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| So … tired … after … football … game. Zzzzz |
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| Not pictured is the gouge on the sole of his foot or the cut between the toes. |
Great Giants playoff victory this afternoon! 24-2 and they did all the scoring for both teams. I feel like today is a holiday because Manning didn't embarrass us. For once, he didn't throw like a girl. Next up is the Packers. That ain't gonna be easy so now I'll contentedly do my best easy.
Oh, I'd be remiss if I didn't tell my fans about what happened around midnight Friday night/Saturday morn. I was so upset after I was forced to let TW publish that drivel she calls "poetry" that I allegedly took it out on Pop and "mauled" his furry foot as he climbed into bed. Game, pretty good job, if I do say so myself. ♫I love you, Pop. Didn't I lay my head of your shoulder this morning?♩Uh, just for the record, none of you saw this. Remember, what goes on in this blog, stays on this blog.
Coming Wedneday: my long awaited experiment with Silvervine Powder.
OK, so I lost a bet. TW DID remember to clean my litter box. I think she did it on purpose. Now I have to let TW use my blog for her evil purposes. She has decided to—gasp!—share one of her poems from the stone age. (Damn, I thought I hid those things where she'd NEVER find them!) Mariodacat's M had expressed interest on Twitter last year in seeing some of TW's poetry. She will now learn why I hid those poems so well that it took TW an entire year to find them. The Woman was going through her dippy hippy—or is that hippy dippy?—period and needed a miracle to pass high school English. She couldn't parse sentences or conjugate verbs, so she wrote "poetry." (Heh heh! I put quotes around it because it's still my blog.) I give it a D. Without further ado, I give you TW! (You can have her, if you want, but you're gonna have to support her. HAH!)
Thanks, CK, I think. I wrote this in the early '70s. (No, CK, that would be the 1970's, not the 1870s). When I re-read it today, it took on new meaning after hearing all the news about the Christmas morning fire in Stamford, CT, that killed 5 people, including three little girls.
You wanna make this a monthly feature? Over your dead body, woman! Ahem! *relaxes arched back and tail returns to normal size*
CK back in da house! Do I have any followers left? Time to wake up! Helllllluuuuuu … (to be continued)
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| See, I'm asleep already. Wake me when she's through. Zzzzzzz … |
A CHILD GROWS
Burning embers fall on the charred grass
But me—i see beauty.
There once stood a house
full of little children
playing, laughing, running
But those children grew up
Why must i—shall i—grow up?
The trees heard the whispering
of the flames already surrendering
to the men in yellow and the flow of their liquid
They once were children too
Laughing, growing, dreaming
But the world—did it make their young dreams come true?
[i'm forever asking questions
whenever the planet's silence is broken
It happens a lot—but maybe not enough
True love may move mountains
but until now, i've tried to not believe it.]
Once a playhouse whose rooms were alive;
a fireplace that went unconquered
For once it warmed—then it grew like
the children who basked in it's glow
It's enthusiasm soon was extinguished.
As i grow, will mine also vanish? the child asks herself.
© by The Woman
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| Is it over yet? BTW, this was the only time I ever laid in this $100 bed. |
CK back in da house! Do I have any followers left? Time to wake up! Helllllluuuuuu … (to be continued)
Is it still Wednesday? Just barely. TW has barely made the deadline.
Hey, Woman, can you see there's something wrong with this photo? Whatta you mean, you love it? It's … it's RED and I live in a BLUE state! You'd think she invented the nip mouse. That's how giddy she was! Time to call the old eye doctor, maybe even the head doctor.
The photo above has NOT been Photoshopped. I repeat, it has NOT been Photoshopped. I'd like to say it's TW being artsy-fartsy, but nooooo, it's TW being, well, TW. Not to mention TW being inept at photography. She THINKS it's a piece of high art. Move over, Scavullo! Move over Annie Leibovitz and Lynn Goldsmith. Can you tell I'm mocking her? TW just discovered the Macro setting on her camera so she decided to try it out. Maybe she thought "macro" meant red in some kind of secret language. I was laying on the kitchen chair. Don't ax me–or her—how she did it, but she got "Stunning Red Cat."
When I realized she was dead serious about publishing it, I decided to try to improve upon it. First I changed the color and you can almost tell it's me. Then, to be funny, I flopped it.
Hey, Woman, can you see there's something wrong with this photo? Whatta you mean, you love it? It's … it's RED and I live in a BLUE state! You'd think she invented the nip mouse. That's how giddy she was! Time to call the old eye doctor, maybe even the head doctor.
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| This is the original untouched photo |
When I realized she was dead serious about publishing it, I decided to try to improve upon it. First I changed the color and you can almost tell it's me. Then, to be funny, I flopped it.
Finally I decided to change it to a black and white and—viola—we discover, it's actually in focus. Albeit a little dark, but that's alright—well, kind of. When she finally gets one in focus, she adds some kind of red flare or filter. That woman is jealous of my Stunningness and she'll go to any length to sabotage my photos. Anyone would KILL to have a subject such as myself, but not TW. I need a new photographer. Someone call Leibovitz and Goldsmith. Stat.
It's official! The World's Most Stunning Cat has been awarded the esteemed Liebster Award. I believe Liebster translate roughly to Sweetheart. Yes, this cat certainly IS a sweetheart. The cats at Furrsonality, who presented this award to me know what a sweetheart I am. You should go over and visit them. They've been blogging for about 2 years and only have 30 followers so I encourage you to visit and follow them.
For the next great bloggers—and sweethearts—who receive this blog, your rules are simple. After you pass them on, please swallow all the evidence.
- Link back to me because I'm the blogger who gave you the award.
- Put the award on your blog.
- Choose 5 other blogs with less than 200 followers to pass the award on to.
- Let those bloggers know by leaving a comment on their blog. "Tag, you're it," doesn't count.
Sounds easy, doesn't it.
I love all my furrends and want them to have a lot of followers; but, unfortunately, some of my furrends don't have time to blog frequently and comment. The new recipients of the Liebster Award—can I have fanfare?—are:
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| CrazyFusa |
CrazyFusa—a purrsonal furrend of myself and TW. Please go over and tell him to blog more. I don't hold it against him that his peeps are Devil Ray fans.
My homey MaggieTKat and Kruse Kats is another purrsonal furrend. Their Mom is German and I know she's gonna beat TW over the head when she sees I gave her this award. No, honestly, they're good peeps. I love Parker and Maggie to death.
A Coonhound's Tales is written by my furrend Prudence. Her Mom drove TW to Blogpaws last year and they shared a room with Maggie's Mom. From what I hear, they were the Giggle Sisters.
Pearl Cat and Her Family. I doesn't list how many followers she has but I know that a lot of you don't know her. She's a good cat to know because she grows PAWSOME catnip. Whoa!
This last blog isn't a cat blog. The Best Me That I Can Be is written by my soul sista, Michelle. She's a way cool person, who isn't afraid to bare her soul.
Concatulations one and all. Gotta go now and spread the word to these guys. HAH!
BONUS:
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| Click to biggify so you can print it out. |
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| Maybe Calvin is perfect, my peeps are not. |
With 2012 here, I've come up with some revolutions for the peeps. This year, they better follow them because they're testing this ghetto kitteh's patience big-time.
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| Peek a boo |
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| AND NO MORE PICS OF MY PAWS! |
You'll also go on that diet because I don't need you bouncing off the furniture. If you ever sat on top of me, I'd be a goner. I don't want to think about it. You should be able to see your feet so you'll know when you're about the kick me or step on my toys. You already broke the squeaky mouse that I got for Christmas because you don't look where you're stepping. WHAT? I don't care that I didn't like it! That's not the point here! The point is that you're ALWAYS stepping on my toys and it had better STOP. I'll spell it out: you stepped on it; you broke it; you replace it!
Don't scrimp on the catnip. I know you're hiding the good stuff I got for Christmas from Tiny Pearl Cat. Hand it over. Don't get so shrill when I bite/gouge/attack you. I have your best interests in mind. I demand that you let me sleep in MY bed with you until Pop gets the pillow top. I'll not be denied or you can forget about getting sleep 'cos I have a very loud voice.
In addition, you'll post to my blog no less than 4 times a week and they will be funny, endearing posts—not filler. You'll let me comment on more than 10 blogs a day so others will comment on my blog. Whatta you mean, where are you gonna find the time if you're working? Others find the time. I'll just pretend you never said that, woman. You'll let me enter contests so the world can embrace my stunningness. The new Stunning Keisha boutique on Zazzle will be an instant success. Just everyone will be wearing me on their clothing.
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| Madonna & Angelina Jolie in CK wear! |
You should also absolve to throw out some of YOUR things for a change. It's always "which of CK's toys and possessions can we give away to charity?" when it should be "Let me get rid of some of my useless junk that I haven't looked at since I unpacked it 8 years ago so we can fit more of CK's belongings."
One last thing, when is that #*%*&#((@ tree leaving? Niles has overstayed his welcome! I need my new Cat Gym and Teeth Workout Center assembled so I can keep my trim, athletic body (the teeth) in shape.
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