The Triumphant Return of LOLPunk

Tuesday Picture Dump + The Changing of the Shoes III

I'm guessing that this, the third installment of the changing of the shoes, is the most inversely interesting topic of this phlog. That is, I like it and it's not likely that anybody else does. So what! This time I got a little more artsy.


Finally! The return of LOLPunk, this time as a multiple amputee


And Patrick, after recovering from his night of pouting and getting out of a cab because the driver had taken an illegal left turn,


And also finally got to look at pictures from Catie's wedding last month. First Ana was gonna fight her


But they made up.


Later, the girls all pointed at her.


Look at this ragtag bunch of knuckleheads!


Catie's mom was excited about devouring us all.


Last but not least, the picture that wins:



Oh yeah: dudes also dance back-to-back at weddings sometimes.

Coming Soon: Pegacorn Punk

I talked about doing this a long time ago and now it's finally gonna happen.


The lightning bolts from the eyes are a maybe at this point. It's mostly up to this dude.

Punk's Relaxing Sunday

Insert Your Own lolcat Text

Punk is indeed enjoying the new place.

Back and Killing Things Indiscriminantly

New camera is everything I dreamed it would be: it takes photos and allows me to seamlessly transfer them to my personal computer. In short, what people used to dream about. Today I took it out for a spin.

First, I took a bad picture of Ana stretching in preparation for eating pho:


Which may sound weird unless you knew that she was going to fill her belly with cow tendons and raw steak:


After that we went to see Senior at Rusticles, where she is "cocktailing". Since she was lolligagging around southeast Asia a month ago, she sees this development as a bummer. We see it as funny. Ha, ha! Dana, you're bummed!


When we got home, my copy of Mac OSX 10.5 LEOPARD was waiting for me. Of the 300 new features, the only one I am likely to use: new backgrounds for PhotoBooth! Look! Four pictures of me as if I were underwater!


Then I remembered that there's this new cat in the house. I was pretty sure she was still alive, but I thought I should take some pictures to convince her former owner. Look, former owner! She's even eating!


She loves being photographed. I've heard that's the case with kidnap victims.


Such a pretty cat. Aren't you! AREN'T YOU?!!


Oh yeah, there's other, older, fatter cats still in the house.


Also, there are also dudes ready to go out on the town.


BONUSBONUSBONUS A drawing of Ana and me (in my best Don Martin style) from a long time ago that I just re-found:


(She added the unicorn crying blood.)

Novella Friday

Clean little narratives don't just create themselves, people. Sometimes you have to put things together and let enthalpy figure it out.

CHAPTER ONE

The other night we got home and there were a few signs that something was afoot:

1. There is a backpack that must belong to a dude.
2. There is an iPod.

What can be happening?!


Empty can of Schlitz malt liquor is happening.


Snoop on vinyl + Starbucks has been happening.


I totally figured it out at that point though because there's this dude that works at Starbucks that we know and I have this picture of him:


Evan: You're welcome.

CHAPTER TWO

All the anger and violence toward sea bugs from a couple days ago wasn't just for funs. It was for eating!


Ana made four sauces to make the notoriously dry, tasteless lobster meat come to life.

1. Cerrano pepper something sauce
2. Mango chutney something sauce
3. Roasted tomato something sauce
4. Cerrano pepper something sauce with mint (mint is gross to eat so she made two separate batches-one for people that like to eat gross things and one for people that don't)

Then we each ate the equivalent of two lobsters and passed out for six hours.

CHAPTER THE FINAL

Cats!

Punk has taken to sitting on this empty Budweiser case outside of PJ Winkleman's hovel. It gives her a more advantageous vantage point, what with the elevation and everything. She likes to sit there and stare at PJ or where she thinks PJ may be. I'm pretty sure Punk has gone blind, for serious.


Blind people walk toward shiny things, right? Like big flashes of light?


Anyway, so this morning I was at the store and the guy that works there was all, hey, you're early today, as if it's any of his business, but I was there like five hours earlier than normal and I wanted to say yeah, it's hard to keep sleeping when new cat is peeing on you, but I thought he wouldn't have understood and it probably would've been really depressing for him when all he was doing was being nice.

In other news, new cat almost used the litter box this afternoon.

I'll let you put the pieces together.

She's also not allowed in the bedroom for the time being.

In place of the bedroom, she's building a bomb shelter:


BONUSBONUSBONUS you're gonna get some more of this


and maybe a dash of this (Vegans with guns! Eep!)


come Monday. Git ready.

Les Jeux Sont Fait. Translation: The Game is Up.

So my friend moves to Paris (France) and can't take her cat, and since we already have two (with cats the number is irrelevant until you get to four--look it up) and hers happens to be my cat's niece (the bloodline is established), she figured that family is family so now we have three cats.

My cat (Punk) is old and has taken to acting like a cat version of Miss Havisham, and has possibly taken to drink. Were she interesting in such things, she would probably be wearing torn lace garments and smoking from a filter. Hopefully she will not burn our house down and kill us all.

We already introduced a new kitten a year ago, one Pedro Cerrano, to which Punk has finally warmed but never completely accepted publicly, so I figured that the addition of a fully grown cat might pose new and interesting results. So far, here's what's happened:

Sunday, 1pm: PJ Winkleman (new cat's name) arrives. Other cats sequestered in bedroom. Winkleman enjoys new environs until she notices multiple other-animal smells, proceeds to find hiding place.

Sunday, 11:30pm: PJ Winkleman has possibly burrowed under floor of house in daring escape attempt.

Monday, 2:30am: PJ Winkleman's whereabouts unknown.

Monday, 3:00pm: Cats again sequestered in bedroom, PJ ventures out into the open, discovers litter box, uses litter box.

Monday, 5:00pm, Other cats released, discover foreign use of litter box, proceed to stare at litter box for 12 minutes.

Monday, 5:12pm: Punk (my old cat, the aunt) discovers PJ's hiding place-->


and proceeds to stare at PJ for 7 minutes, until I take this picture. The flash must have been some sort of cue, because Punk then jumped into PJ's stronghold and attempted to "fight" (Punk has no front claws and even less experience fighting) with her (who has claws) by flailing blindly in the air until I tap her tail and she runs away as fast as possible and hides in the windowsill. Well played, old cat!