Look at all them bubbles. I want to dive into that.
I always found cats peculiar creatures. My friends who owned cats would tell me that they'd spend $10-$15 at Petco buying all different types of toys from jingly balls to scratching posts to cotton sleeves with bells and yet, the cats were more interested in the shopping bags the toys came in or the straw from their soft drink.
Maybe it's the excitement of packaging.
When I was a child, I was cat like in behavior in this regard: whenever a package came in the mail, even the package was a toy for me, I couldn't wait to get my hands on the bubble wrap. It made a distinct popping sound. It was fun squishing all of the bubbles. I would lay sheets out and jump on them or wrap them up as if I was wringing out a towel to hear pops go off like machine gun fire. Of course there was the standard pop the bubbles between my thumb and pointer finger one at a time.
It didn't matter to me that toys were inside the bubble wrap. I'll play with my Gloworm later. Not exactly sure why a Gloworm would be wrapped up in an item created to protect fragile valuables, but that's neither here nor there. Playing with the Gloworm was second on my business agenda. Bubbled needed popping.
The last Monday of every January is Bubble Wrap Appreciation Day. I shit you not. Today, I went out and popped a few virtual bubbles. I highly recommend you do the same.
I feel this post was pretty lame. Expect pictures of Irina Shayk later so I can recoup some of my manhood back.
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