Cute Overload :D
Oh man, I really tore it up at the office party this year. I told my best jokes, and I danced with all the ladies from Accounts Payable (ooooohh yeeeeeaaaah…).
I might have had just a teeny bit too much to drink, though…
Awww, he looks like a little angel when he’s passed out, Alison D.
Listen closely for the tiny, precious chomping noises! Jump to the HD site to get full effect—I can’t embed the large one here for some reason!
Krista R., excellent kronches work.
Mabel is – how should we say? – eccentric. Has been, ever since those red-tailed monkeys accidentally clocked her with that Frisbee they whittled out of that Acacia bark. She wasn’t seriously hurt, thankfully, but the hit definitely rattled something. Like, it’s especially odd when she licks our horns and says, “Well, that’s the best darned drumstick I’ve ever had!”
Mabel is as Mabel does, Mari P.
(Man, this is the sweetest babysitting gig ever. The kid smears the food on his face, and I get to lick it off. I hope he managed to get some dessert on the other side.)
That’s got to be the cleanest baby in history, Samantha M.
Damn it, Carl! Did you just eat peanut butter-covered anchovies? You know how allergic I am! Well, when you’re driving in rush hour traffic to take me to the emergency room, I hope this moment will be worth it for you!
My God, Florence. Have you no control? I can’t even give you a simple hug without you blowing your backdoor trumpet. And no, calling them “misdirected burps” does not make them more endearing.
There has to be a way of getting out of going to Carl and Francine’s dinner party. Those two are bad enough, but throw in Florence and Hank…? I’d rather sit here alone and count cinder blocks.
Photos courtesy of AP/San Diego Zoo/Tammy Spratt; AP/Martin Meissner; Reuters/Jason Lee
[blues licks, y'all] Dah dwee da dump.
I woke up this mornin’ (dah dwee da dump)
And went back to sleep (dah dwee da dump)
Cause starin’ right at me (dah dwee da dump)
This big wrinkled heap (dah dweedle da dump) (etc.)
Twenty tan and black towels
Just a pile o’ wet fuzz
One little pink sock
Told me right where I was…
I’m in the washroom, baby (back in the washroom, baby)
I’m in the washroom, baby (back in the washroom, baby)
I’m in the washroom, baby, face down on the flo’
(dah dwee da dump, dah dweedle a dump, dah dwee-aah)
And Miss Miranda H. Mama…
(all stop for a four-count)
…She don’t need me no mo’
[harmonica outro, repeat chorus, big finish]
In an amazing series of photos, a fearless rat stared down a mighty leopard–and the leopard blinked. While the puzzled cat sniffed and watched, the rat helped itself to the leopard’s steak dinner. Be sure to read the full story at the Mail Online.
I’ve had nightmares like this before, John L. (I’m always the leopard.)
…thank you for being my soulmate. Before you entered my life, I’d tried them all: Round jingling thing that hides under the sofa, pink squeaking porcine animal replica, black clacking object that joins papers at one corner (actually, you really want to keep your tongue away from those things)…
But they just don’t understand me the way you do, my diagonally alternating friend. And that’s why this time it’s — dare I say it? — really love. I love you more than any cat’s ever loved a hastily-manufactured red-and-white stripey cloth bag.
That’s some serious sandpaper on that tongue, Nancy H.
Lesson Twelve: When confronted with a truly challenging sales assignment, such as a Ponzi scheme, or cans of chemical-laced swill, the savvy marketer will reach for his secret weapon: The cute puppy.
Simply by placing a cute puppy in your advertisement, you will reduce the brains of your readers to a quivering puddle of Tapioca, rendering them helpless to your diabolical suggestions.
Musssssst … haaaave … Pepsi, … Amber S.
