22 Things Crazy Cat Ladies Do on Their 22nd Birthdays

As you may or may not know, Thursday, August 22 was a very important day in the world– it was my star birthday. That means I turned 22 on the 22nd. It was a mixed day, with both highs and lows, as most days are, but it was still special and still lovely, and in honor, I am going to share with you an outline of what crazy cat ladies might do on their big day. I’m sure you’re just perishing with anticipation.
Now, I know what you’re thinking– a crazy cat lady on her birthday?! I bet she really gets caaaa-razy!


Cat hair is lonely people glitter, you know.

Ah, but Readers, read on. The birthday of a crazy cat lady is more glamourous than you would ever guess.

Warning: Gratuitous photos of cats ahead.

1. Wake up voluntarily at 8am since you got sick the night before and fell asleep just barely after midnight, voluntarily stay awake, nearly die of shock, and then have a bowl of Lucky Charms.

Literally me as I get up at 8am on my birthday.


Petting headless cats.

Petting headless cats.

And then resurrecting said headless cat with crazy cat lady magic.

And then resurrecting said headless cat with crazy cat lady magic.

3. Take a cat break to check your phone and brood over the fact that nothing interesting ever happened on your birthday.

What even is a botnet??

What even is a zombie computer? Why is this relevant?

4. Notice your cat sleeping next to you, and decide it’s time for some CAT SELFIEZZZ.








I don’t know what this means but it’s in a song called Glamorous and she’s holding champagne so I’m going with it.


Day = made.

Day = made. (Note the cat lady reference… she knows me so well.)

6. Fall asleep and cat nap until your dad calls you to say he’s on the way home from work and you panickedly jump up and frantically start getting ready.


7. Send some Snapchats after you get ready so everyone can see how good you look on your birthday.


8. Have some delicious Thai food for lunch with your dad, and finally order a coconut ice cream with sticky rice WHOLLY FOR YOURSELF.





9. Head to Best Buy to look at Kindles since the screen on your old, basic one broke; realize they don’t sell basic Kindles anymore and you don’t want a new, fancy one so you make your dad go into Petsmart next door so you can look at the KITTIEZZZ.





10. Head to Academy so you can get a new soccer ball; get a bonus Blake Griffin OU jersey for $10, and THEN you see a lady in Academy with a live monkey on her shoulder, complete with a little leash and diaper.

Here is a picture of Blake Griffin at OU, because I couldn’t be bothered to take a picture of my soccer ball, my new shirt, or the lady with the monkey. What do you want from me, it’s not like I’m getting paid to do this.

11. Head home and open your present from your sister.

Just a note, my sister found this card months ago while I was with her, and I told her to buy it anyway.

Immediately after I opened this, my sister told me she needed to use the shaving cream and the soap.

Immediately after I opened this, my sister told me she needed to use the shaving cream and the soap.

12. Hang out with your cat a little more, ensuring that you are properly covered in cat hair.

13. Take pictures for your bargain fashion blog (feel free to go check out the post).

14. Spend some more quality time with your cat.


How do other people deal with the fact that they don't have the cutest cat in the world?

How do other people deal with the fact that they don’t have the cutest cat in the world?



15. Decide to change and then head to Red Lobster for dinner with your fam.

16. Stuff your gullet while pausing occasionally for pictures.

My sissyyy

My sissyyy :)



17. Begin getting very, very ill and desperate to go home.

Can you see it? Can you see that I already am looking a little green and miserable?

Can you see it? Can you see that I already am looking a little green and miserable?

18. Rush home and into the bathroom.

19. End up crying in the shower because you got sick on your birthday.


20. Collapse pitifully on the couch and be comforted by your cat.

Just a sidenote, my cat is seriously like half my length.

21. Open your present from your mom.

"I'm so siiick, life is so cruuuel, I-- IS THAT AN OWL PURSE?!"

“I’m so siiick, life is so cruuuel, I– IS THAT AN OWL PURSE?!”

22. Count the day a success.

The Brief and Tragic Life Of Chef Rowe

It’s been a hot minute since I last blogged. But, as always, I have a hastily concocted excuse that really doesn’t stand up to the reality of the fact that I don’t have a job, or school, and should technically be able to post every single day.
But I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you guys with how absolutely hilarious I am and possibly give you a heart attack from laughing too hard every single day, so really, I’m doing you a favor.

You guys if I posted every day.

I’ll still throw my excuse out there anyway– I’ve started a new book and I’ve been writing feverishly and blah blah blah blah okay you get it. So moving on. I’ve got some exciting news before I get to the theme of this particular post– I ate at CiCi’s Pizza today… and NOTHING HAPPENED. NOTHING.
No mistaken gender, no chance encounters with acquaintances that dredged up humiliating memories from my past. I only ate four (cough five cough) pieces of Alfredo Cheese Pizza. It was completely, totally commonplace.


So perhaps the CiCi’s curse has been broken! But don’t worry. I’m still going to expose my humiliation for your amusement.
Now to start my story.
There are two facts you may or may not know about me.
The first fact is that I am a fanatic pinner who is unashamedly and wholeheartedly addicted to Pinterest. Like, it’s bad. I think Pinterest is 64% of what I use my phone for. And I don’t want to brag, but my wedding board is kind of the best. Like, if you’re getting married and need a planner, then feel free to check it out. Because I’m becoming more and more sure that my calling in life is to plan weddings, like Jennifer Lopez in the 2001 classic, The Wedding Planner. And one day I’ll be planning this nice but spoiled lady’s wedding and then meet the perfect guy when he saves me from getting squashed by a runaway dumpster only to discover he is the fiance but then he and his fiancee will realize they don’t love each other and he loves me and I’ll end up with a hot, perfect husband. Except it will be actually a great love story because the guy won’t be Matthew McConaughey.

“I in no way use my physical appearance to distract from a lack of talent.”

Sorry, MM fans. But anyway– my wedding board is pretty much amazing, just saying.

Now, the second fact you need to know for today’s post is that I am a very bad cook. I mean, I can handle the occasional brownie or cake mix, and I love to whip up some pre-packaged cinnamon rolls every now and again. But truthfully, I’m just too scatterbrained to be successful in the kitchen. This has never been a great source of concern for me though, truthfully. I’ve never really been too interested in anything to do with cooking.
But then, something happened.
That something is called my sister started watching Chopped, and forced me to watch it with her.


Let’s just say, things spiralled out of control from there.

So this week I read an article on Buzzfeed called 18 Signs You Are Obsessed with Chopped. I laughed uproariously, gleefully reveling in the knowledge that I was, indeed, obsessed with Chopped (Sign Number 19- YOU WANT TO SCREAM AT EVERY CONTESTANT TO NOT MAKE A BREAD PUDDING FOR DESSERT ROUND SRSLY GUISE THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE DOES). So not surprisingly, a couple days later, I was watching Chopped.  I was also casually surfing through Pinterest during commercials. Perhaps you see where this is going.
Chopped + Pinterest= “Hey…. I think I’m going to bake something!”

Amanda… why are you rolling your eyes???

Eagerly I began searching through the pages of Pinterest, my eagle eyes peeled for some sort of unique, delicious, life-changing dessert. A dessert that my family would beg me to make for years to come. I had bright, glittering visions in my head of people asking me to parties just so I could make this dessert– of my friends wheedling me shamelessly to get the recipe and then passing it down among their families for generations to come.
I’m an adult, I thought emphatically to myself. It won’t be like when I was younger and didn’t know what I was doing. I watch the Food Network now. I know what I’m doing.
I continued to pump myself up as I scrolled through recipe after recipe, never quite finding what I was looking for, but just KNOWING it was waiting there for me. Suddenly, something caught my eye. Something… intriguing. Something with berries.


(Side note: if you’ve never seen this commercial then I pity you. Go watch it right now. I’ll wait.)
Not only did it have berries, but, even better, it was French— I couldn’t even pronounce the name and I had certainly never heard of it.



Eagerly I clicked on the link, and found I even already had the necessary ingredients! IT’S FATE, I thought to myself. This recipe just had that certain je ne sais quoi that told me it was meant to be. With bubbling enthusiasm, I rushed into my kitchen, ready to unlock the Chef Rowe that I just knew was there inside of me.


I began feverishly heating ovens and cracking eggs and beating mixtures and boiling milk and mixing mixtures and buttering pie pans. Finally, it was berry time. Now, technically the recipe calls for fresh raspberries, but it said you could just use berries. We didn’t have any actual fresh berries, but scrounging in the freezer did reveal that we had both frozen raspberries and frozen cranberries. Really feeling my culinary creativity at this point, I daringly decided I would mix the two together for my magical French dessert. I skillfully de-iced the frozen sliced raspberries (slightly mushy, but I was baking them, everything was going to get mushy anyway!). Then I washed off the very cold, whole cranberries. Briefly I wondered if I should slice the cranberries up but the recipe said nothing about slicing cranberries (to be fair, the recipe said nothing at all about cranberries specifically, which leads me to believe that the originator of said recipe never dreamed someone would try to use cranberries for it). So I thought, why bother?


Cheerfully I spread the whole cranberries and the mushy remains of the sliced raspberries in my carefully prepared pie dish, and readied myself to finish the prep for my delectable dessert by pouring the mixture I had so slavishly whipped up. I tipped the bowl over, and started pouring.
As I did so, however, I noticed two things.
1. The cranberries were not remaining docilely on the bottom of the pie dish like they were supposed to– instead, they floated to the top like so many taunting little apples to a very inept participant in a game of bobbing for apples.
2. I had too much mixture and not enough pie dish.
Frowningly I regarded these unexpected problems that had cropped up, my complete lack of experience in matters of cooking leaving me with no idea of how to address the situation.
But I was obsessed with Chopped, damnit, with an actual Buzzfeed article as evidence! I had a creative, talented, generational-recipe-creating chef inside of me! I could do this! I could!
So gingerly I began picking out floating cranberries, taking about half of them out and depositing them into a cup. Then I proceeded to try and pour more mixture/batter/stuff into the dish. I managed to get most of it in, but there was still a troubling amount left.
So now I was stuck both with not enough berries AND not enough mixture. Even to my nonexistent cooking instincts, this seemed to be a problem. So again, I applied my brilliant brain to the problem.
Why would the cranberries be floating? I asked myself. And then suddenly, it dawned on me.

The cranberries were floating because they were still whole which meant they still had air inside them. All I had to do was let the air out, and everything would be fine!
Oh, Readers.
I honestly don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to just take the cranberries out and slice them up. That would be the logical thought, wouldn’t it? That’s probably what you thought I was going to do. It’s probably what you would have done yourself. Oh, but Readers, never, never forget– I am not normal.
My solution to the floating cranberries?
Stab them with an ice pick.

Now, you might think that was a joke, one where I thought up the stupidest, most ridiculous method of getting air out of cranberries and then threw it out there for a laugh.

Even what I’m pretty sure is Mr. Bean in an Elizabethan ruff makes more sense than what I’m telling you.

I won’t attempt to explain to you the difficulty of trying to stab tiny individual floating fruits, bathed in a slippery mixture of eggs and milk and other things, with an ice pick. Because it just makes it so much worse. Because why, at any point, did my brain not kick in and say, Sara, this is one of the most foolish things you have ever done. Stop immediately. 
Instead, I stabbed about fifteen cranberries before deciding that would be enough, and pouring the rest of the mixture in, which now fit! And in blatant disregard of the utter, unacceptable absurdity of the entire situation, my brain instead decided that since the mixture now all fit in the pie crust, I was doing something right! So I then proceeded to shove all the extra cranberries I had taken out back into the pie dish.
And hey!! They fit, too!!! Chef Rowe was back on top, triumphantly overcoming the baking tomfoolery that had so briefly stymied her.
I cheerfully shoved the whole thing into the oven, blithely ignoring the fact that the liquid hovered precariously close to the edge of the pie dish and that floating cranberries had erupted like zits all along the top of the dish. Then I skipped off to watch some more Chopped while I waited.
I won’t describe what emerged from the oven, because I think this picture says it all:

I’ll just leave that picture there for you all, without commenting.
But what I will share with you is that while I was trying to take this out of the oven, I burned my arm quite badly.
That’s right.



At this point, Readers, I’m just going to take advantage of the convenient fact that I never have to see your faces while you read this post. And I will especially enjoy this fact when I tell you that even after stabbing cranberries with an icepick and scarring myself– I WAS NOT DETERRED.
I convinced myself that the problem was simply that the pie dish hadn’t been big enough, and I hadn’t used fresh fruit. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was like, yeah, probably should’ve cut up the cranberries. But hey, c’est la vie, you live and you learn! And there were endless amounts of recipes on Pinterest just waiting for me to try.
So the next day, I determinedly began searching for another recipe, and finally find one I thought was perfect. My burn still smarting, I was especially excited by the fact that you didn’t have to bake anything. No sirree. Because I was going to make a mousse.

Blackberry Cheesecake Mousse, to be exact.

Berries and cheesecake? SIGN ME UP.
But this time, I was determined to be smart. This dessert was going to go RIGHT, by god. So I forced my sister to go to Walmart with me to make sure I had fresh ingredients, including fresh fruit. I scampered around, collecting my things, only to realize to my utter frustration that Walmart was simply out of blackberries. Just completely out.
Scowlingly I stomped to the car, with my sister soothingly suggesting we just go to the grocery store Homeland, which was sure to have them. Somewhat mollified, I agreed, and I hurried into Homeland to get my prize, already intent on making my delicious, SUCCESSFUL dessert.
Quickly I scanned the entire fresh produce area, and then did a double take. Not only were there no blackberries in sight, there wasn’t any other kind of berries. Instead, Homeland had about six types of grapes AND NOTHING ELSE.
In a building anger, I rushed over to an employee and asked them if they had any fresh blackberries. When they told me all they had was what was on the produce wall, I huffily snatched up a bag of frozen blackberries, paid, and grandly exited the store.
When I got home, I grudgingly began to prepare everything, acknowledging that the frozen blackberries would do fine, because they obviously had not been frozen in the freezer for who knows how long like yesterday’s fruits had been in our freezer. Finally, it seemed that things were going right. I began tossing and stirring and scraping things into the mixing bowl of our mixer, gradually feeling my good humor and completely unjustified optimism return. I added the last ingredient, and triumphantly turned off the beaters. It was going to be perfect, I just knew it.
Except when I went to scoop a bite out to taste, I realized that my mousse was not, in fact, the least bit moussey. Instead, it was a bit runny and already the ingredients seemed to be separating. Again, Chef Rowe was facing a potentially devastating setback. My mind began feverishly running through ideas to salvage the situation, when suddenly, it hit me.

You’ll be proud, at least, that my solution did not involve icepicks in any shape or form. Instead, I decided to quickly whip up a white cake mix, and then use the blackberry quasi-mousse to top it with, a la my favorite dessert at Olive Garden:

Strawberry dolcini ;akjd’gja’ej j[iejaiwgnan;wgnh HEAVEN

It’s white cake with like strawberry sauce and then like some kind of magical fluffy white chocolate mousse and honestly I could just drown in a pool of this and I would die completely, blissfully happy.
So, just make a white cake and put my concoction on top of it, and voila– instant classic.
Since this was Sunday night, that meant we were having dinner at my Nana’s house, which just happens to be next door to mine. So I grabbed a cake mix and my mousse stuff, and trotted over to my Nana’s to finish dessert. I mixed everything up easily and quickly, because, after all, even I can make a cake mix without messing it up. I wisely remembered to turn the oven on before I did this so that way it would preheat as I made the mix. I went about my way with restored spirits and a spring in my step. When the mix was ready, I went to pop it in the oven only to discover to my surprise that it still wasn’t done preheating. I frowned, but fatalistically accepted that there had to be SOME delay– obviously true genius only grows out of struggle. But after a few more minutes, I began to grow concerned about why the oven wasn’t done preheating. Finally, I opened the oven to peek inside, only to be reminded abruptly that my Nana stores all her extra pots and pans that don’t fit in her cabinet inside her oven when she’s not using it.
In utter shame I began removing piping hot cooking ware and shoving it anyplace I could find where it wouldn’t melt something. Very quickly after I removed everything out of the oven, it reached optimal baking temperature, and I shoved my cake pan in with a great breath of relief. Twenty-seven minutes later, I popped out a completely acceptable white cake out of the oven, and I began cutting it up and putting it into little bowls so I would be able to top it with my mousse, which had been put into the refrigerator where it had surely been firming up and taking on proper mousse-like qualities.
With a burning desire to just be done with the whole endeavor, I pulled my mousse out of the fridge– and discovered that not only had it not firmed up, but the ingredients all seemed to be trying to disassociate from each other, much like I now decided I wanted to do with baking in general.
I had no choice but to plunge ahead and serve it up.

Bon appetit...(it's okay, I think it looks like someone threw up blackberries too)

Bon appetit…(it’s okay, I think it looks like someone threw up blackberries too)

The taste at least was acceptable, though by no means a recipe to pass down the family. I’m trying it again now and it just seems kind of…off. But at least it didn’t taste like berry flavored eggs, as my first dessert attempt had.

And that, my friends, is how I quit my brief, inglorious stint as Chef Rowe.

PS I know this one was a really long post, but thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoyed it! I certainly would prefer that SOMEONE got some enjoyment out of those two days.
And just in case you are interested, here are the links to the two recipes I so defiled. If you attempt them, I wish you much better luck than I had!
Dessert 1: Clafoutis
Dessert 2: Blackberry Cheesecake Mousse

I Got Nominated for an Award, Thank You Marlyn!!

This is a special post, because I got nominated for an award by another blogger! I have seen people post pictures or mentioning different types of awards, but I never really knew much about the whole process. But a wonderful fellow blogger recently introduced me to it when she nominated me for The Versatile Blogger Award!


So a huge thank you to Marlyn, who runs a fascinating blog called Kintal where she posts original poems on top of her original artwork. I always love checking out what new, creative thing she has posted, and I am so excited she nominated me!
One of the rules of accepting this award is that you have to nominate 15 other bloggers to receive the award. I feel slightly presumptuous doing so because a lot of the bloggers I am nominating are much more talented and experienced bloggers than I am, but I think it’s wonderful to be able to share their blogs with other people so be sure to check them out.
So here are my 15 nominees!
1. http://olivethepeople.wordpress.com/
3. http://theverybesttop10.com/
4. http://jesscy.com/
5. http://refashionista.net/
6. http://loveoverlust.wordpress.com/
7. http://vincentmars.com/
8.  http://spemma.wordpress.com/
9. http://everydayinadress.com/
10. http://thefacesbox.wordpress.com/
11. http://anarrowshot.wordpress.com/
12. http://lifemeasuredincoffeespoons.wordpress.com/
13. http://astoldbylaura.wordpress.com/
14. http://christinadangblog.wordpress.com/
15. http://newyorkcliche.com/

And here are the requested rules of this award!

  • Display the Award Certificate on your blog.
  • Announce your win with a post. Make sure you post a link back to me as a ‘thank you’ for the nomination.
  • Present 15 awards to 15 deserving bloggers.
  • Link them to a post and let them know about the nomination
  • Post 7 interesting things about yourself.

So I guess this only leaves the 7 interesting things about myself?
1. My ears are terribly uneven; my left one sticks out and my right one does not, and I remember which is which with the handy phrase “Lefty loosey, righty tighty.”
2. I have never broken a bone before (keeping my fingers crossed), but I did fracture my skull when I was four.
3. My favorite thing to drink is milk, and I will literally drink it with anything. Seriously, there is not a single food on earth I would not accompany with a glass of milk.
4. I can roar like a lion.
5. I have a genetic disorder where some spots on my skin simply have no pigment, and one of the spots on my right upper leg looks like a surprised ghost:

Slightly risque proof!!!

Slightly risque proof!!!

6. I absolutely love to travel, and I have already been to five countries outside of the US, and I intend to travel to more as soon as possible.
7. I have played soccer in some capacity every year of my life since the age of 3.

So there you go! A huge thanks again to Marlyn for nominating me, and I truly hope you will check out her blog as well as my 15 nominees!!

5 Boys I Would Totally Be a Cougar For

Well helloooo, August.
Most people regard the arrival of August with horror and panic, because it generally means they will be shortly returning to school. Now, I’ve never loved to go back to school, but I have always welcomed August because it is my birth month. So when August 1st rolls around every year, I’m still pleasantly excited. Fun fact: every month on the first, I always say “Rabbit, rabbit” at some point during the day because when I was a little kid I loved these books called The Babysitter’s Little Sister series, and in one book the heroine of the series, Karen, talks about how she always does that every month for some reason that I don’t remember, and for some reason as a 21 year old I still continue to do this. 

Karen and I had a lot in common.

Now, you may not know this, but this birthday is going to be my STAR birthday. As I learned from all the kids in my class at the daycare I used to work at, your star birthday is when the date you were born on corresponds with your age. So on August 22, I will be 22, and that makes it my star birthday. It also means I feel really old. I am also beginning to notice an alarming phenomenon– more and more often I’ll casually think a guy is attractive, before I realize that they look younger than me. “Oh god,” I think to myself. “They’re probably underclassmen in college! Or…. in high school.” It’s really uncomfortable when you reach this stage in your life:


I have always been vaguely horrified by the idea of dating guys younger than me (ironic, because my last boyfriend was almost two years younger than me, but ahhh, the folly of youth). And with the invention of the whole “cougar” persona, I have become even more convinced that a guy being younger than me is not gonna fly.

Other dealbreakers– not liking cats or soccer, because that is like 60% of my conversation.

However, as time has passed, I seem to be getting older, strangely enough. And yet every year there are just crops of hot guys who never seem to age. This was a hell I never dreamed of when I was younger, because I don’t dream up cruel and unusual punishments for poor, aging, single girls who enjoy a little casual, innocent creeping on cute guys. I have also noticed that this seems to be a particular problem when it comes to celebrities. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched a movie or a TV show and thought a guy was super attractive, only to discover from a little Wikicreeping that he is, in fact, younger than me (GETTIN’ REEEAL TIRED OF YOUR NONSENSE, HOLLYWOOD).
The biggest problem is that sometimes you stumble upon a guy so wonderful, so attractive, that you just can’t ignore them. Even I, with all my determination not to prey on the younger men, am not immune. And so, for your consideration, I submit to you 5 boys I would happily become a cougar for.
Just a note– this list only works if you are my age or older. Just so you know.


Oh, Damo.

I am starting with the guy who broke the cougar’s back. I first fell madly in love with Damian McGinty on the first season of The Glee Project– and let me just say that if you also watched the first season of The Glee Project and you don’t also love Damo then YOU HAVE NO SOUL AT ALL.


On reality TV, people tend to display the worst characteristics of human nature. Turn it into a competition and add a bunch of teenagers trying to get famous, then IT. GETS. REAL. But over that entire season, no matter what people said or did to him, Damian remained sweet, humble, positive, and always kind. After extensive and intense creeping of him, I have determined that Damian McGinty is the nicest guy ever. And as you might have guessed, since he was on a competition for singing, the boy is an absolutely fabulous singer. Like, swoon-worthy. Like, so good they broke the rules of the competition so he could be a co-winner and get to be on Glee (though I can’t speak of how awfully he was treated on that show– an absolute travesty is what it was). This is a terrible quality video but you can get an idea of just how fabulous he is here at this link.  And he just gets better– kid loves soccer. I mean, he’s from the UK so no surprise there. Oh, yeah, did I mention that? Damian is from Northern Ireland, so he HAS AN IRISH ACCENT.

Luckily Damian fulfills all of these requirements.

Damian has also used his fame to start his own recording studio in his hometown to give local singers who otherwise would probably never have a chance a shot at a recording deal. He’s also well-known for being incredibly kind and friendly to any fans he meets. Confession: Damian McGinty is the only celebrity I have ever written a fan letter to, and I AM NOT ASHAMED. That’s right, at the age of 19 I bought extra stamps in order to send a fan letter to him in Ireland. Hate on me, haters. Someday, when Damian and I are happily together, we will laugh about that.

While I am appropriately wearing this shirt.

So if you’re not on the Damian McGinty train, then shame on you. Damian McGinty is the one who taught me that cougin’ is a slippery slope, and he is the reason that there are four more boys on this list.

A big cougar pounce on you, Damian McGinty.



I mean, first of all, just look at him. On a superficial level, you just don’t get much better. But Josh Hutcherson is not just a gorgeous, drool-worthy, handsome face– he also is an awesome person. He plays what is possibly my favorite literary character of all time in the Hunger Games movies, and I think he does a superb job of doing so. There’s no one else I would want to play my beloved Peeta. Josh also loves soccer- I totally watched an interview where he said that if he wasn’t an actor he would want to be playing soccer (PERFECT). He also is involved with a lot of charity work and organizations like Straight But Not Narrow. So rock on, Josh. And even if you are younger than me, I am totally available if things don’t work out with your new lady.

A big cougar growl for you, Josh.


Awww, Parker.

I have mentioned in one of my posts before my large and unfortunate crush on Parker. He is one of the stars of the show Gold Rush, and he is ridiculously adorable. But I don’t just crush on Parker for that cute baby-face– I crush on Parker because he took over running a gold mine when he was 17. That’s right. SEVENTEEN. How many other boys do you know that had the maturity to run a freaking gold mine when they were 17? I like to tell myself that Parker is obviously very mature for his age, and it doesn’t matter that he’s only like 18 and I’m about to be 22. It’s totally fine. Parker took over running the gold mine from his then 91 year old grandfather, and their relationship is almost as precious as Parker’s adorable face. I love a man that’s close to his family, and Parker clearly adores his grandfather on the show.


So shoutout to you, Parker Schnabel. You are probably the only person I wouldn’t mind taking the name Schnabel for. Also, having a gold mine in the family would be pretty freaking sweet.

Cougars love a man who works hard, Parker Schnabel.


Ahhh… there’s two of them.

If you have never heard of the Harries twins, then you are so welcome for the gift I’m giving you. These boys are ridiculously attractive, funny, talented, but also socially responsible. They gained their fame through YouTube. One of the twins, Jack, started a YouTube channel called jacksgap that eventually became enormously popular, with his brother Finn eventually becoming more and more involved. The boys have a whole host of videos of them doing anything and everything, from turning their room into a ballpit to bungee jumping naked to visiting underprivileged children on Christmas. The boys have used their newfound fame to become involved in a number of charities and to make videos over different places they have visited to draw awareness to those different causes.


They’re goofy and always ready to laugh at themselves, not to mention fantastic dressers, and again, they are British. English accents all around in their videos, guys. Best of all to me, they’re really close to each other, and as my sister is my best friend in the entire world, I totally love that. So I salute you, Jack and Finn Harries. And I would be happy to date either of you.

Seriously, though, they’re like a gift from the Cougar Gods.

So there they are, Readers. My top five boys that I could care less about their age. Sadly, I have a bad feeling there are only more to come. But I’m not embarrassed, and in case any of you boys are reading this and need a little convincing, there are 6 reasons I’d make a really great girlfriend you can take a look at. Maybe if I can manage to snag one of these fine young fellas I can start a whole new kind of Kittycat Club….

Because I am a professional, damnit.

Because I am a professional, damnit.

So I’ll just leave you all with this bit of enticement:

Ball's in your court, gentlemen.

Ball’s in your court, gentlemen.