Repost of a Guest Post on Suburban Kamikaze, August 7, 2011
You Were Promised Kittens...While the SK is away...
HA! I'm in. 
You were promised kittens. And kittens you shall have. But first, have you ever wondered what it would be like to be the Suburban Kamikaze? I know I have always longed to know what it would be like to sink my toes into those fabulous size six shoes. (I'm guessing at the size here, though I can tell you from experience, fabulous shoes only come in size six, at least where I shop.)
You would think she would have chosen a guest blogger who actually has a blog. You would think she would have chosen someone funny, erudite, deep and charming who, resarches each topic thoroughly and can spell. You would think she would not have left the keys with someone who will undoubtedly leave them out in plain view of that joy-riding Boy Esquire and his pal. She clearly knows, after many years of missed PTO meetings and muffed middle school fund raisers that I will forget to water the plants, feed the fish, stock the pop tarts or lock the door. You would think she would have, at the very least, left the combination with someone who would not take her threat of posting kittens literally.
And, you would be soo wrong.
Because it is a huge responsibility, keeping the SK's blog going while she is in Paris trying on designer lingerie and walking those pretty heels into the cobble stoned ground. I have to keep the foot-traffic up and the complaints down. And we all know there are only two things that keep people coming back to your blog. That's right, Porn and Kittens and while the two are not mutually exclusive, (think Cat Woman) for the purposes of today's blog, we are going to stick to the pussy cats.
You want proof, you say, that the internet literally runs on kittens? Here is my favorite quote from a somewhat obscure movie called the Social Network, which didn't have any zombies or cowboys or aliens, but still wasn't a complete waste of two-ish hours:
"K.CSeven different people spammed me the same link.
KC's Friend: What is it?
K.C.: I don't know, but I'm really hoping it's cats that look like Hitler, because I can never get enough of that."'
So, in the great tradition of Facebook, which, in case you have been living in some library somewhere, is the top ranking social network on a list I read once, and is storied to have gotten its start based nearly entirely on its algorithm for ranking girls, but surely not in a bad way, I give you the point of today's blog, which may soon become the veritable point of your entire existence, excluding of course your MW2, Black Ops and tweet time----
And there is more. You must have a playlist to go with this very dangerous link, because, hey, if you are going to waste spend time ranking kittens, then you gotta have the right tunes...
Now go away. It is time for my nap. 
You were promised kittens. And kittens you shall have. But first, have you ever wondered what it would be like to be the Suburban Kamikaze? I know I have always longed to know what it would be like to sink my toes into those fabulous size six shoes. (I'm guessing at the size here, though I can tell you from experience, fabulous shoes only come in size six, at least where I shop.)You would think she would have chosen a guest blogger who actually has a blog. You would think she would have chosen someone funny, erudite, deep and charming who, resarches each topic thoroughly and can spell. You would think she would not have left the keys with someone who will undoubtedly leave them out in plain view of that joy-riding Boy Esquire and his pal. She clearly knows, after many years of missed PTO meetings and muffed middle school fund raisers that I will forget to water the plants, feed the fish, stock the pop tarts or lock the door. You would think she would have, at the very least, left the combination with someone who would not take her threat of posting kittens literally.
And, you would be soo wrong.
Because it is a huge responsibility, keeping the SK's blog going while she is in Paris trying on designer lingerie and walking those pretty heels into the cobble stoned ground. I have to keep the foot-traffic up and the complaints down. And we all know there are only two things that keep people coming back to your blog. That's right, Porn and Kittens and while the two are not mutually exclusive, (think Cat Woman) for the purposes of today's blog, we are going to stick to the pussy cats. You want proof, you say, that the internet literally runs on kittens? Here is my favorite quote from a somewhat obscure movie called the Social Network, which didn't have any zombies or cowboys or aliens, but still wasn't a complete waste of two-ish hours:
"K.CSeven different people spammed me the same link.
KC's Friend: What is it?
K.C.: I don't know, but I'm really hoping it's cats that look like Hitler, because I can never get enough of that."'
So, in the great tradition of Facebook, which, in case you have been living in some library somewhere, is the top ranking social network on a list I read once, and is storied to have gotten its start based nearly entirely on its algorithm for ranking girls, but surely not in a bad way, I give you the point of today's blog, which may soon become the veritable point of your entire existence, excluding of course your MW2, Black Ops and tweet time----
And there is more. You must have a playlist to go with this very dangerous link, because, hey, if you are going to waste spend time ranking kittens, then you gotta have the right tunes...
Are you still here? Ok, then, Little known facts--what Hollywood good/bad guy relies entirely on his cat to do his hair?
Another little known fact-- Justin Bieber? Totally stunt voiced by his dog, which explains a lot, really:
Now go away. It is time for my nap.
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