After a recent baby boom within my friends group, that I'm still trying to understand, I couldn't help myself and prepared this crazy cat lady's smug comparison.
Cats vs. babies
When cats wake you up, it's always about food. They might pretend boredom, but put their favourite dry food out and you can go back to bed.
Also, they don't care what time you go to bed. As long as it's not before the appointed dinner time.
If they stay in the bed with you, you can fall asleep knowing you will not squash them, cats have a 'falling on me slumbering human body' radar.
No nappies to change.
You can go away for one night and nothing gets destroyed when you're away. If something got destroyed, you clearly didn't leave enough food.
You can go out, whenever, without social services on your doorstep upon your bleary eyed return at stupid time in the morning.
You can work shifts, on call, whatever hours come your way and not feel guilty about neglecting your cats. You can always catch up on cuddles and attention at 2am when you get home.
No nappies to change.
Litter trays to change, sure, but cats produce way smaller amount of bodily fluids than constantly growing babies. Even after eating half a tray of grass. They also don't puke, pee or poop all over you, ever.
Feel free to retaliate, parents.
Thursday 5 September 2013
Tuesday 3 September 2013
Yet another British record set.
So, according to the latest figures, Britain has the biggest problems with addiction to opiates, such as heroin, and female alcoholism in Europe. Surprise?
Not really.
Heroin junkies here are treated like reasonable people who will get better with support and treatment I get offended when I see ads in papers warning these people to inject with caution cause there's been an anthrax outbreak recently. Because, you know, injecting who knows what into your veins is normally safe. I get angry when I have to wait in a pharmacy on methadone day, listening to them honking about where's the best place to get cheap Valium. I get even more annoyed when they come to the homeless assessment with a demanding needy attitude, people who have not worked one day in their adult lives, don't intend to and take all for granted.
And every Friday and Saturday nights there's scary packs of teenage girls and menopausal women roaming the streets of Scottish towns, filled with vodka and radioactive looking cocktails, with rage and idiocy, puking, falling over, starting fights, breaking glass, vandalising and screaming. I get annoyed when I have to jump over puddles of vomit and trip over unconscious kids on my way back home. When I have to get out of a way of a clucking hen party tottering down the middle of the road, slapping people out of their way. How are you supposed to not become an alcoholic if this is your idea of a good weekend since you're 13 years old until your liver gives up?
Great.
Britain's now not only a European capital of childhood obesity and credit card debts, but also a paradise for people who never learn to take responsibility for their life choices and understand that actions have consequences.
Communist style 'sober up chambers', where drunks and junkies were welcomed with an ice cold hose down to wash off lice and puke and then tied to metal beds for the night until they sober up and finally charged for this service, suddenly sounds like not such a bad idea...
Not really.
Heroin junkies here are treated like reasonable people who will get better with support and treatment I get offended when I see ads in papers warning these people to inject with caution cause there's been an anthrax outbreak recently. Because, you know, injecting who knows what into your veins is normally safe. I get angry when I have to wait in a pharmacy on methadone day, listening to them honking about where's the best place to get cheap Valium. I get even more annoyed when they come to the homeless assessment with a demanding needy attitude, people who have not worked one day in their adult lives, don't intend to and take all for granted.
And every Friday and Saturday nights there's scary packs of teenage girls and menopausal women roaming the streets of Scottish towns, filled with vodka and radioactive looking cocktails, with rage and idiocy, puking, falling over, starting fights, breaking glass, vandalising and screaming. I get annoyed when I have to jump over puddles of vomit and trip over unconscious kids on my way back home. When I have to get out of a way of a clucking hen party tottering down the middle of the road, slapping people out of their way. How are you supposed to not become an alcoholic if this is your idea of a good weekend since you're 13 years old until your liver gives up?
Great.
Britain's now not only a European capital of childhood obesity and credit card debts, but also a paradise for people who never learn to take responsibility for their life choices and understand that actions have consequences.
Communist style 'sober up chambers', where drunks and junkies were welcomed with an ice cold hose down to wash off lice and puke and then tied to metal beds for the night until they sober up and finally charged for this service, suddenly sounds like not such a bad idea...
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