Hey thotlings! Meow! My life is so far in the shitter this week that I don’t even want to talk about it, so I’m just going to slide on into this week’s topic like I’m Rob Gron-cat-ski bringing the tinsel ball into the end zone. That’s right, we’re talking Kitten Bowl III, which aired this past Sunday on the Hallmark Channel, much to the dismay of your Granny hoping to catch a rerun of Murder, She Wrote. Don’t worry, Marg – your girl Jessica Fletcher will be back next week.
There are few things that delight me more than a fine feline, and the fact that a network offered a rebuttal to Animal Planet’s previous monopoly on animal sports bowls is really more than any kvlt cat lover could ask for. My favorite part of the event is the ability of the commentators to make some sort of sense out of a bunch of kitty cats swatting at things. Like, literally – there is zero logic to what these little guys do at all, but they narrate and edit it in such a way that it feels like you’re watching an actual football game. For example, if Adrian Paw-terson climbs all the way up the miniature field goal, he’s earned the North Shore Bengals an extra point, and if Cheddar stands in the middle field sporting endearing anime eyes, he’s hit with the penalty of excessive cuteness. Yet, Ben Rothils-purr-ger still managed to demonstrate more technique than his human counterpart.
Sadly I’ve had to catch the past two catastic spectaculars in pieces due to work and group project obligations (don’t even get me started on the latter), so I knew that having a duty-free super bowl Sunday called for a special celebration. I got the show on the road early and ordered some of them band hot sauces off the internut (pro tip: if merch stores are sold are, which they often are, try iburn.com), stock piled my cauliflower for my meatless wings, and told everyone’s favorite guest thot, Julie, to clear her and her camel toe’s schedule. There’s one kind of prep that can’t be done ahead of time, though, and that’s putting on your game face. *tRiGgEr wArNiNg* this article is about to get really embarrassing:
Lol I hate myself a little bit. But hey, some pretty cool people have been cat fanatics. Just look at P Steele. Actually I’m pretty sure he was a cat. A beautiful ebony coat? Striking green eyes? The ability to scamper off into the night with your heart in tow? Shit adds up. Anyways, Kitten Bowl III was a joy from beginning to end. The North Shore Bengals, Last Hope Lions, and Boomer’s Bobcats all put up a good fight, but the Home & Family Felines were ultimately victorious. But in the end, all the contestants were winners because their moment in the limelight provided them with the exposure needed to get adopted. Me-wow! Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Man, did my heart go out to Noodles. That little angel was an amazing athlete, but black cats like himself face discrimination during adoption selection since old superstitions die hard. But, things always turn around. Just look at Mr. Slippers – he had a full-on kitty crap out in the middle of the field, but he woke up just in time to score the extra point for his team. Do you believe in miracles?!! And talk about a half time show. The light show! The stage production! The cinematography! A bevy of Chihuahuas descended upon the field to shimmy with the athletes and I don’t know who was tinier or more nervous. Even though I’m a cat lady there’s nothing like a Chihua pup. To be honest I actually peep Paul Webb’s Instagram on the reg to catch a glimpse of his little lady, Dolly. She’s the literal definition of angel face.
Before I even knew it, the two hours came and went, and I dejectedly flipped to the Puppy Bowl that was gearing up. Ugh, that shit is so fucking corny. Like Animal Planet thinks it’s all that just because it has the budget for a Parakeet that can live Tweet. Fucking bullshit. There was a serious size discrepancy between some of the puppies, too. Would someone like to explain to me how that’s fair or even safe? Whatever. I mean it’s great that all of these little guys are up for adoption too, but if there’s going to be another animal bowl it should really be the capybara cup. I’ll have the link to the GoFundMe in next week’s article.
With nothing else to do before the Beyoncé concert, Julie and I figured it was no time like the present to start getting into the hot sauces. I had been wanting the Eyehategod and Goatwhore ones for a while, but decided to take on High on Fire too because, fuck, I didn’t even know they had one. I’m not going to lie, they didn’t taste all that crazy different. I guess because they’re all made by Big Daddy’s or whatever. Glancing at the labels they mainly appeared to be different proportions of the same ingredients. But, there were definitely some subtle differences that I noticed. I had read that EHG’s is prime on vegetables and I have to agree. I doused my cauliflower wings with that shit (basic instructions on how to make these in my Northern Skies article) and it gave a bite to it that worked as the perfect compliment. It’s also a nice thick sludgy color so, yano. Appropriate. For all we know it’s bottled up swamp water, not that that would make it any less yummy. I threw some in a bloody Mary too and the first sip was pretty dank, but the more I had, the more I realized that Mary is kind of a whore. I’d take a nice mimosa pitcher over that Clamato Southpark vampire kid ass-shit any day.
Next in the starting lineup was Goatwhore, which I was pretty amped to try since the label is so fucking rad. The “blood for the master” title is pretty accurate because it looks like a literal vile of blood. I was a bit disappointed to see just how liquidity it was when I poured it out on my florets. It all just kind of rolled off. From what I could tell though, it delivered on the heat, and in retrospective the consistency probably lends itself better for a cocktail. Despite being the band in the lineup not from the South, High on Fire packed a pretty impressive punch. It’s tangy and smoky and you can really taste the lime in it. I actually got back into it tonight to put some on a black bean burger, which was pretty off the chain. I really want to douse a Chipotle bowl with it, especially now that they’re done being the Flint of Mexican food. Julie’s consensus on it all? *with tears in her eyes* “I’m too white for this shit.”
So there it is, another Kitten Bowl in the books. Moral of the story is all hot sauce is good and I’m a huge weirdo. Sorry. But if you’re still coming to thot thoughts Thursday expecting serious hardline journalism you’ve done fucked up son. Might I suggest to you instead is Sarah’s really amazing interview with Author & Punisher. But, if food and felines float your goat, swap kitty pics and vegan recipes with me here at (jennaDIAG @ gmail.com).
And now for some bonus bloopz: