Pets are Cereal Killers

I am never using soap again. It's all body washes for me for the rest of my life. This is the part of the blog where you may want to just skip over and go straight to the pictures of fuzzy animals if you're squeamish.

Today, I was innocently plugging along the internet, looking for some good do-it-yourself spa recipes for Greta's party. Obviously, these aren't for Greta, but for Aunt Bev, my mom and myself. I found a make from scratch recipe for soap. I was super excited because I had always wanted to make soap completely from scratch, without using glycerin. When I opened the page, I was shocked and completely grossed out to read this.

The essential ingredient for making soap from scratch is lye, but personally, I found this very hard to find. I had several people at DIY stores regard me suspiciously when asking how to find lye. Lye, such as the popular brand Red Devil, is no longer sold in supermarkets.

Here's the link to that site, by the way, so no one accuses me of stealing their content. Plus, it's a super great site that I use all the time, seriously. It's where I got all my Christmas ideas from.

In the question and answer part of this post, does anyone know why lye isn't sold on shelves in any old store anymore, and why this lady got strange looks when she was looking for it?

It was pulled from shelves in the store and from being mass marketed after it became a popular tool for serial killers. It has similar effects to acid, as it will burn away the skin, making it much simpler to hide or dispose of the bodies. See, and people said my serial killer knowledge would never come in handy. I bet I made every one of you rethink using soap.

And because I feel the need to reiterate this, I don't have serial killer knowledge because I want to kill someone. I can't even kill a bug, and quite frankly, when I get mad I just swear a lot and run because I'm completely non confrontational and will let you run me over and then apologize for bleeding on you. I may say some shit, but then I run. Fast. I'm interested in human nature and profiling, and I just don't understand how anyone could ever do anything as horrific as taking someone else's life, far more several people's, and not flinch. How they could think it was ever okay. I don't get it at all and no excuse will ever be good enough.

If I could have my dream job, I would be a profiler. I've known this since I was around ten. I've would love to interview serial killers, but the fact is, folks, no matter how good I think I'd be at it, I would never have a chance in hell of making it into the FBI with my health problems. So I just sit here and try to figure out serial killers from here. I still haven't figured any of them out, but they all seem to have the same patterned traits, so I'd like to think I've learned what signs to look for in people that mean they could be dangerous, and get the hell out. And I'd like to say, thanks to my serial killer knowledge, I was able to get out of a relationship that would have very easily turned abusive, and now, several years after the fact, I've found out I'm extremely lucky to have gotten out unscathed, and it's all because I knew what traits to look for to tell me if someone could be dangerous; the subtle things that people don't think about on an every day basis. But that's another story for another day.

Today I'm too tired to say a whole lot, so I would like to present you with silly pet pictures. Have you had a laugh today?

This is Pie. I don't know what she's doing either.

Here's a closer view, if you think it will help. All I know is that she got up after this and is fine. When I found her, I thought for sure she'd suffocated herself. When I touched her and she yelled at me and then went right back to this position, I took a picture. I'm a good pet mom.

This is scamper. He likes to be upside down as often as possible. We worry if he falls asleep right side up.

This is Pie again. I think we should have named her Pear.

Why Paramore had to sit on Stitch is beyond me. Why Stitch continued to let her for a good five to ten minutes is a mystery I can't solve. It did make for a good picture, though.

Paramore is a wedgie who has funky hair going on. She likes to keep her hair nice and neat so she's never embarrassed. I like to immediately accost her head as soon as she sits down with me, and then take pictures before she can put it back how it was. Obviously, she's overjoyed about this. If I disappear and you never hear from me again, send this picture to the police.

Helena and her nose are two different entities, or at least that's what we like to tell ourselves. Her nose is always in everyone's business. One day, her nose was in my business for so long that I was able to take a picture. This is what we stare at every time we sit down near Helena.

For my birthday my friend sent me a card about a cat that was imprisoned for stalking for some reason or another. I still have the card and it's really cute, but I'm too lazy to get up to see why he was stalking someone. Anyway, the cat on the card looks suspiciously like Stitch. I'm not convinced it's not him.

I must be missing trends left and right here, because I was completely unaware that Greta was a pillow.

I sat on the couch. Helena saw me and wanted petted. This ensued.

I sang. Leo disagreed. I continued long enough to snap this picture.

The other day, Stitch decided to walk along the top of the couch, therefore pitching a pillow on top of Leo. This bothered Leo greatly, as you can see.

That's all for now, Squirrel Monkeys. But come back tomorrow, after I've spent a full day with Aunt Bev. Hopefully I will have enough energy to tell the tales that I hope ensue.