Hey kids, inspired by the BabyC Cradle, let’s learn the Pretentious Baby Alphabet!

A is for Anglophile, which baby must become immediately postpartum, lest he be regarded as a one-dimensional American plebe.

B is for Bougainvillea, baby’s middle name, after the flowers pinned to the mane of his distant royal Uncle’s noble steed as he rode through village, regarding his subjects with disdain.

C is for Cashmere, the only fabric to touch baby, from swaddling clothes to funerary attire on the day of his imminent demise, surely from the daily strain of being smarter, more interesting, and better looking than everyone else.

and D is for Darling, the ABCs are so last year. Those in the know moved on to Morse code weeks ago, you insipid  -.-.  ..-  -.  -

For the sake of this exercise, please pretend that this astronaut-lookin’ motherfucker is a very tall Pomeranian.

Pound Control to Major Pom
Take your heartworm pills
and put your collar on

Pound Control to Major Pom
Commencing countdown,
Leashes on
Check submission
and may Dog’s love be with you

This is Pound Control
to Major Pom
You’re ready to be spayed
And your papers have you cleared for dental care
Now it’s time to leave the shelter
if you dare

This is Major Pom to Pound Control
I’m scratching at the door
And I’m barking
in a most obnoxious way
Because I cannot wait to get away

For here
Am I pissing in a cold crate
Far from a dog park
The shelter’s loud
And I really have to poo

Though I’ve chomped
one thousand rugrats’ hands
I’m feeling very bored
But my new owner knows which way to go
Tell my bitch that she’s in heat

She knows

Pound Control to Major Pom
Your owner’s bleeding,
And you’re gone.
Can you hear me, Major Pom?
Can you hear me, Major Pom?
Can you hear me, Major Pom?
Can you….

Here am I running
round my neighborhood
Far from all you dicks
before I ran from you
I pissed on your favorite shoes…

.

Dog Peek via the foxiest She Wolf in town, Dani Stover

Have you been doing your finger Bikram? I certainly hope so, because it’s going to take a very flexible pinky to lift high enough for this hoity-toity thingamajig of the day: the portable personal pepper mill – for those times when any old pepper just won’t do. That’s right, Richy Rich, it’s time to make room in your murse for something other than Grey Poupon and tiara polish. So load up the Tellicherry and let’s crack a little fresh ground. Mamma’s got new cupholders on her high horse and she’s in the mood for a little celebratin’.

If sleeping in the wet spot isn’t enough for you, now you can live in it.

via Alan “I’m not driving” McCoy

This beautiful wooden hammock is very Kafkaesque, wouldn’t you say? Très Gregor Samsa post-arthropodal transformation.

That’s right, dear readers, I totally took 9th grade English. Three times!

Forget the actual wedding; the decaying state of Prince William’s once-lovely visage is enough to make any red-blooded Royal watcher sicker than the Queen’s gynecologist. Witnessing the formerly dapper, sandy-haired British dreamboat bloat and recede into a pasty, wind-chapped man-rag has really curdled my stomach. Luckily I can snap up a Royal Wedding Sick Bag into which I can expel my bile-soaked, chewed-food disdain for the Elder Prince. Although it should be noted that there’s a simple, tried-and-true cure for an upset stomach: Ginger. So for the sake of my health, I’ll be boning Prince Harry from now until April 29th.

You’re supposed to wedge the Thought Box over your melon head and change the colors inside to fit your mood. Listen, I have a box you can put on your head, but it only changes colors once a month. I hope your mood is “bloated.”

Sebastian Brajkovic’s stretched animals classify him squarely as a design genius. Your stretched animals, on the other hand, classify you squarely as a registered sex offender.

I guess when you’re really, really rich you eat soup off a $90 star-shaped soup plate. You probably don’t eat Campbell’s Chunky either. Well, excuuuuuse me and my Homestyle Classics Chicken & Dumplings. 

Some people think that a smoking bunny is wacky or whimsical, but it’s actually very natural for two reasons:

1. Rabbits are obligate nasal breathers, which means they won’t obstruct the ol’ inhale/exhale while puffing away on Virginia Slims all the livelong day.

2. Rabbits hump like rabbits. What the fuck are they supposed to do after sex? Cuddle?