No Tresspissing

I will now mark this territory! For my own scents of pees!

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Nairobi National Park. Photo by Marko Djurica. Via The Telegraph. Erm, yeah.

Don’t Drop the Nut

(OK, you’re almost home, just don’t drop the nut. In fact, don’t even think “don’t drop the nut,” because if you keep thinking “don’t drop the nut,” then you’ll get scared that you’ll drop the nut, and that’ll make you drop the nut.)


(But wait, if I tell myself not to think “don’t drop the nut,” then I really am thinking “don’t drop the nut,” because I can still hear “don’t drop the nut” in my head, which is what I don’t want, because I might drop the… ARRGH DARNIT DARNIT!)


Via traveling.lunas.

Feeling A Little Sheepish?

You FORGOT it’s National Farm Animals Day today…DIDN’T you.

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(Thanks to Melissa T. for alerting us to this site!)

OK, That’s It!

So, remind me.

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Why do we dress up squirrels?

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Why do we pose them in funny settings?

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Why do we put them in charge of bar-b-queing the snausages?

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Because squirrels are cute and some people have no cute mercy?

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. . . . .

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Again,

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Why? WHYYY?!

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Photographer Nancy Rose is out to kill us all! Via Buzzfeed.

There’s Birds, Then There’s Pichí

There’s cream puffs, then there’s Pichí.

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There’s Rolls Royce, then there’s Pichí.
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Pichí says, “Ahem. If you’ll permit me, there’s Rolls Royce cream puffs, then there’s Pichí.”
. . . . Silly Pichí, there’s no such thing as a Rolls Royce cream puff.
Pichí says, “There is now.”
  8412591030_1a23eb00bd_bFrom Ana F., “Hello, my name is Ana and I have a lovebird, it´s name es Pichí. He always live free with me in a small loft in Canary Island. My English is no good, but I´d like to show you some photos for your page. I hope that you like. Thanks you very much.”

Dog Day Afternoon

Cuteporter Kevin L. sent us this photo. “I was at the dog park and snapped possibly the cutest puppy ever. His name is Thomas.”

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Psychiatric Case Profile

Subject, as a result of a traumatic incident at a petting zoo, is now convinced he is a sheep. After staff consultation, it was agreed that treatment should be delayed until we had enough wool for at least a couple of sweaters.

And Then There’s Walter

According to his hoomin Rob D, Walter is all growed up now. Check hovers for banal pithy commentary.

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Blowin’ My Own Horn

Gather ’round, cool cats, and groovy chicks with ’em,
As I lay down a sound in syncopatin’ rhythm
Don’t play clarinet, don’t play trombone
My weapon of choice is an ice cream cone
The squares ask why, and I say “listen, fool,”
“To play hot licks, gotta keep your tongue cool.”


Via Kham Tran.

Whaawazzat?

Shhhh. It’s too quiet. There! That! Yeah! Mah ears don’t hear anything. But mah wheeskaires do!

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What was it, Square Pants Rudy? Maybe your buddies Coco, Tracy L. and Neith M., of Toronto know?

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