Picture Things

So I've been knee-deep in the a little consumed with lolcatz lately. (But none of that silly "cat talk" full of intentionally-misspelled words like teh and hai and kitteh. That's a disgrace!)  This sudden craving for feline photos is, in the words of the wise Fergie: "so 2000-late." Consider me a soccer mom who got obsessed with Beanie Babies last year.

But I digress.

I found the perfect art for my all-too-bare walls.

It's unclear whether this is Morris, the 9Lives cat, or some supermodel cat who lives in a château. Whoever it is, (s)he's brilliant.

I'm serious.

I initially approached this picture with a snarky why-the-hell-would-someone-own-this and today find myself approaching it with a dear-lord-why-didn't-i-buy-that. Grab a dry-erase marker and just make your own Lolcat on the fly. Let your friends jot down a lolcat greeting when they visit on Thursday night. Hell, let them draw penises all over it (don't think I don't know who you are).

So I've effectively established that "Morris Posing Sexily" (the official title of this photograph) needs a place in my house. Not so much for this next one.

What do Jimmy Smits and Dennis Franz have to say on behalf of milk, you ask?

Turns out roughing up punks ain't really necessary. On account of most guys and gals hurt themselves by not getting enough calcium. So reach out for 3 glasses of milk a day. Your body will thank you. Especially if we don't have to tell you again.

Okay, that's a pretty nice slice of the late-'90s. If eBay's slew of search results to the query "milk ad" are any indication, the only reason I'm not seeing more badly-matted Milk advertisements in thrift shops is because everybody is hoarding them at home. (Is this you? You may need help.)

Now for a classic.

...Made considerably less respectable by the dated frame and the fact that the reflection of the fluorescent fixture makes her facial expression somehow more smiley. (I may have just added that last bit for dramatic effect. Or it may be true because I say so.)

Neeeext!!

Aw, sad panda.

I actually picked up this piece of trash admirable cross-stitched letter "C" with the intention of buying it for my friend Cheryl who is a reported beast in the gymnasium. (No, that's not a sexual joke. But it should be.) Someone -- ahem -- seems to have dropped it. That someone was torn for a moment between her dedication to the idea of "you-broke-it-you-bought-it" and her knowledge of "i-visit-you-enough-and-blow-enough-money-on-tchotchkes-like-this-[now-]broken-one-that-no-one-is-going-to-buy-anyway-that-you-can-just-let-me-have-this-one".

Is that a bad philosophy?

Maybe you prefer something more along the lines of "it-was-only-$2-which-really-doesn't-put-anyone-back-to-work". Or perhaps you would rather look down on me for it for the rest of our relationship (be it forever and ever or just until I put a period at the end of the statement that I'm eventually going to finish making right now).

Look down on me, then. I'm shorter than many people.

Well, folks, that's all I've got. Get prepared for tomorrow, when we'll look in on some pretty epic album art.

*Fun Fact: The word "folks" feels like syrup in your mouth.