Maybe if he was called Totally Innocent Whale, but uh...

Okay so first of all I am sorry for being a crappy blog-friend and not reading all your completely brilliant blog posts lately. Trust me, it's not you, it's me. I'll try to do better if you'll just give me another chance... Here, see these Krispy Kremes I bought you? A dozen of your favorite flavor.

...Second of all, have y'all heard about the killer whale at SeaWorld that dragged his trainer under by her ponytail and drowned her? Oh, they tried to lull us into a false sense of security by calling themselves orcas, but it didn't take. Apparently this same critter had been involved in two other deaths as well, and SeaWorld is still acting like everything will be fine and he's not being kept away from people or whatever. (Or whatever? Great writing skills there, S&C. Don't give up your day job, honey).

Basically don't answer any Help Wanted ads at SeaWorld, is what I'm saying.

Remember the tiger that tried to maul Siegfried-or-Roy, and that surrogate-baby monkey that, like, ate someone's face? When will people learn? I mean, we cat-owners know that our cats would eat our corpses, but at least they'll wait until we die first. Hooray for domestication!

Fun Size: Cocktail Hour.

I really like the drink they call a Shirley Temple - you know, Sprite with Lord-knows-what thrown in there to make it go pink. Because clearly the most important thing about a drink is that it should match your outfit.

But I was thinking the other night, I bet a Shirley Temple would taste pretty good with a shot of vodka chucked in. Only what would you call it?

I suggest, the Drew Barrymore*.




* GET IT???!!! Because she was a nine-year-old alcoholic**.

**Too soon?