“Happy Friday.” It feels almost sacrilegious to say it. But I’m convinced the real sacrilege right now is not to say it.
Call the New York Times. I have a hot news tip. It seems not every day is going to be the same.
Editor’s note: Welcome to a new week, kittens. I pray and trust you’re finding your way and finding your peace, and I’m grateful you keep finding your way here in these most peculiar days. Today, you are in for a special treat, courtesy of one of the kindest, coolest volunteers you will ever love. Going […]
First things first: nobody knows exactly where this all goes. Not you. Not me. Not even, on this rare occasion, the cats.
If cats could take Buzzfeed quizzes, they wouldn’t. Amy has no need to know which Disney princess she would be, nor whether or not Timothée Chalamet would like her mixtape.
John Legend songs. Red roses. Abominations committed against marshmallows. It’s Valentine’s Day, with all its mixed feelings. Fortunately, we have Dorito, and Dorito has us.
It’s Christmas Day, the heart of Chanukah, and very near to the shortest sliver of the year. 2019 is leaving us, yet not without light.
This is a night of waiting. Yearning. Keeping our watch of wondering love.
We can’t all be Santa Claus. We can’t all be Mr. Rogers. But each of us can be all the cats believe we can be.
On this 28th day of November, 2019 AD, in Ringoes, New Jersey, United States, Planet Earth, there’s a lot to be worried about. There’s a lot to be angry about. There’s a lot to be weepy about. But there is so much more more more to be grateful for.