A friend of mine, who we’ll call Storm (because who doesn‘t enjoy a good 80’s soap opera name) just posted on Facebook that he had received a nasty note from a friend of his. Among other things, this friend insulted the fact that Storm was single and had no significant other – only pets.
Storm replied to this “friend” that it was World Animal Day and he was very happy with his pets, thank you very much, because they give unconditional love – unlike humans.
Okay, let’s break this down.
1) Airing dirty laundry on social media is roughly akin to hair pulling, and should generally not be attempted if you are past an age that requires the liberal application of Clearasil.
2) Reading about a fortysomething man’s Mean Girls Moment is nearly as appealing as a testicular cancer slideshow.
3) No one should be named Storm.
Oh, I forgot, I made that part up.
It is unclear to me why people choose to reveal these sorts of things for the world to see. How does one even get a note like this at our age? And why would you want people to know that you had friends who would do such a thing?
Personally, I can’t remember the last time someone wrote me a truly nasty missive, but I think it involved swingset hogging and I think it was written in crayon.
But, dirty laundry aspect aside…I must admit that I totally agree with Storm.
Pets are clearly superior to humans. Pets love you without reservation. Pets think you’re dreamy, and a size 2, and intellectually superior to everyone you work with. Pets don’t judge you for eating the whole tub of Cherry Garcia, or for sleeping with that guy on the second date like a whore. Pets are, it seems, far more evolved than people.
I don’t know about you, but I would like to appear that evolved. Evidently, I’m not, since I spent the first half of this blog post judging someone. So it seems clear that I’m gonna need a little help in order to appear more enlightened.
Maybe I should start wearing a bedazzled flea collar with my name spelled out in rhinestones. (This would make me extra popular at the Folsom Street Fair.)
And eating out of a bowl that says Never Trust a Smiling Cat.
Maybe I should forget that you just went to take the trash out and greet you like you’ve been gone for months.
And pee on the brand new rug to emphasize my displeasure with being left alone for the evening.
Maybe then, people will begin commenting on my incredibly enlightened state.
“I wasn’t sure how evolved you were until you started drooling on the sofa and farting in front of strangers,” they’ll say. “Then I knew. You are so loving and accepting.”
Yeah, that feels about right. Throw in a name change to something like “Buster” or “Sparky” and I’ll be good to go.
Perhaps you’d like to join me in the quest for spiritual mastery. Care for a Snausage?