Malingering’s World

The other day I was at the beach and noticed that people were dutifully bagging up and throwing out their trash, only to have the seagulls rip open the trash bags and scatter litter all over the beach. These birds are the clean beach antiChrist! They hate America! And Americans!

Seagulls hate the environment. They litter. They dump trash onto the beach and it kills wildlife.

Last year I went to “Coastal Cleanup 2009″ at the beach. The group leader asked what is the major cause of ocean pollution? I said SEAGULLS. She rolled her eyes and said storm drains. I think sometimes those nature lovers are too forgiving. Just because something is a living thing doesn’t make it not an asshole.

You have to wonder why they don’t have trash can lids on these things. Probably some pro-seagull union prevented it. Santa Monica tickets people for taking cans out of the trash for recycling but has no problem with seagulls pulling out litter just to make a mess. I think it’s disgusting.

I used to think it was just a narcissistic phenomenon, the same way we choose mates because their names have similar letters to ours, but now I’m not sure.

I am starting to think the dogs have a major influence on their owner’s style, especially when it comes to dress or use of hair products.

Anyway, I am going to try harder to look like my cats.

In case you didn’t see it, they have Milo’s photo on the Huffington Post. We’re going big time now!!!

Sharing your fork with someone…

And then letting him shit all over you.

I think it’s nice that people don’t make dogs walk anymore.

Though honestly, I wish I didn’t have to walk anymore. Like in WallE. I don’t see why dogs get it better than us.

I also think they should have to wear diapers, so they don’t have to dirty their paws when they need to pee. Maybe I will wear diapers too, so I don’t have to walk to the bathroom.

Anyway, point is, I wish I were a dog.

Just one more week until one of my most favorite annual events, the Santa Monica Cat show.

Where people of all shapes and sizes showcase their well-groomed pussies for the admiration of the public.

Where cats can finally have all of that brushing and bathing and training validated by an 11th place ribbon.

Where cat ladies old and young can come together in mutual admiration for those squishy-faced furry cats which fuck with my allergies.

Where squishy-faced cats can be molested by old men.

Where fake hair is not only commonplace, but quite possibly encouraged.

(I wasn’t kidding)

Where… where’s Waldo? Is that you?

Where size acceptance is key.

Where cats cry for their freedom from this superficial, vapid prison of criticism.

Where we can judge the young and innocent on their looks and not be attacked by trolls.

Where feline mani-pedis are run-of-the-mill.

Where people of all ages are mesmerized by talk of kitty eye-boogers.

And where demon cats gather to conspire about their take-over of the world.