"No, this is like, ok, I mean, I was a buyer? Right? So this just like, not… this is, something’s really… this is not. Ok?”
When HuffPo puts up the same (extremely unimportant) story twice in a row, I swear it’s like a warm blanket to me.
The one thing that drives me nuts about this show is all the snappy banter. I understand that they have to make the show interesting, but if a guard came in and saw that you had smeared food on the wall, they would have thrown a bucket and scrubber in and not fed you again until you cleaned that shit up. They certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to talk about the food on the wall, or wait for you to give this quirky explanation. This is like a scene from Blossom or something, where the guard is playing the exasperated Dad character. It’s like, “Oh, Piper! What wacky antics have you gotten into now?” — An Ex-Con Reviews “Orange Is The New Black” - Arts Desk
Brooklyn Public Library at Grand a Army Plaza has a big stitched portrait of Hope Davis.
Obit of the Day: The World’s Oldest Cat
The average housecat lives 15 years. Poppy was above average - way above average.
Named “The World’s Oldest Cat” by Guinness World Records in May 2014, Poppy was born in 1990 when Margaret Thatcher was prime minister, George H.W. Bush was president, and Home Alone would win that year’s box office.
Poppy, who died at age 24 on June 6, 2014, was in poor shape at the end of his two-and-a-half decades of life. Blind and unable to climb down the stairs, the feline record holder was taken care of by Jacqui and David West and their two sons. (Mrs. West’s mother was Poppy’s previous owner.)
The record passed to Poppy after the death of Pinky, a cat from Kansas, who died in 2013 at the age of 23. The all-time feline longevitiy record is an astounding 38 years for Creme Puff, who was born in 1968 and died in 2005.
Sources: Guinness World Records, Daily Mail, and BBC
(Image of Poppy, the world’s oldest cat, is copyright of David Hedges/SWNS.com and courtesy of GuinnessWorldRecords.com)
Other animals featured on Obit of the Day:
Blackie, the world’s oldest male hippo
Elwood, the world’s ugliest dog
Lolong, the largest crocodile in captivity
Oliver, the therapy dog
Polo, India’s only gorilla
Shrek, the wandering sheep
I’m older than every cat.
"There is no last taste. The fourth stage of grieving is depression. The Goldfinch is over and you are a wastrel now, you must scavenge out the rest of your days reading about people you don’t care about and can’t believe in. Life is pain, Highness. For this penultimate awful crawl through the five stages I recommend nothing. Just watch TV, I guess.”
—Hannah Messler aka theoppositeofeasy for B&N, How to Get Over The Goldfinch
I’d just like to note that this opens with a comparison to Avatar.
Know what’s really cool? A *billion* pounds.
With my clothes under my arm I went into the bathroom. Fortunately Yngve had remembered to leave the water in the sink. I closed the door behind me. Lifted the toilet seat and peed. The pee was greenish yellow, not dark yellow as it often was in the morning. Even though I tried carefully to make sure all the drops fell inside the bowl when I shook myself dry, some landed on the floor, small transparent globules of moisture on the bluish-gray linoleum. I dried the floor with some toilet paper, which I threw in the bowl before pulling the chain. — Karl Ove Knausgaard, My Struggle: Book Three: Boyhood