Posts tagged cats
Misao the Big Mama and Fukumaru the Cat: A Photo Essay that will probably make you call your grandmother
Meet Misao, an 88-year-old Japanese farmer, and her nifty-eyed ride-or-die companion for NINE lives, Fukumaru.
Misao found Fukumaru (“God of fuku”(good fortune) + “maru”(circle)”) abandoned in a shed on her property as a kitten. She decided to adopt it, and since that time they’ve been inseparable.
Misao’s granddaughter, photographer Miyoko Ihara, has been documenting the her grandmother’s life for 13 years — and thank goodness for her efforts.
The photos in her new book dedicated to the pair are stunning and the story they tell is as heartwarming as it is gutwrenching.
“Partly because they are both hard of hearing, my grandmother and Fukumaru are always looking into each other’s eyes. They’re really close,” Miyoko said in an interview with Nippon.com “Fukumaru is so happy and contented at my grandmother’s side. When I take a picture of the two of them together it’s like I’m photographing myself as a little girl.”
I was bawling by the time I got to this one (spoiler alert: the cat doesn’t die. I just tear up easily when it comes to animal things.)
You can buy Ihara’s book here for 3,800 yen. Worth every penny (yenny?) imho. Apparently, it’s taking Japan by storm.
In other cat related goodness THIS:
Happy day after Caturday.
Brace yourselves, 80′s babies — here comes another stake into the heart of your childhood… Don’t shoot the messenger (with your duck hunt gun, pyaw!)
Blowing into Nintendo cartridges “to get the dust out” may not actually have made them work better.
I know, right? It always (okay, sometimes) worked for me too.
Take that for what it is while I stare blankly at my laptop screen for a while…
Alright, I’m back. Now let us movie on… to Henri!
We’re like Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, him and I… minus all of the weird sex stuff. Minus any of the sex stuff. I love kitty cats, but not like that. Why would you even suggest that, you sickos?
He dropped a new YouTube video today after a newspaper in Seattle asked for his views on politics:
Vote Tuxedo Stan for mayor of Halifax!
I know that this was supposed to be a tongue-in-cheek piece, but hot dang if Edward Keenan didn’t go all Edward Keenan on us with his magical words and powerful facts, legitimately convincing me that Toronto should probably separate from the rest of Canada.
Think about it. We’re bigger than Nicaragua.
Better yet, listen to new Toronto’s national anthem (by Donovan Woods):
Oh, Toronto, I’m pretty sure I feel at home.
Well done, Mr. Woods!
It’s been two years, last month, for me as a Torontonian. It feels like I’ve been here so much longer. It’s safe to say I’ve never fit in better anywhere, in any city before. I wonder if that has more to do with who I am now than where I am now… but sheet, you don’t care. I don’t even care. Let’s get back to the important things:
Saline forehead injections are a thing now, sort of. Read all about that here… I already wrote about it once today and I really don’t think I can spend 5 more seconds looking at body modification trends today.
Saved by the Bell is on. A really old one, where the gang struggles to study for Testaverde‘s midterm. I’m going to go do some homework meself! Prepping for a talk on Saturday. Check it oot if you’re in NEPA!
Laurenoutloud.com does not condone the kicking, punching, or otherwise physical harming of animals (shaming, on the other hand, is all good.)
That said, this video might be the coolest effing thing I’ve seen all week:
Moral of the story: fashion, I think.
I wrote about viral videos more than usual at work this week. It was a good week for the YouTubes, ya know?
A few of my favourites:
- Gangnam Style
- Invisible bike helmet
- The beat-boxing beauty queen
- HOT CHEETOS & TAKIS (warning: total earworm.)
That little girl rapper totally jacked those moves from me. I swear to Hov, that’s EXACTLY the way I dance when I’m out with my friends on the town — which is exactly what I did last night. And the night before that, too.
So sleepy… fading fast… but first — WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?
No, no worries Amurrica. Your education system is just fine.
One more video for y’all. Well worth the wonderful, wacky watch if you like watermelons and weird guys:
Time to continue recovering now. BRING ME MY RANCH DRESSING HOSE.
P.S. – Happy Caturday
Where’s my snare? I have no snare in my headphones…
Ah, there it is. Much better. Imagine the rest of this blog rapped over a beat. This beat, maybe. Is that creepy? I really like that beat.
From the brilliant lasses and laddies at Comediva, comes a brand new fake product that, truth be told, I kind of hope becomes a real thing. You know. For the lulz.
Presenting, CAT SPANX:
I’m not going to name any names here, but if a certain orange someone happens to find a pair of these under the Christmas tree come December, I wouldn’t at all mind helping that theoretical orange someone put them on… and if a certain orange someone justs happens to read his muh-muh’s blog today and has a colour preference, blink once for purple. Twice for pink.
There are no other options.
I pitched the Cat Spanx story at work today and then had to have an awkward conversation with our entire team (all male) about what Spanx are. Go me. I wrote about dinosaurs instead
I’ve got to go now. Worked late. Gymmed late. Late to meet my friends, and now I’ve got to jet.
Please enjoy my current jam, Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean, and this balmy Thursday evening homies
P.S. Weezy is giving up rapping to become a skateboarder. Yeah, I know.
Forgive me for getting heavy, homies, but this graphic gots me to thinking. And sometimes, thinking gets me blogging.
Hey hey, wouldn’t you know — it’s just that easy fellas!
For real though, why is it that all of the rape-prevention discourse is geared toward potential victims in this society?
“Don’t wear skimpy clothes dear. Don’t go off alone with a stranger. Don’t walk around by yourself after dark. Always carry a whistle!”
What ever happened to “Hey son — don’t force sex upon a person who doesn’t want it.”
Right? This has been circulating around the EffBees lately. Just think on it. She’s right.
In other news, I’m on the front page of Reddit right now (for a completely random reason) which is the Internet kid’s equivalent of being named the homecoming queen and the prom queen and the corn fair queen and the queen of the Nile at the same time. Fancy an upvote?
PS: Skynet is becoming self aware. Fortunately, it’s just as obsessed with cats as the rest of the internet. *phew*
Moar villanous movie cats herrrre, John Connah!
Love always, STRESSED OUT BUSY HEAD CAN’T WAIT FOR THURSDAY O’NEIL!!!!
Why are you reading my stupid blog right now, son?
Quantcast shows me that the greater majority of you do NOT hail from the cold, dark bottom of the sea and thus, are experiencing a really nice sunny day right meow. I tried blogging last night but went for a rollerblade instead. I tried to blog this morning, but hung out with my grandparents instead. I could blog now, but FRIGIT, I’m going for a bike ride.
I just took that with my mind.
Now please, make like I’m not doing at the moment and get off of your dang computer. Go double-fist pop and water on a Queen West patio while you laugh at hipster-wannabes from the 905
Is there anything lamer than somebody who consciously tries to look like a stupid hipster? Spends a crap-load of money on fedoras and high-waisted jean cutoffs? I mean, aside from someone who sits at home making fun of people on her blog?
Black Market’s got those shorts for $10, girlfriend. You can buy 8 pairs for what you paid at Urban Outfitters. Don’t even bother with the fedora, please. It’s been obnoxious since 2009. You’re not Joey Jeremiah.
Buy a bamboo Raiden hat for $3 on Spadina. They’re the next big thing, I swear.
Go rollerblading or something. Go shop for a jean jacket in Kensington market.
Try on a denim vest. It’ll remind you that denim vests went out of style for a reason.
And, if you really can’t go out and play (ie; you jumped out of your treehouse into your family’s new pool to impress every kid in your neighbourhood who just happened to be there, but at the last minute another kid yelled out that your epidermis is showing and you freaked out because you didn’t realize that EPIDERMIS means SKIN (HA HA!) and you accidentally fell onto the ground instead of into the water, which totally broke your leg) read all about Belgium’s cat festival, Kattenstoet.
I was in Ypres in 2000, but not for Kattenstoet. I didn’t even know yet that it existed – or that Belgians at one time threw cats from belltowers, either. The horror!
I will be there again in 3 years for the cat festival, mark my words.
There. That makes up for me missing Caturday, right?
Haiyo from Tickory!
This is what happens when you go grocery shopping after a very long day on very little sleep and are also a weirdo:
Want to do this yourself? Here’s the Metro pranker’s step-by-step guide:
1. Take paperback romance novel from book and magazine section (it’s near the pre-made sushi, sort of…)
2. Embed said novel among cat foods of choice.
3. Stand back and proceed to laugh hysterically — way harder than any normal human being would dare to laugh under the circumstances. Laugh until your eyes water and you can barely breathe. Pay no attention to perplexed / horrified onlookers.
Oh, come ON. Cat people have a sense of humour too! Romantic novel readers, I’m not so sure… but it’s all in good fun right? It’s not like I did this:
Thank you, Mr. Blythe.
In all seriousness, I’m feeling a little bit unfulfilled right now. In life.
I’ve got to start doing more of the things that make me feel hyper and happy and good about myself. My friends and family say I’m happiest where there is humour or a microphone involved, so I’ve resolved (again) to do more comedy. Standup, sketch, streeters, Youtube rants — anything. Performing gets me high like nothing else.
At one time, writing was where I found my flow, but that was long before words became the means to my most basic ends. My “breadwinning skill”. Surely, it was pre post-grad. Highschool. I fancied myself quite the poet.
Music and Dance are also up there on my list of “things to get back into”. Don’t even get me started on the list of things I’d like to try (Circus workouts, After Effects, urban exploration, trapeze, rock climbing, sewing, screen printing, dog walking) — though, how could you get me started, really? I’m writing at a screen. Noooobody hoooome!
*sigh* this unrelenting need to DO and BE MORE is likely the root of my unhappiness. But what’s the root of that? Whatever. One day at a time. Step by step.
Step by step, day by day, a fresh start over, a different hand will play… shikka me shaaa ka shikka me shaaaay… We’ll make it bettah, the second time around…
Take a second to actually watch and judge that video in its entirety. Doubleyoo Tee Eff, right? Like, I’m assuming the fat woman with the cotton candy is a wise-cracking cafeteria worker or neighbour or something (I don’t really remember who she played because, regrettably, I haven’t watched Step By Step for at least 12 years) so why the heck is she at the amusement park with the principal cast members on the very day Suzanne Somers and Patrick Duffy meet and instantly decide to live happily ever after together? If I’m wrong and she’s actually another step sister or something, well… sommmebody got lucky with a chubby-chasing casting director, AMIRITE?
I wonder if there are any casting directors out there who like skinny blondes chicks. HOLLAH. I want to meet Patrick Duffy. Here’s my demo reel: