Thursday, November 30, 2006

Thursday Thirteen, Edition #13

Thirteen Active Strategies I am Employing
to Solidify my Position as
the M
ost Annoying Cat in the Entire World
    I will stop at nothing to disrupt my agent's sleep when I'm not tired. Flick things off the dresser? Check! Slam the blinds at the window? You betcha!
    All day! Every day! My agent has trained me to expect treats when she comes into the house. How is it my fault I can not differentiate between her returning from a long day at work and returning from taking out the garbage? She enters the home, I whine for treats. That's the drill!
    I am sorry, but I can not simply sit next to my agent on the couch at night. I...MUST...SIT...ON...HER! No room? No problem! I'll just sit half-on/half-off and unleash my pathetic eyes. She'll eventually make room...
    When my agent is in the kitchen, I've made it my duty to climb to the top of the cupboards and lie among the greenery. To make it truly annoying, though, I've found slobbering and chewing on the silk leaves to be the key.
    Whether it's the bathtub or sink, if my agent turns on water, I am there to drink. Nevermind she probably turned it on for a reason and needs me to move out of her way, I gots to have my fluids!
    My agent can polish the furniture all she wants. She can clean the brown schmutz off of the edge of the refrigerator door on a daily basis. I'm going to be right behind her, ready to rub my face against anything that will stand still long enough. Rubbing my whisker-stank on everything in the house is my duty, nay...privilege! Whether due to a dust rag removing my scent or Brach covering my stench with his, an Empress' work is never done.
    I know my agent has given me a great scratching post. I appreciate it! What she fails to understand, though, is how incredibly fulfilling it is to pluck my claws on the living room carpet. PLUCK...PLUCK..."KUKKA, KNOCK IT OFF!"...PLUCK. I love our little games.
    She opens the linen closet door. I run inside, sit, and stare her down. "Come out of the closet..." my agent will say. STARE DOWN. "Please, Kukka...I want to shut the door!" she'll plead. STARE DOWN. She'll finally walk away, leaving the door open. It pays to be the Alpha-Cat!
    I don't need all of this fur. Really! I leave some on the couch for her. I leave more on the bed for her. And, for my agent's convenience, I even go to the trouble of applying fur directly to her clothes! And all she does is bitch, moan, and run a sticky wand over her wardrobe. How ungrateful...
    I don't know what is so effing difficult to get about this. If I'm lying in the middle of the freaking floor, she should walk around me. If I'm camped out in the middle of the hallway, she should step over! Why my agent feels the need for all the "discussion" is beyond me! "Are you going to stay there and get walked on?" Apparently!
    I know I've never successfully leapt to the top of the entertainment center. Does that mean I should stop trying? When I squat at the edge of the coffee table and stare intently at the top of the entertainment center, I expect support from my agent. Not criticism. "You can't jump up there! Not only is it forbidden, you have too much girth to leap so gracefully!" You had to make it personal, didn't you...
    It's not like she's starving. It's not like she doesn't have enough food to spare. Why is it such an issue that I would like a bite or two or three of her meal? Or four...
    Do it. All day long. More. Yeah, that's it...just like that. Oh, know how I like it. Behind the ears. There you go. Under the chin. Give mama what she likes...WHAT?! You want to take a break because you need to go to work? Whatever. You think you deserve a social life and expect to leave the house for hours at a time? Fine. But know that when you get back, I'm going to be waiting here, belly and multiple nipples exposed, for your loving hands...

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

    Wednesday, November 29, 2006

    Forced Open Letter to Ty Pennington wherein I apologize for fabricating and/or exaggerating physical ailments to get on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition

    Dear Sexy Carpenter-Man,

    It is with a heavy heart (and an angry agent looking over my shoulder) that I offer a sincere apology for my recent behavior. I never wanted to hurt you or discredit the show. My intentions were pure: I wanted to get a bunch of amazing home improvements done to my house at absolutely no cost to me.

    Since Britney's divorce slumber party, our house has not been the same. It's always easy to tell when Brit has made a visit to our house. From the cigarette burns on the furniture, to the Red Bull stains on the carpet. From the Cheeto dust on every horizontal surface, to the thick cloud of Curious perfume. Ty, I was desperate for your help!

    I do acknowledge, though, that I may have been wrong in my approach. Please allow me to apologize, from the bottom of my pea-sized, stone-cold heart for the following:

    • Listing over 32 false physical and mental ailments on my Extreme Makeover: Home Edition application. In hindsight, two or three believable diseases would have done the trick.
    • Pinching your butt every time you turned your back to me and blaming it on my "Grab-Ass Tourette Syndrome."
    • Outing Michael Moloney on Day 2. I'm sorry, but you guys didn't know?
    • Insisting you sit on my lap in my awesome (but not necessary) wheelchair as I gave you rides around the neighborhood.
    • Giving you a four-hour tongue bath (although, I can hardly be blamed it took so long to get your stubborn hair to lie down).
    • Correcting you, on camera, when you called my bowels "irritable." I suppose farting in your face and saying they were more "pissed off" than "irritable," was a tad inappropriate.
    • Screaming "Ty Pennington makes my multiple nipples throb!" I guess I can see how it may have embarrassed you in front of the cast and crew.
    • Lying to your producers when I told them "rubbing against Ty Pennington's crotch" was an uncontrollable side-effect of my anti-anxiety medication.
    • Causing Paige Hemmis to receive multiple stitches in her cheek. When I batted at her face with my claws, it wasn't to hurt her, but to help her take those hideous braids out of her hair. What is she...six years old?
    • Asking that your "special project for the week" be giving me Ty Pennington babies. How were you to know that the hours we would spend in a heated embrace would end up fruitless because I had been spayed? I sure wasn't going to tell you...
    • Tattooing "I HEART KUKKA" on your chest as you slept.
    • Giving you a roofie and taking those questionable photos of us that I am still considering posting on my blog.

    Considering I was such a pain in the ass, I do want to take a moment to thank you for the amazing things you did to our house:

    • I've always wanted my own Licking Room. It's nice to know I have a safe and private place in which to lick my nether-regions. Mounting those huge tongues on the wall--ingenious! I'm glad I can now take "Chronic Tongue Sprains" off of my list o' conditions.
    • My agent thanks you for the Shedding Room. The walls and floor, covered with a sticky surface, will be great for trapping loose fur and keeping it off of her clothes. (For the record: To spite my agent, I don't intend to enter that room...ever.)
    • Brach's Panic Room is his favorite. He has locked himself in there since the moment you left and refuses to leave. Come to think of it, I am very appreciative of that room, too. Keeps the little guy out of my fur!
    • The Gold Litter House is great. Who would have thought a gold-plated litter box would be a good idea? It makes sense for an Empress, but I never would have thought of it. The jeweled scoop was a bit much, though.
    • The elaborate pantry filled with delightful feline cuisine is to die for! Now if you had only put the doorknob within my reach...

    In conclusion, Mr. Pennington, I am sorry for being a selfish and thoughtless cat. I hope this won't be a permanent scar on our blossoming relationship.

    With highest regards and tongue kisses,
    The Empress

    Tuesday, November 28, 2006

    Feline Empress Takes to Her Bed

    Associated Press (AP): In what some are describing as a "pathetic publicity stunt," and others "a desperate cry for help," Empress Kukka-Maria has taken to her bed with what her agent is calling "exhaustion."

    "She was looking very lethargic," explains her Agent in a telephone interview. "I thought it was her typical drama or another attempt at drawing all the attention to her, so I ignored it. The melodramatic sighs, wretched whining and weak fluttering of the eyelids were not enough for me to think this was real." Sniffling into the phone, her Agent continues, "Boy, was I wrong!"

    Upon hearing the news of The Empress' circumstances, celebrities have come forward in droves to show their support for the blogging feline and super-sexy star. Crowds have lit candles, prayed, sang and hugged in the Empress' driveway for the last 24 hours, waiting for a chance to lay eyes on the sleeping cat.

    The newest celebrity hybrid, Paritney, stopped upstaging one another in singing "She Shall Overcome" long enough to express warm-wishes to The Empress.

    "We are proud to come and support Empress Kukka-Maria in her time of need," shouted Paris Hilton, pausing only to take a swig of Red Bull.

    "Y'all..." Britney Spears continued, holding desperately to a bouquet of obviously-recycled "CONGRATS ON YOUR DIVORCE" balloons, "Kukka has been there for me through thick, thin, and Federline. I've got that bitch's back!"

    Even representatives and publicists for several celebrity babies offer support for Kukka on behalf of their linguistically challenged infant clients.

    XANTOG 5000, representative for Suri Cruise, offers this, "My client, Suri, would like to say BLAH...GURP...BINKO, which every good Scientologist knows is Alien for GET WELL, KUKKA."

    Maria Consuela Rodriguez, nanny for Sean Preston Federline, explains, "¡Britney está loco! She know nothing about baby! She almost kill baby every day. Sean Pressssson's first words were 'NO BEBES MÁS TEQUILA, MAMA!' That bitch crazy!"

    Shiloh Jolie-Pitt offered this written statement: "I wish Kukka-Maria the best of everything. I have a greater concern right now, though. Where the hell do I live? Do I have a permanent home somewhere or should I expect to be dragged from one end of the third-world to the next? I'm just sayin'..."

    Early reports of Kukka's exhaustive condition surfaced over the weekend, but were attributed to her over-indulging in the Thanksgiving feast. "I just thought it was a Tryptophan coma," explains her brother, Brach. "I figured she would take a long nap, giving the rest of us some peace and quiet, then bounce right back to her obnoxious self in no time! I never thought she would stretch the drama out for a few extra days."

    Critics speculate this over-inflated drama around Kukka-Maria's condition is designed to distract the public from the real issue.

    "She's either hiding a pregnancy, entering rehab, or having work done," explains plastic surgery insider and US Weekly Health Reporter, Sheila Burns. "What a clever way of keeping the press from the real issue! She gives them something they perceive as juicy, so they won't ask questions about the real concerns, like why her multiple nipples seem to have increased by at least a cup size each. OR why the crow's feet around her deliciously almond-shaped eyes are suddenly smooth. It's clear she's not going to touch the saggy belly; it's her trademark. But, keep an eye on the rest of her body. Her claims of exhaustion are a huge cover-up and US Weekly intends to expose it."

    [Editor's note: If US Weekly really wanted to expose it, why would you grant an interview to the Associated Press? Ah, much to learn!]

    Secret pregnancy? A trip to rehab? A nip here and a tuck there? No matter the reason, it is clear Empress Kukka-Maria needs a bit of attention rest and relaxation.

    According to her Agent, well-wishes and regards can be left for Kukka-Maria in the comments section on her blog.

    Monday, November 27, 2006

    Tryptophan Hang-Over

    What good is stealing turkey off the dinner table
    if you're too tired to thoroughly enjoy the thrill of the caper?

    Tryptophan, you are dead to me!

    (On a side note: Aren't my pretty pink paw pads to die for?)

    Wednesday, November 22, 2006

    Give thanks YOU don't have to wear this!

    I'm taking a well-deserved blogging break until Monday. No Thursday 13. No update (yet) about the Rosie/Kelly/Clay/Kukka feud.

    Stop crying! You're going to make me start crying!

    Have a wonderful and relaxing weekend!

    [Sipping a Bloody Kukka, complete with celery stalk]

    I know I will!

    Tuesday, November 21, 2006

    You Lick Mine; I'll Lick Yours!

    by Brach Lee

    Crusty, brown butts. I think we can all agree; poopy butts are a lot of things, but never pretty. This is why I feel it is every cat's responsibility to keep their own buttocks free of soil.

    It's important to note I am not a bootay lover; I'm a sucker for a great pair of eyes (holla, ladies...), but that's not important right now. My clean butt obsession is purely about hygiene and respect.

    Poopy bootays are extremely unattractive. Brown crusties around the hindquarters are disgusting, foul, and I just don't want to look at them. There is a cat with whom I reside. Let's call her "Kooky." Since "Kooky," the self-proclaimed alpha-cat, insists I follow two feet behind her at all times, it makes for a pretty offensive view. Plus, two feet behind her tends to put me "down wind," if you know what I mean. That issue may be separate, though, because there are separate occasions when she delights in sitting on my head and passing gas. UGH!.

    "Kooky" doesn't seem to understand the damage she is doing around the house by not cleaning her own butt. I don't want to sit on the floor, chair, couch or bed immediately after that Disgusting Diva. I do such a great job of cleaning my bum, but somehow, I wind up compromising my health and beauty if I risk sitting in "Kooky's" dung flakes. Yes, my mother vacuums diligently, but I am sure there are residual poop nuggets in the blankets.

    In conclusion, "Kooky" should keep her own butt clean--and I don't mean dragging it across the carpet. A daily lick or two should do the trick. Of course, this may be difficult, because "Kooky" has a bit of a weight problem, so she might find it extremely challenging to reach her hind quarters.

    If she does not comply, I will have no choice but to have her evicted--Anna Nicole Style. Be warned, "Kooky." Be warned.

    by Kukka-Maria

    HOW. DARE. YOU! How dare you imply my "opulence" is preventing me from taking care of my body! That is just not the case.

    The reason I pay no mind to that region is I am too important, too regal and too beautiful to be worried about cleaning something I can't even see. No one should expect me to use my precious and pristine tongue to clean crap off my under-tail. You, Brach, should understand this, having been my servant for over six years!

    First of all, my badunkadunk is never that filthy. I think you are exaggerating and, unless you can provide photographic proof (which we all hope you don't), I maintain that my fanny is free of debris. In fact, unless you can perform and present DNA tests on the feces in our shared litter box, I will stick with my story that I don't poop at all!

    Secondly, an Empress like me should have a team of servants ready and willing to bathe my nether-regions. I would think this would be the chore everyone wants to do. "Empress, may I clean your bum?" Why yes, kind servant. You may. And, let's not forget, Brach, that it was a mere couple of weeks ago, when you did that chore! How soon we forget?

    Finally, what is up with not providing toilet paper to us? Let's put the blame where it should rightly lay, Brach. The Agent sucks. Seriously. If she were just place some premium TP by our box, this would be a non-issue! I think it should be her job to wipe us. HER job to ensure our asses remain free of waste. I mean, it's been said I have junk in my trunk, but not ON it.

    Until the day we have Feline Charmin readily available, keep on truckin'. Keep on licking my bootay and do it with a smile on your whiskered face.

    It's right neighborly...

    Monday, November 20, 2006

    "If I Did It"

    Associated Press (AP): Publicists for Empress Kukka-Maria are reporting the blogging celebrity feline is set to release a new book titled "If I Did It: The Story of Urine on the Carpet." In the scathing tell-all, The Empress outlines how she would have approached "taking that sissy" on the floor next to the litter box--had she been the one who did it.

    Kukka's agent is outraged that her cat is looking to profit from what she is calling "a filthy hate-crime."

    "While Kukka's criminal trial was thrown out, due to the fact the judge refused to waste time trying a domesticated animal, she was held accountable for the puddle in a civil suit to the tune of $100,000." Kukka's agent further explains, "I've not seen a damn dime of that money!"

    While the public has been stunned that Kukka has turned down squillions of movie and television offers in recent months, several key Hollywood insiders have no problem publicly sharing their speculations. Said one source, who insisted we disguise his voice, even though this was a printed article, "I think she has made a strategic move to stop earning money. Kukka is known for being extremely passive-aggressive. Rather than do what's right to atone for her urinary malfeasance, it's not a surprise she would rebel in this fashion. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to the set of my very own television show I host called 'Anderson Cooper 360°'"

    Lounging on the floor with a catnip biscuit at her side, a lit cigarette in her mouth and cradling a bottle of Johnnie Walker scotch, Kukka yawns and offers a weak justification. "My agent is just complaining because she had to clean up the 'alleged' urine. She is certifiably nuts! It's a simple case of projection. She is projecting her frustration over the itty-bitty spot of urine on the floor toward me. It was probably just a residual drop that fell when I...I mean when the responsible party left the litter box. She shouldn't get her panties in a twist because I got a book deal and she didn't. Maybe she should look at writing her own book. 'I Totally Do It: The Story of How I Never Buy Treats and Don't Give the Cats Food Off my Plate.'" Taking a long drag from her cigarette, she coughs and rolls her eyes, "Don't hate...congratulate!"

    "If that little peeing bitch wants to play dirty," threatens her agent, "she just needs to bring it! Is she forgetting I am the one who provides her with food--and treats? What?! She said I don't buy treats? That ungrateful little cat!"

    Judith Regan, the publisher who gave Empress Kukka-Maria her multi-million-dollar book deal, adamantly defends her controversial decision. "I want money. I want publicity. The only way to really do this is to hitch my wagon to Kukka-Maria. Not only is the urine spot the current hot story, one-tenth of Kukka's pre-pee popularity is enough to launch my career into high gear! Now that she's going to outline her strategy for peeing on the carpet--if she was in the business of doing her business on the floor, things are going to get big and fast!"

    Regan, who is also conducting a two-part television special with Kukka, is sure the ratings will be extraordinary, despite the fact nine Fox affiliates have decided not to air the interviews in a show of solidarity. Said one Fox executive, "It's bullshit. This book and corresponding interviews are an insult to the carpet and a slap in the face to Kukka's agent. We refuse to support such a pathetic cry for attention."

    "We are on the road to repairing the emotional damage this entire situation has inflicted. Kukka and I have finally gotten to the point where we can make eye-contact, but you can still cut the tension in the house with a knife. I hope we will get past this and be stronger for it." sobs Kukka-Maria's agent. Suddenly, with angry eyes, she continues, "But, if she continues to be difficult, I am not past prosecuting her for Urinary Tract Vandalism."

    Kukka-Maria's brother, Brach Lee, could not be reached for comment. He was last seen hiding under the bed until all of this blows over.

    Friday, November 17, 2006

    Next Time I'm Sending my Agent

    I bought into the hype. I'm not made of wood, people! They had me at "PlayStation 3 to go on sale Friday, November 17." In order to be the first cat in my neighborhood to get my paws on what is being called "the next coming," I decided to head to my local Best Buy and sit in line all night long. All. Night. Long.

    Refusing to call for a limo, my agent made me wait until she could take me there (why they won't just let a cat have a driver's license is beyond me). The manipulative skank took her own sweet time getting ready and, when I insisted she move a little faster, she kept saying, "Shut it, Empress. You don't need treats right now. Stop your whining!"

    I wish she would just learn Meow so we could communicate more effectively.

    I was the fourth to arrive, which pissed me off. Vowing to be in the first three, I laid my trap. "Hey, you guys! I just heard Bill Gates is in the Olive Garden parking lot, signing autographs!" Only one pimply-faced kid took the bait. In hindsight, I should have used Pamela Anderson instead of Bill Gates. That gets the virgins every time and would have easily placed me in the #1 position.

    With two nerds remaining in front of me, I decided to unleash my super-sexiness to captivate them.

    Rubbing against #2's leg, I purred, "Has anyone ever told you that glasses are sexy? They must give you the edge over your Dungeons and Dragons opponents."

    Trying to hide his immediate and visible arousal, he blushed and stammered, "Um...of course! I find having astigmatism attracts the hot ladies every time."

    Cranking up my super-sexiness to a 7.5 (anything higher would have sent the poor boy to the hospital with an asthma attack), I purred, "Have you ever dated a super-sexy, celebrity feline?"

    "Many times."

    "LIAR!" I hissed. "There are no other super-sexy, celebrity felines! Turn your ass around. I can't even look at you right now. You are dead to me!"

    Clearly, this boy was a lost cause. I decided to move onto #1.

    It took awhile to distract him from his Gameboy Advance. Certain mine were the first he had ever seen, I whipped out my multiple nipples. Apparently, he found Zelda more interesting. Idiot.

    "Whatcha playin', hot stuff?"

    "I'm playing Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap. I'm fighting Gleerok in the Cave of Flames."

    "Who in the cave of what?"

    Sighing, taking a gulp from his Jolt Cola, and slyly mining for booger-nuggets, he muttered, "I don't have time to explain..."

    Despite my super-sexiest efforts, I had to come to terms with the fact I was relegated to spot #3. Instead of focusing forward, I decided to have some fun with the queue that was quickly forming behind me.

    "I have some Star Wars figurines here! Anyone want to play?"

    "Which episode?" asked the 12-year old geek behind me. At least he looked 12. I guess, in all fairness, he could have been 20--with severely atrophied muscles from hours at the computer.

    "Nevermind," I sighed. "It was a joke, but if you're going to get all specific, it strips all the funny from it."

    "Does anyone have a cigarette?"

    I about broke my neck as I craned to see what "normal" person said that.

    Rolling her eyes, a smartly-dressed woman rubbed her temples. "This is really bullshit. It's bad enough my tax attorney boss sends me out to buy flowers for his wife--and his mistress, now I have to stand in line all night to get some stupid video game thingy for his spoiled brat of a kid."

    Gasps exploded from the line. "STUPID VIDEO GAME THINGY?" cried a frizzy haired girl as she reached to steady her friend who had apparently fainted. The turbulent mob became louder as shouts of, "If I weren't afraid to fight, I would totally kick your ass!" and "Kyle, hand me my Mega Force VI Saber of Death and grant me seven attack points! I'm going in!"

    Baring my teeth and claws, I yelled, "Knock it off! No one is fighting anyone tonight. Not on my watch!"

    The crowd began to settle. I gave the irritated executive assistant a cigarette and whispered, "Smoke it and shut your pie-hole. You haven't seen drama until you have Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp fight over you. Trust me; it's not pretty."

    Running her fingers through her hair, she sat down in her lawn chair with a sigh.

    The next five hours ticked by slowly. SLOWLY. I napped, but only after booby-trapping my area with things like sports, popular people, and dates--things that naturally keep computer nerds at least 6 feet away. I couldn't risk someone stealing my spot in line while I was asleep.

    When the doors opened, I decided to make my move. With cheetah-like speed, I darted between the legs of #2 and over the right shoulder of #1 (I could have gone through his legs, too, but would that have been as impressive?). As I leapt through the door, I ran smack-dab into the chest of a ginormous man, arms crossed angrily.

    "You're not allowed in here."

    "What the frick...?"

    "Animals are not allowed in the store."

    "Why, you bastard! I've been freezing my tail off for over 12 hours, in the brisk Michigan air, to buy a PlayStation 3. Either you're going to let me in the store peacefully, or I'm just going to have to kick you in the junk and make you cry in front of all these people who probably live in their parents' basements."

    "Just try to kick me in the junk, pretty kitty. I dare you."

    I tried. Repeatedly. Maybe it was the crowd that kept pressing at my back. Maybe it was the fact that his crotch was 4 feet off the ground. Whatever the reason, all four of my flailing legs failed to hit my target.

    Exhausted, I curled up at his feet. "Can you call my agent? I need a ride home."

    I guess I'll just have to send my agent out on Black Friday to get my PlayStation 3. Knowing she'll fight rabid Christmas fiends will make sitting outside overnight totally worth it.

    I. Must. Nap. Now.

    Thursday, November 16, 2006

    Thursday Thirteen Twenty-Six, Edition #12

    Twenty-Six Reasons I Will NOT Be Attending
    The TomKat Wedding in Italy

    The first 13 were obligatory.
    The second 13 were because I love
    my readers (and detest Tom Cruise) so much!

    1. It's not fair for me to upstage Katie on her wedding day by donning my traditional wedding guest garb of a pristine white Vera Wang wedding gown--complete with jeweled veil. She can not possibly compete with my super-sexiness!
    2. The fact that Tom Cruise is dead to me would make it awkward in the receiving line.
    3. My date was going to be Pope Benedict XVI (he's just a friend...I don't like him like that), which would have pleased Katie's Catholic family, but the hissing sound of the holy water hitting Tom's skin would have been very distracting.
    4. The Italian military has direct orders to shoot me on sight, since I was formally escorted out of Italy and asked never to return. I don't really want to talk about it.
    5. I'm trying to stay away from carbs and the pasta gets me every time!
    6. Katie's mom is allergic to cats, so they expect me to be caged the entire wedding and reception!
    7. Most Italian hotels welcome dog guests, but refuse cats. Speciest bastardos!
    8. There's not even going to be a red carpet!
    9. TomKat asked me to remove the "inappropriate" cannoli joke in my toast to the happy couple.
    10. I thought it rude that, in lieu of gifts, the guests were asked to bring money to help pay Tom's $20,000,000 standard appearance fee.
    11. My ties to the Sicilian "Family." I've already said too much.
    12. If I'm going to Italy, I'm shoe shopping, not sitting in a castle watching a gay man rob the cradle!
    13. The disgusting display of tongue when kissing in response to clinking glasses and silverware.
    14. It would break my heart to hear the wailing and sobbing of Katie's family during the sacrifice ceremony.
    15. Sophia Loren is just too super-sexy. I just can't risk her overshadowing my super-sexiness!
    16. The plug on my hair dryer is not compatible with the Italian electrical outlets. I will not walk around with "bed head!"
    17. I do not do the "Chicken Dance," nor does the lyric "Ceeeeeeelebrate good times, COME ON!" cross my lips. That's not how The Empress rolls...
    18. I couldn't get my Italian mourning dress dry-cleaned in time. Martinizing an opaque, black veil is hell!
    19. I have another commitment wherein I will be achieving Operation Thetan Level VIII at sea. I've already said too much.
    20. At Tom's wedding to Nicole, he got very handsy with me during the $1,000,000 "Dollar Dance."
    21. Cash bar? Seriously?
    22. I refuse to remove my red string, fueling the feud between Scientology and Kabbalah as each competes to be THE trendiest Hollywood religion.
    23. Tom forcing Katie to include "You had me at hello...You had me at hello..." in her vows.
    24. TomKat has decided to exclusively release their wedding photos to a magazine, instead of my blog. Effers.
    25. Tom's insistence on recreating his famous "Risky Business" dance to close the reception.
    26. Xenu told me not to go.

    Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

    The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

      Wednesday, November 15, 2006

      No Italian Wedding for the "O"

      It's been tough writing this today. Not so much emotionally tough, but physically. Kukka is sitting on my front paws as I try to type this. Primarily, she is concerned that I am writing on her blog, but she also wants to make sure I tell this story accurately, while still making her look good.

      I've never even seen "accurate stories" and "Kukka looking good" in the same room at the same time!

      I am going to transcribe a phone conversation I overheard between Kukka and Oprah last night. While I know you would much rather hear Kukka's take on things, she promised Oprah she would not blog about it.

      So SHE won't.

      When I saw Oprah's number come up on caller-id last night, I just knew I had to be on the extension to eavesdrop! When Oprah comes calling, drama is sure to follow!

      This transcript is written exactly as I heard it. Not only did I take notes throughout, I recorded the entire conversation. I know you are probably concerned that I might get thrown in jail for illegal wire-tapping, but I'm maintaining my actions were justified under the Patriot Act.

      I suspect Kukka Oprah is a threat to our country.

      Anyway, read what I heard after Kukka picked up the phone:

      KUKKA: Go for Kukka!

      OPRAH: Kukka-Maria? It's Oprah.

      K: Oprah...Oprah...

      O: Oprah Winfrey.

      K: Oh, sure! I remember you now! I have worked so hard to purge you from my consciousness; it just took me a minute to figure out who you were. How are you, you vile and miserable bitch?

      O: Are we going to go there, you ungrateful little cat? Can you never let things lie? I can't believe you would stoop so...

      K: Just stop, Oprah. Clearly, you are winding up to say some pretty foul things about me and, while I'm someone who loves a good fight, it's all fun and games until someone hurts my feelings. Why are you calling me anyway, [whispered] you skank?

      O: I want to talk about Tom and Katie.

      K: You want to talk about how he had her fitted for the aluminum-foil panties that are worn by brides in all traditional Scientology wedding sacrifices...I mean ceremonies?

      O: No, Kukka. More important. Did you get an invitation to their wedding?

      K: Of course I did! Why do you ask?

      O: Because I did not.

      K: [Choking on her Vodka/Cranberry and trying desperately to stifle her laughter] You didn't? After he jumped on your couch and everything?

      O: I know! It took my over-worked and under-paid assistant several hours to clean his shoe prints off the leather! It was exhausting for me just to watch her clean it!

      K: Do you think your invitation could have just gotten lost in the mail? I mean Jada and Will were invited. Leah Remini was invited. I'm sure most of the popular Scientologists were invi...WAIT! Do you think it's because you are not a Scientologist?

      O: I thought that, at I immediately began my conversion to Scientology.

      K: Conversion? Can you do that immediately?

      O: No. I didn't know that at first, though. I Googled "Xenu," hoping to get a phone number or address so we could discuss it directly. I thought if I could just convince Xenu to let me be a quick convert, Tom and Katie could still get my invitation to me in time.

      K: You know, Oprah, while your efforts are impressive, I don't think Scientology has anything to do with you not receiving an invitation.

      O: What else could it be, Empress? I mean, I'm rich, famous, talented and rich! They should invite me for the gift alone!

      K: See, now I read you were going to send a gift to them even though you weren't invited. In fact, in the article I read, you seemed pretty okay about not getting an invitation!

      O: I said I was fine. I said I would be sending them a gift. Both lies. I am not fine! I will not send a gift! It was a public slap in the face, Kukka-Maria!

      K: [Lapping at her Vodka/Cranberry] I think you should sue them.

      O: Sue them? On what grounds?

      K: You don't need're Oprah-Mother-Fucking-Winfrey! What judge is going to toss your civil suit out just because there are no grounds for the case?

      O: True...

      K: Now here's what we do...

      O: [Laughing hysterically]

      K: Why are you laughing? I'm trying to help you and you're laughing?

      O:! I'm laughing because Gayle King, my best friend and sorta-lover, has taken two gummy bears and placed them in a position that resembles a sixty-ni...STOP IT, GAYLE! SERIOUSLY! I'M GOING TO SNORT YOO-HOO THROUGH MY NOSE IF YOU DON'T QUIT!

      K: GROSS! Seriously! You two need to get some effing hobbies! Do you need my help or not, Winfrey? I have better things to do on a Tuesday night than listen to you play filthy sex games with innocent gummy bears.

      O: Message received. Listen, I'm not going to sue them.

      K: Fine, then! Take the high road. Know, though, if you decide to be "fine with it" in the media, that means you are not to call me back and bitch to me. If you have an issue with it, take it up with TomKat directly.

      O: You're right, Kukka. I should have one of my assistants call one of their assistants and get to the core of the issue.

      K: [Rolling her eyes] Yes. That is exactly what I meant.

      O: Thanks, Kukka. I appreciate you talking me down off that ledge. More importantly, though, I appreciate you taking my call at all! Considering we have been off-again friends for awhile now, I wasn't sure if you would even want to talk to me.

      K: I didn't. I don't. I never want to again.

      O: That's just the liquor talking, Empress.

      K: No, it's not.

      O: Well, at least you will have fun at the wedding in Italy! I may still crash it. I'm undecided. It will depend if I can get a plane ticket there on such short notice. I mean, I can get one for me, but I don't want to make my employee entourage fly cargo...again.

      K: I'm not going to the wedding. I said I was invited, but never said I was going to attend. Tom Cruise is dead to me.

      O: That sounds about right. Kukka gets invited and believes she is too good to attend. I don't get invited and the tabloids swarm me to get the scoop on why I was not cool enough to be asked!

      K: Well, if it's any consolation, Winny, I will be more than happy to take a few of your tabloid interviews off your hands. I would jump at the chance to tell them what a wicked witch you are and how Tom and Katie hate you. I would love to explain how Katie is scared of your monstrous hair and Tom was mad you tried to upstage him during his couch-jumping appearance on your show.

      O: You had better not breathe a word of this conversation to anyone! Especially about the gummy bears! And I better not read about this on your blog, Kukka-Maria! It would take just one phone call to Animal Control and you would be history. Do you hear me? HIS-TO-RY!

      K: Oh, I hear you loud and clear. I will not tell anyone. I will not grant any tabloid interviews. I will not blog about it.

      O: Okay. Well, Stedman is beeping in. He probably wants to have sexual intercourse with me. BLECH! I know he's my "boyfriend," but I just don't like him like that! [Gayle in the background: "Word, sistah!"] I'll talk to you soon, Kukka.

      K: Not too soon, psycho!

      I don't think I could ever write for the tabloids. This stuff is just way too stressful for me! Damn it, Kukka! Get off me! If you want to do it yourself next time, don't make promises to The Winfrey you don't wish to keep!

      Oh, but I do have to give you props, self-proclaimed alpha-cat. I checked your SiteMeter today and saw that someone came to your site by Googling "oprah winfrey not invited to tomkat wedding."

      What is weird is it was 8.2 HOURS BEFORE WE POSTED THIS TRANSCRIPT!

      Are you so good that Google anticipates your posts now? I really need my own blog...

      Tuesday, November 14, 2006

      It's Official. I'm Funny!

      My agent has called me a lot of things over the years, but "funny" is not one of them. I would have thought that chewing through a brand new bag of food on the counter and spilling nuggets all over the kitchen was hilarious enough to warrant this term, but no. I've tried oh-so-hard to amuse her by flicking things off of the nightstand and dresser while she tries to sleep, but "funny" there.

      I know! I know! It puzzles me, too! Finally, though, someone has recognized my true talent! Suck that, Agent!

      Kailani, from The Pink Diary, has honored me by awarding me the ROFL Award for October (that would be Rolling On the Floor Laughing Award, for those of you who booted up your computer for the first time...ever...and needed me to define it). The post that had her ROFL was my Thursday 13 that outlined my campaign promises. It's a shame I wasn't really running for anything! I know now I would have had at least one vote!

      I met Kailani a few months ago at Wendy's Casting Call and, based on what she wrote in her tribute to me, it seems I've changed her life for the better. While she didn't say it directly, one can assume it's the thought of me that gets her out of bed each morning, and visions of me that soothe her to sleep at night. It's my face she sees in every rainbow and my lilting meow she hears as the waves tumble in on the beaches of Hawaii.

      I am truly humbled.

      [Editor's note: Kukka is using the word "humbled," but I suspect she has absolutely no idea what it means.]

      Things like this make me realize how incredibly lucky the world is to have me.

      [Editor's note: See?]

      I hope I can be a beacon of humor for those who are lost in cyberspace and an inspiration to my fellow mediocre bloggers out there!

      [Editor's note: I told her "mediocre" meant "fabulously talented." Snort.]

      So, thank you, Kailani, for the wonderful compliment.

      Thank you, also, to Mommy off the Record and Izzy Mom for creating this award especially for me. It was created especially for me, right?

      Lastly, but not leastly, I have to give some fierce "big ups" to my devoted readers. It's no wonder why you like me, but I do realize you have a choice whilst browsing blogs, so I thank you for stopping by here.

      Now, please excuse me while I grab this award and do a few victory laps around the house.

      Monday, November 13, 2006

      How Do I Look?

      I'm so depressed.

      I spent the weekend watching make-over shows, realizing I may not be as glamorous as I think I am, and sobbing uncontrollably into my appletini(s).

      I mean, everyone who is featured on shows like, "What Not to Wear" and "Ambush Makeover" believes they are super-sexy. They have hand-picked their ridiculously unattractive clothing and have meticulously styled their over-processed and dated hair. They have no clue how repulsive they truly are.

      No clue, that is, until they are walking down the street, minding their own business, when a huge camera crew and a host with blinding white teeth runs up to them and says, "You look like shit! Come with us! We can make you look less offensive!"

      Could I, too, have a blind-spot? I mean, I think we can all agree I am super-sexy. But, is it possible I could be super-sexier? Is it possible I could be the target of a secret style intervention?

      My agent had a sit-down with me yesterday. She made some strong arguments for me to consider being made-over:
      • "Kukka, you have had the same hair style your entire life! Don't you think it's time for a change?"
      • "With all due respect, Empress, your make-up tends to be a little heavy for a respectable cat...or are you a prostitute? I mean, if you're a whore...carry on!"
      • "I've seen you in your muumuu. Do you seriously think you are thin enough to pull something like that off, dear kitty?"
      • "You know I mean this in the nicest way, Kukka-Maria, but you do have quite an excessive amount of facial hair for a chick. Yes, I know you're a cat, but still..."
      • "You know I'm not judging you, but have you seen the abdominal flab you tote with you? It flops to and fro when you run. And, while we're being honest here, the only time you run is when I shake the treat container. Perhaps some cardio and weight training could help you do I put this nicely...the gruesome blob of goo that is your body."

      I get it. I'm hideous.

      I could have lived my entire life believing I was attractive, super-sexy and desirable--while actually being a frump. I could have gone my entire life without hearing someone say, "You look like shit, so you must feel like shit!" Yes, I could have continued walking around, head-held-high and belly a-flopping, with a healthy self-image.


      There could be selfless people like my agent and Anna Devane Scorpio Lavery Scorpio Hayward (from The Style Network's "How Do I Look?") to point out my flaws on national television, shred my self-esteem and give me an emotional beat-down by not only telling me that I look freakishly terrible, but that it takes an entire team of professionals to reverse the horrendous damage my detrimental fashion decisions have caused. A whole team of professionals. Just to make me look "normal."

      Yes, I suppose I am lucky to receive this constructive criticism.

      Sigh...I suppose it's necessary to be embarrassed on national tv so you can look good on the outside.

      Self-esteem is a valuable thing to have. At least you can trade your pride for a stylish image!

      Friday, November 10, 2006

      Open Letter to Britney Spears

      Dear Baby Mama,

      First off, dear Britney, know that we will always be friends--no matter what. We do not have the shallow and superficial relationship that Oprah and I have. Well, our friendship is shallow. And superficial. But I think we can both agree our dysfunction is lasting, and isn't that what really counts?

      Having said this, there are a few things I need to address with you. I understand how distraught you are with your K-Fed split-up, but you really need to learn how to maintain respect for others while you grieve. Out of respect for you, I would rather embarrass you here by spelling out some issues, than have them aired in the tabloids and embarrass the both of us!

      While I enjoyed the meeting of the "Celebrity Break-Up Club" last night--and our raging slumber party (we missed you, Reese Witherspoon, although we understand how raw your emotions are at this time), there were some things that really chapped my tail.

      • This wasn't the meeting of "The Other-Woman Club." Next time, quit bringing up names like Angelina Jolie, Denise Richards, Jude Law's nanny, Sara Evans' nanny, and Robin Williams' nanny within "The Celebrity Break-Up Club." Plus, eluding that I stole everyone's men and then following it up with a weak, "I'm just kidding..." almost got your eyes scratched out. And I'm not kidding.
      • What were you thinking when you asked Nicole Richie to bring a dessert? I don't think anyone appreciated the ice cubes and cigarettes she shared. Well, no one except Lindsay Lohan.
      • Speaking of Lindsay Lohan, who invited her? She has dabbled in breaking up with men, but to be a card-carrying member of "The Celebrity Break-Up Club," you really need to have had a very public split. Can you name even one of Lindsay's ex-boyfriends? Come on, Britney. You can't be so casual with the invites.
      • Refusing Madonna's red string for your wrist because you've decided your children are your religion is a risky step to take. You know how passionate Madonna is about Kabbalah. Plus, when she offered to recreate the famous kiss from the MTV Video Music Awards of 2003 to make you feel better about your divorce, it was pretty rude of you to shout, "Someone needs a Tic Tac!" This woman can crush your career with her pinky if she chooses. And, let's be honest...your career isn't strong enough right now to fend off that sort of blow.
      • When you got drunk (and that was quite early), it was a smidge inappropriate for you to sidle up to Paris Hilton and give her a lap dance. Expected, yes, but still inappropriate. We all know Paris is a big tipper, but she's pretty handsy and that type of behavior shouldn't be displayed in public.
      • Asking Demi Moore if she'd lend you Ashton Kutcher for "rebound sex," sort of put an uncomfortable damper on the night. "Rebound sex...or at least a three-way, Demi. I'd be willing to share him with you if I had to." You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife! I still can't believe she agreed to a three-way!
      • Judging Nicole Kidman's taste in men was pushing the boundaries a bit. "You married a crazy man who wears aluminum foil underwear to protect himself from Thetans only to leave him and marry a drunk! You're sure movin' on up, Nic!" Keith's in rehab, Britney! Have a freakin' heart! Plus, who are you to judge someone's taste in men?
      • "At least I didn't marry a fag!" I don't think Liza Minelli appreciated your humor there. Or Lisa Maria Presley, for that matter (lest we forget her 1994 marriage to Michael Jackson).
      • Throwing Cheetos, Fluffer-Nutters and Corn Nuts into Whitney Houston's hair "just to see if they stick" was cool, but she is full-on-gangsta and I half-expected her to take you down. Good thing she was hopped-up on pain killers or it could have gotten ugly.
      • Offering to mediate between Jennifer Aniston and I was uncomfortable for both of us. While the tension between us around Brad is clearly present (due to the fact we've both been with him), our mutual disdain for Angelina is the bond between us that overshadows our dislike for one another. We didn't need your meddling. We didn't need your offer of "some swigs" of your 40 oz. of Olde English 800, either. Thanks for the offer, but you are notorious for back-washing.
      • Drunk dialing Justin Timberlake is sad, Brit. Sad.
      • Crank calling Christina Aguilera was fun, but pathetic. Yes, she seized the opportunity to release a successful album while you were self-destructing in the press, but can you blame her?
      • When Madonna suggested adopting an African child would make you feel so much better, even if you thought it ridiculous, you should have just nodded and smiled. Laughing hysterically and pointing at her is never the answer.
      • You probably shouldn't giggle while Madonna fields crank phone calls from the angry biological father of her newly adopted Malawian child. It's still a very sensitive topic for her right now.

      I do have to admit, Britney, that you were also the source of some of the greatest moments of the night. We are glad you have finally seen the light when it comes to Kevin!

      • "He's been living off of my money! So y'all are saying it's not normal to give your husband $10,000 per week for an allowance? Do y'all think he could have been a freeloader?"
      • "Y'all...Popozao really sucks!
      • "I just found out he's not even black, y'all!"
      • "You should see how much it's going to cost me to de-stankify the mansion! The B.O. and dirty hair smell is downright dizzying! Plus, I think I'm probably going to have to give the kids baths to get his stank off them and y'all know how much I hate taking care of my children!"
      • "Y'all, I'm missing about a dozen pair of my panties. I think Kevin might try to sell them on eBay! I hope his panty auctions don't shut out my own panty auctions!"
      • "He never offered to pay me back for the wedding ring I bought myself! You'd think, judging by the ginormous gems hanging from his ears, he would have enough of the money I've given him to pay me back for my ring!"
      • "Y'all, think I'm still going to have to keep up on visitation with his first two kids by myself? You know he won't step up unless there is money involved. I mean, why would he file for custody of Sean Preston and What's His Name (the new one) and not give two shits about his first two!"
      • "I'm not going to miss kissing him with that nasty Cheeto breath of his! Or is that my breath bouncing back on me? Whatever, y'all. He's a troll!"
      • "We're contractually obligated for a second season of our reality show, "Chaotic." Do you think they'll let us film separately like Paris and Nicole did for 'The Simple Life?'"

      Britney, you will be fine. You will come back from this better than ever. You may not sell another record (because, over the last two years, you've made it known you are certifiably crazy), but you'll be okay.

      Next time, I don't want to host the slumber party. Your double-wide trailer is still parked in my backyard and I don't appreciate the Red Bull cans strewn in the yard. When I said, "treat my home as you would your own," I forgot you are a filthy slob. Next time you can host and we'll trash your home, instead.

      The Empress

      Thursday, November 09, 2006

      Thursday Thirteen, Edition #11

      Thirteen Settlement Points Outlined
      in the Britney/Kevin Divorce Papers

      Since the Cheeto dust and Red Bull
      stains on the pre-nup made it
      illegible, they had to start from scratch.

      1. Ms. Spears will receive all proceeds from the sales of Mr. Federline's new album, "Playing With Fire." Based on projections, this will reimburse her .01% of her initial financial investment in the project. Ms. Spears' life expectancy will also be significantly reduced as she will bear the responsibility of refunding time to those who demand "the last 32 minutes of my life back after listening to that shit!"

      2. Mr. Federline will receive 50% of couple's designer Wal-Mart bag luggage and 100% of the couple's shared stockpile of wifebeaters. Ms. Spears will retain possession of the rather impressive collection of cookbooks she brought into the marriage, including the following titles: "101 Ways to Enjoy Mac and Cheese as Your Main Course," "Corn Nut Cuisine," and "Hostess Twinkies: Not Just for Dessert Anymore!"

      3. Ms. Spears will continue paying child-support for Mr. Federline's first two children with Shar Jackson, and will make provisions for his next six kids who are anticipated to arrive within the next four years.

      4. Ms. Spears will bear sole responsibility for providing cigarettes and liquor for the couple's shared children, Sean Preston and Jayden James, until their 21st birthdays at which time, due to their fame-by-proxy, they will be entitled to drink for free at popular L.A. nightclubs.

      5. Mr. Federline will receive three months, to be used at his discretion, at the couple's double-wide vacation mobile home in the Florida panhandle.

      6. Ms. Spears will take sole financial responsibility for all medical, optical and dental care for the couple's shared children, Sean Preston and Jayden James, including braces, teeth-bleaching and iced-out grillz.

      7. Ms. Spears will pay the balance due for the deal Kevin made with the Devil for the luck he's experienced during the last two years of his life. While he pledged his soul, the Devil is still demanding a supplemental sum of $2.5 million.

      8. Ms. Spears will provide financial backing for production of Mr. Federline's soon to be "accidentally" released amateur porn video titled, "K-Fed--Steaming Up the Bed, Y'all!"

      9. Ms. Spears will provide a positive job reference for Mr. Federline when he pursues employment in the service industry--specifically the booming fast-food market.

      10. Mr. Federline will take possession of the content in the couple's shared liquor cabinet including, but not limited to, 100 varieties of malt liquor, 7 bottles of Hennessy, and the half-drunk bottle of gin to be combined with juice that Mr. Federline shall provide. Ms. Spears will retain custody of the full pantry of Red Bull, the partially consumed bags of Cheetos scattered throughout their home and venison jerky given to her by her cousin, Jeb.

      11. Ms. Spears will relieve Mr. Federline of all debts he incurred within the duration of their marriage. The known debts are as follows:
        • 53 pair of "manpris" custom tailored at Jamal's Slack Shack in Compton.
        • 70+ pair of ginormous diamond earrings (actual amount to be determined).
        • Laser beam headgear for his six pet sharks.
        • Wages for needless bodyguards.
        • Olive oil to keep his hair greasy.
        • The single disposable razor he used infrequently during their entire marriage.
        • His monster truck.
        • Weekly chest waxes.

        Ms. Spears will also keep Mr. Federline in corn-rows and high-tops, with embarrassingly massive tongues and no apparent laces, for the remainder of his life.

      12. Ms. Spears will provide first/last month's rent and pet deposit (he better be taking those damn sharks) for Mr. Federline's new efficiency studio apartment.

      13. Ms. Spears will relinquish her share of the couple's Marlboro Club Membership, but will retain all accumulated Camel Cash. The extensive ashtray collection will be reserved as part of the couple's shared children's inheritance.

      Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

      The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

        Wednesday, November 08, 2006

        K-Feddy and Britney...Kaputz?

        I don't...

        I just...

        I can't even find the words to blog today.

        Britney filed for divorce?

        I'm devastated.

        Wait! It's K-Fed she's leaving?

        Britney, bring that double-wide of yours over here! I think a celebratory slumber party is in order!

        I'll round up the girls of "The Celebrity Break-Up Club!"

        (Love the original painting of the dynamic duo? Click the image to go to the Britney Archive at Gallery of the Absurd. Great stuff over there!)

        Tuesday, November 07, 2006

        Kukka Takes CMAs by Storm

        Nashville was blazing with stars last night for the Country Music Awards, but none shown brighter than Empress Kukka-Maria. Despite reports from her publicist that Kukka would not be attending the ceremony, the "Favorite Singing Empress of the Year" nominee showed up with her "brother" Brach on her paw, fueling long-standing rumors that he may, in fact, be her husband.

        "I was so glad to see Kukka-Maria in person!" exclaimed an excited Kelly Clarkson (or one of those American Idol chicks) who took home "Female Vocalist of the Year." "I've always admired The Empress on her blog and but have always wanted to pet her. Tonight I just might get the chance!"

        As Kukka exited her limo and launched onto the red carpet, things got a little heated between she and Sara Evans.

        "I'm still skeptical of that bitch cat," explained Sara as she reached out and grabbed Kukka's tail with a firm tug, causing The Empress to turn, hiss dramatically, and swat with her claws fully-extended. "While I originally thought my husband was sleeping with the nanny, I've since realized it may have been a super-sexy feline. That skank better watch her back!"

        While Kukka was asked to perform with several of the country music stars, she chose to go solo and sing her as-yet-unreleased, multi-platinum (based on pre-sales) hit, "I Told You I Didn't Knock Boots With Your Whore of a Husband, Sara Evans." The audience swayed, clapped and sang along with the talented feline.

        "He told you he'd be faithful,
        Be true forevermore...
        But who knew he'd be cheatin'
        With some two-legged whore?!"

        After dominating the category "Favorite Singing Empress of the Year" (in which she was the sole nominee), a tipsy Kukka-Maria took the stage, exposed her multiple nipples, and passed gas on audience members in the first three rows.

        "Oh, that Kukka!" laughed Brooks (or Dunn). "She is always good for a hoot and a half! I don't know what these awards would be without catching a glimpse of that kitty's hooters! Yeeeee-haw!"

        Faith Hill, a long-time friend of Kukka-Maria, shared, "I think it's great how diverse Kukka is! She is involved in movies, television, print media, and music of all genres. She is an inspiration to us all. And, imagine what sort of CMAs she would win if she produced an actual single!"

        A good night was had by all most and many of the fans in the first three rows were released quickly after being treated for minor toxic-vapor-asphyxiation.

        Monday, November 06, 2006

        Pet Porn--An Investigative Report

        It's late at night and you are quietly basking in the light of your computer monitor. With a quick glance over your shoulder, you click on a link that takes you to a captivating site that features small and adorable animals. As you peruse photo after photo of precious kittens, a lusty moan escapes your throat. You can not tear your eyes away from the furry, roly-poly baby animals.

        As your heart races, you suddenly become aware you have drooled down the front of your shirt. "How did I get here? How did I sink so low?" you ask yourself. Ashamed, you quickly navigate to Google in an attempt to cleanse your computer monitor of the filth that is baby animal porn.

        But moments later, you enter "precious and darling kittens" in the search engine, returning over 275,000 sites.

        In your heart, you know you need an intervention.

        Each day, squillions of seemingly upstanding citizens spend countless minutes ogling sites that feature adorable cats and kittens. Once a harmless weekend activity, the perversion has grown to become an all-consuming obsession. Families go neglected, household chores remain undone, missed work days accumulate. The world crumbles around the very computer that serves up this obscene display of cuteness.

        The number of sites that cater to this growing cluster of degenerates grows daily.

        "The audience exists. I'm only presenting what the public is demanding. The media is trying to make this a 'which came first, the chicken or the egg' situation. It's not," explains an anonymous webmaster that created and hosts one of the largest baby animal porn sites on the internet. "We get over eleventy-four hits per day. The unbridled desire to view photos of cute and lovable animals is undeniable. I didn't create that desire, I'm just satisfying it."

        There are sites that focus on cuteness. There are sites that pit kittens against one another to determine which is the ultimate in preciousness. Still other sites add props to cater to the fetish community.

        No matter the site, one can not deny the damaging effects these baby animal porn sites unleash on the American culture.

        For research purposes only, I present:
        "It was harmless in the beginning with an interest in adult cats. I found myself browsing site after site filled with attractive adult cats. After awhile, the full-grown felines just didn't do it for me anymore. A friend turned me onto a page featuring kittens," confesses one feline porn enthusiast. "At first, I was embarrassed to be peeping at under-aged cats. It seemed dirty. But, when I learned there were no laws prohibiting me from doing so, I began bookmarking my favorites without shame. Kittens are adorable and if you disagree with me, you are a filthy liar! I'm just showing them appreciation by petting the screen when looking at their photos."

        Bitsy, a two-month old American shorthair, is proud of her work. "It's affirming to me that so many humans find me sexy. When I was, like, six-weeks old, I had self-esteem issues something fierce! After my human posted photos of me sleeping, lying on my back, and eating, people went wild! I was an instant celebrity. The phone calls for movies and television roles came pouring in! I had so many options, but I chose exotic dancing because the money is so much better."
        Exotic dancing. Prostitution. The fall-out of kitty porn is atrocious. With the models beginning their exhibitionist lifestyles younger and younger, the concern for their well-being becomes a great issue.

        "Where will it go next?" worries Bobbie Walters, animal rights activist. "Will we begin seeing newborn kittens, eyes still closed, plastered on computer monitors everywhere? How about ultra-sound photos! Will those become sexy? This whole thing just makes me sick. Sick!"

        Sick, indeed! While no in-patient programs exist--there are several self-help support groups that help animal porn addicts. If you feel you have a problem, your family has expressed concern for your preoccupation with baby animals, or you have animal porn sites in your may have a problem.

        You sicko.

        Friday, November 03, 2006

        Suggest [choke] a Caption?

        I guess when there is room for only one cat to drink at the sink, the other one will partake of the next best thing...

        Thursday, November 02, 2006

        Thursday Thirteen, Edition #10

        Thirteen Campaign Promises

        I am Kukka-Maria and I approve this message.

          Humans who dress animals in goofy get-ups for amusement or sport will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Who looks so very-wary cutesy now, humans?

          It's my body! I don't need no stinkin' human permission!

          The religious right doesn't want animals to marry one another, but also doesn't approve of them shacking up! Choose a side flip-flopper! You can't have it both ways!

          No more looking in my windows. No more snapping photos of me through your high-powered, telephoto lenses. I'll see you behind bars, tabloid media!

          From what I understand, Brazilian waxes are a horrible way to make a kitty completely bald! I've been bald before. (Go it! It's not bad...) While many men appreciate this look, not all kitties enjoy getting it.

          If you are 6-years old and you weigh 4 lbs? I'm not buying that your're just "small-boned." I'm talking to you, Fancy Feast bitch!

          Although, If we must "stay the course," I will send all the dogs in the U.S. overseas. Not because I dislike dogs, but because they are the species most known for their diplomacy! Right?

          Hey! If you're old enough to breed, you're old enough to take a shot of tequila (just ask Zeus)!

          Apparently, people are dying over this cause! I'll do more than support it, I will encourage it! I will do everything I can to get more over there. Buses? Cabs? I'm on it! More Youth in Asia!

          Nipple lifts? Whisker implants? Tail jobs? (Wow..."tail jobs" just sounds dirty!) It's critical we not have to pay a single dollar out of pocket for these necessary procedures. I mean, they're not necessary for me, but I'm going to fight for the rest of you!

          One way to control pet population is to spay and neuter animals--WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT! The shame is that I believe we are underestimating the power of education. Open dialog with your young cat about "safer sex" and distributing condoms at local animal shelters is the key. Equip your animals with knowledge and they will learn to keep their tails lowered. Or, if they're going to present themselves to any stray they meet, at least they'll be using protection!

          Wait. It's not catnip for humans, right? But it is an herb? Ok. Well, whatever it is they like, they can have it!

        13. I WILL EXILE OPRAH!
          When I win this election? That bitch is out of here!

        Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

        The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

        Wednesday, November 01, 2006

        The Battle of the Bitches Brews On!

        Associated Press (AP): It appears the notorious hostility between two of the most powerful women in media has resurfaced. Oprah Winfrey and Empress Kukka-Maria are waging another emotionally abusive battle in the ongoing war many are calling "The Battle of the Bitches."

        This week, Oprah presented debit cards in the amount of $1,000 to her entire studio audience.

        "Oh. My. Gawd! Oprah is the QUEEN!" shouted one audience member, vigorously pumping her fists in the air. "She has no freakin' idea what this $1,000 will mean to me and my family! I've been standing outside this studio for three days, trying to get tickets to her show. Because of this, I have missed my Pilates class, a hair appointment, and an acupuncture session! All these people expect to be paid whether I show up or not. This $1,000 gift from Oprah will keep me from having to dip into my $5,000 weekly allowance for 'incidentals.' WHOOOOOO!"

        Another audience member, listless from having fainted dead-away after receiving her $1,000, whispered her reaction, "Oprah...glorious second coming...Oprah." As a tearful young woman mopped the failing woman's brow, she explained, "My mother was fleeced of $842 (+ shipping/handling) on eBay, when she bought what she believed to be a pair of Manolo Blahnik stilettos. She cried for three days when a pair of Man-hole-o Blanks showed up at her door. I'm glad to see Oprah acknowledge the struggles of the elderly. What is a fixed-income, if not an opportunity to fill your closet with designer shoes! THANK YOU, OPRAH!"

        The women of the audience danced, shouted, clapped, screamed and humped their seats as though they were 13-year-old girls who just received word from a friend of a friend of a friend that the cutest boy in school may...MAY know who they are! "WHOOOOOOO! OPRAH WE LOVE YOU!" This display went on for about 20 minutes with no apparent regard for self-respect, poise or decibels. The only thing that would bring these women back to reality is the booming voice of their money-laden maharishi.

        "THAT'S RIGHT, EV-ER-Y-BO-DY! $1,000 to be used however you want! You can choose a single charity! You can split it up between SEVERAL charities! You can give it all to one person or you can give $1 to 1000 people! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE END-LESS PEO-PLE!!!!!"

        The audience grew immediately silent. Everyone, except an enthusiastic woman in the back row, who had ripped off her top and was dancing around with her shirt hanging from her head like hair. Only she did not hear the "charity" bomb drop.

        "What the [expletive]? What did you just say, Oprah? CHARITY? We have to give this [expletive] away?" shouted a slightly infuriated fan in the front row as she began pacing back and forth in the aisle. "Are you telling me I have to turn around and give this [expletive] away? You mother-[expletive]ing [expletive]!"

        As the distressed audience member was eagerly invited to leave the studio, Oprah continued, "Don't forget the best part! You are also receiving Sony DVD recorders to film your charitable works for a future show!"

        Fueling rumors that their on-again/off-again friendship may have hit another off-again swing, Kukka-Maria has released the following statement in response to the debit card debacle:

        "It's a crying shame Oprah's plan was so ineffective! While she hates to admit it, people don't go to her show to learn about hardship and how to help those who are struggling! They pray for weeks that the show they attend is the Oprah's Favorite Things episode and they'll walk out with thousands of dollars worth of swag! They've seen that bitch hand out car keys to every person in the audience! They want Oprah to do charitable things with her money, not with the money she gives to them!"

        It is speculated that Auto-Gate 2004 was the beginning of the roller-coaster end for the friendship once lovingly referred to as "Oprukka." Just days before the car giveaway on Oprah's show, Kukka-Maria had announced the largest litter box gift the world had ever known. "YOU get a litter box! AND YOU get a litter box!" she yelled to a gleefully screaming, standing-room-only studio. Pointing her paws and waving a scooper in all directions, she looked straight into the camera, winked and grinned, "THAT'S RIGHT, AMERICA! EVEN YOU GET A LITTER BOX!"

        Only hours after Oprah's car giveaway episode preempted Kukka's litter box extravaganza, The Empress told E! Entertainment news, "I never thought she would stoop so low as to one-up me--before my show even aired! My litter box giveaway was progressive. It was inspirational. But she had to go and give away cars. That bitch is dead to me."

        In the wake of Oprah's latest debit card initiative, Kukka is making some aggressive plans to get her just revenge on Ms. Winfrey.

        "Let's just say I have my accountants packing debit cards with $1,001 as we speak. There will be no stipulation on how the money is spent." Pausing to cackle, Kukka gasps and continues. "Wait! No one can buy anything on or in which Oprah's name or image appears. Also, you can't buy things and give them to Oprah. That would just be stupid. Otherwise, spend away! And that extra dollar? That is just proof I love you more than Oprah loves you."

        As for the audience members who are supposed to film their charity work for a future Oprah show? Kukka has some creative suggestions. "Let's just say I've heard Oprah has always wanted to do a feature on middle fingers. Perhaps the audience should give her some finger footage she can use on that show! Flip her off! Give her the bird! Can you imagine how excited she'll be when she receives hundreds of DVDs filled with finger-flippin' goodness? Hours of footage!"

        Ah, long as the depth of true love is measured in passive-aggressive turmoil and emotional bruises, we are confident you will always come out on top!