M.A. asks, "I made a Facebook page for my cat. Have I gone too far?"
My initial reaction to this question was, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes," but then I had to give it a bit more thought. Because while I'm sure you may be actually offending your cat instead of honoring your cat (more on that in a minute), we, of course, have to consider what is "too far."
You're familiar with LOLcats, yes? How could you not be? I currently have this guy hanging on my cubicle wall at work because he just makes me giggle every time I look at him. With his little tongue sticking out. So cute. And I love LOLcats - I really do. But I am almost positive that there are some cats on there into whose mouths words were placed that do not belong there. For example, I created this one with my cat, based on his undying love of my yoga mat. But then two other people recaptioned it, one of them naming my cat "Millie." His name is not "Millie." And while the caption is kind of funny, I know (because we've chatted about it) that those were not the thoughts running through my cat's head at the time. And he was a little offended by the fact that someone thought his tan was fake.
The point I'm trying to make here is that unless your cat gets to update his/her own Facebook page, or has some sort of creative control over the content, you may find that you are actually completely mis-representing your cat to the rest of the cats on Facebook. And the rest of the humans, for that matter. So I'd just be careful what you put up there. If you post, "ate mouse today and LOL'd" as a status update and wake up with scratches all over your face, well, you'll really only have yourself to blame.
But then I read this article on Cracked.com (fantastic site, by the way, if you're into the whole random factoid kind of thing, which I totally am). Go ahead and take the minute or two to read the thing. Or just skip to the number one entry. Yeah. That, I think, would constitute going too far. As Janeane Garofalo said in The Truth About Cats and Dogs, "It's okay to love your pets, just don't love your pets." Or bang and eat them.
So in that context, no, I don't think creating a Facebook page for your cat it going too far. Just be careful what you post there or you might, you know, suddenly have a very unpleasant living situation at home.
Thank you, M.A. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
Friday, January 14, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Stubble
T.E. asks, "Dear Miss Kitty,
The current crop of male actors and country music stars all seem to be sporting a three or four day stubble. Yet they rock it. They ooze "hipster chic".
On the other hand, if I didn't shave for a few days I would simply appear homeless. Why?"
I have one word for you, T.E. - "stylists."
I don't know if you remember back in the '80s when piranha pants became popular, but it was a similar thing. The guys in Def Leppard were able to afford the $300 shredded jeans where some poor worker in a sweat shop spent hours making sure every rip and every tear was evenly spaced, perfectly shredded. There was (I almost hate to say it) a sort of art form involved in perfectly distressing a pair of jeans so you could look like a rock star who didn't care about your appearance. Of course, those of us who couldn't afford the $300 jeans thought, "Hey, I can do that myself with a pair of scissors!" Except mostly, we just ended up looking dumb. Because we didn't have the eye for symmetrical distressing! And we didn't know when to stop.
Same thing applies to scruff. See, all those scruffy movie stars have someone to tell them when the scruff is too long, when it's not as filled in on one side as the other, and when it is time to get rid of the stuff creeping up towards their eyeballs. And that person is called a stylist. The stylist not only tells the star what shade of brown leather jacket goes best with his fuzz, but she has all kinds of tools for shaping, sculpting, and filling in and problem areas. She will remind the star to shave his neck. She will stay on him about oral hygiene so that his teeth are perfect and blindingly white for maximum glistening through the bristles. In short, it is her job to make sure his stubble is perfectly trimmed and conditioned for maximum sexiness. Literally. That's what she gets paid for.
I'm guessing you, on the other hand, don't have a full-person's-annual-salary-and-health-benefits-worth of disposable income lying around with which to pay a stylist - most of us "normal" people don't. And that is okay. But it means that when you were trying to sculpt your stubble, you may have had the electric razor on "2" for one side of your face and "1" for the other. Or that scar on your chin from when you fell out of a tree when you were nine and had to get six stitches that just doesn't grow hair will shine through like a neon sign saying, "I'm too poor to have my own personal makeup artist fix this for me!" And you know what? That's okay. Because you are real. And real is sexy in its own right.
If you're really worried about it, though, ask around amongst your female friends to see if they dig the stubble look on you. If not, you might want to stick with a regular shaving routine until such time as you can afford a stylist.
Thank you, T.E. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
The current crop of male actors and country music stars all seem to be sporting a three or four day stubble. Yet they rock it. They ooze "hipster chic".
On the other hand, if I didn't shave for a few days I would simply appear homeless. Why?"
I have one word for you, T.E. - "stylists."
I don't know if you remember back in the '80s when piranha pants became popular, but it was a similar thing. The guys in Def Leppard were able to afford the $300 shredded jeans where some poor worker in a sweat shop spent hours making sure every rip and every tear was evenly spaced, perfectly shredded. There was (I almost hate to say it) a sort of art form involved in perfectly distressing a pair of jeans so you could look like a rock star who didn't care about your appearance. Of course, those of us who couldn't afford the $300 jeans thought, "Hey, I can do that myself with a pair of scissors!" Except mostly, we just ended up looking dumb. Because we didn't have the eye for symmetrical distressing! And we didn't know when to stop.
Same thing applies to scruff. See, all those scruffy movie stars have someone to tell them when the scruff is too long, when it's not as filled in on one side as the other, and when it is time to get rid of the stuff creeping up towards their eyeballs. And that person is called a stylist. The stylist not only tells the star what shade of brown leather jacket goes best with his fuzz, but she has all kinds of tools for shaping, sculpting, and filling in and problem areas. She will remind the star to shave his neck. She will stay on him about oral hygiene so that his teeth are perfect and blindingly white for maximum glistening through the bristles. In short, it is her job to make sure his stubble is perfectly trimmed and conditioned for maximum sexiness. Literally. That's what she gets paid for.
![sculpting](http://www.remnantband.com/pictures/facial.hair.jpg"){kind=link}
I'm guessing you, on the other hand, don't have a full-person's-annual-salary-and-health-benefits-worth of disposable income lying around with which to pay a stylist - most of us "normal" people don't. And that is okay. But it means that when you were trying to sculpt your stubble, you may have had the electric razor on "2" for one side of your face and "1" for the other. Or that scar on your chin from when you fell out of a tree when you were nine and had to get six stitches that just doesn't grow hair will shine through like a neon sign saying, "I'm too poor to have my own personal makeup artist fix this for me!" And you know what? That's okay. Because you are real. And real is sexy in its own right.
If you're really worried about it, though, ask around amongst your female friends to see if they dig the stubble look on you. If not, you might want to stick with a regular shaving routine until such time as you can afford a stylist.
Thank you, T.E. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
Monday, January 10, 2011
Favor
Hey, guys.
Happy Monday! I hope you've been enjoying the answers so far - I have fun writing them.
But I have a little favor to ask. If you like the site, would either subscribe to it or tell your friends about it? If you'd like to do both, that would also be fantastic.
Yes, I do feel a bit like a schill for asking, but without word of mouth, these things never grow. And I'd like it to grow. The wider the audience, the more questions are asked, the more entertained we will all be. So really, it's in your best interest to tell people you found a fun blog to read.
I'm just looking out for you.
Thanks, guys. I owe you a soda.
Happy Monday! I hope you've been enjoying the answers so far - I have fun writing them.
But I have a little favor to ask. If you like the site, would either subscribe to it or tell your friends about it? If you'd like to do both, that would also be fantastic.
Yes, I do feel a bit like a schill for asking, but without word of mouth, these things never grow. And I'd like it to grow. The wider the audience, the more questions are asked, the more entertained we will all be. So really, it's in your best interest to tell people you found a fun blog to read.
I'm just looking out for you.
Thanks, guys. I owe you a soda.
Laws
H.J. asks, "Dear Miss Kitty,
I recently read that Hugh Heffner announced via Twitter his preparations to marry for a third time. Aren't there laws against this?
H.J."
Which part? Getting married, being Hugh Heffner, or announcing things via Twitter?
Actually, in all three cases, the answer is "no."
Unfortunately, the only thing that could stop Hugh Heffner from getting married would be if he announced his plans to marry the houseboy, instead of the housebunny, and even that would only stop him in certain states. No, while Harry cannot have one husband, Liz is allowed eight. It's sad, but it is good protest sign fodder.
There is also no law against being Hugh Heffner. Unless you are not Hugh Heffner and you run around telling people that you are him. Especially if you take his credit cards and social security card and stuff and buy all sorts of things. Which he could totally afford, but still. That might land you in jail, but will most likely not get him in a whole load of trouble.
And Twitter...well, there should be laws against Twitter but there aren't. Nor are there laws preventing people from announcing things there. There is a sort of unwritten rule of douchebaggery that states "If the party of the first part is unaware of the happenings in the life of the party of the second part, the party of the second part retains all rights and privileges associated with being put out that the party of the first part could not be bothered to read the Twitter account of the party of the second part. The party of the second part will not be held liable for the party of the first part missing out on any super groovy social activities due to the general disinterest of the party of the first part in not reading Twitter because, dude, I only posted it up there, like, ten times between 2 and 3am after we hit the burrito stand. What do you mean you went home and went to sleep? It's not my fault you're a wus. If you want to know what's going on, you have to read my Twitter - I'm not going to tell you otherwise, because then what would be the point of posting it on Twitter?"
Or something like that.
So, as there are no laws to prevent it, I wish Heff and his new wife all sorts of joy as they embark on this lifelong journey together. And no, she is not a gold digger.
Thank you, H.J. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
I recently read that Hugh Heffner announced via Twitter his preparations to marry for a third time. Aren't there laws against this?
H.J."
Which part? Getting married, being Hugh Heffner, or announcing things via Twitter?
Actually, in all three cases, the answer is "no."
Unfortunately, the only thing that could stop Hugh Heffner from getting married would be if he announced his plans to marry the houseboy, instead of the housebunny, and even that would only stop him in certain states. No, while Harry cannot have one husband, Liz is allowed eight. It's sad, but it is good protest sign fodder.
There is also no law against being Hugh Heffner. Unless you are not Hugh Heffner and you run around telling people that you are him. Especially if you take his credit cards and social security card and stuff and buy all sorts of things. Which he could totally afford, but still. That might land you in jail, but will most likely not get him in a whole load of trouble.
And Twitter...well, there should be laws against Twitter but there aren't. Nor are there laws preventing people from announcing things there. There is a sort of unwritten rule of douchebaggery that states "If the party of the first part is unaware of the happenings in the life of the party of the second part, the party of the second part retains all rights and privileges associated with being put out that the party of the first part could not be bothered to read the Twitter account of the party of the second part. The party of the second part will not be held liable for the party of the first part missing out on any super groovy social activities due to the general disinterest of the party of the first part in not reading Twitter because, dude, I only posted it up there, like, ten times between 2 and 3am after we hit the burrito stand. What do you mean you went home and went to sleep? It's not my fault you're a wus. If you want to know what's going on, you have to read my Twitter - I'm not going to tell you otherwise, because then what would be the point of posting it on Twitter?"
![douchebaggery](http://img1.tvloop.com/img/showpics/0d/57/l33c16eec0001_2_23265.jpg"){kind=link}
Or something like that.
So, as there are no laws to prevent it, I wish Heff and his new wife all sorts of joy as they embark on this lifelong journey together. And no, she is not a gold digger.
Thank you, H.J. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Gay Scientologists
S.B. asks, "Dear Miss Kitty,
I am torn. Part of me wants to lend actor John Travolta my heartfelt support in coming out of the closet. This part is, of course, at war with the part of me that wants to mock him out for belonging to the Church of Scientology. Which part should win?
S.B.
Mockery. Mockery always wins.
See, the thing is, I'm not terribly versed in the tenants of Scientology, but from what I can tell, homosexuality is not really, um, celebrated within the Church. So if a gay man chooses to believe in Xenu over allowing himself to be who he is...well, I'm not really in a position to judge anyone, but that sounds kind of unhealthy to me. And/or, if a person feels the need to repress such an integral part of his own personality so that he will be accepted by a bunch of people who are happy to take his money as long as he insists that he likes banging women...again, I'm not one to judge. And/or if a person subscribes to a belief system that does not allow him to be who he is...I think you get my point.
Now, there are, apparently, some gay Scientologists who say L. Ron didn't really mean it when he called homosexuals "sexual perverts," "skulking coward[s]," "far from normal and extremely dangerous to society," and "quite physically ill," or that those terms were taken out of context, or that the Church has eased up on the whole homosexuality debate since L. Ron wrote "Dianetics" in 1950. But really, you have to wonder about homosexuals who find themselves drawn to a way of life that so obviously hates them. Do they hate themselves that much? That makes me sad.
I do understand the desire to support someone's decision to come out, though. I think everyone should be able to come out in the manner of his or her own choosing when the time is right. But you and I are not therapists, counselors, or psychoanalysts. And near as I can tell, neither of us is personally involved with John Travolta, so as much as we might like to say, "Hey, John, we'll still love you if you come out (as long as you never make another movie like Battleship Earth)," I don't know that it is really our place to do that. Perhaps we are best served by mocking him for denying who he is so he can get regular thetan level readings because when one is so far removed from the subject, sometimes the only way one's voice can be heard is through mockery. And through mockery, perhaps we can help him see the contradictions in his life that need straightening out. And then, once he has come out, we can applaud him for his brave choice.
And then continue to mock him for keeping 700 copies of "Dianetics" lying around his house...
Thank you, S.B. for your question. Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
I am torn. Part of me wants to lend actor John Travolta my heartfelt support in coming out of the closet. This part is, of course, at war with the part of me that wants to mock him out for belonging to the Church of Scientology. Which part should win?
S.B.
Mockery. Mockery always wins.
See, the thing is, I'm not terribly versed in the tenants of Scientology, but from what I can tell, homosexuality is not really, um, celebrated within the Church. So if a gay man chooses to believe in Xenu over allowing himself to be who he is...well, I'm not really in a position to judge anyone, but that sounds kind of unhealthy to me. And/or, if a person feels the need to repress such an integral part of his own personality so that he will be accepted by a bunch of people who are happy to take his money as long as he insists that he likes banging women...again, I'm not one to judge. And/or if a person subscribes to a belief system that does not allow him to be who he is...I think you get my point.
Now, there are, apparently, some gay Scientologists who say L. Ron didn't really mean it when he called homosexuals "sexual perverts," "skulking coward[s]," "far from normal and extremely dangerous to society," and "quite physically ill," or that those terms were taken out of context, or that the Church has eased up on the whole homosexuality debate since L. Ron wrote "Dianetics" in 1950. But really, you have to wonder about homosexuals who find themselves drawn to a way of life that so obviously hates them. Do they hate themselves that much? That makes me sad.
I do understand the desire to support someone's decision to come out, though. I think everyone should be able to come out in the manner of his or her own choosing when the time is right. But you and I are not therapists, counselors, or psychoanalysts. And near as I can tell, neither of us is personally involved with John Travolta, so as much as we might like to say, "Hey, John, we'll still love you if you come out (as long as you never make another movie like Battleship Earth)," I don't know that it is really our place to do that. Perhaps we are best served by mocking him for denying who he is so he can get regular thetan level readings because when one is so far removed from the subject, sometimes the only way one's voice can be heard is through mockery. And through mockery, perhaps we can help him see the contradictions in his life that need straightening out. And then, once he has come out, we can applaud him for his brave choice.
And then continue to mock him for keeping 700 copies of "Dianetics" lying around his house...
Thank you, S.B. for your question. Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Netflix and the Wii
Happy New Year!
J.E. asks, "Dear Miss Kitty,
I recently got Netflix for the Wii. I've since lost the desire to leave the house. My husband tells me this is a problem. I disagree since I can stop anytime I want to, I just don't want to right now. How do I get him off of my back?
J. E."
Sorry I was absent for a little while there - I was watching a bunch of stuff from my Netflix queue. Damn, that's a good show.
And really quickly, before I get too in to this answer, I want to say that I hope everyone had a safe and happy new year, and I hope that now, five days into the new year, it hasn't been all blown to hell yet. Like, I dunno, you find out that your celebrity crush is getting married. Not to you. Even though you're sure you'd get along swimmingly, and you don't want to come off as a stalker, but really, couldn't he have at least waited until he'd met you before running off and swearing to love his girlfriend of two and a half years for the rest of his life? People fall in love with total strangers all of the time, right? At least that's what the movies in my Netflix queue tell me.
So anyway. I hope nothing like that has happened to you this year and you are still warm from the New Year Buzz. It's a thing. I swear.
Netflix! We're onto Netflix and the Wii. Such a lethal combination. I came to the discovery over the holiday break that my Wii is being used primarily as a device for watching things through Netflix, and that I really have no idea what is going on in the world because watching things through Netflix, I don't see commercials much anymore (except those irritating Menards ones with the theme song that won't ever leave your brain). So I did what any responsible adult would do - I went out and bought some video games.
But as with any addiction, the easiest way to get someone off of your back about the addiction is to turn said person into an addict as well. Does your husband know that you can watch "Battlestar Galactica" streaming on Netflix? Or all of "Lost?" I think they even have some pro-wrestling tapes on there ("tapes" because the last time anyone recorded professional wrestling for distribution was in the Hulk Hogan era). Is he aware how many bonus points he will get for snuggling up and watching some stupid romantic comedy with you, streaming on Netflix, and he won't even have to pay for movie tickets or snacks? It's the ultimate cheap date night. He doesn't even have to spring for cab fare to get you home and into bed - just get you upstairs, or (if you don't have kids or roommates) out of your pants. Couches can be very romantic places, after all.
So my recommendation to you is that you try to bring him into your world. Start by watching something you know he would like (even if it's not your favorite) streaming on Netflix so as he is walking past the room, he is enticed to stop and have a taste. When that movie or episode ends, you can introduce him to the wonders of online video watching using Netflix and the Wii.
Your marriage will never be the same.
Thank you, J.E. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
J.E. asks, "Dear Miss Kitty,
I recently got Netflix for the Wii. I've since lost the desire to leave the house. My husband tells me this is a problem. I disagree since I can stop anytime I want to, I just don't want to right now. How do I get him off of my back?
J. E."
Sorry I was absent for a little while there - I was watching a bunch of stuff from my Netflix queue. Damn, that's a good show.
And really quickly, before I get too in to this answer, I want to say that I hope everyone had a safe and happy new year, and I hope that now, five days into the new year, it hasn't been all blown to hell yet. Like, I dunno, you find out that your celebrity crush is getting married. Not to you. Even though you're sure you'd get along swimmingly, and you don't want to come off as a stalker, but really, couldn't he have at least waited until he'd met you before running off and swearing to love his girlfriend of two and a half years for the rest of his life? People fall in love with total strangers all of the time, right? At least that's what the movies in my Netflix queue tell me.
So anyway. I hope nothing like that has happened to you this year and you are still warm from the New Year Buzz. It's a thing. I swear.
Netflix! We're onto Netflix and the Wii. Such a lethal combination. I came to the discovery over the holiday break that my Wii is being used primarily as a device for watching things through Netflix, and that I really have no idea what is going on in the world because watching things through Netflix, I don't see commercials much anymore (except those irritating Menards ones with the theme song that won't ever leave your brain). So I did what any responsible adult would do - I went out and bought some video games.
But as with any addiction, the easiest way to get someone off of your back about the addiction is to turn said person into an addict as well. Does your husband know that you can watch "Battlestar Galactica" streaming on Netflix? Or all of "Lost?" I think they even have some pro-wrestling tapes on there ("tapes" because the last time anyone recorded professional wrestling for distribution was in the Hulk Hogan era). Is he aware how many bonus points he will get for snuggling up and watching some stupid romantic comedy with you, streaming on Netflix, and he won't even have to pay for movie tickets or snacks? It's the ultimate cheap date night. He doesn't even have to spring for cab fare to get you home and into bed - just get you upstairs, or (if you don't have kids or roommates) out of your pants. Couches can be very romantic places, after all.
So my recommendation to you is that you try to bring him into your world. Start by watching something you know he would like (even if it's not your favorite) streaming on Netflix so as he is walking past the room, he is enticed to stop and have a taste. When that movie or episode ends, you can introduce him to the wonders of online video watching using Netflix and the Wii.
Your marriage will never be the same.
Thank you, J.E. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Santa vs. The Easter Bunny
T.E. asks, "My Dear Miss Kitty,
Who has the cooler job, Santa or the Easter Bunny?"
Santa.
Hands down, it's Santa.
So this answer is going to be more text-y than link-y, but I think I have some pretty solid reasons why Santa has it better than the Easter Bunny, so just bear with me, if you would.
Okay, let's look at living conditions first.
Santa lives at the North Pole (horrible weather) in a sort of magical workshop where he is surrounded by his wife, elves, reindeer and bajillions of toys. It's always kind of holiday-ish at Santa's workshop, so I'm guessing there is singing and lights and probably some pretty decent grub. We all know Santa's a little on the larger side, and one doesn't get that way if the food sucks. Let's be honest.
The Easter Bunny lives...somewhere. Nobody really knows. But if he is like any other bunny, he probably lives in a hole in the ground. There may be other bunnies or there may not be. Probably not. If there were, we would have heard of Mrs. Easter Bunny, right? He's probably a bachelor who goes around procreating like, well, a bunny, but he can't be seen with all of these kids hanging about so all of his former girlfriend bunnies have scorned him and don't come around any more either. And let's be honest, if you're a bunny that looks like this, do you really want to be seen hanging around with this guy? Or worse, this one?
Point: Santa.
Next we look at job circumstances.
Santa works all year long. Making toys. He gets to build trains and dolls and iPods and drills and all kinds of fun things. If he gets tired of making tops, he can switch over to blocks for a day. And again, the work environment is filled with elves singing, people to chat with, and good food. Then, once a year, he climbs into a magical sled and takes a trip around the world where people leave cookies for him at every stop. Not too shabby, I'd say.
The Easter Bunny works one day a year. Not too bad. Until you consider that he has to steal his product (eggs) because bunnies don't lay eggs. So in the days leading up to Easter, he has to break into hen houses to try to collect enough eggs to hide for the children to find, or he has to break into various variety stories to get those brightly colored plastic eggs and then fill them with stuff. He could, at any time, be caught and dragged off to jail or shot by an angry farmer. And then he has to go hide the eggs so other people can find and consume the treats within. And he has to do this all by himself. No little worker bunnies hopping around to help with the stealing and hiding, and nobody to leave little treats for him as he does his job.
Point: Santa.
And finally, attire.
Santa gets to wear a nice, big, warm, fuzzy red suit with boots and a hat and gloves so he stays nice and toasty on his round-the-world trip. And I'm guessing he can wear whatever he wants in the workshop.
The Easter Bunny sometimes gets to wear really horrible vests or bow-ties, but that's about it. You know how dank and muddy it can be in March or April? And he doesn't even get to wear boots? Sure he's an animal, but do we have to treat him like one?
Point, set, match: Santa.
Sorry, Easter Bunny, but you just plain got screwed with your holiday. It's not even on the same day every year, for crying out loud. At least you get to hawk Cadbury Creme Eggs for a little while each year. Those things are tasty.
Thank you, T.E. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
Who has the cooler job, Santa or the Easter Bunny?"
Santa.
Hands down, it's Santa.
So this answer is going to be more text-y than link-y, but I think I have some pretty solid reasons why Santa has it better than the Easter Bunny, so just bear with me, if you would.
Okay, let's look at living conditions first.
Santa lives at the North Pole (horrible weather) in a sort of magical workshop where he is surrounded by his wife, elves, reindeer and bajillions of toys. It's always kind of holiday-ish at Santa's workshop, so I'm guessing there is singing and lights and probably some pretty decent grub. We all know Santa's a little on the larger side, and one doesn't get that way if the food sucks. Let's be honest.
The Easter Bunny lives...somewhere. Nobody really knows. But if he is like any other bunny, he probably lives in a hole in the ground. There may be other bunnies or there may not be. Probably not. If there were, we would have heard of Mrs. Easter Bunny, right? He's probably a bachelor who goes around procreating like, well, a bunny, but he can't be seen with all of these kids hanging about so all of his former girlfriend bunnies have scorned him and don't come around any more either. And let's be honest, if you're a bunny that looks like this, do you really want to be seen hanging around with this guy? Or worse, this one?
Point: Santa.
Next we look at job circumstances.
Santa works all year long. Making toys. He gets to build trains and dolls and iPods and drills and all kinds of fun things. If he gets tired of making tops, he can switch over to blocks for a day. And again, the work environment is filled with elves singing, people to chat with, and good food. Then, once a year, he climbs into a magical sled and takes a trip around the world where people leave cookies for him at every stop. Not too shabby, I'd say.
The Easter Bunny works one day a year. Not too bad. Until you consider that he has to steal his product (eggs) because bunnies don't lay eggs. So in the days leading up to Easter, he has to break into hen houses to try to collect enough eggs to hide for the children to find, or he has to break into various variety stories to get those brightly colored plastic eggs and then fill them with stuff. He could, at any time, be caught and dragged off to jail or shot by an angry farmer. And then he has to go hide the eggs so other people can find and consume the treats within. And he has to do this all by himself. No little worker bunnies hopping around to help with the stealing and hiding, and nobody to leave little treats for him as he does his job.
Point: Santa.
And finally, attire.
Santa gets to wear a nice, big, warm, fuzzy red suit with boots and a hat and gloves so he stays nice and toasty on his round-the-world trip. And I'm guessing he can wear whatever he wants in the workshop.
The Easter Bunny sometimes gets to wear really horrible vests or bow-ties, but that's about it. You know how dank and muddy it can be in March or April? And he doesn't even get to wear boots? Sure he's an animal, but do we have to treat him like one?
Point, set, match: Santa.
Sorry, Easter Bunny, but you just plain got screwed with your holiday. It's not even on the same day every year, for crying out loud. At least you get to hawk Cadbury Creme Eggs for a little while each year. Those things are tasty.
Thank you, T.E. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com
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