Tag Archives: Random

The Pantyhose Roll-volution

The other day, one of my friends asked me if I ever wear pantyhose. After nearly choking on my lunch and exclaiming “Oh God, no!” I explained that there was no reason for me to wear pantyhose, since I’m not a bank robber, the Duchess of Cambridge, or a pregnant woman trying to avoid varicose veins.

I will admit that Spanx is an incredibly cute name for pantyhose, but it’s still pantyhose.

I remember the days when my parents would force me to wear pantyhose to church or fancy events. The worst part was having to get into those things.

Pantyhose

They were so tight. It felt like I was squeezing a condom onto a watermelon.

That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was dealing with the top of the pantyhose. The band would cut into my stomach, thereby creating these unflattering rolls of fat. I might as well have been a chain of sausage links.

“They’re a perfect fit for you,” my mom would say.

They were a perfect fit for a fetus, not me.

“They make your legs look nicer.”

Apparently ham hocks stuffed into matte nylon casings looked nicer than my natural legs.

My mom used to wear pantyhose almost everyday for work, and we tried to tell her that her legs looked better without it. Even the cat agreed, but she never listened.

Then one day, our old cat Speedo couldn’t take the sight of it anymore, and he took matters into his own hands:

SpeedoDestroyerOfPantyhose

Please do your part to save a cat. Ditch the pantyhose. Who’s with me?

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Filed under Silva Nuggets (Random)

Letters to Our Cat

This blog post is dedicated to all you cat people out there, and our blogosphere bestie, Cassie Behle (and her cat Chloe), who is unfortunately too busy with wedding planning to dedicate herself to her blog right now. Don’t worry Cass, we fully understand that wedding planning and dealing with diamonds and cake take priority over writing blog posts about cat crap and hairballs. We certainly do not want to see you turn into a crazy-old-spinster who dies and has her face eaten off by 50 cats. Yes, it happens!

Now onto our regularly-scheduled blog post: Letters to Our Cat…

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Dear Cat,

Effective immediately, you will stop going around the house as if you own it. You do not own it. We pay the bills. Stop annoyingly scratching at closed doors, turning on and off light switches, taunting the dog, biting the leaves off our plants, and eating our breakfast when it sits out on the counter.

If you cannot come to terms with this arrangement, we will be forced to evict you.

Sincerely,

Management (Your Owners)

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Dear Management (My Owners),

Effective immediately, you will stop telling me what to do. I don’t care if you own this house.

If you can’t come to terms with this arrangement, I will be forced to stare at you creepily in the dark every night while you sleep, pee on your favorite rug, vomit in your shoes, tear up your new bedspread, and poop in hard to reach places in the back of your closet.

Sincerely,

Cat

AngryCat

I have amazing resilience. I can stare all night and scare the bejesus out of you when you wake up.

Dear Cat,

You son of a @*&%#. You better sleep with one eye open, cat. One eye open!

Sincerely,

Management (Your Now-Very-Pissed-Off-Owners-Who-Will-Start-Forgetting-to-Feed-You-On-Time)

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Dear Management (My Owners-Who-Are-Now-Very-Pissed-Off-and-Own-a-Cat-Who-Is-Also-Now-Very-Pissed-Off),

I just used the litterbox and then cleaned my paws off on your pillows. I also beat up the other “sweet” cat that you make me share my room with against my will. FYI- beatings will continue until your attitudes improve.

Sincerely,

Cat

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Dear Cat,

We are throwing you out!

Sincerely,

Management (Your Almost-Happy Owners)

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Dear Management (My Almost-Happy Owners),

I scratched the hoods of all the cars parked in the garage. I peed on the wheels too. Since my diet has changed, I have also been experiencing intestinal discomfort. Hope you don’t mind the mess, but sometimes I can’t quite make it out of the garage in time, if you know what I mean. Can I come back inside?

Sincerely,

Cat

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Note: no further letters have been written at this time. Speculation is that owners are in therapy. Periodically, neighbors have reported seeing them running circles around their house, screaming and flailing back and forth in hysteria, chasing what appears to be a small–and very fast–cat.

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Filed under Furry Tales

One Smart Sister

Although my big brother would argue that I’m really just a sister of average intelligence, alliterative blog titles are so much more catchy. Besides, “One Retarded Brother” just didn’t have as much of a ring to it. Yes, critics, I know that the term “retarded” is no longer politically correct and is considered derogatory. That’s kind of the point.

This, my friends, is the face of a genius little sister. 🙂

First, I’d like to say mahalo to Michelle Gillies over at Silk Purse Productions for nominating me for the Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award (check out her blog… she is very witty, and I like witty). Michelle, the doggies are so excited to receive another award. If you were here, they would lick your face (and smell your butt). Luckily you live in Canada and will be spared such frivolities.

sisterhood

After receiving the Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award, I had some time to reflect upon sisterhood and what it means to me. I don’t actually have a sister, so everything I know about being a sister, I learned from my brother. I adore my older brother. He is the best big brother anyone could ask for, and I just can’t say enough about that dingleberry.

In the spirit of the lovely Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award, I’m supposed to share some things about myself. Instead of telling you how much I detest socks with sandals, or how I frequently choke on my own spit for no apparent reason other than a defective epiglottis, I figured I would share some things I’ve learned from being one mean mischievous smart sister.

  1. You can resort to violence (when no one is looking), and capitalize on your cuteness. During a fight with your sibling, hit as hard as you can while no one is around. Pull hair if feasible. When someone discovers you both, act like an innocent fawn tiptoeing through the tulips. Pout. Make your eyes as large as physically possible. Make your bottom lip quiver. Try to get tears to well up in your eyes. Think of something terrible if you need a crying prompt, like the time your cat died.
  2. You can always blame it on your sibling. Be smart about it. Don’t just point at your sibling and triumphantly yell “It’s his fault!” after an incident. Cower away from everyone and act as if you are having an anxiety attack. When everyone rushes to you out of concern, stutter “It-it-its hi-hi-his fau-fau-fault!” and then burst into tears if you can manage it.
  3. You can use blackmail to get what you want. When you see your sibling smoking with his friends, make a mental note. The next time your sibling refuses to let you have a bite of his cheeseburger, nonchalantly say “Do I need to tell dad about the time you…” Trust me, you won’t even need to finish that sentence before you are savoring that cheeseburger.
  4. You can use the child abuse hotline to your advantage. If your sibling starts to yell at you, and threatens to hit you, simply shout “I’m dialing!” If your sibling looks confused, clarify that you’re now old enough to know how to use the phone, and you have the child abuse hotline on speed dial.

I bet Michelle Gillies is really regretting passing me this Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award now, eh? 😉 Don’t worry, I’m redeeming myself by passing the honor to one of my blogger sisters, Addie over at Betwixt and Between, who happens to be way cooler and nicer than me.

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Filed under Best Things We Learned, We Learned from...

A Tribute to Mayo

Every time I see a bottle of mayo, it makes me smile.

And, not just any mayo: the Best Foods mayo. It is truly the best.

I blame my infatuation with mayo on my Hawaii upbringing. The Hawaii locals love their mayo, and they can put it on just about anything. I think that I disgust most people (who aren’t from Hawaii, of course) with the amount of things on which I am capable of putting mayo. For instance, I can make a salad dressing out of it as a vegetable dip. I also enjoy mixing it with mustard or ketchup to go with french fries. And, when I put it on a sandwich, I really lay it on thick.

There are times at the dining room table when I am eating something with mayo on it, and the hubby just stares at me with one of the following facial expressions:

MikesFaces

It is usually accompanied by a sigh.

I assume that he is having one or more of the following thoughts:

  1. She is going to die of a heart attack before the age of 40.
  2. She is going to turn into a big fatty who will stay home all day and soak herself in a tub full of mayo.
  3. I can barely stomach my own meal while watching her slather her food with mayo like that.
  4. That mayo cost me six bucks a bottle, and she just ate two bucks.

In the past, the hubby has tried to sneakily swap out my regular mayo for light or generic mayo for my sandwiches, but he is always unsuccessful. I have spydee sense and superpowers when it comes to mayo. I can spot a fake mayo a mile away, and I am merciless if a bottle of fake mayo ends up in my house. In that respect, you can just call me “The Mayonator.” I will rip apart a fake mayo bottle with ease, destroying its contents immediately, like The Incredible Hulk tearing off a t-shirt.

Sometimes people (like my hubby) just have to learn to let go, and stop trying to force logic on an illogical world. Some things are totally unexplainable. For instance:

  1. My intense love for mayo.
  2. Why The Incredible Hulk always busted out of his t-shirt, but never his pants.
  3. Why Donald Trump thinks his fake hair looks fine, and Dolly Parton, Donatella Versace, and Kenny Loggins all think their plastic surgeries look normal.

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Filed under Stories from the Stomach

A Typical Work Week in the Silva Household

MONDAY…

Ninja Kitty

TUESDAY…BellaCrotch

WEDNESDAY…

DogCat

THURSDAY…

KittyLitterbox

FRIDAY…

KittyLitterboxDog

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Filed under Furry Tales