Top Ten

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.

Don't Look a Gift Card in the Mouth

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

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?

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.