Have You Lost Your Marbles?

Were they a sparkly, shiny, impossibly perfect shade of green?  If so, “Soupie” is using them for eyes, and you can’t have them back, so neener.  But what you can have (and you may want to take a step back, lest the cuteness knock you clean out of your cubicle) is the jaw-dropping, heart-stopping power of the…

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CUTE OVERLOAD ULTRA-EXTREME EYE, NOSE, AND TINY TOOF-HANCE!

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Photo by Ryan F., submitted by Janna V.

There’s A New Chef in Town

First of all,  just looking around in here, I can tell that I’m gonna need the 12-quart stock pot. It will run you about 600 bones, but I don’t want to hear it. Oh, don’t give me that look – I’ll have my sous chef wash out the pot.

Whack-a-Chilla

Second, what’s with the beans? Don’t get me wrong, I’m brilliant, so I’ll be able to whip up something exquisite for your guests, but where’s the veg? Would something a little leafy in the pantry kill you? And don’t get me started on your electric cook top. I don’t know how you expect me to cook in these conditions.

Ta-Da!

Joan of Arc Spicy Chili Beans, Kate O.?

I Am Not Disorganized!

Seriously, I’m so organized, it’s scary:

  • I always wash myself in a set pattern (right leg, left leg, right arm, left arm);
  • I sort my dead mousies by length, then by color, then by tail-to-torso ratio;
  • I sleep in the same sunbeam every day, using a weighted algorithm factoring seasonal solar variance against known shade points to determine each day’s optimum floor position and angle of exposure.

So why do people keep saying I’m disorganized?

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I dunno, Pam W., just a feeling.

On the Next Episode of “Real Penguins of the Jersey Shore”…

You get a nice look, guy? You get a big ol’ eyeful? You trying to get her name? Well, her name is Mine, understand? Why don’t you just step off before I peck your face in, a’ight?

Once again, Gary forgot the key element when flashing...his trench coat.

Penguins wearing wife beaters and black chains are always trouble, Sarah W.

Because It’s There

Day 17:  I have established base camp at the foot of the treacherous south face, whose sheer, forbidding vertical surface has claimed many an explorer before me.  With the monsoon storms just days away, I must make every precious minute count as I inch my way to the fabled Ceiling of Coyolxauhuiehecatl — and history.

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I claim this post in the name of Erin C.!

Mabel’s Birthday Conundrum

… and so, Mabel settled down in the straw and enjoyed the new scarf her older brother had given her.  But still, her brother’s knowing smirk filled Mabel’s mind with troubling questions.  For instance, why was she dressed just like a baby?  And why was there a baby dressed just like a lamb earlier that week?  But these doubts paled next to the most worrisome question of all…

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Was this scarf knitted from someone I know?

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Spotted at the Bendigo Sheep and Wool Festival in Victoria Australia by kelebek.  More here.

You Could’ve Listened, But Nooooooo

I warned you I was allergic to that shampoo, but did you believe me?  Oh no, not you, think you know everything, don’t you?  Well, now my face is melting, so let’s hear your clever idea for fixing that, Vidal Buffoon!

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Your “Gary” has the (echo effect) Jowls of DESSS-tiny, Heather Y.

Break Out the Pitchforks and Torches!

Washington, D.C. — Outraged legislators renewed calls for banning human-animal hybrids after researchers at the Frankenstein Institute for Extremely Scary Science announced the creation of a “lambaby.”  According to a spokesperson for an angry mob that stormed the Institute, “arghle grumble blaarphle rhubarb rhubarb!”

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I have just one word for you, Brynne M.: PASICKIE!

Oh, I’ll Wait

Heeerrrrrre, birdie, birdie, birdie. At some point, you’re going to need a drink of this niiiice water I brought you. Maybe not in the next minute, maybe not in the next hour. But I’ve got alllllll day, boys, and you’re the only thing on my calendar.

Unfortunately he realized too late that he was waiting for woodpeckers.

The early cat gets the bird, Karen M.

Kitten in the Keys

The piano is my forte, and I love to lie down in it,
It suits my laid-back at-etude, I don’t care how you spinet.
When I’m keyed up, can’t stay upright, life’s tempo gets too taxing,
I lie for just a minuet, and presto! I’m relaxing.

I’m never too Bizet to take a nap where notes are rolling,
When melodies float like the breeze, this console’s quite consoling.
So play whatever song you like; Chopsticks to Clair de Lune-a,
For where there’s a piano, I expect piano tuna.

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We all octave a kitty like that, Kristina V.

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