Thursday, December 29, 2005

Do I look fat in this collar?

Mom received an email from Iams today that asked, "How Can I Tell if My Cat is Overweight?" She immediately started talking about New Year's Resolutions (whatever) and asked if we were ready to start a "new food regimen." I farted, blinked slowly, and turned my back on her.

While the article had some good tips and tricks, I thought I would attempt to answer that question on my own.

How can I tell if my cat is overweight?
  • The skin keeps swaying long after she has stopped walking
  • No amount of brushing can arrange his fur to disguise his bulging pot belly
  • She has to lay down on the bed and use a coat hanger to fasten her collar
  • He is constantly asking to "super size" his kibble order
  • When she climbs onto the opposite end of the couch, your end lifts off the ground like a teeter-totter
  • He needs you to lift and place him on beds, chairs, and couches because there isn't enough room for him to get a good running start
  • When you turn your back for a moment, your sandwich disappears from your plate and all that is left is a cat, licking her chops
  • He politely asks you to lick his butt because he can't reach it

What do you think? Do you have any other tell-tale signs?

Let's hear 'em!!

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

High on Christmas

My mom made some "Catnip Biscuits" (she double knits squares with yarn remnants and then fills them with catnip) for Brach and I.

I was sooooo stoned last night! From what everyone is telling me today, I was the life of the party!

As legend has it, after playing with a Catnip Biscuit for several minutes, I was seen running in circles and then charging down the hallway. I ran--full-force--toward the bedroom door frame, jumped up, used my claws to dig into the wood and hung in mid-air for what seemed like an hour (but was more like 5-7 seconds).

It wasn't long after that when I crossed from fun-loving-stoner to beligerent-and-disobediant-pain-in-the-ass-druggie. I proceeded to prod the laundry closet door over and over again, in an attempt to break in. From the police reports, I learned that my mom kept hissing, "KUKKA! STOP THAT RIGHT THIS MINUTE!" and turned the water bottle on me well over 20 times.

After my fur was completely drenched from the spray bottle, I finally passed out under the piano bench.

No one will make eye contact with me today.

I should really seek a 12-step program...or at least try to steal the car keys next time.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

How are you supposed to work these things, anyway?

I won't be certain until I run a series of conclusive tests, but my initial finding is that I'm not any warmer using the gloves than without them!

Friday, December 16, 2005

The Brains of the Operation

Greetings, Cyber-Felines!

This week, Kukka has done nothing but complain about having to write for her blog, so to stifle her whining, I decided to post in her place (thank you, Derby, for the suggestion).

I'm not sure what Kukka has already told you about me, so, if you business card:

Anyway, since I've been given this opportunity to voice my opinions, I'm going to start at the top of my "pet-peeve" list and work my way down.

Let's talk about BOSSY SISTERS.

Last night, I was lying in the corner of the couch, peacefully napping. Kukka jumped up next to me and began gently licking my forehead. THIS wasn't a problem. In fact, I am very fond of her helping me groom from time to time.

It is what happened next that royally ticked me off!

With no warning, she began pressing her front paws into my side several times, before actually choosing to stand on me. Within seconds, I was yanked from my dream by sharp, clawed feet walking over my body!

She proceeded to stand on me until I finally gave in. I moved from the couch to the chair and looked back at her. She smiled at me, blinked slowly and threw herself down into the corner of the couch for a nap.


Maybe I should add "President and Founder of SKANK (Super Kitties Against Naughty Kukka)" to my business card...

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Desperately Seeking Kukka

I've learned there are some very unique ways people have been led to my blog, based on some of the more interesting search terms I've seen on my "referrals" page.

Take a look at some of the search terms that point my direction:
  • "Turkeys Fluffies"
  • "Dog's Saggy Belly"
  • "Brad and Angelina buying a Christmas Tree"
  • "Screech Powers Saved by the Bell"
  • "Saggy Belly"
  • And my favorite: "I AM LOOKING AT HUMMERS AND CATS"

Should I be offended that "Saggy Belly" appeared twice? I'm not. I embrace my flab. Of course, it doesn't suprise me that I'm associated with Brad and Angelina (Brad links to me from his private blog).

Funny stuff.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Blogcat Moms & Dads

Have you ever watched Bravo's Showbiz Moms and Dads or Showdog Moms and Dads? If you have, then you understand how I'm feeling today.

I don't want to blog right now, but my mother is making me. I would much rather be tucked into my warm bed because it is snowing and blowing outside.

Instead, the first thing my mom said to me this morning was, "Rise and shine, Kukka-girl! After you brush your teeth, you need to blog!" I snorted and rolled over, wishing she had a snooze button. If I were to tell her I didn't want to blog, I'd never hear the end of it. Of course, it would be worse if I revealed I don't really brush my teeth every day, like she believes. I just run the toothbrush under the water so if she checks, I'm covered.

I think my mom is more excited about this whole blogging thing than I am. I believe this, despite the fact she tells me (and all of her friends) that it's "all about Kukka" and if I ever told her I didn't want to blog anymore, "it would be questions asked." Right...

Two weeks ago, she said, "Kukka...before dinner, let's have a brainstorming session on post topics. We'll do it in rapid-fire format. I'll suggest one, and then you suggest one! We need to come up with some stellar material for your blog, sweetie!"

This was my first blog post suggestion: I yawned, farted, and found a quiet and warm corner of the couch in which to lie down.

Last week, she got the digital camera out--again--to take photos for my blog. "Lift your head up and look at the camera, Kukka-monster! Come on...look at mommy! We need some new headshots!"

Then, this weekend, she decided she needed some candids, as well! Saturday afternoon, as I briskly pawed my way around the litterbox in an attempt to bury my latest deposit, I was suddenly blinded by flashes. I glared at her, turned my back and flicked some litter onto the carpet. Sunday afternoon, Brach and I had just settled into our laundry-basket bed under the piano bench, when I was awoken by the grating sounds of "Ohhh...aren't they cuuuuuuute..." and clicks of the camera. There she was again--my paparazzi mother.

Last night was the last straw. I overheard her talking about me and the blog on the telephone. "I swear! I am so busy lately...supporting Kukka and this little 'blog' of hers. If she didn't insist upon expressing her creativity in this manner, I would scrap the whole thing.'s a mother's duty to help realize her child's dream, so I'll do whatever it takes, right?"'s all about me! UGH! Thank goodness I opted not to be in show-business (despite all of the pressure from the industry to reconsider). It would be hard enough to find time to nap if I were having to regularly appear on red carpets, but being disturbed by my Blogcat Mom once I did find time to rest would be horrible!

Now where did that blanket go?

Friday, December 09, 2005

Thanks for the Fake Memories...

I have an assignment for all of the creative feline (and some-not-so-feline) bloggers out there. This can be a fun project, if we all put our thinking caps on (I think mine is stuck under the couch with ¾ of my toy mice).

In the comments section of this post, I am asking ALL OF YOU (yes even you, the casual passerby) to share a COMPLETELY FAKE AND MADE-UP MEMORY of you and I. It can be short or long...just be creative! Search your mind for all of the fake memories you and I have shared throughout the years. You know they number in the thousands...

I will comment on each fake memory shared. I encourage you to start the same project on your blog! It will be fun walking down Fake Memory Lane with you! I will be checking your blogs and will be sure to share many of my own fake memories of fun times we've shared.

Are you game?

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Alright, who told Brach?!

Somehow, Brach happened upon my blog and noticed there were no baby pictures of him posted. So, to stifle the incessant whining, I've agreed to post some of his best baby shots here for all to see.

Yes, I know he wasn't as cute as a baby as I was, but keep this in mind: he is not of royal blood. Also, if I remember correctly, my mom was going through an "artsy black and white photo" phase. This was prior to her buying a digital camera. I'm glad she has her crap together now!

This was one of the first times he played with the battery-operated mouse chaser. You know, when I think about it, I think my mom bought that especially for his arrival! Hmmm...

I remember not wanting to sit back and allow this new guy to play with my toys. I made sure to make my presence known. After all, I was there an entire year before he showed up!

For the first few days, we spent a lot of time playing under the sweater rack. I would hide and attack Brach when he would pass by. Once he learned to do the same to me, I was fed up with the game.

This is a shot of him sleeping under the coffee table. For the first few days, he would hide from me...although, I am not clear why. Aren't swats at the face and bits on the neck generally accepted greeting practices? If you look closely, you can see how tiny he was compared to the soccer shoe he's snuggled against.

This is my favorite--mom's too. Mom's friend, Andy, came over to see the new baby and Brach sat, looking up at Andy when he was getting ready to leave. Again, he is so small compared to Andy's shoes!

Against my better judgment (because shouldn't the Empress have more baby photos of herself posted on her own blog?!), I am posting an extra picture of Brach. This one is in color, so you can see how pretty he really was.

Even though I pretend I'm disturbed by his presence, I am glad mom adopted Brach. Before he came to live with us, I was very lonely. I had come from an extensive royal family--with many brothers and sisters--to a quiet home with just a human lady. I enjoy playing with Brach and (if you repeat this, I will adamantly deny, deny, deny) I would consider him my best friend. One might even suggest...I love him.

I've said too much...

Monday, December 05, 2005

You must've been a beautiful baby

At first, when my mom started browsing through my baby pictures this weekend, I was upset. First off, with the tabloids constantly hounding me, it's safe to assume you will see many of my baby snapshots in US Weekly, The Enquirer, Star Mag, Ok!, etc. I always feel so violated when they print private things about me!

After I looked through them with her, however, I realized it is probably, critical that people see these! I was adorable! I promise, you will live a more fulfilling life after seeing the beautiful, beautiful, precious baby named Kukka-Maria.

Aren't we all glad I grew into those ears? This was the day I went to the vet for the first time. They had tested for ear mites (that's why my ears looked so oily and clean), taken my temperature for the first time (I don't even want to tell you where they stuck the thermometer), and gave me a general work-up.

This is me and mom taking a nap. It was so toasty sleeping in the bibs. Last week, I tried the same thing, but mom wouldn't have it. Something about her not being able to breathe
with my "excess weight." Whatever...

This is after a solid afternoon of play. Mom bought TONS of toys for me. Clearly, they did the trick! I was exhausted!

This is one of my first meals. I talk a lot about wanting to return to my lost empire, but I do have a confession to make: When I was still in my homeland, I was being fed human baby food rice. I terrible! When I arrived at my new home and tasted real cat food, I can not tell you how happy I was. After my first meal, I joined my new mom on the couch and walked around and around her head, purring and rubbing against her, to show her my appreciation. She thought about naming me "Cabeza" (Spanish for "head") because of that, but then realized, after getting to know me better, I needed a more regal name.

I used to play and sleep on my mom's old PURDUE sweatshirt. WOW! I was so tiny and cute! I know...there is a smart-ass out there saying, "You were so cute! What happened, Kukka?"


By the way, if you happen upon my brother, Brach, please don't tell him about this gorgeous display. He would be jealous that I'm getting so much attention. That always happens with felines of inferior physical beauty...

Friday, December 02, 2005

"Dear Kukka...", Volume V (Holiday Edition)

Again with the letters! Oy!

People! My mailbag is full! I've already received Holiday Cards from Jen Aniston (BFF), Brad & Angelina (yes, I was a friend o' Brad long before she entered the picture), Erik Estrada (we met at a charity event...I can't seem to shake him), Daddy Mack or Mack Daddy from the 80's rap prodigy Kriss Kross (I don't know which...) and GW Bush! All of this reading is taking a huge chunk out of my sleeping time.

Despite my almost unbearable fatigue, I will now take a few minutes to address some of my holiday mail from the fans:

Q: Kukka, I have a two part question: First, in a previous post, you outlined a very extensive wish-list for Mr. Santa Claus. Considering the dismal economic trend, the high-price of reindeer food, the pending strike of the Elf Union at the north pole, etc., do you think it's fair to make such demands? And do you really expect Mr. Claus to deliver?
A: Yes and yes.

Q: Empress, I've recently heard a lot of static about cats ruining the "Christmas Tree Experience" by tipping over trees. What say you?
A: First off, let me address this idea that people blame cats for everything that goes wrong. This needs to stop! YES, I like to climb into the tree. YES, I like to chew on and fling ornaments. YES, I like to nibble on electric cords. And, YES, I do not have a Master's Degree in Physics so I don't realize (until it's too late) that the higher up the tree I get, the more likely the tree will overturn. Come on, humans! I've heard you bragging to your friends that your ability to troubleshoot, predict and reason are some of the very things that make you superior to other living creatures. Let's use some of those skills! The Family Handyman Magazine has some suggestions on how to keep your tree upright--if you're too drunk on eggnog to figure it out for yourself.

Q: Me dog. Me like bones. Me like eat cats.
A: Ok. Keep on keeping on, brother!

Q: I see my humans hanging socks on the mantle on Christmas Eve and finding them full of treats from Santa on Christmas Morning. I don't wear socks--how will Santa know where to leave my goodies?
A: I suggest a carefully planned attack on the man in red when he pays a visit. My experience guess is that when he finds his face full o' claw, he's much more willing to let you direct him as to where to place your gifts. I would volunteer to help you out, but Mr. Kringle has had an active restraining order against me since 2001. Good Luck!

Monday, November 28, 2005

Dear Santa

I heard my mom mention to someone the other day that Santa arrived at the local mall just after Halloween this year (duh, mom...what else does this guy have going on?).

I know what Santa's arrival means! It's only a matter of days until she suggests we write our annual letter to Santa, so I think I had better get a jump on it.

My Letter to Santa (with subliminal undertones)

Dear Santa (big, fat loser),

I have been a very good Empress this year (barring the countless bar fights and two unjust arrests for indecent exposure. First off, cats do not, as a rule, wear clothes and secondly, I'm starting to get my life back on track after my stint in rehab. Alcohol=BAD for me), as I am sure you have keenly observed. While there have been many things for which I have received blame (mostly false accusations made by my brother, Brach), I am confident you understand that I am innocent and will reward me justly.

Let's cut the crap and get to the meat of this letter:

My Christmas List

Of course, if you have trouble finding any of the items on the list (which you would only have trouble if you are too stupid to click the links--I made it easy for you this year, pops), please let me know. I am more than happy to help you (fulfill my materialistic desires).

Season's Greetings,
The Empress

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Happy Thanksgiving!

My mom and I made hand turkeys today to prepare for Thanksgiving. Take a look!

This is mom's. She lazily downloaded hers from Google. (Lame...)

I created mine myself! It's far more realistic!

Monday, November 21, 2005

Anonymous Emailer

I received a troubling email this weekend from someone calling himself "Anonymous." Take a look at the email--the enclosed photo reminded me of NO ONE I KNOW THAT LIVES WITH ME (saute that last bit with buttery garlic and sarcasm). Typically, I ignore criticism from anonymous sources, but since this lil' guy was thoughtful enough to include a photo (albeit disguised), I feel I should respond.

Any ideas?

Dear Kukka-Maria,

I have some grievances to air:

  • You snore!
  • You are mean and bossy! Be nice to others.
  • Bury your waste better in the litter box. Your brother shouldn't have to surf over your turds when he does his business.
  • Wait for your turn at the food bowl--patience is a virtue.
Please deal with these issues so the rest of the house does not have to.

On a positive note, though, you are a good treat-getter. Keep it up, sister STRANGER!


Friday, November 18, 2005

Interspecies Love

Dear Mojo the Dog,

I have been fighting my feelings for some time now, but I feel today is the day I must tell you I love you.

I remember the first time we met. You bounded into my home, completely unaware that I was standing on the other side of the doorway with my back arched and hissing. The look on your face was adorable as you recognized the threat and scrambled to get as far away from me as you could.

Later that same night, I'll never forget how sexy you looked from behind as I chased you through the living room. When the chase ended with you running into a wall, I said to myself, "I will never forget how cute he looks at this very moment." You looked at me, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and I was smitten!

I know that a relationship like ours will have challenges--both internal and external.

I have several concerns. For one, I will never understand why you find it socially acceptable to potty in public. I've offered you my covered litterbox, but you refuse to use it for anything but a dinner plate. That brings me to my next point: What is it that causes you to crave the taste of my feces? You are one kinky bastard, kinky bastard!

Darling, while I think you to be noble, I have to admit that the fact you are not of royal descent is of concern to me. While I do not consider myself a snob, I do think I'm better than most creatures and do not like to associate with commoners (it's bad enough I live with a human woman and an adopted feline brother who has no idea who his birth parents are). And before you bring up the fact that I'm an EXILED Empress, check yourself. I still have the breeding and, if I can find my way back to my empire, I'll regain my title. You know something? I'm not sure I like your defensive attitude around this. This is definitely a "red flag" for me and could possibly blow up into a larger issue down the road. For now, though, I am going to ignore the entire breeding issue because you're too damn cute!

As for the external challenges? I know we will never be free to walk the streets, hand in hand, in peace. First, I don't know that we have the hind-leg strength to walk long distances on back twos and I also don't think we could really grasp one another's front paws due to our opposable thumb deficit. Secondly, I don't know that I can handle the critical stares from outsiders who judge our love.

I can almost hear them now:
"A cat and dog? There is something un-GOD-ly about that! Cover the children's eyes!"

Mojo, I watch TV and read the papers. I know how this country feels about same-sex marriage...I can only imagine the challenges we would have as an inter-species couple. I don't know if I'm strong enough to deal with that.

And what of our offspring? I don't want our litter of kit-pups dealing with the incessant teasing from their peers at the park or on the dog walk. I know we will do an amazing job of instilling solid self-worth and confidence into our litter(s), but that will only take them so far. Even the strongest get beat down at times.

I'm afraid our love could never be, Mojo. I don't know that it is strong enough to carry us through.

Know, my darling, that when you come to my house and you see me across the room with my back arched, I am trying to burn my love into you with my intense stare. I will be wishing that the world will someday change and we will be free to love.

Until that day, you have my heart.

The Empress

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Open Letter to my Agent, Vol 1

Dear Selfish,

There are a couple of things I need to share with you. I keep giving you glaringly obvious clues, but you seem to be a bit dim, so...

Let me spell things out for you:

  • When I am sound asleep between your ankles as I allow you to sleep in my bed at night, I would appreciate it if you would kindly remain in one position. The tossing and turning shit really needs to stop. There is no excuse for you to be so restless--sleeping in one position for 6-8 hours is not that hard. Learn.
  • Do not make me ask for treats more than once. You act like you don't know what I want, but when I quickly stride to the big, cold box, look at you with longing eyes and squeak; I'm not just making small talk. Oh, and by the way, thanks for putting the treats in the fridge now, so when I work my way into the old treat cupboard, there is no longer a tangible reward.
  • Could you please keep an eye on my brother, the string addict? Either he doesn't remember how swallowing string caused him to have major surgery to patch 18 holes in his intestines, or he is suicidal (he does look a little depressed lately). Either way, he requires some one on one supervision (which might just get you off of my case for a bit, thankyouverymuch).
  • Thanks for putting the bird feeder just outside of the window so we can do some bird-watching each day. It is not at all a tease and we are not at all frustrated (was the sarcasm lost in print? If you could only hear the tone of my meow on this one...).
  • When there is a spider or random bug crawling on the wall or carpet, puh-leeeeease allow us to hunt it. I know it's not "fashionable" to have insects crawling in the home, but as indoor cats, we don't get much of a chance to hunt. When you swoop in with a shriek and a paper towel, it is sort of a buzz-kill.
  • Do not give me dirty looks or the "Behave!" lecture when I crawl into the chair with my sleeping brother and sit on his head until he leaves. Brach and I have an understanding and we do not appreciate your interference in the matter.
  • Do not complain when you find me lying in a basket of clean laundry. I've seen where the clean laundry is supposed to be stored and it certainly is not in a laundry basket. I can not be tried and convicted of using your laundry as cushy for my tushy if you are simply too lazy to put it in the dresser or closet.

If you have any questions about what I've stated here, I invite you to discuss it with me. I am more than happy to help you become the mother I need you to be (read: You get three strikes, bitch!).

Her Royal Highness

Monday, November 14, 2005

To-Do List Addendum


My mother (donned in rubber gloves and gripping a litter sifter) has asked that I update my "T0-Do List" as mentioned in the previous post.

"POOP" should be three times.

Friday, November 11, 2005

"Dear Kukka...", Volume IV

I've clawed the mailbag open...let's see what we've got!

Q: Kukka, do you have a "to-do" list? If so, what's on it?
A: Yes, I have an agenda. Here are some snippets for your reading pleasure:

  • Disrupt my mom's sleep by walking back and forth on her body, whining, throwing random items off of her dresser and nightstand, and plucking at the carpet.
  • Pluck at the carpet when I'm standing within 1-2 feet of the scratching post.
  • Sleep.
  • Whine for treats. Be persistent...the squeaky wheel gets the grease.
  • Join my sleeping brother, Brach, in the living room chair. Pretend I want to lie there with him, but then poke and prod him until he decides it's best that he vacate the chair (read: MY CHAIR) and allow me to get my beauty rest.
  • Walk back and forth against my mom's legs. It makes her feel good and believe that she is somehow in charge of me.
  • Sleep.
  • Attempt to open the lower cupboard doors in the kitchen. Even though I do not have opposable thumbs, I find that if I try and try (while allowing the cupboard to continuously slam against the base), eventually I will succeed in opening it and can sit in the dark with the bag of potatoes in peace.
  • Whine for treats.
  • Climb on top of the kitchen cupboards and chew on the fake plants that align the ceiling. When my mom looks at me sternly, pretend they have nutritional value and that I am completely justified in grazing.
  • Pace back and forth in front of the entertainment center. Create a workable strategy on how to climb to the top--purely for sport.
  • Press against the laundry closet doors until my mom yells to me to stop. Continue until she gets the spray bottle out. Try one more time after that.
  • Sleep in the basket under the piano bench.
  • Chase fake mice toys around the house until they end up under the couch (there have to be about 10 of them under there at any given moment).
  • Pace back and forth in front of my mom on the couch until she catches my drift and invites me on her lap.
  • Whine for treats as if I haven't had anything to eat in days. Even though she will clearly say "No," she will give in.
  • Watch my brother romp on the freshly cleaned bed sheets while my mom is trying to make the bed--have some respect, Brach!
  • Sleep.

Q: Kukka, what do you want to be when you grow up?
I'm already an Empress...what more do you want from me!?

Q: Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?
: What's that? Brad has never been the same since I broke his heart. Quit asking me such dumb questions!

Q: Kukka, how do you avoid shedding hair all over the house?
: I concentrate on rubbing against select items, like my mother's clothes when she lays them out for the day. This way she will take most of it right out the door when she leaves for work in the morning.

Thanks for the letters...keep them coming!

Friday, November 04, 2005

Friday Cat Blogging

Brach window surfing

Kukka plays (or lays by) piano


Somehow, the food I sneak tastes better
than the very same food that is put in my bowl.
Must be the thrill of the hunt!

Monday, October 31, 2005

It's alright...'cause I'm SAVED BY THE BELL!

Sorry for the time between posts! I've just returned from my acclaimed USO tour.

What an amazing trip! For those of you who don't know, I was able to book the entire "Saved By the Bell" gang to tour with me. I'll publish my daily journal later of the trip's events, but for now, take a peek at exerpts from the program:

Mr. Richard Belding will be telling sexually explicit and
polically-incorrect jokes to open the show.

Zack Morris, Screech Powers and A.C. Slater
will be singing high-flyin', hand-clappin', foot-stompin'
patriotic songs in three-part harmony.

Kelly Kapowski, Jessie Spano and Lisa Turtle
will bring the soldiers to their feet with their erotic, pre-holiday
tap dance extravaganza!
They call themselves, "Ho, Ho & Ho."

"The Amazing Kukka-Maria" will make herself disappear
beneath various transparent items!
You won't believe your eyes!

Monday, October 03, 2005

Thanks, IAMS!

I just received an email from IAMS titled "Speak Feline. How Does Your Cat Communicate?" I loved their presentation:

Notice the astrisk after "comfortable or relaxed"? The footnote at the bottom of the page tells a different story...

This is sort of like the rapid-fire disclaimer at the end of the an infomercial:

"Batteries not included. This offer open to qualified buyers only. Offer void where prohibited. Penalty for early withdrawal. Limit one per customer. You must be present to win. Prices subject to change without notice. Oh, and your cat might be really happy or really sick."

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Too bad for John G. Roberts

According to People Magazine, the Supreme Court (uh...yes...the highest court in the land) announced on Tuesday that it would hear Anna Nicole Smith's appeal in the case of her dead husband's estate in January. (You'd think that would be the punchline, wouldn't you?!)

This is a timely announcement, as John G. Roberts' Supreme Court nomination is scheduled to go in front of the entire U.S. Senate on September 29. I'll bet he was hoping to avoid having this party photo of he and Ms. Smith surface prior to his confirmation.

In a related story, George W. Bush announced Monday that Sugar Pie is his official nominee to replace William Rehnquist. The Senate Judicial Committee will begin confirmation hearings later this month.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Is it possible to care less?

Ok. I have to take a moment to talk about what I perceive to be the gross mis-use of a couple of common phrases in the English language.

First, it troubles me when I hear people say, "I could care less." Understandably, they are trying to say that whatever is going on is of no real concern to them. If that's the case, shouldn't they say, "I couldn't care less?" I mean, "I could care less" implies that it is possible for them to care even less about the situation than they currently do. If they are trying to say it doesn't matter, I believe "I couldn't care less" is more accurate. "I couldn't care less" says that there is no smaller amount of caring they can do about a situation...they are at the rock-bottom of caring about whatever is going on.

There is one other that comes to mind: the word "arguably." Let's use it in a sentence. "The GM Hummer is arguably the biggest gas-guzzler on the roads today." Ok...I understand that we're trying to say that it can be argued that the Hummer uses the most gas. But, if we really stood by our statement, wouldn't it be more accurate to say "The GM Hummer is inarguably the biggest gas-guzzler on the roads today?" I mean, saying you can not argue against the that is really taking a stand! "There is no reason to even discuss it! My point can not be argued. It is fact! It is inarguably true!"

I have to commend Jon Stewart from the Daily Show. Last week, I heard him use the word "inarguably." I wanted to stand and applaud. It was just another reason that he is my secret boyfriend (so secret that he doesn't even know about our relationship).

I think these pet peeves of mind are inarguably the most annoying grammatical errors that exist in the English language (aside from overuse of ellipses...guilty as charged!). But, then, you probably couldn't care less about what I think.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

You heard me correctly...Beer Mirrors!

Remember when you'd go to the skanky and questionably sanitary carnival during your small town's "________ (Fill in the blank with the animal, vegetable or mineral of your choice) Festival?" I don't. I'm a cat and we tend not to hang in the "seedier" areas of town.

BUT...I've been told that at these carnivals, there were always game booths that had rings to be tossed, balloons to be popped, plastic ducks to be capsized, 6"-diameter basketballs to be thrown into 5.99" hoops, etc.

If you were successful in the beating the game, you could win incredibly cheesy prizes that you perceived had amazingly high value the more you worked to get them. So, for $1, you could get 3-5 tosses, pops, capsizes or throws and $15 later, you would have yourself a beautiful stuffed animal, chinese yo-yo, a half-shirt that said, "I'd Rather be Break Dancing", or if you were lucky...a BEER MIRROR!

So why am I getting so nostalgic? Get this. Recently, I was cruising down the road in my Gas/Electric Hybrid Hummer when I passed a house with beer mirrors hung on the outside of the front of their house.

I'm going to let this sink in for a minute.

Yes, ironically, I have converted a stretch Hummer Limo to use a combination of electric and gas power, giving me an average of 50 mpg--60 mpg if I don't run the hot tub when going up-hill!

Oh, and also...

Yes, beer mirrors. I did a complete double-take! What the fuck?!

First off, I didn't think they even MADE these decorative gems anymore! I could have sworn the headline in the Sep 6, 1985 Wall Street Journal read "Beer Mirror Manufacturers Sweat as Orders Take a Sharp Drop."

So...could I just be out of style? Could the beer mirror industry be experiencing an unbelievable comeback in 2005? OR...could they be "vintage" and "collectable" beer mirrors that have been meticulously packed in styrofoam peanuts in a cool, dry place for the last 20 years? Am I missing out on a crazy ebay opportunity here?

On second thought, I don't even want to know if they're new, old, bought at Wal-Mart or at a garage sale. I just want to shake my head, offer a tight-lipped smile and simply appreciate the variety of people that reside in these here United States of America. God bless the family who thought the exterior of their home would be more fashionable with the addition of multiple beer mirrors.

You know, they may be onto something! Beer mirrors could quite possibly be the glue that could heal the cracks in our fractured country! Maybe having beer mirrors on the outside of your house would cause passers-by to stop, look deeply into their own eyes (with Michelob printed prominantly across their face) and say, "Who am I to judge others? Give peace a chance!"

Nah...that's too good to be true. We all know that as soon as the music would swell in the background of that idealistic scene, the loving gaze into their own eyes would be broken, they would turn, spit, and say, "Fuck that! If it ain't a Budweiser mirror, it ain't shit!"

Saturday, September 03, 2005

"Dear Kukka...", Volume III

I arrived home from my vacation and was met with bag after bag of fan mail. I decided to select some of the most frequently asked questions and answer them here. If you don't see your question answered here, don't get too upset. Just don't ask such a stupid question next time!

Q: Kukka, have you ever considered donating your old award show gowns to be auctioned for charity?
A: I am really surprised at how often I am asked that. Um...I don't mean to be rude, but last I checked, cats don't typically wear clothing (although there are a few exceptions--some of whom are pictured in my "Online Dating is a Bitch" post). I have, however, donated a nude photo of myself for a recent charity auction. Here's a pixilated version.

I would post it in all its glory, but to honor the person who purchased the original (whose name I will not divulge), I won't make it completely available here. I will say, though, that if you want to see the original photo, it hangs over one particular Hollywood Heart-Throb's fire place. Ok...ok! I will tell you his name begins with a "B" and ends with a "Rad Pitt."

Q: Kukka, I've heard rumors that you are considering pulling together a U.S.O. Tour to entertain the troops in Iraq. Is this true? If so, are you taking suggestions on who to invite to participate?
A: Wow! I'll never understand how things like this get leaked, but yes, I can confirm this is true. Diddy (who used to be called "P Diddy" and before that "Puffy" and before that "Puff Daddy" and before that "Sean Combs") and I were discussing the war over a bottle of Cristal the other night. Diddy was talking about the "weapon of mass destruction" he was packing in his Sean John trousers, when I suddenly realized that the troops are probably pretty desperate to see me at this stage in the war. In fact, I'm even pretty sure a couple of them might be ready to come home! was at that point I decided to pull together a U.S.O. Tour.

As for your suggestions on who to invite (or is it "whom?")...I suppose I'd welcome them, but I need to tell you now that I'm leaning toward lesser-known entertainers. Since the Christina Aguilera incident of 2003, I'm not looking to share a stage with a gaggle of celebrity whores.

Q: What kind of car do you drive, Kukka?

A: Wow...I'm not sure where you live, but in my state, they don't license domesticated pets. I don't drive! I am very eco-aware citizen, though, so when I travel, I am typically transported in a stretch Hummer limousine that I've had converted to a hybrid.

Q: I heard you were asked to take over for Kelly Ripa and this fall you are going to be co-hosting "LIVE with Regis and Kukka." Is there any truth to this rumor?
A: First, that rumor is not true. Second, if it were, the show would be called, "LIVE with Kukka and Regis." Third, it would be really awkward for me to do a project with Regis. He is still nursing a broken heart after I ended our affair in late 2001.

Thanks for the questions! Remember...don't always believe what you read in the tabloids. By my calculations, only about 98.3% of tabloid content is true. The rest is a crapload of product ads.

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

My vay-cay with G-G-G-G-GEE-DUBYA!

I've been pretty busy lately...busy vacationing with George W. Bush! Surprisingly, I got the call to join the chief and his crew down at the ranch about a week ago. I say "surprisingly" because I didn't think GW was all too fond of hanging out with Democrats (although, I'm a non-registered Democrat...cats can't vote). Maybe he's more open-minded than I gave him credit for! I have heard he is a huge fan of mine, so I guess it's not that much of a stretch that he extended the invite, after all.

As an Empress, I've had many chances to rub shoulders with high government officials at formal dinners, so the opportunity to "kick-it casual-style" with the president was one I wasn't about to pass up! I have to tell you...factoring in all the laughter (admittedly, I laughed more at him than with him) and tears (mostly tears), it was a vacation I'll never forget!

Here's the journal I kept over the last week:

Day 1:
I'm so excited to head to Crawford, TX today! I'm a little perplexed and upset that GW didn't send Air Force One to pick me up. You invite me, but don't provide top-notch transportation...curious. So, I'm writing this from a cage in the cargo area of a commercial flight (even my celebrity status couldn't prompt the airline to make an exception). I want to make something really clear. If I hear anyone ever complain about flying coach, I think I'll scratch their eyes out! "Caged in cargo" trumps coach any day!

Despite my travel arrangements, I'm pretty jazzed to get a vacation from the strain of lying around at home! GW seemed really excited for my visit. He seems to have a week of fun planned for me. More later, dear diary...more later.

Day 2:
As I approached the ranch yesterday, I was pretty thrilled to see my fans camped out, chanting for me. It appeared they were holding "Welcome Kukka" banners, but it wasn't until the limo got closer, that I realized they weren't shouting for me...they were war protesters. I hope this doesn't continue throughout my entire vacation! I mean, do they honestly expect the leader of the free world to be accountable for his mista...I mean decisions...24 hours a day? Even when he's on vacation? I get that they are upset about the lives lost in a pointless war, but can't we agree that even the president deserves some peace and quiet to "detox" from the stress of the daily grind? PEOPLE, please! Take your banners, crosses, flowers and tears home! You can't expect me to enjoy lounging by the pool when I have to listen to your weeping.

On a side note: Condi Rice is a bitch. She put up quite the front this morning at breakfast--asking how my flight was and spewing other false pleasantries, but I could see her eyeballing me with contempt while she sipped her mimosa. I can't decide whether or not I'll leave visible scratch marks on her face or if I'll passive-aggressively bare-ass her arm when she's not looking. It's a toss-up, really. While it would be great hearing her explain away the scratches to the press corps, knowing she has feline fecal matter smeared on her skin would be fantastic, too. I don't have to decide right now. We'll see how everything progresses.

Day 3:
Karl Rove visited today. If he tries to play "grab-ass" with me one more time, I am going to scream! Can anyone please remind me what the legal precedent is for castrating in self-defense? I'm just curious.

I went fishing this morning. Well, I guess by "fishing," I mean, George and his posse pulled fish into the boat, using poles and nets...I ate them directly out of the basket. Fortunately, GW isn't very good at math and didn't notice the fish deficit at the end of the excursion.

Day 4
Went square dancing tonight...George and Laura's passion. Of course, I didn't have anything appropriate to wear, so I had to borrow some threads. You'll have to check out the US Weekly's Worst Dressed list for a photo...I refuse to post one here.

While it wasn't the best experience, I have to give Dubya props for being so flexible! He was whipping Laura around that floor like nobody's business! You know I hate to be critical, but I think she could have used a bit more ruffle under her skirt. Who would have known the leader of the free world could cut such a mean rug?! I actually had fun tonight! That is, until George took a turn at the caller's microphone with a hearty, "Swing yer pardner round and round...thow 'er in the toilet and flush 'er down!" Everyone giggled uncomfortably while I was looking for the nearest exit.

Day 5:
Went horseback riding with GW. He didn't have an English Side-Saddle, so I had to lie uncomfortably on the back hump of the traditional saddle. Not fun. George thought it was really funny to keep making horse noises. He would ask his horse questions and then answer in the horse voice. I know what you're thinking...sort of a "Mr. Ed" voice, right? No. He neighed and snorted. Over and over. When I didn't laugh, he must have thought I just didn't hear him, so he kept repeating it louder and louder until I offered up a polite chortle. It was absolutely horrifying! The only consolation was that Dick Cheney had a scheduling conflict, so he wasn't able to join us. Even I have my limits...

Day 6:
Went on today to try to get a earlier flight out of his hell.

This morning, GW burst into my bedroom at 5:30am, singing "Boot Scootin' Boogie." When I hissed and swat at him, he nervously explained that he thought I would want to go shoot guns with he and his boys.

I glared at him, passed a little gas, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Day 7:
I couldn't leave quickly enough this morning! I think George is a little depressed at what little amount of fun I had at his ranch. At breakfast, I could tell he was a little down in the mouth, as he didn't even try to strike up a conversation with his Rice Crispies. I heard him mumble something about cutting his vacation short due to Hurricane Katrina and his need to help people cope with the devastation. Sounded like the responsible thing to do, but I suspect his early departure is more about me leaving and less about his constituents.

I can't wait to get home and lie in the sun by the sliding glass door! I suspect GW has a solid schedule of lying to do back at the White House, as well. I tried to cheer him up when I said my goodbyes. "Keep your chin up,'s only another month until your next five-week vacation!"

Thanks for your hospitality, George! I hope we (never) get the chance to do it again!

Thursday, August 11, 2005

My Brad Pitt experience

So there's been a lot going on with me, but I haven't taken the time to communicate it. I do want to relay an incredible experience I had last night...

First off, I was in this huuuuuge group of people who were hanging out with Peter Jennings. We were looking for important news stories to present themselves so we could report them. We were walking through a city park, when I noticed Brad Pitt, sitting on a cement wall. I called to the group, "Hey, it's Brad Pitt!" When I looked around, I found the group was scurrying away--PJ as their guide (that's what we call him)--in pursuit of a hot lead.

I gingerly approached Brad and said, "What's crackin'? How you livin', G?"

Brad, clearly confused, responded, "Aren't you Kukka?"

"Straight up." I have to admit, I didn't know why I was talking like that, but the words continued to pour out. "What you doin', playa? Why you sitting here all ragged out?"

"Do you mean why am I wearing my finest clothes?" asked Brad.


"I'm getting ready to marry Angelina Jolie The wedding is supposed to start in a couple of minutes," Brad said, motioning toward a large group of guests that had appeared from nowhere.

"Miss me wit all dat, cracker!" I couldn't accept what he was saying as truth. After all, Jennifer Aniston and I go waaaaaay back and I'm not about to be seen at Brad's wedding to the other woman.

I looked at the guests gathering. It was a smorgasbord of celebrities. Through the crowd I indentified George Clooney, Oprah, Yoko-Ono, Bennifer--Part Deux (Affleck and Garner...duh), Ashton and Demi, Jude and his nanny, Sienna and Orlando (which made it quite awkward with the Jude/Nanny combo), and P-Diddy. I didn't take the time to see who was sitting on the bride or grooms side, so don't ask.

As I was eyeballing the gaggle of guests, Brad suddenly turned to me, "Would you perform the ceremony?"

"Are you shitting me? I am SO THERE!" The words flew off of my lips before I could even consider how Jen would feel. I'm a sucky friend.

Just then, the string quartet started playing "The Bridal March" and we hurried to get in our places. Angelina started down the sidewalk, toward the chupah (I don't think either of them are Jewish, so the traditional canopy was bit puzzling). She was wearing her Laura Croft outfit and cluthing a small bouquet of nunchucks (I know...made little sense to me, either).

Suddenly, I saw Peter Jennings in the bushes with the hungry journalism gang. They were trying to take candids of the wedding to sell to the tabloids!

"STOP!" I yelled. "The paparazzi are invading!"

Brad and I ran to the perimeter, where PJ and the gang were hiding in the shrubbery.

"Booooo, Peter Jennings! Boooooooo!" I vociferated. "That's just in poor taste," I muttered under my breath.

"Why you all up in my kool-aid, Jennings?" Brad shouted. He looked at me, startled at his sudden outburst.

We high-fived.

PJ apologized and retreated with his crew of salivating young journalists.

The string quartet began playing again. Angelina continued down the sidewalk and Brad began to cry.

"She's so beautiful," he sobbed.

I smiled and said, "By the power vested in me, by the State of Insanity, I now pronounce you husband and tomb-raider. You may now tongue kiss me."

Brad turned and we snogged heavily until Angelina yelled, "Booooo, Kukka-Maria! Boooooooo!"

It was at that moment, I woke up. I should have known it was a dream. After all, I don't think Peter Jennings is doing paparazzi work from the grave and I'm confident I would never officiate at a wedding ceremony between Brad and Angelina (although I would totally mack with him).

I got your back, Jen! Holla!!

Thursday, August 04, 2005

The Secret Big Brother 6 Houseguest!

Many of you have asked, "Why are you not blogging more regularly, Kukka?" I haven't been able to speak about it until now, but I'm the twist to CBS's Big Brother 6!

I probably thought "America's Next Top Model" was more of a natural fit for me. Me, too. But, when Big Brother came a-knockin' on my door, I wasn't going to turn down a summer of maxin' and relaxin' by the pool. And it's not like I can't get a modeling contract on my own...

For those of you who watch Big Brother 6 (it goes without saying that because I'm on there, it's EVERYONE), you know that each person was paired with someone they knew outside of the house and that these pairings were kept secret from the other houseguests. What you don't know is that every single person was told they were secretly paired with ME. Everyone thinks I'm their secret partner! While all of the "surface" secret alliances have been revealed, the fact that I'm plotting secretly with every contestant has remained hidden...until now.
The other part of the twist is that the houseguests don't know I am fluent in English and probably the most strategic player among them!

Don't believe me? Aside from my official BB6 headshot (above), here are some candid stills taken from the live feeds:

Here I am lying by the hot tub. Typical of
my strategy, I'm pretending to sleep while
April, Jennifer, Sarah and Rachel plot
their next moves. I learn a lot this way.

See me "sleeping" with my back to Ivette,
Jennifer and April? The "Friend-Ship" is
charting their course while I cleverly eavesdrop.

Janelle, Howie, Rachel and I are talking about
who to evict next. Someone from our posse
MUST GET Head of Household (HOH)
this week or we're screwed! I hope I get it...
I could use some of the "perks" that come with HOH
(namely treats, catnip, pictures from home, whiskey, etc.).