The All-American Post: Apple Pie and Pussy.
Since you are all far wiser in the ways of cookery than I, I appeal: does anyone know of a good dairy-free apple pie recipe? I want to make something dessert-like to show familial solidarity with the in-laws, but Sargon's dad, Dad the Terrible, can't have milk products. My cooking lore is at a loss, here. Any advice will be much appreciated.
As incentive, I offer you amusing pictures under the cut.
I am documenting The Fish's increasing fattitude. Seen here in the posture of Extreme Cuddliness, Fish is a master of cute-fu. Do not be decieved. It is only a ruse. If you touch the white bits, she will take your arm off, just as sure as the Lord made scorpions. Note her spread back toes. That's all the warning you get.
The training for cute-fu is rigorous, and consists of many days of the student holding a cute posture while indignities are heaped upon her.
I humbly submit this as evidence. I will also humbly submit these pictures to www.stuffonmycat.com.
She is a skilled cute-fu combatant, indeed. You can see that she does not even change expression, despite rearrangement of the stuff piled atop her. You can also see the fuzzy rim protruding from the bottom of the bead box. Fatness is a vital asset to the advanced student of cute-fu.
Also skilled is Sif, whose extreme soppy cuteness and look of innocence enable her to get out of almost any trouble with little more than a slap and a squirt of water. Her real gift is sleeping. Look at this:
Is that a cat you could punish?
Matt's skinniness puts him at a disadvantage, so he has therefore studied a rare form of cute-fu. Apathy-do.
Here he has immobilized bat_cheva with his high-powered Utter Limpness (+2).
Scritching has no effect whatsoever. No counterattack, short of the sound of food cans, will dislodge him.
Of all of the cats, only Tazendra is sincerely deficient in cute-fu.
Even when she is being generally appealing, there lingers about her an unholy aura of eldritch horror, like the stink of unwashed socks. She is never without an unpleasant sound, a foul smell, or damp spots in her slimy fur. She does not pose adorably as a cat should, and instead hunches and lurks. I sometimes think that she could not be truly traditionally cute if she tried.
Here we both are, trying for mutual Looks of Pettability. You may judge for yourself the effects.
You will note that her face is hideously contorted, and that her eyes do not point in the same direction. You will also note that one vampire fang is exposed. This is the best she can do for "cute." Her school, that of vileness, is a truly rigorous one in which she is so sorry-looking, so miserably unpleasant to be around, and so utterly desolate of charm or pleasant features, that she becomes cute simply because she is so despicable and pathetic. And in this regard, she is often very, very cute. Thus, the master and novice are one, and many chop-socky movie stereotypes are preserved.
I have yet to master this school. My attempts are sadly lacking:
Even the addition of kitty ears does not confer upon me the title of The Mocus.
Clearly I have far to go in my quest for the rank of Master.
As incentive, I offer you amusing pictures under the cut.
I am documenting The Fish's increasing fattitude. Seen here in the posture of Extreme Cuddliness, Fish is a master of cute-fu. Do not be decieved. It is only a ruse. If you touch the white bits, she will take your arm off, just as sure as the Lord made scorpions. Note her spread back toes. That's all the warning you get.
The training for cute-fu is rigorous, and consists of many days of the student holding a cute posture while indignities are heaped upon her.
I humbly submit this as evidence. I will also humbly submit these pictures to www.stuffonmycat.com.
She is a skilled cute-fu combatant, indeed. You can see that she does not even change expression, despite rearrangement of the stuff piled atop her. You can also see the fuzzy rim protruding from the bottom of the bead box. Fatness is a vital asset to the advanced student of cute-fu.
Also skilled is Sif, whose extreme soppy cuteness and look of innocence enable her to get out of almost any trouble with little more than a slap and a squirt of water. Her real gift is sleeping. Look at this:
Is that a cat you could punish?
Matt's skinniness puts him at a disadvantage, so he has therefore studied a rare form of cute-fu. Apathy-do.
Here he has immobilized bat_cheva with his high-powered Utter Limpness (+2).
Scritching has no effect whatsoever. No counterattack, short of the sound of food cans, will dislodge him.
Of all of the cats, only Tazendra is sincerely deficient in cute-fu.
Even when she is being generally appealing, there lingers about her an unholy aura of eldritch horror, like the stink of unwashed socks. She is never without an unpleasant sound, a foul smell, or damp spots in her slimy fur. She does not pose adorably as a cat should, and instead hunches and lurks. I sometimes think that she could not be truly traditionally cute if she tried.
Here we both are, trying for mutual Looks of Pettability. You may judge for yourself the effects.
You will note that her face is hideously contorted, and that her eyes do not point in the same direction. You will also note that one vampire fang is exposed. This is the best she can do for "cute." Her school, that of vileness, is a truly rigorous one in which she is so sorry-looking, so miserably unpleasant to be around, and so utterly desolate of charm or pleasant features, that she becomes cute simply because she is so despicable and pathetic. And in this regard, she is often very, very cute. Thus, the master and novice are one, and many chop-socky movie stereotypes are preserved.
I have yet to master this school. My attempts are sadly lacking:
Even the addition of kitty ears does not confer upon me the title of The Mocus.
Clearly I have far to go in my quest for the rank of Master.