Welcome to internet 2.0

I'm back, people, and the site is better than ever! This new site relaunch may have cost a little more money than I wanted to spend, but it just looks so nice that I had to take advantage of it. I mean, let's face it, Blogger was state of the art when I began the site in 2008, but hosting your site on your own registered domain is some next generation shit.

Initially, I wanted the site to really focus on the animals, because that's what it's all about. But as the site has slowly become more and more relevant in the computer programming community, I knew I had to kick it up a notch. Now that I've revolutionized the blogging cutting edge by promoting myself on Facebook, Twitter, and Kronk (this will be huge in 2010, if you can't see the link, you aren't cool enough to hear about the site yet), I needed a great home site to serve as part blog/part social networking site/part multimedia poetry vanguard. And here it is. Stunning. Modern. Forever FUPenguin.com.

I do have to apologize to people who do not yet have Firefox 6, as the site isn't really maximized with the earlier versions, and you may be missing out on a lot of the special features available on the site.

It's marriage time, bitches!

You don't ever expect to find yourself in this position, but after years of playing the field, I've finally met someone. Her name is Audrey, we complete each other, and she may or may not be a puppy.

Things are going to be quiet around here for the next two weeks while we convince our families that this is the best thing for us and we go on a honeymoon in France, where they are more welcoming of puppies in dining establishments and our general lifestyle. I will be back on June 29th SO DO NOT FUCK MY SHIT UP WHILE I AM GONE. Stay off the furniture, no speciesist slurs in the comments section, and for crying out loud stop looking at pictures of cute animals on other sites. It will only make you hate yourself when it is all over. The Fake Institute found that people who do not look at pictures of cute animals on the internet have a better relationship with their pets, except for people who read FUP!!! So cut that shit out. If you miss me, buy a copy of my book. If you don't miss me, buy a copy of my book to atone.

To direct your mob-like energy towards something constructive, I am opening up the comments section for an informal poll on what everyone's favorite post has been. Remember, there is no wrong answer, as every post here has been equally incredible.

I have a good feeling about this summer. Big things are going to happen, people. Very big things.

Desperate otters turn to cute-based crime in the struggling economy

It's so nice to be walking alone in nature, without a care in the wor- AHH! Why is that thing so pink! DOES IT HAVE EYES?? What do you want? No, just don't hurt me, please. THAT'S ALL THE FISH I HAVE ON ME, I SWEAR. What? Okay, you can have the beer, too, just point that fucking thing somewhere else.

Ugh. I feel so dirty. I don't care how low I get, I'm never waving my baby in an otter's face. But I guess that's what separates us from the animals. We have moral standards. Then again, it's so easy to get a baby otter nowadays, I'm surprised this sort of thing doesn't happen more often. Look, I'm not saying otters shouldn't be allowed to have babies for personal protection in their own homes, but you have to draw the line somewhere, or otters are just going to have babies left and right, and some of them are going to get into the wrong hands. Now I have to go cancel my credit cards and take a shower.

Glamour shots aren't for dragons, jerk-off

Komodo Dragon, what kind of photo shoot do you think this is? I'm sure you got a facial last week, told everyone you know not to stress you out, and got to bed early so you wouldn't have bags under your eyes. But unfortunately for you, you are a giant poisonous lizard. Pretty sure this is going in National Geographic, loser, not fucking Vanity Fair.

And, really, I'm trying not to dwell too much on the tongue here, but are you sure you aren't just chewing a crowbar? You need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself what about scaly skin, pure black eyes, and a belly that drags along the floor is going to get you on the runway in time for next year's Fall/Winter collections. I think it's best you stick to what you know, like kidnapping princesses and talking like Sean Connery, and leave the spotlight to the professionals.

I don't know what the fuck this is but I don't like it

A reader came across this Unidentified Furry Object in Peru, and I thought maybe there was someone out there who could call out this fucker by name.

Why is it standing on a bench? Why is it drinking from a mug? WHY ARE ITS WHISKERS SO LONG BUT ITS TAIL SO SHORT?

If you can identify this animal and answer all of these questions, you and a guest will fly all expenses paid to Peru to have a beer with the animal and see what develops. (Offer void where you live.)

The marsupial rampage continues

After kangaroos ruined their future and I discovered that wombats are all the same, I didn't think it could get any worse than a fucking koala. I WAS WRONG, TREE KANGAROO. The fuzzy fur and the weird ears, okay, but what's with the leafy greens? HAVE SOME FUCKING MANNERS, TREE KANGAROO.

The key with these assholes is to keep your distance, as this guy learned in an all-too-real way. He has yet to stop grinning like that. And the tree kangaroo? It just wanders around the reserve going up to unsuspecting volunteers saying "Hey, you wanna hold me? I'll change your life." Well, fuck you, Tree Kangaroo. I'm happy with my wombat. I don't need your cheap thrills.

Baby flying squirrels: a mini-9/11 in your hand

Flying Squirrel, you are a fucking disaster. There's so much wrong with this photo, it's hard to know where to begin. But let's just start with the fact that you can FIT INSIDE A FUCKING LADY'S HAND AND STILL HAVE ENOUGH SPACE LEFT OVER FOR YOUR WHISKERS. I know you think your curled up little tail is going to melt hearts everywhere, but it just looks to me like you're trying to make us forget you can't actually fly. STOP TRYING TO GET AWAY WITH AN INFLATED SENSE OF SELF.

You know, I used to think it was the skin around their legs that made squirrels able to glide through the air, but I'm pretty sure once you get this fucking ridiculous you can float on big-eye-and-little-paw power alone. Just remember to enjoy it while you can, Flying Squirrel, because you're going to get older, and if you don't have your feet on the ground, there's going to be a big wake up call, and it won't involve me feeding you acorns.