Why I should quit Instagram.

Because this lady says.

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I shamelessly post photos of food and my cat. It is my thing. My photos are not inspiring, nor are they beautiful, but they make me happy and shouldn’t that be the reason that we do anything in life? I mean, until recently I thought the term FLAT LAY meant that you were a dud root.

So I thought I would share a few recent snaps of mine, and give you the  background story.

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Each morning I go for a walk. Chuy walks with me until the end of our block. Then he sits and waits for me to come back, then he escorts me home before screaming for Fancy Feast. 

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This is Chuy and me last Saturday afternoon recovering from the drama that unfolded when he presented me with a live brown snake. There was much screaming. Things had settled down at this point, but then I started watching the Mark Latham riot unfold at the Melbourne Writers Festival on twitter, and I was positively AGOG.

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Ms. Bloomingdale would be very unimpressed if she ever set her peepers on this photo. A cat AND food! faints…….

She also suggests that you only post photos that are beautiful, or interesting. So I guess that rules me out.

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Here is Chuy sitting on some clean laundry.

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Photos of kids are ok, as long as they are attractive.

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Fail.

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Fail.

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Spectacular fail….

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Marginal.

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Disaster.

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So there you have it. Thirteen very valid reasons not to follow me on Instagram. However, if you would like to join me in my missions to become the worst instagrammer ever in the whole wide world, you can find me being a total disaster at @woogsworld.

Do you ever get sick of being told what to do?

I mean, how can you fuck up so badly?