Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Why I Hate Christmas

Like you needed any more reasons.

The top reason why I hated Christmas this year: my present.


I know, I know, I should be grateful my servants even spent their Precious dollars on me... but wait till I tell you WHAT they got me. Actually, Pictures are worth a thousand words as a wise poet once told me. So here's a picture:
NOT EVEN KIDDING.
Just, don't talk to me.
Don't EVEN talk to me

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Christmastime is Here



It's the most wonderful time of the year right?

NO

I have to disagree. The most wonderful time of the year is when our owners leave on vacation and put out tons of food for us in those feeders. For sake of a worthwhile blog, back to what I was talking about. So Christmastime is definitely a fun time of the year, I'll give it that. My reasons for this opinion, however, are probably not anywhere near you mortal humans'.

I'll humor you and give you a couple of my favorite X-mas-time traditions



1. Playing in bags. Let me explain:

When you human people go shopping and bring home tons of white plastic bag with shit in them ..........sitting in them is like heaven on earth. So is cheese. Anyway, that crinkly noise they make, the handle holes to poke my head through, and the way they provide a haven for neverending circle runs are just a few of the reasons why plastic bags rock my paws off.


2. Playing with string.


String is by far the best thing about Christmas, because there's such an abundance. Usually I have my simple shoe string to play with, but christmas brings many a type of strings. You have the ones on the gift bags, ribbon, and string to wrap around presents ( my personal fave because it's long and skinny)



3. Rewriting Christmas tunes. Ahem:

Catnip balls (sing to Jingle Bells)
Catnip balls
Catnip balls
Catnip all the way
Oh what fun it is to get high off catnip balls all day
HEY

(Repeat to finish)


What kind of cheese is this? (sing to What Child is This)
What cheese is this you laid to eat
On my paw, as I was sleeping?
Which cattens eat with turkey treats
While dogs remain hungry and seeking?

This, this is Cheddar Cheese
Which cow herds make and cattens eat
Haste, haste to bring them me
The Cheddar, the Best of all Cheesee

O Come All Ye Bitches (sing to O Come All Ye Faithful)
O come sexy bitches
Ignorant and willing
O Come ye, o Come Ye
To my Pimpin' Place.
Come and adore me
Born the King of Cattens
O come let us adore me,
O come let us adore me,
O COME LET US ADORE MEEEE
KING OF THE CATTENS.

Have a great, merry Elvismas

Monday, December 17, 2007

Here in My Room

So, here's the deal. My room is THE FUCKING LAUNDRY ROOM.
Yes, that's right. Instead of being able to roam freely as I wish about the outdoors, not only am I an inside cat, but my "home room" as some might say is the FUCKING LAUNDRY ROOM.
 We're not sure why this is our room, but I think my servants (synonymous with owners) had their last cats in the laundry room also and were too lazy to give us another. Well F*** that!! It always smells like dirty clothes and the dryer is scary as hell! I don't even eat out of a bowl... they put my food on the ground for me like I'm some kind of wild animal. My toilet is a plastic purple box with "sand" in it. What am I a fish?! Damn right I'm not a fish, I eat those!!

Anyway, I just think that I shouldn't be cooped up at night, especially once I get my lady cats in through the garage door. They keep complaining that there's not enough room to get a dancing party started in the 10 ft x 10 ft LAUNDRY ROOM

LAUNDRY ROOM PEOPLE!!
 What if you lived in one? Would you be excited to retire at the end of the day? NO. Would you happy to be locked inside with no escape for meals and to make bowel movements? NO. Therefore, I ask you today to consider this: if you, too, had to reside in a dirty, smelly, cold, small room, would you truly be happy?

Until next time something shitty about my life comes to mind,
E.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Much Ado About Nothing

Bored.
In various stages of my life here on human earth, I often ponder my worthiness and value as a member of the feline species. I'm almost positive humans alike at at least one point in their lives also question their importance and purpose also. But c'mon - I'm a fucking cat. What is there to do? Let's see... so far today I have had breakfast, drank water, shit, chased my sister, slept, chased my sister, slept, tried to trip my servants (owners, whatever -), ate some more FINALLY, and uh yeah sat. Bear with me for a minute: What if your life was composed of these same daily inconsequential duties - would YOU be a happy go lucky, drool-at-your-every-presence domestic animal? I think not. Which brings me to my point about dogs. Everyone loves em blah blah blah cause they never take but always give... yadda yadda. But please, aren't you folks being a tad hypocritical. If you were on Science Diet VEGETARIAN cat food that tastes like shit, had to shit in a little purple box, and your "bed" was a thinly "padded" (debatable) circle, would you then be able to hide all of your grievances and on top of that be happy at every goddamn second in your life?!

DON'T BE A HYPOCRITE.
VOTE FELINE - YOUR TRUE COMPANION.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Another day... Another pickle

Ahem. Another day, another pickle. Yet again my owners have forced me to re-evaluate the significance of this life set before me. As a cat.
It happened such as this:

I was on a leisurely stroll to the upstairs of the somewhat of a house of which I am a current resident. As I was trotting into the office, (my favorite place to sit on the windowsill and watch the birds, as it is the highest point of lookout in the "house") one of my servants by the name of Megan happened to be walking out herself. She, of course, screamed at me in fright, which then forced me to retreat to the lower quarters of the house. Scared the f*** out of me, she did! Stupid f***in bitches ain't sh*t.

It is quite hard to type with my unopposable thumbs and fur getting in the way of things, but I will do my best to document this (hopefully short) somewhat burden of a life that I am forced to live out day-to-day.

Thank you and see you next time,
E.