (Jay’s mom was nice enough to lend us her car)

We met at the Cheesequake rest stop on the Garden State Parkway, took pictures of each other taking pictures of each other in the car, then drove around in circles trying to figure out where we’re going. Um, South? It’s Christmas day at 2:38 pm, we are still in NJ. Are we there yet?

We drove for hours in the fog and pouring rain and could have gotten off the exit and been in Oz for all I would’ve known since we couldn’t see 100 feet in front of the car. Meredith and I had eaten about 400 cookies, Skittles, and a bag of Cheetos and listened to “Empire State of Mind” and “Already Gone” 400 times. As much as I love Kelly Clarkson, I was really starting to wish that song was already gone. After we introduced Jay to the Jewish Christmas of Chinese food by stumbling upon what was probably the only Chinese restaurant in Virginia, Meredith decided that she was in a food coma and needed the car to be 90 degrees. Everyone fell asleep and I was stuck driving in a sauna listening to ghetto rap music, because I could barely see the lines on the road let alone try to change the radio or turn off the heat. Finally at 3am after Jay pounded some caffeinated sludge, we stopped at the Comfort Inn in South Carolina which is ironic because the sound of someone vacuuming at 4am is not something that adds to my comfort. Seriously are we there yet?

Don't Look a Gift Card in the Mouth

2009-12-17T17:44:00.004-05:00

I think people at work nominate me to go to the recording studio to torment me. I sit there listening to voiceover recordings and/or recording them myself when all I really want to do is bust out into song in that booth. But I always manage to muddle through. Today, my coworker and I went over for a session and were told by a colleague as we were heading out of the office that we should bring back gift cards. Apparently the studio had gift cards to Starbucks, Lowes, and Barnes and Noble and we should bring back a ton of them. This sounds great. Who doesn’t love free shit?

We arrive at the studio, have our hour session, shoot the shit with the producer and start to put our coats on. Nobody has mentioned any gift cards. They’re certainly not lying around for the taking. Are we supposed to ask for them? Is that polite? Or acceptable? We start to head for the door, which is about 2 feet from the studio... In what seems like the slowest slow-motion humanly possible. My co-worker is trying to make eye contact with the receptionist in case he wasn’t aware or 100% sure that we were really LEAVING and maybe forgot to offer us some gift cards. I am dying inside, and can’t even look at her, wondering whether she’s going to come out and ask for them and how potentially awkward that would be. We reach for the door handle. So... We’re gonna go. We are actually going now. For real. Leeeeaving... Gonna head on out, for good. Not coming back. Yea, uh, well adios then. Sayonara. Cough, GIFT CARDS, cough cough. Ok bye. We are so not getting gift cards...

The Daily Bailey

2009-12-10T09:59:00.003-05:00

Apparently today is my birthday according to my medical records from the vet I was taken to after I was captured (I mean before I was adopted.) I suppose everyone has one of these days and today is as good a day as any to turn 2. Or at least that’s how young the records claim I am. They must have counted my rings like a tree or some other sort of voodoo like that to quantify my exact age. But I don’t feel a day over 1... Even though I have been prematurely grey since birth. I am just a distinguished gentleman like that.

I wasn’t awarded a lot of time to compile an extensive birthday wish list since SHE just started mentioning this birthday thing to me the other day... “it’s someone’s birthday soon!! Who’s birthday is coming? Who’s? Who’s going to be a birthday face?” Well why do you have to be all oblique about it? How the hell am I supposed to know? If it’s mine, why can’t you just say that?! I’m a cat not a freaking super sleuth. So in the interim I’ve decided on world peace, to be set free, or a zhu zhu pet. And then whatever I don’t get, I’ll submit to Santa... Because even though she keeps saying I’m a good boy, I’m gonna need some proof. What??? We don’t celebrate Christmas? Add a Christmas tree to the birthday list.

Unfortunately I didn’t get any of the things I wanted. I bet none of you saw that one coming. Instead I got picked up and hugged, an extra hairball reducing treat, a decently sung (meaning other neighborhood cats didn’t come running) personal rendition of Happy Birthday to Scoo, and a self-propelled mouse on wheels. I suppose it could have been worse. She could have tried to put a hideous birthday hat on me, hired a singing telegram or a scary clown, or purchased me an ugly sweater that I’d never take the tags off. I guess I’ll hold off on being set free for at least another year...

Who Knew?

2009-12-09T10:54:00.004-05:00

Currently there is a GIANT cannoli in my office's kitchen that I'm telling everyone was sent to us by the cast of Jersey Shore. Who even knew something this amazing existed? F cookie cakes, this thing is the situation right here.

Another Whopper from BK

2009-12-08T14:38:00.007-05:00

It seems every year around this time Burger King rolls out a shock and awe campaign that has more to do with sex than fast food. Who could forget last year's infamous "Flame" meat scented cologne (see previous blog post Come on Baby Light My Fire) complete with vomit inducing scary big headed BK mascot that still to this day haunts my nightmares. I, along with my coworker Andrei who was the lucky recipient of "Flame" as a Christmas gift from me last year, were really hoping for the release of the next hit cologne in the line "Raw" or "Mad Cow," but instead it seems we have a Showercam competition. One in which I actually had to verify that I was above 18 in order to be allowed to log into the site. Guess this isn't exactly for the Happy Meal crowd...

It's like dirty reality Burger King Shower Barbie. I can pick what song she sings and what she wears, then I can watch her "shake her bits to the hits" every day. Because nothing makes me want to cram Burger King down my throat more than thinking about skinny people in bikinis. I can also enter to win a date with her or receive (above shown) Burger King shower kit as a consolation prize. Burger King rubber duckie, where have you been all my life??

Why the hell I would want any of this is still unclear to me, but then again I did rush out to purchase meat scented cologne last year so I am easily in their target market group of complete morons...

Quickies

2009-12-07T11:10:00.002-05:00

Tiger Woods' pride of sluts is now up to 6. One of which he met at a PERKINS where she was waitressing. You are Tiger Woods and you can't find anyone better to cheat with than a waitress at Perkins? If you die of embarrassment in the next couple weeks, I wouldn't be surprised.

My dress is like new! I don't know what they put in this Amodex cleaning stuff, but it must be liquid of god. Every time I use this stuff I cry like I've literally witnessed a miracle.

You can now sign up to receive notification of blog updates by email!! Scroll down and type your email into the subscription box on the right hand side. Presto! Instant update.

Start Spillin

2009-12-05T16:24:00.003-05:00

I have a not so stellar track record at my company holiday parties. I've been to 5 thus far. At the first one, I lost my camera. At the second one, I received my holiday gift, a $2000 gift card and was so paranoid from the first year, that I barely drank and guarded my purse with my life. The third one, I was so thrilled with the year before's positive outcome, that I got careless, drank my face off, put my purse down and had all of my stuff stolen. Last year, I practically strapped my belongings to me. And this year...

3-4 glasses of wine, one whiskey shot, one tequila shot, a couple jello shots that were laced with 151, and I find something that looks like a stripper pole, climb up there, start dancing and suggesting this awesome idea to other co-workers who followed suit. The amount of alcohol I consumed may not seem impressive, however, the amount of alcohol that was all over my dress... epic. Apparently I forgot that the point was to somehow manage to get the alcohol into my mouth. I woke up this morning to find my dress practically tye-dyed with stains like people threw drinks at me. Right now, I have applied every stain fighting substance I can think of, turned on the shower and ran cold water all over it like it was drunk, and am praying for the best. Please offer your prayers for my dress as well.

Pet Peeve #2

2009-12-04T10:17:00.002-05:00

I am definitely far from being OCD about cleanliness. I give the clean my best shot and can forgive a little here and there, however, there's something about getting into someone's car and having to sit in the mess that their child left. I don't know about you, but I could have one baby or 50 (although that is actually impossible given time constraints) and I pray to never be one of those people who'd make someone else sit in raisins, cheerios, or unidentified substances.

Chinese Year of the Tiger

2009-12-03T16:00:00.002-05:00

One need not understand one word of this to find it absolutely hilarious.

I bet he once got a fortune cookie that said "The time is right to make new friends... in bed"

Keepin up with the Times

2009-12-02T17:26:00.002-05:00

I suppose it's about time that the old blog got a facelift and made acquaintance with all of the new social networking hoopla. At the bottom of each post, new icons appear!! I don't know what a Digg or StumbleUpon is, but apparently those are good. Now you can also post blog entries to Facebook as well as Tweet them on Twitter! You can also link to my Twitter page and request to follow me! Try not to fall over with excitement!

However, it would be really great if you experimented with one or more of the new buttons, since it took me all day to get them on there and I had to work with web code. My brain is bleeding, so I really hope you like it.

Top Ten

2009-12-01T17:22:00.002-05:00

Tiger to be cited for reckless driving

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Like the poor guy doesn’t have enough shit to deal with at the moment.

9) There’s a lesson here for all of us. In the future when attempting to elude your crazy wife chasing your car with a golf club, please obey the speed limit and don’t piss off the fire department or Al Gore.

8) He’s getting charged by the police and this is one of the least damning headlines to come out about him all week.

7) This misdemeanor charge probably carries a fine that will clearly be less than his impending alimony

6) Poor Buick. After 9 years at 7 mil a year, they cut him loose and he goes and crashes up a Cadillac. Can’t even get any free publicity.

5) I suppose I could make a golf joke right now... Like, you think he’s a reckless driver?? He’s even worse with a 3 wood...

4) 4 points against his license is a cake walk compared to the countless fame whoring sluts about to crawl out and claim they boned him.

3) Lemme guess who’s pressing charges. It was the tree wasn’t it. F’ing tree. The hydrant went off quietly into the night with a couple grand for its silence.

2) Christmas came early for Phil Mickelson this year.

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

1) I bet his wife wants him cited for reckless use of his "golf club" shaft and balls

The Daily Bailey

2009-12-01T13:38:00.006-05:00

I am thrilled to report that over the last 2 weeks, I have encountered tons of new and totally awesome stuff! Apparently this thing called Thanksgiving is inspiring, and boy am I thankful!

I have learned of new appliances. Something smelled great emanating from the kitchen area in our palace one morning. Definitely not the usual Lean Cuisine or boiling water aroma. It was something baking, like bread or... Whoa, that cabinet thing opens? And food comes out? Baked food goodness? Hold up a minute... Is that an oven? We have an oven? Didn’t even know we had an oven, since I’ve never seen it used before. And I'm more of a firing up the stove man myself. So many new things! Don’t even get me started about the washy spinny thing I saw at the resort...

I have sniffed everything at this resort place we went for Thanksgiving. Every last thing. I left absolutely nothing unsniffed. There is nowhere in this place that I haven't put my sniffer on... well except for whatever is behind that one pesky door that is always closed, but believe you me, I will get down there somehow, someday. There are so many more places to explore here than at the palace. I've been behind the catticade (cat barricade), I've been accidentally locked in the bathroom as well as the pantry, and I've been caught attempting to climb into above mentioned washy spinny thing that they call the washing machine. It was a valiant effort on my part.

I have tasted corn bread and turkey. The turkey was voluntarily fed to me by HER, so that I apparently didn’t feel left out at the Thanksgiving feast that everyone was feasting on except for me. I never get to feast upon anything. The cornbread... Well... I found that laying out on the counter and decided to knock it over and try to eat through the plastic. Why not? Clearly they forgot that old saying, “if you leave it out, I will try to eat it...” Actually I just made that up, but it's oh so true. So so true...

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

2009-11-30T14:58:00.003-05:00

Now if only the United States Secret Service had adopted my mantra, this whole debacle could have been preempted that fateful night at the East Gate with one shot for the fake Redskin's cheerleader Victoria's Secret model aspiring reality show housewife and one for the idiot she's married to.

The Daily Bailey

2009-11-17T12:53:00.003-05:00

I do not understand why SHE thinks she can speak to me in the manner in which she does. Can I tell you that the other day she actually had the nerve to call me FAT?? Is that the way you’re going to talk to your kids human? You better sign me up for therapy. I am most certainly not fat (even though I knocked over that bag of pastries and munchkins you stupidly left on the counter and desperately tried to eat them). But hey while we’re name calling, you are looking a little brawny lately as well. I happen to really enjoy eating food (as it’s clear you do as well) and when it’s put in front of me, I scarf it down. And I beg for it all of the time. But that does not mean I have an unhealthy obsession with it. How dare she! I mean, what does she really expect. I am left in this 4x4 cell she calls an apartment day after day, with no room to run around or chase things, so of course I just sleep all day. Clearly I am not a calorie burning machine. When you throw my aluminum foil ball and I chase it down 2 feet... That is not really considered exercise.

We are also going to need to work on your tact. “Someone’s getting a little pooch” and “fattest belly” are not things to say to someone when encouraging weight loss. Threats such as “we are going to weigh you when we get home” are probably not the way to go either. I know there are fatter kitties out there than me, so if you even think about putting me on some kind of diet... I will eat you in your sleep. Besides, I’m a guy. I’m allowed to have a little kibble belly and still live with a hot girl. Yes, that’s right, I just complimented you... It won’t ever happen again so soak it up now. I guess it’s the least you deserve since after all of your incessant degrading of my fragile kitty psyche combined with the overt emotional abuse, I threw up all over. I now probably have an eating disorder and body image issues... I am like an after school special waiting to happen. Way to go human...

Filled with GLEE

2009-11-16T13:15:00.002-05:00

I am having the BEST few months ever for celebrity sightings. So great in fact, that I begin to fill myself with self doubt even though I am fairly positive that the person I've spotted is actually the person that I think he is. Case in point, my GLEEful ride on the E train Saturday in which I entered the train, looked up and was greeted with the amazingness that is Matthew Morrison. I knew this was who I was unabashedly STARING at, however most stars seem shorter in person and he was quite imposing. He also had some funky, but still hot, facial hair goin on, and was talking to a dude wearing a Newark Bears sweatshirt. Ok, maybe it's not him. But, he got off at 8th and 50th which is the heart of the theater district, and after some legwork by my PI agency, Slightly Crazy Nancy Drew, I learned that he was in town to see an off Broadway show starring his GLEE co-star Jane Lynch. Oh yes, it was him. Fully shoulda jumped him when I had the chance...

Poker face? I hardly know her

2009-11-12T09:46:00.003-05:00

Some of my team's work has been nominated for a Clio Healthcare Award! It's extremely exciting since it's the first year that the Clio's are opening their awards to pharmaceutical advertising. Whatever will I wear!? The invitation says "creative attire" but apparently there was some widespread confusion as to what that meant so an email was sent around to clarify. Creative attire for women means no knee length skirts, not wearing all black... instead the suggested attire was unibody suits, tutus, and anything Lady Gaga would wear. Say what? Did I read that correctly? So so so many choices... Personally the wreath look is calling out to me...

Rationalizing 102

2009-11-09T13:43:00.002-05:00

I ran into a co-worker of mine in the elevator this morning who was holding a holiday Starbucks cup and the reality dawned on me... it's almost that time again. Time to famously compile my list of "completely pointless overpriced things" that I want (see last year's entry http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/12/rationalizing-101.html). Notice I said want, not need. Last year's purchase has truly been a success and I cannot stress enough how empowering it was to walk into a store, point at something I have no business owning, and walk out with it. It was like winning the ridiculousness lottery. This year I am starting early, looking karma right in the face and compiling my obnoxious list pre-receipt of my gift card... which means I should probably tell you that I'm going to donate it all to charity... a charity called The Louboutin for Jessica's Feet Club...

The Daily Bailey

2009-11-02T11:08:00.003-05:00

I have to tell you, I’ve been left home alone a lot lately. What is that about?! Have I done something wrong? I may be starting to get a complex. I mean LOOK at this face. I am adorable. And furry. Who wouldn’t want to be around me? I believe the story was something about “working late,” “watching the game,” “a wedding,” or some other bullshit in which SHE clearly forgot that I OWN her. I don’t really listen anymore. It’s only when I see my feeder come out that I know I’ll be flying solo. Usually she seems really sad to leave me, closing the door in slow motion while staring at me and telling me in a squeaky baby voice how much she loves me. This time however, she couldn’t wait to get away from me. I’m guessing because I made her have a nervous breakdown (and possibly cry) when I kept her up the whole night before. Maybe she won’t come back...

But she did. And when she does, she likes to overcompensate for completely ditching me, by picking me up and trying to assert 2 days of missed care into 2 minutes. Maybe I am a bit persnickety, but I do not want to go “uppy”. I do not like to be handled. You can pet me and scratch my head (until I try to claw you), sometimes I even allow a bit of brushing with that special cat brush, but all of this must occur while I have all 4 paws firmly planted on the floor or bed. SHE thinks I like to be picked up because one time I didn’t squirm while she was in front of the mirror and I was mesmerized by my handsome reflection. However usually I am just uncomfortable. Aren’t there lessons she can take? What do you think you’re carrying a grocery sack or a watermelon? How difficult can it be to correctly pick up a cat? Until you learn, put me the hell down. Oh and stop incessantly trying to stick that miniature Yankee hat on me. I do not wear accessories and I do not want hat head. Besides, haven’t you ever considered that maybe I’m a Mets fan?? I don’t have to like everything you like, I’m my own person you know... and oh so lonely...

Trash spam

2009-10-30T09:33:00.002-05:00

I’ve taken some time over the past few days to unsubscribe from every piece of email spam I have somehow gotten myself blessed with recently. I highly recommend this exercise to everyone. I feel so free! No longer must I delete 500 annoying emails a day while accidentally overlooking the 1 or 2 that may be of interest to me. Just because I bought something off a registry once certainly does not mean I have any interest in receiving an email a day from Williams-Sonoma or Crate and Barrel. Nor do I have any use for information about Viking river cruises or Gevalia coffee. And I definitely have no idea how I ended up on a golf digest, christian singles, or republican committee (with emails addressed to my dad or brother... Dear Richard, or Dear Andrew) mailing list. It’s because of this and my erratic mass deleting that I missed an alert for an exclusive Taylor Swift concert pre-sale and now the shows are sold out. I blame this on the GOP...

Follow that Songbrd

2009-10-29T14:38:00.001-05:00

Follow me on Twitter!! @jessyface426
micro-blog segments include Tweeting in a Meeting (TiaM), and how many twit, tweet, related jokes one person can make!

Top Ten

2009-10-29T11:53:00.004-05:00

Wal-Mart now selling caskets, urns online

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Really? Really. When will the madness end?

9) I almost want to put it in a shopping cart just so I can see if there is a “gift” option. I’ve got a couple people I’d like to purchase this for... (kidding. No, seriously, I am)

8) Costco apparently sells them as well. I assume though not in bulk.

7) They allow layaway. So if you can’t afford to die just quite yet, this is a win-win.

6) Does this get shipped to your house? I wonder if my old doorman would have signed for this...

5) Once you’ve lived your life to the fullest, there’s nothing like spending eternity in a discount casket.

4) If you’re going to buy a casket from Wal-Mart, you should be shot. Oh, right... That makes sense now.

3) They’re gonna start selling those puppies on Canal Street next week.

2) $999.90. Or 10 small payments of $99.90. If you order within the next 20 minutes we’ll throw in a year’s worth of formaldehyde absolutely free! No returns or exchanges. Do not use with dirt or dead people.

And the number 1 reason this is a great headline:

1) There’s a link that says, “be the first to review this product.” Uhh, good luck with that since your end users are DEAD. It’s very comfortable! Fits perfectly! Wears well! I got tons of compliments! My mom loved it!

The Daily Bailey

2009-10-28T10:15:00.007-05:00

I am thinking of dressing up for Halloween. I’m a festive kind of cat. I like to participate in holidays that have no purpose. Although I cannot eat chocolate, because I would die, nor can I go outside to trick or treat... And not to mention that this holiday is completely biased toward black cats, I have still done a little research as to what I can be for Halloween. Cutesy just isn’t my thing. I saw the frilly costumes, the witches, the devils. But those are not nearly enough. I need to be taken seriously. I am unfairly persecuted by HER and the rest of the zionists. She takes my toys and my food, she invades my land. Besides, even though I have no balls... I want what every guy wants. 72 VIRGINS! That is why I have chosen this costume. I am so going to Jihad this apartment.

Meowlah akbar!

3rd times a charm

2009-10-28T09:19:00.001-05:00

It is my friend Lauren’s 30th birthday today, however it seems that I got her present by mistake. Cameron Mathison (see links below) just walked out of my building (on a day when I at least could have maybe tried to look a little more attractive). As I usually do, I froze up and didn’t move, but this time I happened to be holding the door when I realized it was him. He looked a bit uncomfortable to come out, since he wanted to let me in, however I couldn’t move my feet. So as he came out, I dug deep down, remembered how ridiculously embarrassing it was to have to tell everyone that I couldn’t say anything to him on both of our first two encounters, and actually found the strength to produce words. I said...

“No problem, I watch you everyday”

Oh god. Why didn’t I just say “I carried a watermelon”? I watch you everyday? Like on the television. Like on All My Children? Like NOT thru binoculars??? Could I have sounded any more like a crazy stalker lunatic? I suppose I could have if I’d gone with any of the lines from my first blog post. I am SO not smooth. This could have gone differently. We could have run away together, if I had bothered to do my hair...

But whatever, I TOUCHED HIM! I am never washing my elbow again...

http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-lost-my-balls.html

http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/07/weekdays-on-abc-weeknights-on-soapnut.html

Slightly Crazy Nancy Drew

2009-10-27T10:00:00.003-05:00

Or savvy internet user, whichever you prefer. I happen to just be a very astute, detail-oriented, inquisitive kind of person. That is why my friends and I are starting our own PI agency... Slightly Crazy Nancy Drew. As lead investigator I have already solved the Case of the 20 year old, the Case of the Stomach Ache and the Case of the Facebook Divorce. My co-detectives are also responsible for cracking the Case of the Former Girlfriend, the Case of the Who Peed My Bed, and the Case of the Break-up then Make-up. Trust me, with a little passive surveillance, strategic thinking, and the right contacts and questions... There’s really nothing you can hide from us. You may think it’s crazy and/or stalkerish. We think it’s just smart. Besides, if you don’t want everyone to know everything about you, what you do and where you are... Don’t post it on the internets. Because we will find it.

Worst Site in the World

2009-10-26T11:40:00.002-05:00

Ticketmaster.com

There seriously has to be a better way to buy tickets to a concert. Oh right, there isn't because they have a monopoly. Nothing like having a firm stranglehold on being completely inept and un-user focused. Congratulations ticketmaster.com. First of all, you can’t buy more than one night of the same show at the same time. Therefore you have to pay two convenience charges, which is not at all convenient. Why can’t you add it all to one total shopping cart? Second, I had to wait 20 minutes while it “searched” for my tickets. Staring at it, and waiting, and waiting... Fully knowing that everyone else is buying my tickets while I stare helplessly at my screen. Halfway through my eternal wait, I realized that this format was better served by choosing “best available” seats versus a very narrow selection. Proven by the fact that after 20 minutes of praying, drumming my fingers on the desk, pretending (badly) to sit patiently, cursing, many many angry profane thoughts, a near breakdown, and running the site in 2 browsers... There were no tickets that matched my original query. Shocking. I needed to wait 20 minutes for that? All is well and good though, I got my tickets, but it was a truly terrible and stressful experience. And that is why ticketmaster.com has earned itself the honor of the WORST site in the world.

A little advertising humor

2009-10-21T14:36:00.003-05:00

From: Jessica
To: Allison

Hey I think it's missing one...

7. COPY WRITING

"Steamy. Passionate. Earth-shattering."

From: Allison
To: Jessica

8. CRITICISM

"It's all a bunch of hot air. And the tone, could he be more self-serving?! I've known great lovers. He's no great lover."

From: Jessica
To: Allison

9. FACTCHECK.ORG

"He is in fact NOT a great lover."

From: Allison
To: Jessica

10. DEFAMATION

"He has a tiny dick and not the slightest idea what he's doing."

Driving Miss Jessy

2009-10-21T12:29:00.002-05:00

My account director ordered me a car service home the other night. I easily could have taken a cab, like I always do when I work late, but she had already called the car so who was I to complain. Up pulls my 7 seater black Escalade ride home. I was disappointed there wasn't a fully stocked bar inside.

Me: "This is a fancy ass car I got myself here... pimpin!"
Sleazy driver: "Yesssssss, let's go somewhere else then..."

Uhhh what? No thanks. Now I'm uncomfortable and there's no cab TV and Eyewitness News briefs to pretend I'm watching to fill the awkward silence. I really couldn't have imagined a situation in which I'd miss taxi TV before this very moment. Sleazy driver is creepily staring at me in the rearview mirror, then turns on the XM radio to the dance trance station and blasts it. It's 10 pm. I just worked 13 hours. Really, this is happening to me?

Sleazy driver: "I have Bose stereo! I get girls Friday nights, they like this music."
Me: "Oh, that's good."

Awkward. Why the F do I have to live so freakin far uptown? What's the price tag my company had to pick up for this little un-joyride? $35. ::cough:: Is that in Euros?

Pet Peeve #1

2009-10-19T08:36:00.002-05:00

Note to the people trying to squeeze themselves under the bus stop awning. The entire world cannot fit under here, it's really not that spacious. Sometimes that's you under it and sometimes that's you stuck out in the rain. Thus is life, luck of the draw. Deal with it and get the fuck out of my personal space.

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

2009-10-16T09:59:00.004-05:00

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Today I nominate the entire Heene family. If you don't know who I mean, you must have been hiding under a rock for the last 24 hours. The crazy family who had a giant Jiffy Pop space ship in their backyard, which flew around the friendly skies of Colorado while the entire country watched and contemplated the fate of their 6 year old son, stupidly named Falcon, who all the while was chillaxin in the family attic. I know you think it's cold that I'm including the children in this, but I seriously feel in this case that the stupid doesn't fall far from the tree. You just can't make this shit up.

Meanwhile this morning while the Heenes were attempting to explain their way out of the stupidness, we were forced to watch them awkwardly try to wake Falcon up, who was sleeping during a national broadcast and when finally roused, promptly threw up twice on camera and on what looked to be like his brother's leg. And his mom just sat there offering him tupperware to chuck into and his dad just continued talking. Honestly, could this get any more stupid? I hate this family. I lost brain cells watching this garbage. I never want to see these people again. Even though I predict them having a reality show next season.

The Daily Bailey

2009-10-15T10:16:00.004-05:00

I’m a pretty straight edge kinda cat. My former life may have been lived on the mean streets, but I wasn’t swayed by the alley cat lifestyle even though I still had my balls back then and fully could have been a LEGEND. When I was finally caught and tested for the FIV, I was clean. Believe me people, my body is a cat-hedral. I do not have illicit sex... Mainly now because I am not allowed to leave this apartment, so my choices are limited to licking myself or trying out that stuffed dog over there. I do not drink... Anything besides water. SHE never puts the good stuff in my bowl. Basically, I never do anything fun or crazy. It really puts the F U in fun. Until the other night when I was taunted and blatantly peer pressured... “Bailey, wanna have some fun...” to engage in behaviors for which I am ashamed yet slightly amused. Fine, laugh at me... It was awesome and I am totally hooked and thinking of ways to solicit my next fix...

Whoa man, whoa. Like w.h.o.a. This catnip stuff is off the chain. The entire apartment is spinning at 1000 mph, my pupils are so dilated they might as well be marbles, and everything looks DELICIOUS. I sat in front of the microwave for what seemed like an eternity, because I thought I remembered food sometimes coming out of there, but nothing happened. Instead I decided to chow down on this yummy cat toy for a bit, until I realized that the ball of aluminum foil hanging out next to my scratching post seemed particularly mouthwatering. Wellll hellloo there scratching post. You certainly are looking mighty fine for rubbing, and eating, and humping. Shit, why is this skank video taping me? I certainly did not consent to this. I am busy here humping this... Wait, what is that fluffy grey thing that is bouncing around and singing “Bailey eat me, you know you wanna...”... Oh YES, it’s my tail! Come here stupid elusive tail... Get in my mouth! Oooh I’ve got you now! Um where’d you go??

I think I am on speed. Whoo I’m spent. I need a catnap... And then definitely more CRACK! Or whatever you call this amazing amazingness. Don’t hide the stash selfish human, I will kill you in your sleep for my next fix...

Pigskins in chocolate?

2009-10-13T08:36:00.003-05:00

Bacon and chocolate? Chocolate covered bacon? This is certainly a new concept. Is this breakfast or dessert? I really might need to know what this tastes like.

In other pig(skin) related news... my touch football team finally won a game this weekend! Even though we are currently still in last place, no thanks to my 3 yard completion and complete laying out of some dude on the other team, we happen to at least excel at drinking games.

You know what goes great with beer?... milk chocolate bacon bars.

Top Ten

2009-10-12T10:46:00.003-05:00

Here's a little bit of a different take on the classic Top Ten post...

Top Ten things I’ve done while I was drunk:

10) Thought I was home every time the cab stopped at a red light and continually tried to get out

9) Lost all of my belongings and then hysterically cried

8) Unplugged the refrigerator when attempting to plug-in the air mattress pump

7) Somehow bent the key to my building in half and then promptly broke it in the door the next morning (this was this weekend...)

6) Made out with my friend’s cousin

5) Devoured a cupcake, got frosting everywhere, in my hair, on my watch, and left a trail of crumbs all over my friend’s apartment. The next morning, when seeing the mess I asked her “WHO eats a cupcake like that??” and she responded... “um, YOU.”

4) Decided to get out of a cab by my old apartment for unknown reasons... I live 50 blocks from there now.

3) Caught my heel on a bar stool and took a face first dive onto the floor in front of 4 male coworkers

2) Tried to use my license as a credit card to buy drinks

1) Took a nap on the bathroom floor of the Chinese restaurant at the Borgata

However, I have never stolen an ambulance... Yet.

The Daily Bailey

2009-10-06T11:24:00.003-05:00

I am quite advanced for my feline age. Don’t I look dignified and stately!? I may only be a year and a half old, but think about it, I’ve been through a lot in my short life. I’ve lived on the streets, struggled to eat, been captured, then captured again... Oops I meant adopted. Due to my rough upbringing I've got highly advanced street smarts and I definitely know when I’m being played. Last night something was up. I could smell something fishy in the air, which unfortunately was not my treats, and I sensed that revenge was going to be a dish best served cold... And hopefully alongside my food. And as I suspected, I was right... About everything but the food. Just as I was falling into blissful sleep on that beautiful comforter that I am slowly shredding, SHE started petting me and shaking my paw and carrying on “Bailey... Oh were you sleeping? I guess it sucks to be annoyed while you’re sleeping... Doesn’t this suck? I want to play. You should wake up and play. Isn’t this annoying? What are you tired?...” AH go away!! Are you kidding me wench? I really hate her sometimes...

If we’re being honest, I suppose I may have been slightly more annoying than usual lately and may have actually been somewhat asking for this retribution based on the fact that I jumped on her face while she was sleeping the other morning. Ok fine, in the interest of full disclosure, I jumped on her face AFTER I pestered her so much that she got up to feed me at 5:30am so that I’d leave her alone. Listen, I know I am making myself sound very unsympathetic here, but I like to come up on the bed every morning and climb onto the desk where I can proceed to knock things over and swat at everything. This is just what I do, it’s a fact of life. I do this every morning... Because I can. This particular morning she had decided to try to block my access to the bed by positioning herself by the edge. She thinks she’s crafty like that... So what was I to do? Let her win? In war sometimes there is collateral damage, and if that happens to be your face, then so be it. If you don’t want me to jump on your face... Then move your face. That’s not street smarts, that’s just simple logic...

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

2009-10-05T08:31:00.004-05:00

Today's awesome Queen of the stupid ship is the woman killed by her pet black bear while cleaning its cage. I am not at all the least bit surprised that yet another genius has been brutally killed by their pet wild animal. Anytime you hear the phrase "pet bear" or "pet lion", you can almost be guaranteed that the outcome is not going to be pretty. My general rule is that if the animal is bigger than me, it is not considered a pet. Haven't these people learned their lessons yet? On what level is this a good idea? What exactly is the need to have a 350 pound black bear as a pet anyway? Can you take him for walks? Take him to a bear park? Play fetch? Let your friends pet him? What do you do with him when you go on vacation? Ask someone to bear-sit? Take him to a bear hotel? Seriously people. If you want to have a pet that you can't do anything with, I highly suggest a stuffed animal. They are just as fundamentally useless, however their love will not maul you and eat your insides...

Who Knew?

2009-10-02T08:54:00.003-05:00

"The case has been described as perhaps the most serious terrorist plot uncovered in the U.S. since 9/11. However, experts said Zazi, who is being held without bail in New York, had the means to kill scores of people — not hundreds or thousands."

So based on logic, and I like to think of myself as a decently smart and logical person, I'm going to say that the construct of this sentence leads me to believe that a "score" is more, a lot more, than a hundred or a thousand. Although, who uses "score" to describe amounts besides Abraham Lincoln? So, what is a score? A score, according to Wikipedia, is a multiple of 20. Four score, is 80. The terrorist could have killed people in multiples of 20? Aren't hundreds arguably multiples of 20 too? But alas, according to the free online dictionary, "score" also means large numbers of people. Who knew? Large numbers of people that are divisible by 20? Couldn't we have chosen a word that doesn't have multiple numerical meanings? Like, massive amounts of people? or a lot of people? lots and lots of people?

The Daily Bailey

2009-10-01T08:32:00.003-05:00

So I just joined this Catbook thing on Facebook. If you’d like to request me as a friend, ask my assistant (HER) how. I don’t really understand how it works or why there had to be a distinction and I couldn’t just be on Facebook. I mean, I have a face too. If it was called Humanbook, then fine. But clearly I am just too smart and too up on my internet technologies (hence this awesome blog I commandeer). I am like the Al Gore of cats. I also happen to be an avid user of iTunes. My iTunes library consists of really exactly what you'd expect. The original Broadway cast recording of “Cats” (best musical EVER, I’m talking EPIC. When it comes back to Broadway, oh and it will mark my meows, I am SO auditioning for the part of Mr. Mistoffelees), some sweet jams from that cat who plays piano on YouTube, Paula Abdul (mainly due to her affiliation with MC Skat Kat, otherwise that bitch is crazy), and a little Cat Stevens. Not many surprises there. However, I also dig a little of that cool kat Michael Jackson (even though I’m not really sure he ever liked pussies). Specifically that tune that goes “I always feel like, somebody’s watching meee...” I hear ya Mikey, I feel the exact same way.

I am watched all of the time. What does SHE think I’m going to do? Create mischief? I do nothing of the sort. Can’t a brotha try to break into the garbage in peace? Why you gotta know where I am at every minute? Gosh you are SO needy. “Bailey, what are you doing? where are you..?” Doesn’t she think that I ever just want to be afforded a couple minutes alone to lick myself, eat bugs, or read a cat-alogue in the litter box? Just because I run to the door every time you come home, does not mean I am stoked to see you. Maybe I am trying to escape and continue my precious alone time. I’m kind of a loner, ya know a nomad, they call me the wanderer. I’m a little mysterious, don’t really like to be tied down... I’m starting to think we might need a little space. I think maybe you should consider moving out... Just be sure to leave the food...

Top Ten

2009-09-30T09:24:00.003-05:00

Guns OK in Arizona bars starting Wednesday

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Welcome to the literal wild, wild west.

9) In some NYC bars, based on old cabaret laws, there are signs saying “No dancing allowed” which is totally no fun at all. Who thought based on a new law, we could end up in a bar with a sign saying “No firearms allowed”? Which is apparently totally also no fun.

8) Who needs darts when we can instead have target practice?

7) Someone thought this was a good idea? Gotta love the NRA.

6) This gives a whole new meaning to “taking a couple shots”

5) Good luck being the bartender and having to cut someone off...

4) Because I’d totally feel comfortable going home with a dude I met in a bar who had a Glock strapped to his belt.

3) Alcohol and guns. I see this ending well.

2) Charlton Heston just did a little dance in his grave.

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

1) Plaxico will have somewhere to party when he gets out of jail.

Pigskins in blankets: The results

2009-09-29T09:15:00.002-05:00

Uhh so yea, we got killed. I think it was something like 55-6. I mean I guess at least we scored at all? To give you a taste of exactly how bad we were, here were the highlights from Saturday:

I aptly named one of our "plays" the Clusterf*ck.
Our best player was someone's brother who was visiting from DC for the weekend.
We played the black team. Mainly that descriptor was based on their shirt color, but it worked on more than one level. Basically we might as well have been playing a prison team. and they took no prisoners. They had some girls that I wouldn't ever want to encounter in a dark alley.
A guy on our team took a football to the face... TWICE.
I had a very decent catch and carry!!!

It's gonna be a long season...

Pigskins in blankets

2009-09-24T16:45:00.000-05:00

A couple of years ago, my office participated in a coed dodgeball league. I joined the team because it sounded like fun and a good bonding experience for myself and my coworkers. What I didn’t realize was that the games were all the way on the Upper East Side (ironic, considering I now live one block from there, and can see the school from my apartment window), and that this may be fun, but it certainly wasn’t for fun. The other teams were damn competitive and some of them even had mouth guards. They definitely were not messing around. After I saw one of my coworkers nearly have her head taken off, I called it quits. Effectively attending one game. Go team!

I’d basically given up on group sports, until a weekend in Fire Island when one of my housemates asked if I wanted to play football. I thought he meant to have a catch, but he apparently meant to literally play a game. Surprisingly I wasn’t that awful, so I recently joined a coed touch football team. Oh yes, you heard me correctly. The first game is this Saturday... I really hope we have matching team mouth guards...

The Daily Bailey

2009-09-17T13:53:00.003-05:00

Ever notice how when you spend a lot of time with someone, you start to do similar things? Like when girls hang out a lot and they start to get their periods at the same time. Not that I’d know anything at all about that. Just because I (forcibly) had my balls cut off does not make me a chick. I am a man. THE man. Mr. Man, as SHE’s apparently taken to calling me lately, along with a smattering of other completely inane and degrading names that I will only answer to if the words “want to eat?” come after. We are not married. You do not get to call me by stupid lovey dovey names and completely emasculate me (that’s pretty much been taken care of already). I know you think I’m cute and all, and I am slightly in touch with my feminine side (see above mentioned lack of balls that I clearly do not have a complex about), but I refuse to be talked to like I am an adorable ball of (the softest) fur. It’s through no fault of my own that I’ve been saddled with these sad puppy dog eyes that make you think I’m all deep and junk. I am actually quite shallow and rugged dammit. I’d go hunting and hiking and come back covered in mud with dead things in tow... If I was allowed outside. So I’m putting my paw down. This shit stops now. Stop calling me Bailey Bails. And Boo or Booter, Booter Scoot, Scooter McBoo, Scoo, Mr. Scoo, or Bestest Buddy. My name is Bailey. And if you say it with a little growl in your voice, that is the due I deserve. Oh and next time you’re out, can you get me one of those fancy sleep masks (preferably a frilly one that says “frisky”), because the light is really bothering my sensitive eyes. You can get yourself one too, since you clearly do everything I do...

A trivial pursuit

2009-09-16T14:10:00.003-05:00

Recently I’ve started attending trivia nights with some of my friends. As expected, I am truly terrible at trivia (although somehow really awesome at the Trivial Pursuit iPhone game because it's multiple choice). I was useless at television trivia, only able to pitch in to help name soap opera couples and the Saturday Night Live theme music. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an episode of 227 or even heard of a game show called The Joker’s Wild. I was slightly more helpful at 90’s trivia, able to correctly identify The Barenaked Ladies in a crappy B&W photocopied picture, but unable to recognize a quote from the movie “Reality Bites.” The only random trivia I’d excel at, would be Jessica trivia. But I doubt that would be very exciting for anyone.

Trivia is like the mah jongg or bingo of the almost 30s set. I go to socialize and eat dinner because it’s a fun and different thing to do. At 90s trivia, I ordered the macaroni and cheese. Everyone else got salads or appetizers so I was already feeling slightly like a huge pig, but when the waitress asked me if I wanted the appetizer or dinner portion, I just went for broke. She mentioned that the dinner portion is actually quite good when it’s reheated and she usually has enough to eat for days. So when it came and I realized that I could easily house the entire thing in that one sitting (since I have no problem admitting that I’ve eaten an entire Family Size box of Kraft cheese and macaroni by myself on many occasions), I encountered a conundrum. I began to eat it very slowly, practically one macaroni at a time... All the while wondering how embarrassing it would be to finish something that someone else eats for days. Days? I mean c’mon it wasn’t THAT large. Luckily after I’d made the decision to not care if the waitress thought I was a binger, I found a gnat baked into my mac n’ cheese, and that was the end of that.

What is Jessica’s favorite macaroni and cheese variety?
a) Kraft spirals
b) Kraft regular
c) Velveeta
d) Trader Joe’s frozen
e) Super Mac
f) All of the above

Top Ten

2009-09-15T13:20:00.006-05:00

New tool to fight syphilis? Wal-Mart gift cards

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) I’ve never been to a Wal-Mart in North Carolina, and I wouldn’t do it even for a $50 gift card.

9) As if just being sure you did not have syphilis wasn’t enough of a reward.

8) Do you have to test positive to receive the card? Because I could really use $10.

7) This would only work in the South. In NY, it’d have to be a helluva lot more alluring of an offering. Like VIP access to the exclusive sample sales. Women would be lining up around the corner to get tested.

6) Get tested for the syph to get $10 toward the new Miley Cyrus Wal-Mart exclusive album. Now we’re talkin...

5) Simply because it came along with the above photo in which pictures of girls with STD’s were posted on a wall for everyone to see. We need to bring that back... And yes it looks suspiciously like my sorority composite, but we were SDT not STD. Get it right.

4) This whole financial incentive thing is really getting out of hand. Next it’ll be Cash for Chlamydia...

3) So the gift cards fight the syphilis. That sounds painful doc... Can’t I just get a cream or something.

2) Whitney Houston is pissed that the syph is trying to steal her comeback spotlight. And I think Kanye is going to say something about it. (sorry, I had to)

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

1) I wonder how Wal-Mart feels about being pimped as an incentive for venereal disease testing? Oh that’s right Wal-Mart had no comment because they don’t care. Wal-Mart is a whore. Wal-Mart probably already has the syph.

The Daily Bailey

2009-09-14T11:15:00.003-05:00

As I sit here typing to you fine people, I am pondering the meaning of “curiosity killed the cat.” I’ve heard the saying of course, but I really don’t believe it. I think it’s simply a glorified cat scare tactic. I mean I suppose I almost did light myself on fire once, but that’s nothing that a little child wouldn’t do also (I heard her talking about putting child locks on the stove). Why do I get so much crap for it? I like to explore. Deal with it. And there isn’t much to explore in the palace that I live in. I’ve been under the bed. It’s just okay. It’s dark and full of plastic boxes containing even more clothing than is in the closets that I am not allowed to explore. I’ve been on top of the refrigerator, in the refrigerator, and in the shower. But I’d never been behind the television! Every time I climb on top of the tv I get screamed at or sprayed with water. But Saturday morning at 7am, while SHE was sleeping, I managed to successfully get back there and let me tell you... It’s amazing. It’s like my own little fort! Fort Bailey. The Fort of Bailey. I like the way that sounds. There are cool wires back there! And SO much dust! I love it back there! I am going to stay back there forever... Shit, I’ve been found out...

Now I am definitely in trouble. SHE looks mad... And slightly panicked that I am stuck back here. She keeps calling my name in angrier sounding voices, but I really don’t want to leave my fort. So she starts shaking my favorite toy and it’s making that bell sound... And I might be caving... Nooo, I am staying. Then, ohh, uh oh, I hear my treats coming out of the cabinet!! Okay you win wench! Here I come!!! What? No treats and she’s going back to bed?? Damn, she fooled me. I am SO going back into my fort, the hell with you. So back I go, and again I hear my treats... And again I fall for it, vacating my fort and leaving it wide open to enemy attack. I am such a sucker. My fort was attacked! When I try to sneak back in, I see there’s a blockade at the entrance. What the hell is this? What am I supposed to do now? I guess I’ll just kill and try to eat this bug I found by the front door. Hey! Where are you taking my bug?? What do you mean “we don’t eat bugs”??? Ugh, she takes away all of my fun...

Fantastic Federer

2009-09-14T09:40:00.002-05:00

When I was younger, we had family friends that were Greek. They were crazy. We went to their house for dinner once and they put what was probably 4 pounds of pasta on my plate and then chided me "what's the matter with you, you don't eat??" Another time in my driveway, I was bet $50 that I couldn't make a backwards basketball shot. Of course, none of my attempts were even remotely close, until he left. Then I made it.

I will now practice this shot for the rest of my life. I love you Roger.