Well, that explains everything.
Archive for January, 2013
Because really, the internet can never contain enough cat-related content.
MY HOUSE, INT, DAY. I AM TRYING TO DO SOME WORK. SHYCAT AND BOSSYCAT HAVE JUST DISCOVERED IT HAS SNOWED.
(BOSSYCAT RUSHES IN)
BOSSYCAT: Snow. Snow? Snow. Snow! Snow. Snow. Snoooow. Snow! It’s snowed. It’s snowed!
(BOSSYCAT RUSHES OUT AGAIN. SHYCAT SLINKS PITIFULLY IN)
SHYCAT: Something’s happened outside and it makes me feel like cowering under a chair.
(BOSSYCAT RUSHES IN AGAIN)
BOSSYCAT: Snow! Snow! It’s snowed! OMG you have to come and see this! It’s snowed!
ME: Yes, I know. It’s snowed. I hear you. Very exciting. Can I do some work now?
BOSSYCAT: Snow! Come and look! Snow! Snow! SNOW! Are you getting it yet? COME AND LOOK RIGHT NOW YOU GUYS IT HAS SNOWED AND IT IS AWESOME
(BOSSYCAT LEADS THE WAY TO THE BACK DOOR. EVERYONE CONTEMPLATES THE SNOW)
SHYCAT: The snow makes me sad.
BOSSYCAT: (RUSHING IN AND OUT OF THE DOOR) Look at the SNOW. It’s so AWESOME. This is so cool! I will now attack Shycat for no reason.
SHYCAT: I think the snow must be because my owners don’t love me any more.
BOSSYCAT: Does the snow mean it’s okay for me to hurk cat biscuits all over the floor?
ME: No it does not.
BOSSYCAT: I knew you’d be okay with it so I already did it.
ME: Oh for the love of –
(BOSSYCAT RUSHES INTO THE GARDEN AND KILLS THE SNOW. I TRY TO STROKE SHYCAT. SHYCAT CRINGES AWAY.)
SHYCAT: Does the snow have something to do with cat-boxes?
ME: Shycat, stop it. The cat-boxes are still in the shed. We’re not going anywhere today. Okay?
SHYCAT: YOU SAID CAT BOXES. I am not going to let you stroke me today because I think you are planning something evil.
(BOSSYCAT BOUNCES IN AGAIN)
BOSSYCAT: Hey, look, someone left cat-vomit on the floor.
SHYCAT: Perhaps if I sit under the garden table and let the snow drip onto my head my owners will love me again.
BOSSYCAT: Yay, AMBUSH!
SHYCAT: Having you chew my ears is the only thing that could make me sadder than I already am. I need to go off to the end of the garden now to sit in a draught and freeze to death.
BOSSYCAT: This is the most awesome thing I ever saw. That cat vomit really smells. You should clean it up.
SHYCAT: Although I am sad, I am also aware of how beautiful my glossy black fur looks against the pristine whiteness of the snow.
BOSSYCAT: (sniffing underneath the trampoline) I’m sure I left a dead bird carcass here a few weeks ago.
Posted in Great Moments In Retailing, Incredibly Weird Shit My Brother Found On The Internet, tagged cassandra parkin, great moments in retailing, incredibly weird shit, mumsnet, persun wedding dresses, this is why the world needs copywriters on January 11, 2013| 6 Comments »
Yesterday afternoon, while working very hard and not in the least bit conducting idle displacement activities as a substitute for actually getting words down on the page, Mumsnet circumstances beyond my control required me to click onto the following webpage:
Reasonable site structure, pretty dresses, models who look both beautiful and plus-sized, five minutes looking at potential wedding dresses for fellow Mumsnetters duly frittered, okay.
And then I read the lead-in copy:
“You must have been bothered by failing to get a plus size wedding dress to match with your fat body shape. Persun.co.uk will solve your problem and help you greet the arrival of the wedding. Plus size wedding dress on Persun.co.uk, you will never be regretful to get one. Welcome to our online store!”
That’s a direct transcription, by the way.
I don’t know an awful lot about selling wedding dresses, but I’m pretty sure the phrase “your fat body shape” doesn’t usually play a central role.
I mean, how the hell is this even a thing?
“Want the sweetly sickening badness of Marshmallow, but can’t handle the guilt of facing up to exactly how many individual pieces of the stuff you’ve shovelled into your face? Buy a single unit of uber-marshmallow gunk, and create the unconvincing illusion that really you’ve only eaten one!
For maximum satisfaction, spoon straight from the jar while alone in the kitchen, in the early hours of the morning. Concealing your shameful nocturnal snack by standing furtively behind the fridge door and using only its cold, lonely white glow for illumination. Then return to your bed for three hours of accelerated heart-rate and queasy self-hatred.”
“Oh, and don’t worry, folks. That strawberry flavour? Totally artificial. Nothing here will come between you and your slow, lonely quest for self-annihilation.”
We’re doomed, I tells you. Doomed.
Happy New Year everyone! And before we all get too smug about surviving the Mayan Omnipocalypse, here’s a little reminder that our dark Overlords are still watching over us and planning our imminent demise. Possibly through the medium of terrifyingly delicious bar-snacks.
On the other hand, the food’s excellent.