Today is Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday. That means the stock exchange is closed, which also means that the economy can’t crash for 2 whole days! Wahoo! Grab you’re your favorite snacks (fat is in!) and celebrate!

That is the best news we’ve heard all week, but that isn’t saying much after the week we’ve had:

Gay rights activists get locked out of a campus, a**holes continued to break girls’ hearts, celebs got all cocky on us, Joe Six Pack made an appearance, the presidential candidates “debated,” we had to watch Rachael Ray porn, Bubba had some transgender issues, our boyfriend posted that (PRIVATE) sex tape online, and I missed out on a fantastic opportunity to get with my campus’s most notorious man-whore.

But don’t worry; Barack Obama can make it all better! (No, that was not a political statement…that was a sexual one.)

Happy Friday, peeps.

Do you know who Bubba is? You don‘t?! Obviously, you have no heart.

Bubba is a cat who grew up on the mean streets of Chicago, spending the first few months of his young life all by his lonesome. After finally being adopted by a nice couple, Bubba was still unable to “flourish.” He was shy all the time, hated visitors, and was just generally one unhappy cat.

Bubba’s owners knew they had to do something, so they called up a pet psychic. They paid someone to tell them the inner thoughts of their cat. And you know what that psychic individual told them? The reason for Bubba’s unhappiness was an inner emotional struggle…that’s right…Bubba was a transgendered cat.

Even though Bubba was a boy, the pet psychic told his owners that Bubba identified as a female. Immediately, the owners jumped into action. They went about “accepting” Bubba’s feelings, and put up a website asking anyone who stumbled upon it to donate money for Bubba’s sex change operation.

How can anyone say no to such a realistic and heartfelt request? How could we possibly ignore the brave plight of Bubba the transgendered cat? The answer is that we can’t. So donate today. Bubba needs us, people.

“I have the perfect Halloween costume” my friend said the other day as we walked past one of New York’s biggest costumes shops.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes away from the bloody heads and severed body parts in the window display.

“I’m wearing a white sheet, and over that I’m putting on underwear and a bra.”

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“A slut ghost!” My friend said, bursting into laughter. “Funniest thing ever, right?”

She definitely wins points for creativity, and for finding perhaps the one costume that hasn’t yet been turned into glorified lingerie by the Halloween industry.

It’s true. Once you reach a certain age, October 31st becomes less about candy and more about showing off—especially if you’re a girl.

I’m not sure where or when the tradition of skanking-up costumes began, but these days, anything can be turned “sexy.” Sexy pirate. Sexy ballerina. Sexy Bee. Sexy Girlscout. I mean, I could go on, but it might get redundant.

While some people get bent out of shape by a gal’s choice to dress like a sexy FBI Informant, I’ve never had a problem with it. I’ve heard the whole, it objectifies women! argument, but if a girl is buying her own costume, putting it on herself, and walking around with full knowledge that she’s showing a lot of skin, it seems like risqué costumes are more about letting loose and having fun than being forced into something for the enjoyment of others.

Personally, I’m an easy going girl with an easy going style, but once a year I thoroughly enjoy showing off the fact that I take care of my body and have a good sense of humor (Look! I’m a saltshaker! I’m dressed all in white with glitter and I have a big S on my chest! Hahaha…but isn’t this skirt cute?). Read More »

• I can think of a few girls who cost a bit more than $2,000 a year. (itn.co.uk)

• Cat starts fire, dog saves the day. (Yahoo!)

• 95 year old woman grows a horn…literally. Click on the link if you don’t mind throwing up a little. (metro.co.uk)

• Don’t drink and drive…or skateboard… (earthtimes.org)

• Vermont wants to get out while they still can! (The Independent)

• Don’t fall into this cuddle-trap, ladies. You’re all better than this. (COED Magazine)

• 73 year old man kicks ass, takes names. Awesome. (10tv.com)

• The pope has a cat? The cat is writing a book? My brain just exploded. (Yahoo!)

• An alert official suspected there may be something sinister behind Mr. Potato Head’s toothy grin. Yeah, Ecstasy. (AFP)

• This is why you don’t plan your wedding on Craigslist. (KATU)

• Looking to finally get healthy? Do it the old-school way! (UK Dailymail)

I live in New York City. Therefore, I should be used to Random Acts of Rudeness. Small things should no longer phase me. But because I am a nice, sweet, mostly polite girl, I am still very often radically offended and crazily frustrated by rude people acting obnoxiously. Here are a few examples of my most recent run-ins with RAR.

• At a job interview, the interviewer answers his blackberry not once, not twice, but three times in the middle of my answers to his questions. No sorry, hold on a moment, just a complete switch from looking at me and listening to typing away on his stupid toy. Each time he would chuckle at whatever inside joke was taking place on the tiny screen, leaving me nothing to do but admire the bare walls and stare out the window. Needless to say, I’m taking that job the day hell freezes over. Read More »

This is one cat you may not want curling up next to you.

Oscar, a two year old stray that was adopted as a kitten by the third floor dementia unit of the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island, reportedly has an uncanny ability to tell when a patient is about to die.

In over 25 observed cases, Oscar the Death Cat (they’re calling him that, not me) goes into a patient’s room about two hours before they kick the bucket. Sometimes he even sits down next to them.

One doctor was “convinced of Oscar’s talent” during his 13th case. A patient the doctor was tending to showed many common signs of approaching death, but Oscar wouldn’t stay inside the room. The doctor thought the feline’s correct prediction streak was over, until 10 hours later. When the patient passed away a few hours after doctors expected, Oscar was right there with her. Read More »

So, you’re getting ready to move out onto your own. Either you’re starting college, setting-up shop in off-campus housing, or beginning your “adult life” somewhere far away from the safety of your parents’ basement.

And you know what would go great with this newfound individuality? A pet. Right?

Something fluffy and cuddly that will always be there when you get home and love you unconditionally, something to keep you company on those long nights when no one calls and all you’ve got is the Food Network to keep you from plummeting into a chasm of mind-numbing boredom.

Something small, cute, simple.

Not to sound like your mom, but it ain’t as simple as you think.

I learned a very expensive lesson this week; having a pet isn’t easy. Especially when they get sick. Read More »