My Thoughts on Barack Obama

Since we all know I am not a political pundit and politics are for stuffy losers with scary deviant agendas, I'll cut the shit and get to the point. If you want to know my opinions on Barack Obama, I'll tell you straight up - I'm his number one fan. And by number one fan I mean that in 2008 I invested 5 dollars in a "hope" shirt in spirit of the season. I'll have you know that this is now my ultimate favorite shirt to wear to bed when I'm shitfaced and there is a large chance I am going to vomit on myself.

Now let me give you an organized list of why we all should help re-elect him in 2012.

He's a babe. You can't try to tell me Barack is not a fine-ass piece of hot milk chocolate. Barry, if you're reading this, let me be the cream filling to your Oreo cookie.

He's like the cool dad I never had.  I'm not trying to say that I don't have a real father. He just isn't cool. Bear (as he would let me call him because he is a cool dad) is someone that is a double whammy because not only is he casual and not embarrassing, but all my friends would think he is hot (see above.) Bear is like that cool dad that knows that your 13-year-old self and your three friends stole that one single wine cooler out of the fridge and are taking turns sipping it in your bedroom, but doesn't say anything because he is hip and "with it." His way of confronting the situation is leaving a case of Mike's Hard Lemonade under your pillow and sending you a smiley face text.

He doesn't embarrass me in front of my foreign friends. Nothing is worse than annoying foreigners quoting your embarrassing president and pointing out his obvious lack of knowledge about anything besides college sports and the best tasting light beers. Barack has brought an end to these taunts.

The list could go on, and on, and on, but by now I'm sure I've adequately convinced you of Barry's ability to lead the nation. Fox News, I'll be looking out for an email invitation to provide political commentary on any of your numerous segments, because as you can see, even this horse shit I wrote is more coherent than the crap your hosts spew out.

Day of Rapture - Fiesta Time!

note: I do not know this man, he is just the first thing that came up in my image search for aluminum hat

This shit is just too weird for me not to write about. Tomorrow's the "big day" and call me simple, but I just don't get it. We've been inundated with articles on how these people have been traveling for months, cashed in their retirement funds, blah blah to warn people about tomorrow. Thanks for the heads up, but aren't I already pretty much fucked at this point? It's like if a fortune teller in the midst of my 20 dollar tarot card reading tells me that I'm going to die in a mysterious way sometime within the "vague future." And I say "ok....so.........like what I am supposed to do about it?"I think it's kind of unfair that I only get this warning years after I knew what the deal was. Had I known, I would have kept on perpetuating my 10 year old self into the future years, and tomorrow there I would be, decked out in my lavender corduroy overalls reading Goosebumps books with my cardinal treasure still intact.

So since it appears I'm shit out of luck, I'll just have to make other arrangements for 6 p.m. tomorrow. I'm hoping that Jesus plans on making an appearance at the Tampa Bay Lightning after-party I had been planning on. Hopefully he will see that I am the only human soul worth redeeming because I will be the lone female not wearing an oversized jersey cinched at the waist to make it appear like a jersey "dress." We will bond in our mutual distaste for this misguided attempt at fashion and Voila! See you in heaven guys, brb! My other plan was to wrap my head in aluminum foil a la M. Night Shyamalan but it's probably neither the time nor the place tomorrow evening...

genesis

For those of you who are googling "genesis" and other bible-related terms in light of the upcoming Day of Judgement - May 21st - and found this blog post instead, I say ha! fooled ya bitches! Instead, here you are,  reading the very first blog post of a 20 year old girl-not-yet-a-woman whose ego is currently over-inflated from hours of solitude with nothing but Tina Fey and Chelsea Handler books to fill her time.

Before you promptly leave my blog to google more tidbits of info about the glorious day of rapture and then head on over to Old Navy's online catalog to pick out a jazzy outfit for this upcoming Saturday the 21st, let me introduce you to what this little project is about.

Like I said, fueled by nothing more than an entire bag of Cheeto's all natural white cheddar puffs and the rantings of two middle aged female comedians, I have decided to turn to the comfort of the virtual world to share my god-given gift of delightful humor. Why the blog url "whatkittensays?" Good question, new friends. Kitty is my real life, and now online, internety-alias because I don't want the computer world know who I iz n' shit, you know? Haven't you ever seen Dateline NBC? What if I get fooled into coming over to one of my new online friend's - let's call him "Ray"- house to "chill"? What if Ray then strangles and dismembers me and turns me into chili? That's a risk i'm not willing to take (yet). Maybe when I start collecting followers like the Pied Piper collected rats (and by this I mean my followers is n>5) I will reveal my TRUE identity. Anywhoos, I played around for about 5 minutes with possible blog names involving variations of the name "kitty", "kitten" and in the last 15 seconds in my darkest hours of desperation, "puss." I'm sorry to say that I'm tardy to the blog world party, and the only available url was "prettylilkitty" which either sounded like a discrete way to name a blog where you post pictures of your cupcake or an actual blog about someone's kitty, created by a very, very, sad woman living in Ohio.