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Category Archives: Comics
Kitty Litter
I adopted a beautiful cat named “Bop” last week. He is affectionate and playful and I just adore him! However, I have come to realise that he has some issues regarding his toilet skills – in that, he has none.
Now, I can’t prove it, but I’m almost positive this is what must have happened this morning.
Ghost vs Zombies
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Cockroach
Cockroaches don’t last long in my house…
…but they do make for great entertainment!
Here’s an extreme close-up of the poor little guy.
How To Get Revenge On Your Cat
Lately my cats have been getting on my nerves. It’s just little things they’re doing – like dragging blankets through the house (my blankets, not theirs), stealing the dog’s food, play-fighting on the couch – so violently that couch cushions end up all over the floor, scampering across the kitchen counter and just being generally irritating.
They have, in fact, been so annoying lately that I am starting to wonder if they have some kind of beef with me. There is a lot of debate on whether cats can be vengeful or not; some people say yes (mostly cat owners) and others say it’s not possible for a (non-human) animal to have an emotion like revenge. I tend to lean towards the side of hell, yeah, they are!
It started me thinking… what if I decided to get revenge on my cats? Of course I wouldn’t actually do that, but if I did…how would I go about it? Here’s what I’ve come up with so far…
How to get revenge on your cat
1. Cats are attracted to boxes like moths to a flame. Put a giant empty box in the lounge room. The vengeful part? Make sure it is completely sealed.
2. Keep the door closed to just one room of the house. It will soon become the only place your cat wants to be.
3. Eat bacon in front of them.
4. When cats encounter something new in their environment it really freaks them out. Put an object in a place where there is normally nothing (like the hallway). It doesn’t even have to be anything scary-looking; for example, a lamp will do nicely.
5. Borrow an annoying puppy for the day.
6. Deny access to your lap.
Minecraft and Stuff
Can anyone relate?
Two minutes later…
Scenes like those led to me saying things like this…
(I
I really didn’t get the appeal of the game at first, but as I have been forced to learn all about it I am starting to see why he loves it so much. It allows him to be extremely creative; it’s a little like playing with blocks, but on an epic scale and with some pretty cool twists…also, I don’t go crippling myself on blocks or spend half my life picking them up at the end of every day and that’s always a bonus.
While researching for my son’s Minecraft-themed birthday party I found this video of a guy who had built an incredibly impressive house, but when he tries to install a fireplace, things don’t quite go to plan. Trust me, it’s hilarious.
How To Make Everyday Afflictions Seem More Dramatic
When you’re a hypochondriac it can be rather difficult to get your family and friends to take your health concerns seriously. I mean, they’ve heard it all before, right? I figure there are many of you in the same boat as me, so after giving it some thought I believe I have finally come up with a new way to garner sympathy and coddling from your loved ones. It simply involves dressing up your words a little bit.
For example, you can make a hangover appear more legitimate (thus evoking more sympathy from others) by referring to it as “veisalgia”.
Painful cramps? Not anymore, now you have dysmenorrhoea!
Pins and needles?
Feeling itchy is for commoners!
Hayfever Shmayfever!
If you ever want to simply perplex your loved ones, try this…
…and lastly, may I present the ultimate excuse for not going into work…
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go because I have some major obdormition happening in my arse cheeks!
I’m a Murderer
When I was little I loved all animals and insects. In fact I loved them so much that sometimes I accidentally loved them to death.
Like when I fed my fish – day…
and night.
It was months before my parents realised what I was doing and we had gone through countless fish (and backyard funerals).
Then there were the skinks.
I could never understand why they didn’t seem to live very long in their little skink houses. The homes I created for them had absolutely everything a skink could ever want! Grass…dirt…water…
When I was a little older I spent a whole day trying to help cicadas out of their shells – partly because I was impatient and partly because I knew they had such a short life span. I just tried to get them out into the big wide world as quickly as possible.
There were no survivors, but I learned my lesson and never tried to hurry them again.
There was one particular incident, however, that haunts me to this day.
When I was about six I discovered a little nest in a small tree around the side of our house. I was absolutely beside myself as I had never seen a nest that close up before, let alone looked inside one. I was dying to take a peek at what I imagined would be a nest full of cute little baby birds.
The tree wasn’t much taller than me and I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to climb up and have a peek inside. The only problem was, the mother bird was always sitting in it and I didn’t want to scare her, so I left it alone.
One day I came outside to find the mother bird gone.
I couldn’t quite see inside the nest, so I tilted it slightly towards me.
I got to see the three most beautiful little eggs tucked cosily among the twigs and leaves…
for about one whole second before they toppled from the nest and smashed upon the ground.
I was a monster.
I felt so guilty that I didn’t go around that side of the house for many months – I couldn’t bear to return to the scene of my crime. I also had paranoid fears that the mother bird would know what I had done and peck out my eyes with her little beak.
But that was all a long time ago – I was just an innocent, curious child. I shouldn’t carry any guilt for those unfortunate accidents.
But I do.
My Epic Pimple
I know that complaining about a pimple belongs in the first world problem category, but this was no ordinary pimple – as you will soon discover.
It all started one night when I was getting ready for bed; I noticed a small, hard, red lump forming on my chin. I get them every now and then – blind pimples – no biggie, right? Sure, they’re sore and, if you squeeze them, can get a bit unsightly, but if you leave them alone they generally disappear within a few days.
It took every ounce of self-control that I had, but I resisted squeezing it – even though it got slightly bigger each day.
After a few days I realised it had started to diminish in size. In another day or two it would be gone and, for the first time in a long time, I had resisted the temptation to squeeze!
I had won…
…or so I thought. When I woke up the next morning my pimple had redoubled its strength and come back to kick my arse.
It was about mid-week when I decided I just couldn’t take anymore – my pimple was still growing and I was tired of the horrified gasps of co-workers and the constant mocking from my children. I drove home from work like a woman possessed; I had only one thing on my mind…it was time to squeeze.
My family could sense the shift in my mood. They knew something was up as I walked through the house with purpose.
My daughter followed me into the bathroom. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
I will spare you the image of what happened next.
As always my regret was immediate.
My chin was so destroyed there was little I could do to hide it. I tried using makeup, but it never quite blended with my skin tone and only seemed to accentuate the pimple.
With no way of hiding it, I tried different ways of distracting attention away from it.
I tried garish clothing…
a push-up bra with generous padding…
giant earrings…
…but nothing could distract from the abomination that was my chin. I had to find a way to make this sucker disappear. Google led me to some kind of zit forum where people were writing about the wonders of tea tree oil. I figured I had nothing to lose at this point, so I begged my husband to pick some up on his way home from work. I waited impatiently for it to arrive and when it did I took it with grabby hands and slathered the oil all over my bleeding open wound – yes, I had squeezed it again. Then, I waited…
…and miracle of miracles – it dried up my pimple in less than an hour!
I couldn’t believe it! It was some kind of magical cure! So I dabbed my giant ulcer all night long, bathing it generously in the tea tree oil. To say I went overboard would be a gross understatement.
I awoke the next morning to discover that not only had my dried-out pimple turned into an ugly black scab, but I had also managed to burn the crap out of the skin surrounding it by using too much tea tree oil (which I have now learned was supposed to be diluted and applied sparingly with a cotton bud).
But don’t worry, I knew exactly what to do.
First world problems really are a luxury, click here to donate to the East African Appeal.
The Cicada Shells
As a youngster I was an enormous nature lover – I spent most of my days looking under fallen leaves for beetles and breeding tadpoles every rainy season – so it’s no surprise that Harry Butler was one of my childhood idols. I believed he was magical because every rock or branch he turned over revealed an animal of some kind. I wanted to be just like Harry and never missed his show, In the Wild with Harry Butler.
One day my dad and I were in our backyard when he called me over and pointed to a small creature attached to a tree. It was hideous. It looked like a cross between a tarantula and a naked mole rat.
To my surprise, my dad pulled it from the tree and held it out to me, as though I was supposed put my hand out to hold it. I looked at him like he was about to set me on fire and let him know, in no uncertain terms, that I would not be touching it anytime soon.
My dad tried to convince me that it was harmless, that it wasn’t even alive and was, in fact, just a shell. But it was the creepiest thing I had ever seen and I refused to go near it. I didn’t believe it was just a shell; I thought it was alive and perfectly capable of biting off one of my fingers.
After many minutes of trying to convince me of its harmlessness my dad gave me a choice: I could either hold the cicada shell or I wouldn’t get to watch Harry Butler that night. I was devastated – it was like Sophie’s Choice!
I thought about how repulsive the cicada shell was and how much I loved Harry Butler. I cried and pleaded with him, but he was resolute. I came to the conclusion that my dad was the meanest dad alive.
My love for Harry was so strong that eventually I closed my eyes, held out my hand and waited for my dad to drop the repulsive creature in it. Suddenly, I felt the lightest touch on my palm, it was like a feather. I opened my eyes and took a closer look – it really was just a shell! I was instantly fascinated. From that moment on I was the cicada queen (and I got to watch Harry that night).
Not only was I no longer scared of cicada shells, I would seek out the live nymphs, put them on my shirt and let them hatch on me. I would then wear the empty shells on my clothes like badges. Cicadas were the most fascinating creatures I’d ever encountered.
One day I found an unusually large amount of cicada shells on a tree in our front yard and instantly had an idea.
Dad, thanks for making me hold the cicada shell. Mum, you can blame dad for that one!
Flufflepot 