Bad Cat reminds us why she's named that. Constantly.

And ye, the Mighty Bad Cat was vanquished from the yoga mat, where she did desire to claw all that was dear to the practitioner, climb upon her contorted body and generally make a goddamn noisy nuisance of herself.

-AC2

PS: I (that's AC2) am in the midst of a 40-Day Yoga Challenge. Mostly I've been practicing at home because with two jobs (part-time obviously or I would already be rooming with Andrea Yates in the hill country) and the thesis deadlines looming ever closer, making it to public classes suitable to my practice level is something of a job in and of itself.

Enter YogaGlo, who have an amazing 15-Day Free Trial. I'm falling in love. It's dangerous. I've warned you.

It would be perfect, except for the damn cat deciding yoga time means cat time.

My life is hard.

Single White Feline.

From the couch of AC1 writes AC2. That's not confusing at all.

BBC Comedy reveals the startling truth as to why so many cat-owning women remain single:



Oh dear. And here he's just been proclaiming himself as my thesis coach.

-AC2

Our Lord & Savior, Old Gregg

In honor of Christmas, the Aquatic Cousins offer you the following:




A Very Bad Cat Christmas!

Merry Happy Tra-la-la to you and yours- whether yours is a very Bad Cat, a very Floofy Cat, your terrifying and/or loving family or a strange woman next to you at the grocery store making chicken noises while choosing eggs*. Also if you don't celebrate Christmas at all, just use it as an excuse to drink.

-AC2



*This actually happened to me, today.

Wake up in the morning feeling like I'm having a quarter-life crisis.

From the desk of AC2, Sparker.



Life has been kindof a total shitshow recently. I will give you the briefest of summaries and promise that this post, at least, will have a happy conclusion because it is not in the nature of either Aquatic Cousin to be depressive for long. We embrace, we deal, we move on. We tell the internet about it in the interim.

I would first like to have a moment of silence for the sudden and terrible loss of one Mr. Marmalade "Kitten" Jib-Sheet Parker Hansen. A true Aquatic Pet who loved getting in the shower and putting weird shit in his water bowl, he is deeply missed.

Here's to you, my orange fur-child. May you Scuba Cat in peace for all of eternity.

For the inevitable question: I will probably adopt another cat- stray or shelter- in a few months. There is no way I could do that now. Poor Mr. Kitten was not yet 5 years old and I mourn his giraffe patches and deluded "ability" to climb walls. He also enjoyed whiskey*, so pour one out for your orange homie.

My purse was recently stolen also- and although this mostly is an occasion in which you curse the badness of people around you and possibly your own stupidity, mostly you just revel in what a pain in the ass it is to replace everything you own of vital importance. Including your prescription glasses. (I hope the bastard who stole my shit is really blind and likes ten-year outdated Calvin Klein frames.)

This did, however, also give me the opportunity to get some new frames that are too hip for me AND I found the perfect company to give my hard-earned money to: Warby Parker. Why they are awesome:

• Buy a pair and they give a pair to someone in need
  
• Affordable as hell: $95 for frames and prescription lenses; only $30 more if you're blind as I am and require high-index lenses (so $125 for frames AND lenses, still)
  
• Shipping included (check out the Free Pledge)
  
• Return shipping and exchanges included
• You can have several frames sent to your home for try-on. For free. And return them. For free.
  
• Digital try-ons if you're of the instant-gratification sort
• Just look how fucking hip they all are
  

So: found the silver lining there and I'm excited about that, obviously. GO BUY SOME GLASSES. Or a monocle.

(The ones I chose. The monocle. Only $50.)

In other news, I am currently drafting up a boyfriend application for myself and AC1 since we seem to have dubious luck with men. What sort of questions should we include? I am thinking an initial response to Allie Brosh's Guide to Relationships would be a fantastic indicator of their ability to handle our individual as well as collective awesomeness. Also definitely the following questions:

A pretty accurate depiction of my daily thought process.
Art by Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half.

Preliminary Questions:

1. On a scale of 1-10, how romantic would you find the gift of a unicorn serenade in your inbox? (Note: the only correct answer is 7 or above.)
2. Imagine I were to gain a little extra badonk-a-donk. How would you celebrate this?
3. You have the choice of purchasing me one of the following gifts for my birthday. Which one(s) do you choose? A) God jewelery from James Avery. B) A gift certificate to clone Satan Cat. C) Regretsy Fuck Yeah Level 4 mug, in the stainless steel commuter style. D) A boxed set, collector's edition of Twilight. E) A boxed set, collector's edition of The Dresden Files. F) All of the above. G) Both A&G. H) All but A&G. I) Never B because The Universe would implode. J) socks
   
4. Can you cope with being associated/involved with a family to rival that of Arrested Development?
   
5. Short Essay Question: What does it mean to wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy?

Automatic Disqualifactions include:

1. Currently being in a coma
2. Non-ironic ownership and/or wear of Ed Hardy/Affliction items
3. Belief that the movie Troy was historically accurate
4. Belief that Sarah Palin is a legitimate presidential candidate/should be respected for her work in the realm of feminism
5. Disbelief in the magic and wonder of unicorns
   

I think that's a good working draft. Feel free to leave your contributions in the comments below.

-AC2

*No I was not an abusive pet-owner. I put my whiskey down once to apply makeup, and found the cat licking the ice cubes. . .while it was still full of whiskey. I took it away from him. I didn't even want to find out how expensive cat-rehab was.

ETA: A fun cousin adventure! I promised you one of those. Here's a sneak peek photo. This particular adventure deserves an entry of its own, methinks. ANTICIPATE.

Whence from an Aquatic Cousin comes. And cats.

To your left: "The Origins of Aquatic Cousin Two" or "This Probably Explains a Lot".

In the grand tradition of passing the Internet from mother to daughter, my mother delights in forwarding me emails that contain stories about/pictures of dogs, cats or chimpanzees. We take great delight as a family in creating "Monk-E-mails" (bless you CareerBuilder, for making this possible) and sending them to unsuspecting friends and relatives who most likely greet the offering with confusion and mild/mingled horror and amusement.

Today, for example, I finally got around to checking out a link to this article for Paw Nation (Something I'd probably entitle the newsletter about cats you know I'll be writing in twenty years when I'm a certified Cat Lady) that Mom had emailed me last week or so. . .and then realized that I had just read an ARTICLE about a website featuring nothing but cats, sitting in sinks. Literally, CatsinSinks.com. Maybe with a redesign this website would be more interesting, but so far I'm rating it far below LOLcats and their continual quest for cheezburgers.

Observe. Fig 1:

Here we have a cat, sitting in a sink. I, for one, would like some snappy dialogue with that.

Fig 2:

Definite improvement. Now we know what the cats are thinking.

Yes, this is pretty much what I do with my spare time when I have headaches and am skulking around the BDH of Aquatic Cousin One, siphoning off use of Internet and laundry facilities while she's being tortured by small children at work: rate cat websites. Ah, the glamorous life of those who work from home! Where may I order some self-discipline? And can it be combined in a capsule with Excedrin Migrane, because boy howdy have I needed some of that today.

My own cats are probably extremely angry at me because I haven't been home in about 24hrs. They have plenty of food and water and a clean litterbox, but this does not stop them from being vindictive little bastards when I am not there to give them attention all the damn time, like they are some kind of dogs. Last time I was gone for this approximation of time, I came home to an easy chair knocked over in the living room and angry cat vomit all over the couch cover. Ten days in Spain two summers ago bought me am armoire door half-torn off of its hinges so they could snuggle (and shed on) all of my sweaters.

The photo to your right is a perfect illustration of their respective natures; Gaia is laying on my chest on top of whatever book I was attempting to read for maximum GIVE ME ATTENTION BITCH-ness, while Kitten is barely visible in the background next to my copy of Watchmen, looking for all the world like he is dead or passed out.

Poor Kitten (true name Marmalade, but that is too many syllables for regular use) is semi-retarded; he thinks he can climb walls and once licked a lobster in its "face". He has also been known to scale countertops/the top of the fridge in a quest to drink from a cup that had bleach in it. Natural selection really has it out for that cat. Gaia on the other hand is an Egyptian Mau, dead smart, and uses her powers for evil. She also meows constantly which balances out nicely that Kitten has forgotten he has vocal chords/how to use them.

Another time I'll tell you about their old roommate Jung sa ya aka The Chubbers aka Fat Cat. Because I know you want more entries about cats, and cats that don't even belong to an Aquatic Cousin. (To relate this somehow back to aquatic-ness, I'll add that Kitten loves water. He lays in wait behind the toilet while I shower so he can roll around in the damp shower curtain when I get out. Apparently this is a holdover from whatever common ancestor of them/tigers was into water. Gaia, wholly smarter, only drinks it from her bowl. Kitten steals objects from me, especially hair ties and puts them in his water bowl. Delicious.)

Thus concludes today's entry about cats. I hope you enjoyed it. Mrow.

-AC2