Pets In Jest||My Cactus Speaks

Greetings, People of the Universe. It is I, who was formerly known simply as “Cactus.”

Here’s a picture so you can gaze upon my beauty.

The little man at the bottom is Bob Ross, renowned artist and professional Best Friend.

Arachnid was too lazy to write a post for today and Spinette is in Hawaii (that lucky duckling) so she put me on the keyboard and told me type. It was difficult to figure out how to, but I’ve managed with my spikes.

Since she was being so very rude, I feel no remorse for being potentially mean to her. Her being Arachnid.

By the way, I have a name now. But before we get to my name, we must define I. Who am I? I am two beings. The cactus with the flower and the cactus without the flower. Technically, I am a we. But my two parts have merged at the roots so far that we has become I and ours has become my.

Completely against my wishes, Arachnid has given me two names nonetheless. The half of me with the flower will now be referred to as Sergeant Spike. “Sergeant” was recommended by Kiersten and “Spike” was thought of by mainepaperpusher. I actually quite like the name. Sergeant makes me sound important. I know that I am important (I am stopping global warming and saving the world), but now everyone else will know that I am important as well. Spike is also brilliant because in real life I’m quite fuzzy and quite insecure about that fact (I probably shouldn’t be saying that on the internet) and the name Spike makes me sound tough. Which I definitely am. I am tough. Do not question it.

So you marshmallows should go comment repeatedly on their blogs and tell them that they are amazing at naming cacti. It is a coveted skill.

The flower-less part of me is to be called “Captain Cactus,” a name thought of by Arachnid. Unlike Kiersten and mainepaperpusher, she is not the best at naming cacti. I mean, she called me Cactus for months! How would you like to be called Human? AWFUL. IT’S AWFUL.

*Deep breaths Sergeant Spike, deep breaths*

I’ve decided to ignore Captain Cactus to get back at Arachnid. I will not respond to Captain Cactus, just as I didn’t respond to plain Cactus. I AM A REBEL.

AND MY NAME IS SERGEANT SPIKE.

I will tell you all of Arachnid’s secrets.

She is a neglectful plant owner. She doesn’t water me until my soil is dry and crumbling to pieces.

AND

AND

When she brought me home from the store, the lady told her that I was in a temporary pot and that she had to put me somewhere bigger because my roots would outgrow it. BUT SHE NEVER DID! SHE LEFT ME IN THERE AND MY ROOTS HAVE NO SPACE. We used to be two cacti, but now I am one for lack of space. And then I got so top-heavy that I kept falling over, so Arachnid’s brother got me a new pot (because Arachnid couldn’t be bothered), but instead of putting me in that much-roomier pot, she just put my current pot in the bigger one so I wouldn’t fall over anymore. BUT MY ROOTS STILL HAVE NO SPACE.

I could grumble about her for ages, but she’s coming back now, and I have to publish this before she forces me to lie.

Gum

My favorite flavor of gum is cinnamon, of course. Everyone should love cinnamon gum. (I also have cinnamon toothpaste.) A close second is mint-flavored.

I hate fruit-flavored gum. Just…Ew. Watermelon is the worst. Watermelon is like a combination of a random lifeguard’s stolen fruity perfume/cologne and all the mushy bits of watermelon that no one likes.

I also despise bubblegum-flavored gum, but it’s located a hairsbreadth above fruit on my gum list. I used to chew Bubble Dubble a lot, though. Bubble Dubble’s bubble-blowing capability is superior to all other gums (but the flavor sucks).

I remember once, in second grade (second grade was an intense year), I discovered this new type of gum. I’ve only had this gum once in my life (that time in second grade), but it’s still my favorite of all gums. So anyway, it was sour on the outside and obnoxiously sweet on the inside. But it was the perfect amount of obnoxious to be lovable. But the thing that truly made this gum shine was its bubble-blowing potential. It’s way better than Bubble Dubble.

It was green.

Anyway, so I was chewing this gum and I blew a giant bubble. It was the size of my head. It was brilliant. It was amazing. It was wonderful.

I quickly went to show my parents my terrific bubble-blowing skills before it deflated.

It popped on the way and covered my entire face with gum.

…

It was in my hair.

I just couldn’t get it out.

 

I remember chewing that gum for a ridiculously long amount of time before that final pop. I wanted it to last as long as possible because there was only one piece. It tasted horrible. It was probably for the best that I was forced to let it go.

---

So now let’s get to the whole point of this random post.

GUM ON THE FLOOR/STREET/GROUND/ETC.

It’s despicable.

We all hate it.

It’s worse when it’s inside a building.

We’ve all ruined our shoes.

Our prized flip flops.

SO STOP!

 

~~~END

Lays Potato Chips: A Rant || (And Netgalley)

This was inspired by a post of Spinette’s that I found in the trash. So yeah, credits go to Spinette.

So before I rant about Lays Potato Chips, I going to rant about Netgalley for a bit (a really little bit, don’t worry. You’ll get to your grease slices soon enough.)

So I was going to finally sign up for Netgalley today (Well, yesterday, when I’m writing this) because they have Tess of the Woods on there, a book I really want to read but hasn’t come out yet.

So I filled out all their blanks and then it asks for my birthday, so I’m scrolling through the years available, and it stops at 2000.

ARACHNID RAGE!

You have to be 18?!

People younger than 18 like to read, too!!

(A note: The lower limit of the years was 1918. What about all those 101-year-old book reviewers out there? Can’t they participate either?)

 

Okay, okay. Lays chips.

Hmm…

What if I do this rant thing in the form of poetry? I’m practicing my poetry.

 

Warning: Bad Poetry Ahead

Lays, oh Lays

A bag three-quarters full of air

25% chips

You’re ruining the world

Polluting the Earth with excess plastic

 

You’re terrible in ways more than one

People crave your misleading snappish crunch

And fill themselves up with grease and salt

 

Oily fingers

~~~~End

 

(My favorite chips are Pringles.)

Pockets: A Rant

I am a girl. Therefore, I wear girls’ clothing. Girls’ clothing includes pants.

PANTS THAT DO NOT HAVE FRONT POCKETS!

It is an abomination!

I am a pragmatist. Therefore, I like things that are practical. Pants that do not have front pockets are not practical.

To clarify, our pants do have front pockets, they are just FAKE. As in, you can not put ACTUAL MATERIAL POSSESSIONS in them. Only imaginary material possessions fit in these imaginary pockets. But what is the use of imaginary material possessions in an actual world?

As our pants do not have front pockets, we are forced to use our back pockets, which are absolutely minuscule. So if we somehow manage to stuff all our material possessions in these absolutely minuscule back pockets without ripping the entire pocket off, we are still forced to sit on our material possessions. What if your material possession happens to be a black hole encased in glass that would devour the entire world if the glass were ever to shatter?

Since we have no place to put our material possessions, we girls are forced to carry around inane mobile pockets called purses to tote our belongings. They are incredibly irritating and they get in the way of everything and you always have to watch out for purse burglars. If only we had actual pockets. It is quite difficult to steal a pocket.

An absolutely marvelous idea is presented in Keeper of the Lost Cities by Shannon Messenger: What if pockets were on your ankles?

Wouldn’t that be spectacular? It would solve all problems! Front pockets could be fake, but you’d still have a place to put your material possessions. And, as a bonus, you wouldn’t have to sit on your stuff (which is absolutely absurd, by the way), which means the world wouldn’t be devoured by a rampaging black hole!

A note to fashion-people: Make pants with pockets at the ankles.

Mavis Dee also makes a lovely addition to this worthwhile argument about the imperative lack of pockets which you will find by clicking on the word “link”.

Link