Kitty – Grey Kitty

That Thing Parent’s Do

You know, there’s a thought that tickled my brain the other day. Stick with me. One day, your parents put you down, and they never picked you up again. Wild, right?

Picture this: There’s a “last time” for certain things in life that totally slip past ya unnoticed. Maybe it was when you were… let’s say, three or four? (Unless you were a particularly large child—like, big enough to wrestle bears or something). Your folks carried you around like royalty on their shoulders, through a world much larger than your tiny self. But then, poof! One day, you’re plopped down for good, and you just… walk.

Reflect on this, next time you grumble about never-ending walks or running errands. In childhood, those same activities were basically airborne adventures! There could even be a record out there somewhere—a Discrete Child Carrying Event Log—or maybe not, but it’s fun to imagine, isn’t it?

So, in the spirit of spontaneity, maybe next time try picking up someone who’d least expect it (go easy if they’re over thirty though) and see what happens! Lug a bigger pal through a park or give your little cousin a whirl. They may never forget the joy of being lifted high, and you’ll embrace that surge of nostalgic exhilaration once more. Just don’t drop anybody, okay? That might sting.
Belly Thoughts

Okay, brace yourself. This might sound like a loopy thought from a dream you’d have after a midnight snack of pickles and ice cream. Ever looked at your belly button and thought, “Hey, that used to be my old mouth”? Yeah, sounds bizarre, right? But stick with me!

So, when you were just a teeny-tiny human in your mama’s belly, your belly button—or the umbilical cord, to be precise—was sort of *your* mouth. It was your ride-or-die connection to delicious nutrients. It ferried all those essential vitamins, proteins, and probably some love from your mom’s meals straight to you, bypassing that non-existent mouth of yours back then. A magic straw, if you will.

I know, this concept seems about as plausible as a broccoli-flavored smoothie tasting good (but hey, some folks vibe with that). Then. After birth? Bam, snip-snip went the cord, and your brand-new adorable face is there to take over eating duties. Your belly button’s job done; it retired happily onto your belly, maybe morphing into an innie or outie.

So, next time you’re absentmindedly fiddling with your navel during a Zoom call or snoozy Netflix session, remember: it’s a quirky remnant of how you used to eat. From old mouth to lint-collection champion, what a transformation!
Highway to Hell but Just a Stairway to Heaven

You know, every now and then, a song lyric smacks you right in the face with a funny thought that doubles as a legit brain tickler. Take AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” and Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” they have sparked such an idea in me today. Two song titles, but they present quite a look at morality. It’s curious, right? Why a highway to the infernal pits (which the Pope doesn’t believe in), but just a stairway up to the pearly gates? Hmm…

Highways. They’re fast, sometimes furious, and jam-packed with people blasting that ol’ classic rock station everybody hates. It’s almost like everyone’s getting funneled that way, zipping past rest stops full of overpriced coffee and questionable sandwiches.

Conversely, a stairway—ah, such an upward (and likely sweaty) trudge! Imagine each step. “Oh, watch your breath, there are at least 10,000 more,” as your cardio pummel leaves you red-faced and gasping for “holy” oxygen.

But, hey… this all says something about our concept of morality. Does this jazzy difference in ‘transit options’ expose the notion that hell’s where life’s frenzied populace might cruise on over, while reaching heaven is an uphill battle, fraught with introspection (and probably air-conditioning breaks)?

It makes you wonder: is our entertainment reflecting deep insights or just good old marketing? Either way, wowza—grab those hiking boots, my friends (you may need ’em later). Heaven knows why we can’t get an escalator, am I right?👼
60 Going on 6

You ever think about how amazing it would be if we got a fresh set of teeth at 60 instead of 6? Like a little retirement gift from Mother Nature. It’s a funny thought but—hey—why not?

Turns out, this isn’t just science-fiction babble. In 2021, some brilliant people in Japan decided, “Let’s go Jurassic Park on this!” They started fiddling with genes to regrow teeth in animals. And now, hold onto your toothbrush—they actually moved to human trials. Maybe you’re retirement plan does include a fresh set of chompers, those that you don’t have to take out and night and put in a glass of water.

There’s a gene (USAG-1, sounds spacey, right?) that’s like the magic switch. Flick it right, and poof! Teeth regrowing magic happens. No more gaps to be socially awkward about (we’ve all been there, right?).

Apparently—get ready for it—we all have a backup set of teeth just chilling as buds, like interns waiting for their big break. So maybe it isn’t that far off, or it is if you’re younger, but at the ripe age of 60, you could debut this pearly white encore performance.

So, bad news for your future denture purchases but great news for anyone who’s tired of ducking dinner dates due to dental dramas!

Here’s to a future where the Tooth Fairy might just have to pay another visit. I want more than a quarter per tooth this time. 😂
Bills to Pay

Hey there! Let’s dive into a positively twisted (yet completely amusing) question: Who’s out there crossing their fingers for your allegorical flat tire, an unfortunate spill on your favorite jacket, or heaven forbid—a rowdy legal tussle over burnt barbecue sauce?

Doctors, paradoxically, are one of the kindest professions who genuinely hope, for the sake of green tea and good vibes, you don’t pay them a visit because well… illness. Yet, ironically, if we were all bursting with zesty health 24/7 (cue glowing vibes), what would they do? Read old medical journals for fun, perhaps.

Then there are lawyers. Ah, yes. They ever-so-graciously assist during your contractual debacles or when Aunt Mabel decides to contest the mystery of Uncle Joe’s will. While lawsuits aren’t their morning mantra, let’s be real—they need clients to keep their brains in the legal labyrinth game.

Auto mechanics—legends who decipher the cryptic language of spark plugs and timing belts, how can belts tell time in the first place is what I would like to know. Their like alchemists of the unknown. True, they’d love fewer breakdowns while gossiping over coffee. But in the silent underbelly of crankshafts and wrenches, they know each breakdown story pays the bills.

And now… burglars? Interesting folks, truly. To them, may your success multiply so they can spot the shiny new gadgets they can only dream of (and hopefully stay far, far away from!).

Short version: Everybody’s got bills to pay, am I right?
Little Imitators

Have you ever noticed kids? I mean, really watched them in action? Those little tykes are like sponges—but cuter and less prone to mildew. Reflecting on it, I’m reminded of when I was trying to teach my cousin to tie her shoes. I spent a good ten minutes demonstrating various methods of bunny-ear origami, only for her to call my attempt a “shoe catastrophe.” Ouch.

Children are ace at picking up on behaviors, much like a tiny mimic waiting for their cue. They imitate everything, like right? Why? Because they’re learning how to navigate this wild wacky world and they see us as their guides. Adorable, isn’t it? Yet ooooh so daunting! Seriously, I have posted about this before. It makes you ponder: Are we offering them Grade A material?

We better hope so. And if we don’t think so we better try harder.

‘Cause let’s be honest—kids watch what we do more than they listen to what we say. Yikes. The pressure. So, why not take a breather and consider this: give them something great to imitate. Maybe that means being kind in a supermarket line instead of muttering under your breath about the slow service and making the woman and the register even more stressed. Perhaps it’s showing resilience and positivity when things go–uhm–pop.

Suddenly, all those crazy antics and failures become teachings, lessons, and examples for life. Remember—don’t fret the small stuff. Inspire and have fun (wobbly bunny-ears and all)!
A Million Ways to Die

Hey, ever had one of those shower thoughts, you know the ones where you go, “Wait a minute… how have I made it this far?” I mean, think about it. Out of millions—and yes there are literally millions—of different ways you could have shuffled off this mortal coil, you’ve dodged every single one of them, and you’re doing it right now. Yup, you read that right! We’re alive, high five!

Life is basically a real-life version of an obstacle course, at least the way I see it. Just crossing the street’s a feat, right? (I swear, the crosswalk lights are in cahoots with oncoming traffic sometimes.) Add to that the everyday hazards: slippery bathroom floors, choking on food (’cause I’ve inhaled my fair share of pretzels), and the mystery of “Do Not Eat” packets in packaging. (Who’s actually tempted by those silica gels?)

Ever had one of those showdowns with a corner—the kind that magically leaps out to stub your toe? Oh, the drama those produce! But look at you, you’re still standing (heroically, I might add amid the pain).

Not to get all existential, but there’s something comforting—and a little hilarious—about it. Like, you’re doing this whole life thing pretty darn well. In fact, you’re on a streak, almost like a champ in a video game.

Next time you triage the groceries (or dodge a rogue pigeon, or is it dodging you), remember this—you’re not just surviving, you’re thriving amid life’s slapstick gauntlet. Keep on weaving through those wild, untamed hazards with grace, humor, and maybe a bit of awe. After all, you’re a living, breathing testament to life’s improbability because there are litterly a million ways to die. Keep on rocking it!
Money Is Like That

Have you ever notice dhow a twenty-dollar bill is like the grownup version of a dollar bill? I mean, really, think about it. Just for a sec.

Back when I was a kid, a dollar was a hefty fortune, at least it felt like it. Candy bars, comic books, and enough bubble gum to work your jaws into a frenzy were of course out of my price range—yet all could be yours for just a few more precious Washingtons. Ah, those simpler days. Then adulthood hit like a two-ton marshmallow in NY, and suddenly you’re staring at twenty-dollar bills like they’re the all-empowering green saviors of your wallet as long as you have enough of them. Weird, right?

Fast forward, and a twenty can disappear faster than you can say “small iced latte.” Life’s expenses just scale up. Movie tickets, a quick bite at your favorite café, or even a gas top-up require these now-crucial twenties. Let’s face it: inflation isn’t easing up (a fancy term that also means money’s mischievously shrinking).

But never fear! Just embrace it—twenty is the new dollar. It marks our rite of passage into grownup-hood, turning us into savvy spenders.

Next time you hand over that twenty (hopefully with swagger), remember this quirky transformation. It actually means you’ve made it to adult-land. Got this! And if you need reassurance, just imagine there’s a 20-year-old Toddler Living in a McFancy Restaurant Coupon-world using that to create majestic (but unfortunately invisible) money castles.
There–Not So Alone in the Night

Isn’t it funny, solitude I mean—how we confidently declare one moment, “I’m not afraid of being alone,” but secretly harbor that spine-tingling fear of not being alone when we’re supposed to be? That is the scary part isn’t it? Not the alone, but the alone with somebody who has no right to be there, part—there in the dark void of midnight, silence broken only by the creaks of an old house settling (or is it something more sinister?), you feel… yep, a presence! Are you spooked yet?

It’s not really about the solitude, is it? Oh no. We love a bit of alone time—binge-watching shows with snacks unapologetically balanced on our laps. It’s when shadows seem to flicker, and every innocent sound—the distant hum of the fridge or something all-too-resembling footsteps—morphs into potential horror movie material. Oy!

Speaking of which, do you remember as a kid (geez, or maybe as an adult, no judgment here) playing detective? Tip-toeing from room to room with a flashlight, transformed into a mini-Sherlock. Underneath beds, behind curtains, in the closet where coats become creatures of the night—only to find things perfectly normal? It sounds silly now, right? (But we’ve all done it!)

The funniest bit? We consciously know there’s nothing there. Really. Our overloaded minds just cook up these vibrant scenarios out of—get this—boredom! But flip that light switch, and instantly you’re like, “Who even thought ghosts could be real?”, laughing at yourself while you retreat to your cozy nook on the couch.

Next time you’re feeling a bit on edge in an empty house, take a deep breath. Shake off those Halloween fantasies. Or just turn it into a treasure hunt for that old pair of socks you swore disappeared ages ago. Some playful laughter and a rational mind triumph over fear any day. Promise!
Pro-Choice Rebuttals
A.K.A. Arguments Grounded in Reality (Unlike the Pro-Life Nonsense)

Hi! Pull up a chair—or, if you’re reading this standing at the kitchen counter while guzzling a quick coffee, maybe just lean back for a sec. We’re diving into a topic that’s serious, but wow, it’s so important to hash out: The best pro-choice arguments. Or, counters to the nonsense that pro-lifer’s spread. Seriously! If you dare open your mouth, guess women aren’t supposed to be heard on this subject concerning our bodies, we’re supposed to hold still and let some law maker make decisions about them instead.

You ready?
1. Just because there’s a “right to life” doesn’t mean anyone has the right to use someone else’s body to keep that life going.
2. Women aren’t obligated to have kids, and deciding to have sex definitely doesn’t automatically sign them up for that responsibility.
3. Making abortion illegal is seriously risky for both women and their children.
4. Adoption still means a woman has to carry a baby for nine months and give birth, which are both pretty risky in themselves.
5. Abortions, meanwhile, are actually quite safe.
6. Taking away access to abortion infringes on a woman’s right to make decisions about her own body.
You know how we all have our own space? Our own little bubble where we get to call the shots, like what snacks we hoard or how late we stay up watching our favorite TV shows? Well, turns out our body’s supposed to be pretty much the ultimate personal space. When it comes to “right to life,” some folks argue that it doesn’t automatically mean you’re entitled to it after all. They expect to be able to use someone else’s body to sustain that life. They love unborn babies (its when they’re out they couldn’t care less)! I mean, think about it, just ’cause I say, “Hey, can I crash on your couch for, like, nine months?” doesn’t mean you have to say yes, right? Same deal for women, but at a much bigger scale, obviously. Women do not have a built-in “responsibility” to have children. And deciding to have sex? No, it doesn’t come with a shiny badge that says, “Hello, New Parent!” It’s an absurd leap to imply it does.

Outlawing abortion? Dangerous. It’s as plain as that late-night fridge light guiding you to leftovers nirvana. Seriously, banning it doesn’t make abortion disappear—it just makes it unsafe. Woefully unsafe. The dangers multiply for women and their future children when access is yanked away. And saying “just choose adoption” sidesteps the entire ordeal of carrying a pregnancy to term. That’s an adventure in itself, layered with perils and risks—and yep, a whole lotta physical changes I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

Let’s lighten the mood with a nugget of truth: Abortions are pretty safe. Actually really safe. Statistically, safer than those roller coasters I pretended to enjoy, only to find my lunch wanted a round two on my shirt. Reputable medical data lines up behind the procedure’s safety, with complications being remarkably rare. Compare that to the myriad of risks with pregnancy and childbirth, phew, you kinda see why—when we talk safety—abortion might just drop the mic.

Intercepting bodily autonomy, now there’s a kicker! Banning abortion yanks away a woman’s fundamental right to decide what’s best for her own body. It’s like confiscating the remote and declaring movie night solely a re-run of last decade’s sitcoms (shudder). Our bodies, our choices, remember? You actually seem to have forgotten, or you just never cared in the first place. That principle rings as true as holding onto the last slice of pizza for yourself. It’s the core of personal autonomy.

Okay, I can hear you thinking. “Deep stuff with some real food for thought!” These pro-choice arguments weave into the expansive tapestry of discussions surrounding reproductive rights, painting a vivid picture of today’s societal landscape. They illuminate the nuanced realities and rights worth protecting fervently, if we don’t nobody will. There’s no simple answer here, we can’t snap our fingers and make this insanity go away—every woman is faced with complex, deeply personal choices when it comes to her reproductive rights, and those are choices every woman deserves the power and respect to make. Thanks for leafing through this heavy topic with me. Remember, conversations like these matter. A lot. Defend your rights. Stay curious and empathetic. Always.

Author: Kitty