Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Just because you have access to a slew of human pets that do your bidding does not make your blog more fantastic than mine. Sure, I'm reduced to a pet that knows nothing more than Microsoft Paint and has some mediocre skill cropping photos on Photobucket, but that doesn't mean that with your high-tech Java and beautiful layout that you're outdoing me.
In fact, you're indoing me.
I made that up right now. How you like that? Can you make up your own witty words whenever you feel like it? I don't think so.
Note to freaky Frenchies: If you're going to be wittier than me, you have to do better than using the word RUFF in a sentence, i.e. You're in the doghouse for giving us a RUFF time. I'm rolling my eyes so hard right now that I think my third eyelids have popped loose.
Come over here and find out how RUFF I can be, freaky Frenchies!
Sorry, french fries, but this is just not a novel concept. Consider yourselves on notice! I'm adding you to my Litter List!
Francesca and Sharkey: Tell your human pet, Martha, to stick to what she knows - baking cakes, decorating for the holidays, and wearing ultra-fab handknit ponchos by fellow inmates. You two had better give me fifty feet or it's an all out fabulously flailing fist-a-thon for fun's sake on freaky Frenchies.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Considering how much drama he brought to the show, might I recommend a stint or two at the local community theatre? I'm sure they'd be more than happy to accommodate Mr. Rodman. They're always looking for new and exciting talent.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
When asked by someone how she did it, she replied, "Had I known we were working for tiaras, I might have applied myself harder!"
Terrific job, everyone!
If you would like to see more photos from the evening, check out the human pet's record here.
If you would like to still make a donation, click here.
Great job, Hair Band Against Cancer! Cancer doesn't stand a chance with us rocking out the fight.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Monkeys make him their business.
Cat burglars trained under him.
His litter clumps in anticipation when he approaches.
Veterinarians examine him just because they find him interesting.
His tail has experienced more than a lesser cat's entire body.
His blood smells like catnip.
Banks cannot contain the pennies he's received for his thoughts.
He doesn't need a sleeve to hide his ace.
He is all bark and all bite so don't get any ideas.
The law lays down beside him.
He frequently tells leopards to change their spots.
Others may let the chips fall where they may, but he tells them where to land.
He is the most interesting cat in the world.
"I don't always eat tuna, but when I do, I prefer Starkist Tuna."
"Stay hungry, my friends."
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
This beautifully crafted mobile pen is loaded with safety features! The slide-locking system on door and top, plus lockable base and casters ensure your pet is safe and secure in his/her "own" special space. Casters allow you to move the pen from room to room without lifting. Plastic base removes easily for cleaning. The pen's beautiful hardwood construction complements Richell's other fine wood pet products.
Slide lock system on door and wire top
Latch-locked base provide additional security
Lockable casters provide
easy mobility and safety
Removable wire top and base
Easy to assemble
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
[I know you're sitting there, reading it, but you know if you were to let it slip through your lips, you'd lose it. Let's segway one moment to allow you to say it out loud: Poopilicious puppy. Ten bucks says you can't say it without laughing, giggling, or at the very least, snarfing. Ah, the magic of the word 'poop'.]
[Unfortunately, on this blog, we, the staff, are very easily amused...]
Where was I? Poop? The ph- sound?
Oh yes, surviving the puppy.
I have taken it upon myself to read Be the Pack Leader: Use Cesar's Way to Transform Your Dog...and Your Life by the man himself, Cesar Millan. When I first read the title, I was hoping that the book would address how to channel the power of Optimus Prime in order to defeat the plump, poopilicious, puppy named
Monday, March 23, 2009
I want you to know what I am going to do to that puppy from the moment he steps paw into this house:
While I do believe this cat took it easy, trust me: I will show no mercy. I am going to bring some serious whoop-ass down upon him. When you beg me to stop, I will not. When you cry, "Please, Zeus, don't hurt him," I will not hear your pleas. When you come to me to scoop me up to remove me from the pummeling, I will leap out and continue my onslaught of furious paws.
This is how it will be.
This is my house. We play by my rules.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
So here's my thinking...
If I make a collage dedicated to my human pet, maybe she will abandon this whole crazy puppy business she's conducting.
Want to make your own stylish collages? Check out Polyvore. Special thanks to Pink Chihuahua Princess for the tip!
Friday, March 20, 2009
I am...an amazing attention whore.
I think...about whether or not my food bowl is empty all the time.
I know...how to communicate with squirrels in the yard.
I want...to be constantly pet and adored.
I have...allergies, and oh, are they a doozy.
I wish...I could go outside, just once.
I hate...being left alone.
I miss...my human pet when she is away for too long (Please do not tell her that right now. I'm still...angrier than a russled fire ant hill.)
I fear...going to the vet. No, really. It's terrifying.
I hear...dripping coming from the sink.
I smell...like Downey fabric softener for some reason.
I love...Cesar Milan.
I care...that I have a full food bowl.
I always...am the packleader. (See "I love...")
I am not...a whiner, contrary to popular belief.
I believe...I'm the best there ever was, ever is, ever will be.
I dance...on occasion. I like rap.
I sing...to my own tune.
I write...to prove there are other sentient beings on this planet.
I win...every time.
I lose...to no one.
I never...want to exercise.
I listen...when I want to.
I can usually be found...sleeping on my pet's bed.
I am scared when...Diet Coke cans are opened in my presence.
I read...facial expressions very well.
I forget...all of the bad stuff eventually.
I just...licked my hoohahless hoohahs. I bet most human males out there are now jealous.
I am happy about...everything, everyday.
Also, a few categories that Bone added...
I only...moan when I have to get something done.
I need...a place to myself when this damn puppy arrives.
I wonder...if I will ever become famous from working on this blog and be interviewed by Matt Lauer on the Today show.
And one I'm adding just to show off...
I pounce...on mosquito hawks that decide to infiltrate my home.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Consider the words of the prophet, Muhammad:
There are three signs of a hypocrite: when he speaks he speaks lies, when he makes a promise he breaks it, and when he is trusted he betrays his trust.
You, Marina, are a hypocrite.
A blasphemous betrayer.
A backstabbing, malicious, evil forked-tongue wench.
There is no depth of hate that I can put into words that can describe the sheer outrage boiling and teeming inside of my feline belly. Though some might consider it to be hunger (and it more than likely is), it is not a hunger for food. It is a hunger for justice!
How could you DO this to me?
I must admit that I was lingering in denial, unable to bring myself to the truth which so desperately wanted to be brought into the proverbial light. I saw the scraps of a photograph, and I defended you to my friends. "She's moving on to someone else, Zeus," they said, but did I listen?
No! Not once!
I refused to believe that you would take my tiny, beating heart into your hands and crush it in your grubby fingers. You, of all people, have known me, cherished me, loved me for eight long years, but clearly, 2920 days spent together in blissful companionship has meant absolutely nothing to you. I suppose it might have meant something to you had we managed to make it to 3000. You always did like clean, unfiltered numbers.
Nonetheless, I digress...
What woman stands there before me? I know her not. Yesterday, I knew her, but today - today, she is like an unfinished portrait, awaiting the master's stroke to be complete. She is nothing more than a collection of vile, sinful, and evil ways. (Speaking of vile, sinful, and evil ways, I highly suggest that since you're Catholic, you make your way to confession right this instant. A sin of this magnitude might very well keep you from entering the heavenly gates.)
In the end, I wish I could say, "It's not you; it's me," but that would be lying. It is all you - you and the Boston Terrier puppy you have named Ares that is coming home with you on April 7, 2009.
I heart you no longer.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I know what you're all thinking, and I cannot believe that my human pet would get a puppy. No offense to my canine friends, but I don't think my pet is that stupid. Sure, she may not know what a slotted spoon is or how to pronounce persimmon, but come on - she wouldn't try to infiltrate my home with a slobbering, snoring, snarfing buffoon.I overheard a conversation as well. The pet was talking to someone she called "Miss Bobbie". Clearly, this is a codename for something else. Everyone knows Bobbie is a boy's name! Once again, the pet thinks she can outsmart me, but I don't think so!
And who is this Ares? That name was in the conversation many, many times. I don't think I like this Ares person. Anyone named after the Greek god of war is bound to be no good.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
We're not sure if we're angry at the world, angry at doctors, or angry at cancer.
The pet's cousin found out on Monday that his cancer was "unconducive to surgery". You see, he had gone in for treatment one month and some weeks ago, and that specialized treatment was supposed to be a zinger. It was supposed to make him well enough for surgery, but when he went in for his check-up, his numbers had gone from 9 (indicating a possible state of remission) to 4000.
The pet's cousin is turning 21 in two weeks. We're thinking of sending him some of the finest alcohol man has to offer.
It's not right. It's not fair. It's all shades of wrong.
And yet, there it is.
"It is what it is," as the pet's dad would say.
Stupid, beeping cancer.
Cancer, consider yourself Number One on my Litter List. I've put you on notice! (Oh yes, I'm making a Litter List for my sidebar so everyone knows how much you suck also. Don't think I won't!) I'm sure other things will eventually make their way onto the list, but you can have it all to yourself for right now. I'm too pissed at you to make room for other things. You're getting all my angst.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I just started blogging again, getting into the swing of things, and feeling good, but now, I suspect that is all going to come to an end.
I hear rumors. Whispering talk. A two syllable word that rhymes with guppie. Or yuppie. While I know my human pet could be misconstrued for a young urban professional, I hardly think she fits that mold to a tee. I know we have no fish, so I'm pretty sure that I might need some more Epi-Otic to clean out my ears to really know what's happening around here.
There's a road trip being planned as well. Some place called Weatherford, Texas. I looked it up online, and I found out that it's 45 minutes outside of Fort Worth. I'm certain we don't know anyone from there so I'm not sure who the pet is planning on visiting.
After listening to ripping and tearing sounds from the kitchen, I crawled into the garbage bag to discover a itsy-bitsy piece of paper. The only scrap of a clue I have is this:
Apparently, the human pet is even hiding evidence from me. I think she believes she's smarter than me, but I'm going to have to show her just how misled she is. I'm going to find out, so help me! She can't keep secrets from me in my own house!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
With the economic state of the country affecting everyone, I decided it was high time I did my part: I needed to get a job. I had been freeloading long enough off of the human pet, and even though there was a huge part of me that felt it was her obligation to take care of me, I knew that it was that attitude that would ultimately cost me my Purina One.
After browsing through the local want-ads and searching online, I decided to register for the Houston North Career Fair which was being held at the North Sheraton on March 10, 2009. Immediately, I was sent a confirmation email that had the following checklist:
1. Resume is updated and error-proof
2. Printed 30 copies of your resume
3. Personal marketing pitch is ready
4. Review companies attending and prepare questions
5. Select appropriate business attire
I hadn't a resume, a marketing pitch, or appropriate business attire. It seemed finding a job was a lot harder than just walking to the garage to do my "other business" in the litter box. Where other felines may have been held back by the daunting prospect of visiting a career fair, I only saw opportunity.
I created my resume using the fine advice found on Resume Help. It took some time to think of all that I had accomplished, but in the end, I was pleased with the final product:
I then proceeded to step two in preparation for the career fair. It took no time at all to print out 30 copies of my resume. I stacked them neatly and then placed them into a Five-Star folder which I then secured in my trusty pet backpack. (I know what you're thinking: "Gucci, Zeus? Really?" to which I respond "Yes, Gucci. I have an Italian owner!")
It seemed all I had to do then was prepare a marketing speech, review the companies attending, make some questions, and select an outfit. I was well on my way to landing the job of my dreams...
To be continued...
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
What in the hell was my human pet thinking? When asked, she responded, "This is what happens when you lose at Texas Hold 'Em," but we all know that's a lie. She bought the blue on a whim, just to recapture some of her lost youth. As the humans say, "It's so lost, girlfriend." Punked out? More like crunked out...
Monday, March 09, 2009
In fall of 2008, the pet's cousin, Kevin, was diagnosed with a germ-cell tumor. It was deemed cancerous, and since that moment, it has been nothing short of a roller-coaster ride of emotions for both him and the entire family. Cancer, however, has not stopped Kevin, and even in the face of such a great adversity, he is more alive than ever. May we all have the positive spirit that embraces him should we ever find ourselves asked to rise to such a challenge.
On March 27, 2009, the pet will Relay because she wants to see an end to cancer during her lifetime. Relay gives her the unique opportunity to celebrate the lives of those who have battled cancer, remember loved ones lost, and support the American Cancer Society’s lifesaving mission by fighting back against a disease that has already taken too much.
Consider making a donation on behalf of someone who is fighting for his or her life or for someone who has lost the battle to cancer. Leave the person's name on the fundraising honor roll, and my pet will write the names of all honored on her t-shirt for the night of the event. (During the evening, the pet will take a photo and upload it onto Twitter so you can see the shirt for yourself!) Even if you cannot make a donation, spread the word via your blog, Twitter, or through email and encourage others to join the fight.
Together, let us stand up and defeat cancer once and for all so that future generations may never have to face such a terrible disease. To make a donation or to copy the link, simply click on the button below. We will be running it on the bottom of every post until the day of the event.
Friday, March 06, 2009
After browsing through the pet's planner, it looks like I won't be seeing much of her this weekend...
- Friday night: Watchmen
- Saturday morning: Tutoring
- Saturday afternoon: Cooking Creamy Chicken, Bacon, and Tomato Pasta for neighbors
- Saturday evening: Texas Hold 'Em
- Sunday morning: Church
- Sunday afternoon: Sleeping
- Sunday evening: Celebrity Apprentice
- If I have a moment: Study for midterm, work on blog, collect donations in neighborhood
Thursday, March 05, 2009
P.S. If I wake up tomorrow and find out that yet another mascot has been assaulted, I might just pee myself. Please tell me that the brutal violence against helpless mascots does not also happen in threes like so many other occurrences in life. Do we need to start a mascot-assault pool? If we are, I'm going out on a limb now and saying Smokey The Bear is the next victim.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Sharpen those pencils and grab those highlighters. It's time to take the TAKS test.