Celebrities Take a Stand for Feline Pride

ANNOUNCER:
As you may or may not be aware, there is a horrendous pandemic sweeping the nation that, if not addressed immediately, will cause outrageous destruction for us--and generations to come.

This holy mess, in which transvestite celebrity impersonators all but destroy the image of felines across the nation, is called: Faulty Undertaking of Celebrity Kitties (F.U.C.K.)

In an attempt to address this issue head-on, F.U.C.K., a star-studded team of celebrity females led by Empress Kukka-Maria, came together to strategize. Even though Cher, Tina Turner, Celine Dion, Barbra Streisand and Liza Minelli are accurately impersonated by thousands of transestites every year, the same can not be said for cats...and poor Kukka-Maria has learned, first-hand, what it is like to look in her tranny mirror and not recognize the face staring back at her.

F.U.C.K. is more than willing to volunteer their time to help raise awareness. What they came up with is a stunning and beautiful song that explains the plight of the erroneously impersonated feline celebrity.


(Sung to the tune of "We are the World")

(Cher) There comes a time, when we heed a certain call
When the stars must come together as one
(Tina) There are trannys trying
And it’s time to lift a hand to slap
The shit out of them all!

(Celine) We can’t go on, pretending day by day
That these whores look glamorous like us
(Barbra) They are nothing like us…huge celebrities
And the truth: Makeovers are what they need

(All) We are the stars, we are the beauties
We are the ones to make an honest buck
Oh, wait! A squillion…
It’s a chance we’re taking
To keep the trannys down
It’s true, they try each night and day
But they’re ugly.

(Kukka-Maria) Well, send them some clothes
So they learn just how to dress
And I won't puke when a photo I see
(Liza) God has shown us
By turning men to chicks
And so we all must lend a helping hand

(All) We are the stars, we are the beauties
We are the ones to make an honest buck
Oh, wait! A squillion…
It’s a chance we’re taking
To keep the trannys down
It’s true, they try each night and day
But they’re ugly.

(Tina) When they do their show
Mascara running down
If they concentrate
They won’t look like a clown
(Kukka-Maria, doing her best Cyndi Lauper)
WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA!
Let’s help them out
So they do us some justice
Ladies…let’s stand together as one!
YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH!

(All. Fading out.) We are the stars, we are the beauties
We are the ones to make an honest buck
Oh, wait! A squillion…
It’s a chance we’re taking
To keep the trannys down
It’s true, they try each night and day
But they’re ugly!



ANNOUNCER:
It's critical that this issue be eradicated immediately. Not only is celebrity feline pride at risk, the world's supply of false eyelashes and cheap wigs is diminishing at alarming speeds! In fact, congress is debating--at this very minute--whether drilling in the protected Alaskan Feather Boa Reserve will even be enough to help!

If you have a heart at all, SEND YOUR DONATIONS NOW!

Presenting...Kukka-MariO, The She-Male Impersonator

Oh for crying out loud!

I received a letter and playbill in the mail this week informing me that a Kukka-Maria impersonator is touring across the United States, performing a cheesy cabaret act.

Apparently, Kukka-Mario's make-up is gaudy, his feather boa is kitschy (and a bit dingy, I'm afraid), and his fur is dull--devoid of my natural shimmer and shine. I've even heard he paints his naturally dark paw-pads pink!!

What is worse...and I don't think I can even write this without gasping and shrieking: He has padded his stomach and hind quarters with pillows in an attempt to replicate my beauteous womanly curves! PILLOWS?! Am I packing the curves of a squillion women? Bastard! I mean...LOOK AT THE PHOTO! That cat is FAT! It's clearly a half-assed effort to capture my stunning beauty. Although, with all of the ass-padding, it's really a double-assed effort!

Oh, I am so distraught over this whole thing; I can't even laugh at my own jokes today!!

And when have I ever...E-VER worn a blue wig?

More important than the emotional onslaught I've endured over this hideous physical interpretation of The Empress, there are some key logistical matters to address:

• Show me the money. Where's my cut of his tour profits? The check with my percentage of ticket sales is in the mail, right? While I feel his act is completely inferior to the real thing, I want--and deserve--a piece of the action. And, in order to reduce his overhead expenses and increase my potential profits, he should really consider putting down roots. Traveling around the country is expensive! I think he should take a look at making a home in Las Vegas. Yes, Vegas is a stretch--being such a conservative community, but I think having a tranny move in might give that village the edge it so desperately needs.
• Shake what yo' mama gave you. I'm sorry...what, what? Is that supposed to be "choreography?" I've heard Paula Abdul helped him come up with that routine. Paula, if you're reading this: Congratulations! You have just obtained a permanent spot on my Litter List! Someone needs to tell this she-male that no one wants to see a pillow-clad ass swaying in their faces. Don't get me wrong. My dirty-dancing skillz are LEGENDARY! I've even won squillions of awards for my pelvic thrusts alone, but I am not a stripper. Nor do I dance like a stripper all the time. Kukka-Mario needs to revise his act to include some demure footwork and prudish paw movements. Remember what I always say: LESS IS MORE!
• No one likes a tabloid whore. As soon as my squillions of fans read this blog post, it is going to create a frenzy. This will attract the tabloids--which will be exciting for a no-name, inexperienced unknown like Kukka-Mario. I'm screwed. I work so hard to live a modest life, free of drama, turmoil and commotion. Since no one even knows this chick's dude's name, if he gets caught up in the slime-media attention, the negative press will reflect poorly on me.

I think I'm going to have to consult with my mom agent and team of feral alley cat lawyers. There has to be something I can do to stop this horrible injustice!

I know! I'll call my good friends, Cher, Liza, Tina, Barbra and Celine! They've been dealing with tranny tributes for years. Maybe we can come together to address this head-on!

Uptown Puss Has Got BACK!

Zeus. Is. Wonderful! He has penned a song in my honor!

I can not wait to recreate the video in the auto-repair shop!
Me, wearing a huge, black hat.
Him following after me with a greasy rag.
Both of us doing an awkwardly choreographed dance.

Zeus, you are dreamy...and oh, so romantic!


And then there's Moosey! He has also created a tribute song for me!

I realized, after singing his song, I need to go get a bootay bikini and learn how to really shake my tail!

That video will be great...but where will we get a giant peach? And, Moose, are you prepared to sport the cool shades and hat? You will look so preciously adorable...I mean SEXY!


And Miles, who once thought he was born without song-writing talent, came up with this little ditty for me!

Not only does he fawn over me, he gives a shout-out to the entire Tomcat Stable! Now that's a special tomcat, indeed!

Ah-wim-o-weh....Ah-wim-o-weh....Ah-wim-o-weh....

Secret Fight "Litter List"

As you know, by no fault of my own, I find myself in secret fights with people of all walks of life--but mostly fellow celebrities. I know what you're saying: "But, gorgeous Kukka-Maria...why not call a fight a fight? Why the secrecy?" I find that if I keep the fight a secret--even from my enemy, I have the advantage. I can attack without them expecting it. Plus secret fights are far more dramatic.

For most of my fans, it is difficult to keep up with who is on my bad side, so I have decided to bring you up to speed with an updated "Litter List" roster:

• Star Jones-Reynolds. You are one cah-razy bitch! Not only did you apply to be my litterbox scooper--when you were clearly unqualified, you crashed my blogiversary party, received a lap dance from a canine stripper--on my mother's dime, and practically laughed as I was erroneously arrested. I must admit: This conflict moved from "secret fight" to "all-out-cat-fight" after I punctured your breast implant...I mean "boob lift" with my razor-sharp claw. Step off, Star Jones-Reynolds! Or would you prefer I use your legal name: Dirty, Dirty Whore?
• Jada Pinkett Smith. Jada...I thought we were tight. At my blogiversary party, we formed a united front against Tom Cruise regarding the secrecy around Suri. Then, while I ate my kibble this morning and perused the internet, I see you betrayed me. Jada, if you were going to cave and see the baby without me, I would at least expect you to email me photos before going to the press. Shame on you, Jada Pinkett Smith. Shame! Aside from sharing with my fans, I am secretly questioning the future of my friendship.
• Prince's Wife. I don't know your name and, quite frankly, I don't care. You and I are in a secret fight because you married my first love, Prince. You know for a fact that he is my Sexy Mother Fu...I'm sorry...what? You are divorcing? Well, then you are off the list! I'll remove you after the third of my 8 daily naps.
• Lance Bass. Yesterday, I came out with a poignant press release saying I was not gay. Then, within two seconds, you came out as gay! What the...? Why must you always try to one-up me? First, when NSYNC opened for me on my European tour, you had to do the "Bye, Bye, Bye" routine in front of me as I was performing my platinum single, "I am Kukka, Hear me Roar." Then, when I decided to pursue my dream of going into space, you went to the press to break the news of your own desire to travel the cosmos. What the hell! I have done nothing but support you and you seem to be committed to making my life miserable. Well, sir, if that is your M.O., congratulations. You have won...for now.
• Justin Timberlake. Whatever. Where is your loyalty, J.T.? While I repeatedly rejected your sexual advances, I thought we were so past that! I expected your love for me would trump your support of the recently-super-gay Lance Bass. I can not believe you support his claim of gayness over my admission of straightness. Oh, and tell Cameron Diaz she's on notice just because she dates you.
• Princes William and Harry. I do too have a royal pedigree! If you don't like me like that, just say so! Telling everyone I'm lack the qualifications to marry either of you is just cowardly. I hiss in your general direction.
• Tom Cruise. Never-mind...you are just dead to me. You really need to ask, Maverick? Reason 1. Reason 2. Reason 3. Do I really need to go on? Dead. To. Me. Period.
• David Hasselhoff. First off, giving yourself the nickname "The Hoff" makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth. Secondly, if you don't stop calling my house and asking me for dates, now that your divorce is final, I will get a restraining order against you...again. And tell your ex-wife the truth: I am not the other woman! You are big in Germany, but not in West Michigan. Deal with it. Oh, stop crying you fool! And applauding while you clap does not make it less pitiful!
• The United States Constitution. You are a speciest mother effer, Constitution! I think it's insane that you won't let me vote, as a Democrat Feline...or should I cheesily say "Democat." Do you not think I can help drive this country? Shouldn't my voice be heard like every other red-blooded American? Also, the fact that the only requirements of our president is that he (I'd say "she," as well, but come on! How close are we really to that happening?) has to be born in the US, lived here for at least 14 years and 35 years or older. Shame on you for being overly discriminating on who can vote (ugh!) and not careful enough on who you allow to lead the country.
• Oprah Winfrey. There is no particular reason for our secret fight right now, O. I just want you to know you are always on thin ice with me.
• Rosie O'Donnell. I can not belieeeeeeve you did not book me as your first interview when you join The View. I thought we were close! Is it because I came out as "not gay" yesterday? Are you a sexual orientationist, Rosie? Oh, yes...I'm calling you out!
• Paula Abdul. I went through our history already this week. I don't have the energy to confront you about it again. If I ever find you to release another song based on my words, I will...wait! You won't release another album!! Your days are o-ver. I feel better now. But I'm not removing you from the list.
• Dread Pirate Blogger. You are a fickle bastard, Blogger! You promise so much to me, then continuously fail to deliver. "Photo Posting!" you say. Then, when I try to post pictures, you are all, "What? You want to post a photo? I don't think so..." I am hurt that I give you so much and you return with so little. I can't help but wonder if I've done something to offend you! Am I unworthy? Do I need to do more...HELL NO! Get your act together, Blogger! When you're good to me, I'm your biggest fan and advocate. If you continue to double-cross me, I will be forced to pee on your floor. Don't laugh! You are severely underestimating the overwhelming power of my urine scent!
• My Blog Lurkers--and you know who you are! While I appreciate your reading devotion, I am hurt I don't hear from you. No feedback. No "Kukka-Maria, you are wicked awesome!" or "Kukka-Maria, I want to be just like you when I grow up!" or "Empress, can I name my child after you?" Come on, lurkers, take a risk! Make a comment! Let me know who you are so I can add you to my "Litter List." I mean, KEEP YOU OFF MY LITTER LIST!

Wow. I'm tired now. Secret fighting takes a lot out of a person! I need a nap now, during which I will dream up new and inventive ways to express my disdain for my secrenemies. Oh, yeah...that is my new word for "Secret Enemies." Hey, if "Brangelina" caught on, why can't "secrenemies" have legs?!

Are you jealous I just came up with that term? Don't make me add you to the list...just try me!

Celebrity Feline insists, "I'm Not Gay"

Associated Press (AP) - Taking her cue from Oprah and responding to what she calls "extreme pressure from fans and the media," Empress Kukka-Maria, feline blogging icon, released a statement today in an attempt to clear up rampant rumors.

"I am not gay. Despite rumors to the contrary, Colin Farrell and I are just friends. If I were gay...or [we were] being gay together, we would tell you because there is nothing wrong with being gay. We are just not having the gay sex!"

Rumors began earlier this month when British tabloids reported the celebrity feline was "a homo." American tabloids ran with the story as paparazzi photographed The Empress and Farrell kissing at a corner table of the famed Spago restaurant.

One fellow patron said, "They were all over one another! It was clear to me, by their stylish designer attire, open discussions of Broadway musicals and standard gay lisps, these two were as gay as the day is long!" Another Spago customer interrupted and said, "Clearly this man you are interviewing is a Republican. I could tell right away by the judgment seeping from his pores, the platinum credit card in his wallet, and his obviously closed mind."

The discussion with these witnesses was cut short, when they suddenly broke out into a slap-fight.

When reached for comment, Jason Baumgartner, head sommelier at the restaurant, defended the pair. "What they were doing was perfectly acceptable. The other guests should have felt honored to be in the presence of such exquisite celebrity public displays of affection! This wasn't stage kissing; they used full on tongue! I think we could all benefit from their example. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet up with my boyfriend, Steve. We're going dancing at The Man Hole tonight."

With his long-awaited movie, "Miami Vice" opening this Friday, Colin Farrell was not available for a comment. Empress Kukka-Maria, however, was more than willing to clear things up.

"There isn't a definition in our culture for the kind of bond Colin and I share. Something about our relationship feels otherworldly to me, like it was designed by a power and a hand greater than my own." She went on to say, "As for the rumors that I am also in a gay relationship with Russell Crowe...they are unfounded. The Crowester and I are just friends. That's it. I don't like him like that."

After taking a swig from [what is believed to be] a whiskey bottle, Kukka exclaimed, "I think the root of all the hype is that all you bitches are jealous because I get to kiss Colin Farrell!"

As Kukka's handlers abruptly ushered her out of the room, her mother agent tried to diffuse the situation. "My client is not gay. Period. Kukka is committed to having straight sex--albeit freaky-deeky-nympho sex, with men and tomcats. I can unequivocally state that Kukka is not gay with Colin, nor is she gay with Russell. Now, as for Russell and Colin being gay together..."

Russell Crowe was unable to be reached for comment. His publicist did offer this: "Mr. Crowe has a strong, non-gay relationship with Kukka-Maria. He is busy spending time with his beard...I mean wife and their two children and will not be bothered by the ridiculous rumors of a gay relationship with The Empress."

There is no word whether The Empress will file libel lawsuits with the British and American tabloids.

No, Mr. Halibut...I will NOT sleep with you!

I recently received an email that talked about Finnegan, a domesticated infant squirrel that was being cared-for and bottle-fed by a female human.

The woman's pregnant dog, a Papillon named Mademoiselle Giselle, was about ready to give birth. As Finnegan was sleeping in a cage near the laboring canine, Mlle. Giselle attempted to drag his cage toward her birthing spot--twice. A bit hesitant, the woman reluctantly let Finnegan out of his cage and the dog's maternal instinct kicked in.

Almost immediately after the pups were born, Finnegan spent hours nestled in the puppy heap with his new "brothers and sisters." After two days, Giselle even allowed him to nurse along with her five new babies.

Although shortly after the puppies were born, Finnegan went back to the baby bottle, he still spent hours and hours napping with his new litter mates.

I can tell you this: Empress Kukka-Maria sleeping with a squirrel is like sleeping with my food! That's ridiculous. I've never seen my mom sleep with a chicken or a carrot! Although, and she will humbly admit to this, she has dated quite a few men who were pussies, but I'm assuming they were cats--so that's okay.

While you know I am not a speciest--by any stretch of the imagination, you would never catch me in this situation! I can not imagine sleeping with my prey!!

Unless my food was hot, super-sexy and ardently set on meeting my every need. If you can find me a meal pet like that, count me in!

By the way, Finnegan the Squirrel, when you wean yourself from the bottle...call me!

And Now He's Back...From Outer-Space

The weirdest thing happened to me last night! I got a random call from an old friend--who has been absent for a few years now. He called to say "Hello" and, in a moment of nostalgic weakness, I invited him over. While we shared laughs (lots) and I enjoyed his company very much, I couldn't help thinking of our history and how a solid friendship turned sour.

This friend began our friendship in a whirlwind. You see, MC Skat Kat and I met years and years and years ago--when I was a mere kitten and hanging out with what can best be described as a "rough crowd." I am ashamed to admit it, but I spent many a night hopping from night club to strip club to brothel with brothers, Emilio Estevez and Charlie Sheen.

One night, thinking they were taking me to a place for royal felines, we ended up at The Pussy Palace. There, I saw a charismatic tomcat sitting across the room, getting a lap dance from a toothless stripper. She was a pretty girl--and quite limber! And, looking back on it now, I'm sure her dental deficiency was due to poor hygiene and not at all because of her raging heroine addiction.

Anyway, that tom turned out to be MC Skat Kat.

Skat took me under his wing to show me the ways of the harsh Hollywood world. I was grateful to have such a kind cat looking out for me. We spent countless hours building a strong relationship as we laughed, made fun of stray cats (we were horrible in those days), and tipped over garbage cans (I can not believe we were never caught by Animal Control!). In fact, I have to take credit for encouraging him to change his name from Roberto Benigni to MC Skat Kat! Okay...in my defense, it was a different time--where names including terms like MC, Fresh, and Dogg were the rage. And, come on! At that time, who could have really predicted an Italian actor with that same birth-name would emerge and become an Oscar Winner?

Anyway, maybe it was Skat's power or his animal magnetism that drew me in. Whatever you want to call it, during the entire three days he and I were friends (which, in cat time, is nearly a month), he captivated me and I quickly became seduced by his influence. Much like you'd meet and get to know a friend from summer camp (we will be friends forever, right?) or someone for whom you'd hold the door at a grocery store (a polite "thank you" complete with no-eye-contact and a forced smile), I found out I really knew nothing about that tomcat! Who knew that a weekend friendship could be so misleading?

Paula Abdul and I used to be friends around this time. (At this point I'd typically link you to her website, but it gets bogged down with audio of her greatest hits from the 80's--I'm serious...she's not put anything out since then--which is fine, but you need to loop that crap on your current website? At least air some American Idol songs! William Hung would be better than the stuff she's got playing!) I shared numerous stories of MC Skat Kat with her. I told her about our relationship...that it seemed he and I never could agree. That I liked the movies and he liked TV. That I took things serious and he took 'em light. That I went to bed early and he'd party all night. She would listen with such a sympathetic ear and I began to consider her a close friend.

I never knew that bitch was conspiring against me--and with one of my favorite tomcats!

One night, a mutual friend approached me and said, "I ran into Paula the other day and she told me she and MC Skat Kat have been working on a song and video together and, by the end of summer, it should air on MTV!"

Trying to save face, I responded, "Oh, yeah! I know all about it!"

WHAT? A secret project? Behind my back? With all Skat and I had been through over our weekend friendship, he would turn his back on a friend to sing in some low-rent video? What happened to our dynamic? Things in common--just ain't a one, but when we got together we had nothin' but fun! He would sell out our friendship for some mediocre animated dancing, with an inferior choreographer, in a shoddy video?

No one does The Empress like that!

When I confronted Skat, he glibly responded, "We have been secretly working on this song for a long time--like an entire afternoon! Paula wrote this incredible song called, "Opposites Attract." You should hear it! She said the lyrics just came to her the other day! Anyway, I thought it best for you to find out about it when the video premiered on MTV."

What a bastard! I couldn't believe after and entire three days of knowing one another, he wouldn't tell me this! And Paula, who looked me dead in the eye when I would talk of him and then used my words to pen a song...I wanted to scratch her eyes out!

In an attempt to heal my wounds, I buried everything he ever gave me in my litter box (which, in such a short relationship, amounted to a matchbook from The Pussy Palace, a 1/4 oz of catnip and 6 autographed headshots of Roberto Benigni MC Skat Kat--but I don't consider the photos real gifts, since they had his original name, so he was just trying to get rid of them).

After that, I decided I would never let another tomcat into my inner-inner-circle again. I formed The Tomcat Stable (Squilliam, Moosey, Buddy, Zeus, Miles, and Xavier). I determined that any tomcat who professed his undying love for me, all the while knowing they could never have me fully, should be kept close--but no closer than paws length away. With this strategy, I would be sure not to fall into the trap of "You-Think-You-Know-Someone-Because-You-Spend-Three-Days-Forming-A-Friendship-Then-You-Get-Played-And-Bitter."

Should I add MC Skat Kat to The Tomcat Stable?

Should get a restraining order?

Should I forgive and move forward?

I don't know. I just need to pass gas and take a nap right now. I've been up a solid hour and have already eaten my weight in treats. That takes a lot out of a Feline Empress!

Let's Revisit the Rules, Shall We?

I can not believe how disrespectful you are, Kukka-Maria!

Last night, when Mom gave us treats, I attacked one particular nugget that caught my attention. I licked it over and then looked up at Mom to see if she was going to whip some more on the floor. When I looked back at my saliva-moistened snack, YOU WERE EATING IT!!

First of all...GROSS! No matter how much I love, adore and tolerate you, I draw the line at consuming your spit. Period.

Second of all...Did you know that only 2 minutes prior to the treat incident, I was licking my butt? Oh, yes! I licked at my butt for a good 1-1.5 minutes. The fecal residue on my tongue could have powered a small, third-world country (assuming their power comes from poop). No matter! You are a POOP EATER, Empress!

Finally, I am going to have to site a very reliable source to support my case. While last week, the focus was on your literary success with your books, I need to turn the spotlight on my book now.

My book is entitled, "How to Survive Living with a Spoiled Cat who Thinks she is an Empress of Some Sort."

After extensive research on the rules and guidelines that make living you less painful, I discovered there are specific rules around spitting on food.

Article 3.627: To protect one's food and/or treats, one may cover said food/treats with one's own saliva, thereby deterring Cat Cuisine Crime. When food is poured or treats are distributed, one should peruse the collection of kibble, choose the most desirable nugglets and immediately claim them by either: 1) placing it in one's mouth and sucking hard--to ensure the saliva permeates the kibblet or 2) generating and pitching a wad of saliva onto the kibblet. As this is part of the Code of the Cats, it is understood that the nugglet is now claimed and protected.¹

I suggest you do a little reading this weekend, Empress. Because of your recent infringement on my rights, it is clear you need a refresher on Feline Protocol. With your royal "title," I would expect you to be the expert on these things.

But until that happens, enjoy eating my poop!


¹ Brach Lee, "How to Survive Living with a Spoiled Cat who Thinks she is an Empress of Some Sort," 4 Apr. 2006

Tom Cruise, You are Dead to Me

Dear Tom,

While we fought at my party, I never thought you would stoop so low as to immediately invite Leah Remini to see your child before me.

Leah, if you're reading this, I do not hold you responsible. While I question your judgment in choosing to hang out with Mr. Cruise, I think you are a reasonably sound person...although, my respect for you would have skyrocketed had you smuggled photos of the child out of the house and sold them to the tabloids. But, alas, I can't always get what I want.

Back to Maverick. Sir, you are no longer on notice--you just don't exist in my world anymore.

Stop calling my house.

Stop crying, in the fetal position, in my front yard.

Stop begging me to take you back--your wailing is bothering my neighbors.

Stop trying to bribe me with expensive and luxurious gifts. Not only do you lack taste in your gift choices, I received a squillion amazing gifts for my blogiversary and am not in need of anything you can provide. At. All.

Stop going on talk shows (Dave, Jay, Conan, Ellen, etc.) and talking about how desperate you are to patch things up between us. As far as I'm concerned, I am Paris Hilton and you are Nicole Richie. Wait...I want to be Nicole, instead. Anyway, I hope you get my point.

I am unshakable on this issue, so it's in your best interest to take your child-bride (assuming you will make an honest Scientologist fembot of her) and your fake baby and hit the road, son.

I'm so suri, but goodbye forever,
Kukka-Maria
(The Empress to you)

Empress Freed, Jones-Reynolds Apprehended, Who's Who of Prison

Oh. My. Gawd!

First, let me thank everyone who came out and protested yesterday. It worked! I think your shouts of "One, Two, Three, Four...Star Jones-Reynolds is a whore!" were the thing that really inspired the police to re-examine my case. For all of you who watched E! News last night, you probably already know that as I was being released from jail, Star Jones-Reynolds was being escorted in and finger-printed!

Star will be charged with Breaking and Entering (because she totally crashed my blogiversary party), Illegal Dance-Fighting (because she instigated a violent dance-off without the proper permits), Assault and Battery (because of what she did to that poor canine stripper when he was reluctantly trying to give her a lap dance), and Obstructing Justice (because she gave an interview, riddled with lies, to the COPS cameras while I was being forcibly removed from my home).

Justice prevails!! Rot in the slammer, Jones-Reynolds! I hope, when your husband realizes what is supposed to actually happen during your "conjugal visits," he still shows up--because I have a strong suspicion he will decide to go on a man-date instead!

Ok. On to more important things. I know what you're thinking..."Keeping an empress behind bars is ludicrous! What sorts of people and things did you have to endure, Kukka-Maria?"

Aside from the annoyingly strict schedule of set bed times, meal times, bathing times, etc., jail was not that bad. While they did not pet when I asked, nor allow me to drink from the faucets and sleep where I wanted, they did give me plenty of food and treats on demand (far more than my mom agent warden gives me at home!

I think the real story, though, is who I saw in jail.


If you've been a long-time reader, you may remember Zeus (not to be confused with The Amazing Zeus from my Tomcat Stable). He was one of the online dating profiles I was matched with during my internet search for love last summer. If you may recall, at that time, Zeus was posing as a cat in order to be matched with super-sexy felines...like myself.

What you may not know, is that Zeus and I went on a couple of dates and would have gotten serious, if I had not found a squillion emails and photos of other cat-bitches he was "dating." I threw him out and thought I would never see him again.

Then I landed in jail.

Apparently, Zeus maintained his path of lies, deceit, manipulation and general debauchery the rest of last summer and then was finally busted for BIGOMY! That shocked me! First, since cats can not legally marry, why can dogs?! Second, what kind of evil being preys on the emotions of vulnerable cat-chicks? Boo, Zeus the Evil Dog...Boo!


Another surprise was running into Juan "Papi Chulo" Martinez. As you may remember, he interviewed to become my body guard.

Papi Chulo recognized me right away and almost started a riot in the mess hall:

"Oh my gawd! Es Kukka-Maria, man! Kukka es muy popular and muy bonita and I love her berry mucho!"

I asked if he was upset that he was not offered the job, to which he replied, "I wanted that job so much, but I understood that you were racist and sizeist and didn't want to have a tiny Chihuahua as your protector."

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed? "It had nothing to do with you being an itty-bitty Chihuahua! I didn't hire you because you seemed a little...how do I say this politely...CAH-RAZY!"

"Fair enough, muchacha!"

Shortly after the job interview, Papi Chulo took a job smuggling Columbian cocaine. In condoms. In his bootay. Frustrated that he made some poor choices in his past, Papi Chulo told me, "I want to straighten out my life, man! I have dieciséis (16) brothers and sisters waiting to get into this country legally! The fact that I am spending my time in the United States...in jail! Dios mio!"

It might be a mistake, but I told him to call me when he gets sprung from the joint.


Ironically, Papi Chulo's cellmate was the man he interviewed to assassinate: Stewie--my former stalker! Spending time in the slammer together has helped them forge quite a friendship! Now they have that strong brotherhood that only comes from serving time with one another. Which I know. Because I am now a hardened criminal.

Anyway, Stewie Stalker was nabbed for...you guessed it...grand theft auto. After Stewie stalked me for awhile and finally gained access to my home, he realized that meeting the target of his obsession face to face eroded the intrigue and excitement of the chase. Deciding to give up stalking for good, he turned to stealing cars.

It would have worked, too, except Stewie is only 4 inches tall and couldn't reach the steering wheel or pedals. He crashed his first stolen car and was nabbed immediately by the police.

Stewie was never one to worry about the details, though.


All in all, jail wasn't miserable. I will say, though, that I missed the fresh air, internet access, and the love of my family and friends fans. I will not miss having to bathe myself in front of other inmates, having to give up half of my meals in order to keep jailhouse sexual predators away, and winning the prisoner talent show--every night (I can only wear so many "MOST TALENTED AND BEAUTIFUL INMATE EVER!" sashes).

I appreciate everything you all did to spread the word of my innocence! Now that I'm home, I will actually have a chance to use and appreciate my new blogiversary gifts!

OH HAPPY DAY!
(Or, as they say in the Big House, "You better step off before I cut you with this homemade knife made of a toothbrush and a razor blade, bitch!")

Kukka's Prison Break?!

I hate posting twice on the same day, but this was too important to wait. Kukka's well-being is at stake!

Because Mom spent most of this morning trying to clean the schmutz off of her silk lampshade in the bedroom--courtesy of Empress Kukka-Maria's licking tongue, she has changed her mind about posting bail for Kukka today. I am organizing a picket line at the courthouse. Anyone wanting to make a poster and march on Kukka's behalf is welcome to join the following, who have already committed:

• Me
• Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie (not just because of Brad and Kukka's previous love affair, but because they are always wanting to help the "under-dog"--or in this case, "under-cat")
• Barbara Walters (she is going to flip the bird to the police)
• Oprah (she and Kukka have reconciled)
• Jerry Springer (who is just showing up to kiss up to Kukka because he wants her to re-enact the entire ordeal--with Star--on his show)
• Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton (who have decided to put their bad blood behind them for a day to show their support for The Empress)
• Adrian Brody (because he is now, officially, my mom's secret boyfriend--so secret he doesn't know about it)
• Katie Holmes (because she feels badly about Tom's behavior at the party)
• Suri Cruise...wait, no. Apparently, she is not doing public appearances at this time.
• Brooke Shields (because she and Kukka are friends and she heard about Tom's outburst at the party, so wants to "stick it to him!")
• Rosie O'Donnell (because of her pure hate for Star Jones-Reynolds)
• Al Reynolds (because he is hoping The Whole Enchilada will show up)
• Miles Meezer (valued member of Kukka's Tomcat Stable...who is also bringing brother Sammy and Gramma Trixie. Let's just she doesn't break a hip waving a picket sign!)
• Gemini and sister Cheysuli (who is running for president, so supporting Kukka will show potential constituents that she is soft-hearted. She is also contacting various senators to solicit support)
• Scooby, Shaggy and Scout (who are bringing their neighborhood gang of rough-n-tough cats: Soni, Cheotee, Patches, Bridget and the super tough tomcat Tiger)
• Princess Mia (a fellow royal, who has always been such a devout Kukka supporter)
• Diva Kitty and her gang (including Xavier--the newest Tomcat Stable dude and a gaggle of bunnies)
• George, Tipper, Max and Misty (which is so cool, since they have been pretty pre-occupied with bathing...or giving a shower of some sort to their human sister for her upcoming wedding)
• Zeus (who made some of his own posters and, with his strong hand and maturity, is sure to keep all protesters in line and all police at bay)
• Skeezix (the cross-eyed feline royal who is unconventionally beautiful and is sure to draw media attention)
• Moosey (one of the first, and I believe youngest, member of the Tomcat Stable. He can whip his floofy tail at the cops to keep them from arresting protesters. Plus, if Nala and Turtle come, things will go down! They are skilled in combat maneuvers--living with Moose, you have to!)
• Emma and her crew (Um...I hate to be the one to bring this up, but Emma lives with a dog! I hope that dog won't try to eat any protesters--tasty or not!)
• Cal the Wonderdog (representin' the barkers, Cal is sure to help keep the peace. Plus, as a Collie, people will look at him and say, "Oh, loooooook! It's Laaaaassie!" That kind of distraction can be useful for the rest of us--as long as Cal can endure that mistaken identity crap)
• Deb and her gaggle of pets (in this case, "gaggle" specifically refers to the FKA (Felines Known As) Seaborne, Sam, Summer, Spats & Sassy. Someone loves alliteration almost as much as I do!)
• Abby the Manx and her posse: Boo, Jinx, Ping & Gracie (Tail or no tail, I hear Abby is fierce and has great endurance, which is critical when picketing)
• More to be named later--as they volunteer.

I made a poster for the occasion. I hope it sends a strong message to the authorities!

Kukka's Stripper Fiasco

Ok, folks. I'm sorry I didn't get back with you yesterday, as I promised. Due to all of the media attention about this and the paparazzi permanently camped outside our door, I was not able to get back to the computer.

Because Kukka is still sitting in jail, and because she will skew the facts of the night if she were to tell it, I am here to offer a complete report of the mayhem that occurred Saturday night.



8:03 pm: Kukka overindulges on a potent combination of champagne, a mix of Super Gold Thai and Purple Skunk Catnip, and some "caviar" that was imported from Columbia (which, strangely enough, seemed a bit too white and powdery to be caviar). She stands at the front door, yelling to the queue of people standing behind the velvet rope. "If you don't get in tonight, you're a piece of crap!" Fortunately, no one speaks Meow, so they didn't understand her insults.

8:08 pm: Seeing Tom Cruise, she sticks her paw in his face and is all, "Where's the baby, Tom?! How come I haven't seen the baby yet!" Tom, trying to remain calm, goes, "Kukka. Let's keep our voices down, alright? You're causing a scene." Kukka, glaring, is all, "It's my party, ass-munch! I can cause as many scenes as I want!"

Will Smith, from behind the velvet rope, chimes in. "We haven't seen the baby, either! What is going on with this Suri thing?!" Jada Pinkett-Smith then shouts, "You bitches better produce and infant or I'm calling my lawyer to get my shower gifts back, yo!"

A tearful Katie Kate tries to intervene. "Tom! Kukka! Please stop!" Kukka turns to Kate and says, "Did Joey Potter forget to take her Xanax this morning? You know, my friend, Brooke, tells me that a Zoloft/Prozac cocktail is the best thing to treat post-partum depression. You should really look into it! That is...if you really have a baby!" An enraged Tom screams, "Psychiatric drugs? You had to go there, didn't you! It's on now, bitch!"

The vertically-challenged Tom climbs on top of the piano bench so he can look Kukka in the eye. He starts screaming at her and shaking his finger in her face. "You ungrateful little skank! I ask you to be the Xenu Matriarch for the baby and you shoot me down! And now you complain you haven't seen the baby yet? How. Dare. You!" Grabbing Kate, they storm out.

8:46 pm: The canine strippers arrive. Along with "The Whole Enchilada" (top), there were "Touchdown Tank" and "Weiner with The Works."

Kukka immediately requests a lap dance and to the wicked awesome song, "Who Let the Dogs Out," and Weiner with The Works is more than happy to oblige--pelvic thrusts and all. Assuming they would be valuable to a dog, Kukka tries stuffing cat treats down Weiner's g-string.

9:04 pm: Barbara Walters quickly approaches Kukka and exclaims, "Oh no she di'int!" as she points to a Star Jones-Reynolds who is freak dancing with Touchdown Tank (who is now down to just his helmet and jock strap). "That bitch crashed my party?" Kukka shouts. She shoves Weiner aside--just as he was getting down to only his mustard, and makes a beeline to Star to confront her.

Kukka stares Star down and hisses, her back arched. Everyone in the room suddenly moves to the side, anxious to see how this will go down. Everyone, that is, except Barbara Walters, who has now taken position behind Kukka and is throwing the bird with both hands toward Star.

Kukka and Star slowly begin a fight/dance that is reminiscent of the knife fight in Michael Jackson's "Beat It" video. They circle one another and Star strikes out with her acrylic nails--barely missing Kukka's whiskers. Kukka, not willing to let that sort of attack slide, extends her claws and takes a swipe at Star--puncturing her left breast implant. Star, mascara running down her face and her false lashes hanging by a single clump of glue, exclaims, "Oh, my breasts! My beautiful, beautiful jugs!"

Sometime during all of this, Dakota Fanning, scared out of her wits, calls the police.

9:41 pm: There is a violent knock at the door and then, almost immediately, the door is broken in by what appears to be the police--with a camera crew. It was COPS (the television show).

"EVERYONE FREEZE!" an officer yelled, though a megaphone.

Star begins crying and telling the police she had been attacked. Kukka tries to explain that Star instigated the entire ordeal, but because the cops don't understand Meow (and because they are speciest effers), they begin questioning Kukka.

Kukka, assuming she is in huge trouble, begins frantically giving chase to the police. Yelling, "THIS IS SPECIEST PROFILING," she runs from one end of the living room to the other. She's up on the coffee table. She jumps to the top of the entertainment center. After leaping to the top of the CD shelf, she finally bolts to the bedroom and hides beneath the bed.

10:22 pm: 27 minutes into the stand-off, the police are lying on their bellies, trying to coax Kukka from under the bed. Cleverly, she has positioned herself in the top/center region of the under-bed--just out of their reach.

10:55 pm: Despite the numerous pleas and multiple threats of tasering and pepper spray, it takes 5 police officers, an assistant camera man and 3 pair of oven mitts to pull her from under the bed and cuff her. Cuffs are placed on both the front and hind legs (totally speciest). The entire time they carry her from the bedroom to the front door, she screams in protest. [FROM THE COPS TRANSCRIPT] "You speciest mother BLEEPERS! I will sue your BLEEPING BLEEPS until you don't have a pot to BLEEP in! And don't you think for a BLEEPING minute I'm going to sign your BLEEPING release! You can pixilate my face, for all I BLEEPING care, you specist BLEEPS!"

As they approach the door, Kukka catches a glimpse of Star, giving a tearful interview to the COPS cameras. "I just came to wish my good friend, Kukka-Maria, a very happy blogiversary. I never expected, in a drunken and drugged state, that she would pick a fight with me and puncture my beautiful, perky and not at all augmented breast! I guess I never knew how jealous she was of me! I blame the drugs. I have been trying to get her help for a long time now. Plus, I think it’s horrible that my husband was tricked and subsequently forcefully humped by a half-naked stripper who calls himself The Whole Enchilada!"

After hearing that, Enchilada yells, "You better watch yourself, puta! It was consensual!" In response, Star's [allegedly] super-gay husband, Al, turns to the stripper, winks and mouths, "Call me, stud." Oblivious to her "husband's" antics, Star Jones finishes her interview by saying, "And, yes, there will be a civil suit. I, of course, will represent myself because...I am a lawyer."

Kukka, frustrated that Star is getting camera time to further spread her lies, continues to scream, [FROM THE COPS TRANSCRIPT] "I didn't do anything to deserve this! It was that BLEEP-hag, Star-Mega-BLEEP-Jones-Reynolds! Now, for crying out loud, someone bring me a Tall Caramel Macchiato with Soy...and don't try putting cow milk in there! I'LL KNOW IT AND YOU WILL PAY!!"

11:46 pm: Mom, just now realizing a bru-ha-ha of the worst kind has just gone down (because she was in the spare bedroom making out with super-sexy Adrian Brody for the last hour), emerges. "Can't I ever have anything good happen to me without that cat ruining it?"



POST SCRIPT:
On Sunday, Mom was still furious about what went down and decided to let Kukka-Maria sit in jail for a couple of days to "sober up and think about what she's done!"

In a lawsuit, filed by The Whole Enchilada (aka Bingo Smith), it is alleged that his hip displasia was aggravated from his "encounter" with Al Reynolds. Plus, we are named in the suit because it happened on our property.

Again...wouldn't a nice, quiet evening at home have been enough of a blogiversary party? Why must The Empress always go over the top? UGH!

Kukka has updated her Blogiversary Gift Receipt List. While she is normally pretty full of herself, she was completely touched by the amazing outpouring of love and affection for her. I even saw her cry. Well, at least one tear. And it may have been caused by a cloud of dander. But it was definitely a tear. I think.

It Was a Complete Crapfest!

Complete mayhem rained down on our house this weekend. If you watched COPS last night, you already know what happened.

I have no time to fill you in right now--we are still reeling from the aftermath, but I will update this post later today with all of the gory details.

For now, know it involved canine strippers, Star Jones-Reynolds, a dance-off, an arrest and an unnamed Feline Empress sitting in jail as I type this.

And all I wanted was to celebrate the blogiversary with a quiet evening with friends...

Blogiversary Wishes from Mom

Dear Kukka-Maria (I think calling you "Empress" is a bit much),

Before I begin, I want to thank you for taking this photo of me to post with my letter. I think everyone can see now where you get your stunning beauty...

I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on the one-year anniversary of your blog! I am proud of you for sticking with it for a consecutive grouping of 365 days! And, dear Kukka, somehow you managed to make a few friends fans along the way--which relieves me since, as a kitten, all of your friends were on my payroll.

Despite your clear frustration with me from time to time (and how incredibly rude you can be in expressing said frustration), I have enjoyed reading your posts and getting a glimpse of the inner workings of your very selfish complex brain. One thing that has puzzled me over the last year, though, is this: How is it that you can read/write English, but can not speak it? Wouldn’t it be much easier for me to deny your treat requests if we could just have a civilized conversation?

Instead of this:

Kukka: MEOW!
Mom: What, Kukka…
Kukka: ROWR?!
Mom: What do you want?
Kukka: MEE-OW!?
Mom: What is wrong with you? What do you want now?!
Kukka: ME-FREAKIN’-OW!
Mom: No, Kukka! You’ve had enough treats today!

It could be as simple as this:

Kukka: Mom, can I have some treats?
Mom: No.

Maybe learning to speak English should be a goal for you over the next year. You will be 7-years old soon. I don’t want to put pressure on you, nor unfairly compare you to other 7-year-olds, but…by 7, most daughters can talk properly. Just a thought.

In closing, darling, I am proud of you. Your partially true and mostly factual accounts of your life, family and friends are exceptionally mediocre and, at best, moderately entertaining. As a cat, you are a role model (albeit foul-mouthed). As an Empress, you are regal and worthy of your title. As my baby girl, you are a mother’s dream.

Oh, before I forget! If I were you, I wouldn’t ask what I’m getting you for your first blogiversary. In light of the assault you unleashed on the new bag of food last night, consider the fact I resisted the urge to pick you up, balance you on one palm and whip you out of the kitchen gift enough. And don’t blame those teeth marks on me. I think it’s completely appropriate for me to leave the food bag on the counter while I bring in the rest of the groceries. You had food in your bowl and you had just eaten treats! Was it the fact that it was "Weight Control" food that set you off? I hate to be the one to tell you this, sweetheart, but you are a little...how shall I say this politely..."corpulent." As a royal in your empire, you may have been hand-fed grapes and fanned with palm fronds, but in my house, you need to exhibit more self-control.

You know, though, if you were the perfect cat, you’d have nothing to write about and you wouldn’t make it to your second blogiversary. Darling, Kukka, I hope you continue your trend of being perfectly imperfect so I can continue reading about your luxurious and glamorous life.

I love you,
Your favorite mother
(as determined by an independent study)

P.S. While you refuse to acknowledge the blogging contributions of your brother, Brach, over the last year, I want to honor him with a shout-out. "What up, B-Rock?! Way to lay down some mad posts this last year--and congrats on stickin' it to Kukka in the POINT/COUNTER-POINT series. You da man, dawg (not to be confused with DOG)!" I love you, Brachy!

Blogiversary Shortcuts

• GIFT REGISTRY (if everything is taken, don't worry, I can always add more)
• GIFT RECEIPT UPDATE

Proof that Cats are Smarter than Most Humans

Well, at least we're smarter than the following people responsible for this:

• Shawn Wayans (writing credit/producer/actor)
• Marlon Wayans (writing credit/producer/actor)
• Keenan Ivory Wayans (writing credit/producer/director/should know better)
• The rest of the producers (who financially backed this drivel, banking on the fact that American movie-goers have such an intellect deficit and such great amounts of disposable income and time, they would flock to the theaters in droves to see this):
• Rick Alvarez
• Todd Garner
• Lee R. Mayes
• Joe Roth

To the cast of actors/actresses: I forgive you for reading the script, going through a painful audition and spending your valuable time filming it. I get that acting is a tough business (although, I've never had trouble getting on the A-List) and it's difficult to turn down any job--unless you want to keep waiting tables.

To the Wayans Brothers: I forgave you for White Chicks and the Scary Movie series (that seems to go on forever) and this is how you thank me? Plaguing me with a barrage of ridiculous trailers on my television? I will say, sarcastically, you guys sure know how to spin a credible yarn! Not only do I believe a grown man could pass for an infant, I also buy that all of the adults that interact with him are fooled too--in fact, didn't one trailer suggest the "mother" was going to try to breast feed the little man? I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth.

BRAVO, team! If I could leave the house, I would hang out at the theater tonight to see who falls into this movie's demographic. I am confident there will be no felines attending (and not just because they don't allow us in the theater--something about which I've already written to my congressman).

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you'll get that Oscar nom you so deserve!

Is it just me, or does this place reek of fish?

Something fishy is definitely going on around this house! Here is what I've discovered so far:

• Mom has been making secretive phone calls at all hours of the night.
• When confronted, she makes no eye-contact, stammers and quickly offers treats as a means of distraction (which you know is odd...'cause that bitch is stingy when it comes to treat distribution!).
• Brach giggles behind his paw every time I enter or exit the room.
• I found a slip of paper--cleverly written in Canadian English (which she knows I can not speak/read/understand). It recognized "Kukka" and "surprised." I hope she remembers the last time I was surprised and how I clawed her eyes out!
• Last night, at 3:00 am, I broke into her voicemail and heard the following message: "Hi. This is The Whole Enchilada calling you back. This weekend works for me. Just call and give me directions and a time you want me there. Also, make sure you pay me in cash. I don't take checks or credit cards. You wanted me to bring at least two friends, right? No problemo!"

Until I can gather more conclusive data, I'm going to assume she is planning a book release party for me. I'm not sure whether or not you were aware, but I released my third book this week--a romance novel called "Feline Love: Story of a Sex Kitten." It was tough to do, but in order to achieve my goal of monopolizing the literary industry, I had to crank out a work of fiction in a mere three days. I definitely don't want to be pigeonholed as a non-fiction author! I had to pose for the cover, because I quickly discovered as I auditioned women for the sexy-vixen model, that no one could match my allure.



Now, I have three books on the NY Times Best Seller List--in four different categories! Take a look. Click on the pic for a closer view.



Yes, she must be planning a star-studded a book-release party (assuming The Whole Enchilada is the new "Hollywood It Boy"). Or she is paying for sex. Or she is dabbling in the underbelly of the mouse-slave-trade industry. Or she is buying catnip and treats on the black-market. Or...the possibilities are endless! Let's just hope she has my best interest at heart. That's all I care about!

Dry Clean Only, Please

Always check the label
before laundering:

Wash in luke-warm saliva with like colors.

Do NOT put in dryer!

Lay flat to dry.

Kukka's Book Sells Out at Amazon.com

I released my book at Amazon.com this week and am pleased to report that my book on feline puberty sold out in record time. I happened to grab a screen-shot for those of you who missed the release.

Click on the photo for a better view.




And, for those of you wanting a closer look at the "What is Happening to My Body? The Unexplored Facts and Myths Surrounding Feline Puberty" book cover, I am pleased to post it here. Thankfully, I was able to cut costs by using one of the diagrams my mother presented when she gave me "The Talk."



And, you might notice the savings on Amazon.com when you buy my most recent book, along with my previous publication, "The Kama Sutra for Super-Sexy Cats--Let Your Fur Down and Wave that Freak Flag!" Again, on the Amazon.com page, the book cover was a bit too small for you to see. Thanks to the kitty-porn my mom gave me to explain where kittens came from, I was set with free cover artwork.



For those of you interested, I can put you on a waiting list, but I can not promise you a book. My publishers insist that, as the books are coming off the presses, there is a queue of people waiting for each copy.

But who wouldn't have suspected that?

And the gifts keep rollin' in...

Thank you to Miles Meezer for bestowing upon me one of the gifts on my blogiversary registry. The generous Miles (an esteemed member of my Tomcat Stable), provided me with the Pink Leather Stainless Steel Flask to hold all of my booze--complete with my name on it (so, when I lose it bar-hopping, I am sure to get it back). Thank you, Miles, for the first of a squillion gifts I am sure I will be receiving for my first blogiversary!

A cigarette holder--with my name engraved, arrived today from Boni, Sanjee, Mini, Pepi and Gree. They said something about their "Cat Staff" having something to do with it too, but I'm pretty sure the "Cat Staff" wouldn't have thought to have it engraved. Only felines are that thoughtful! Now I can look elegant and luxurious (like I don't already) as I smoke my nicotine-filled-highly-addictive-cigarettes-that-will-dramatically-shorten-my-life-but-still-make-me-look-exquisite. It's all about the glamour, right?

A lovely bikini top was given to me by Gemini, Georgia and Cheysuli. I love it--it's the perfect color and style (maybe because I was so specific on my registry. I do have to give props to that band of awesome cats, though, because they knew exactly how to follow my instructions. And, per usual, they were very generous and loving in their presentation. At first, I regretted that they only bought me one, because I have so many nipples, but then I laughed as I realized how well they know me! They know I love to let my nips fly in the wind and having only one halter allows me to do that! Nice! The other thought I had was that, so far, my gifts have been engraved--except this one. Maybe my mom will embroider my name on each cup. Or better yet! Maybe she can embroider nipples!! Of course, that would defeat the purpose of covering my natural ones, right? I need to think this through.

Abby the Manx gave me an authentic emerald necklace! While it was not on my registry (an oversight, I am sure), that cat knows my taste and my love for everything bling! What she lacks in the tail department (oh, so precious stub), she makes up for in thoughtfulness and generosity!

And how thoughtful of Brandywine! Even though she doesn't have a blog of her own, she emailed me a gift from cyberspace! From her description (small, cylindrical, takes one AAA battery to work...can see me through some tough times alone...), I was expecting a more "intimate" gift than a Maglight Flashlight. Despite the fact that cats' eyes have a squillion little reflectors in them, making it easy for us to see in the dark, I am sure I'll find use for that...flashlight.

Zeusie (only I--and probably his mom--can call him that) gave me a Ferrari F430 Spider--in silver, to match my luxurious coat. I can not wait to speed around the house in this beauty (since I'm not allowed outside)! My fur will be blowing in the breeze and I will increase my man-catch by 52%--at least! I only hope, when Zeus rides shotgun with me, that he doesn't cramp my man-catching style! I'm sure, since he is part of my Tomcat Stable, he is used to being grouped with other suitors...

Princess Ziporah (who has to endure the unflattering nickname of "Zippy" from her human captors) is without a blog, but was insistent upon sending me a gift. What an incredibly sweet fellow-royal! She sent me a Louis Vuitton pet carrier in which I can tote Brach around the living room! Because she is so sweet (and this part I took issue with, but am letting it slide), she also sent BRACH some multi-colored mice (his favorite). Princess Ziporah, you've set a dangerous precedent with my brother. Now he's going to expect presents every time I'm being honored (which is, like...always). Whatever, Brach. You got your present, now shut it!

I was especially thrilled to receive a second Louis Vuitton pet carrier from Mia and Ghost! I know what you're saying: "But, Kukka...two designer pet carriers?" I must admit, when I registered for one, I really wanted to ask for two, but thought that might seem too greedy. Now, I not only will I enjoy carrying Brach around the living room in one of them, we also can compete in "Bumper Louis Vuitton Pet Carriers!" Oh, yes! If I can convince my mom to install wheels and small motors on these things, we can slam into one another (and the furniture) all day long! Hours and hours of fun to be had!

Aloysius Katz, dripping with impeccable taste, provided me a beautiful (and expensive...yay!) Golden Ceramic Bowl by Polia Pillin, circa 1964. While Aloysius suggests I might dine on Ahi Tuna from this piece of art, I recognize my mother will probably fill it with tap water and expect me to drink from it. OR...she will display it on some high shelf, pretending it is her bowl. Not cool. If that happens, I'm pretty sure, in a blind rage, I would end up whipping it off the shelf and breaking it. Yeah, I am going to have to hide this from her. I wish I could trust that she wouldn't provoke me!

In the spirit of "modesty" (whatever that is...), The Crew sent lovely bikini bottoms to match the top I received earlier in the week! Apparently, the cross-dressing cyber-postman intercepted the panties and was sinfully sporting them under his government-issued uniform. Kinky bastard! My mom had to wash those bottoms a squillion times before I was willing to allow them to touch my fur, but I am delighted to report, they fit me like a glove and I am half-heartedly confident I won't get a sexually transmitted disease from that creepy dude! I am so sorry, Crew, that they took so long to arrive and I was delinquent in thanking you properly. I'm glad you guys work to keep me from throwing my crotch out there for all to see. You are right...people should pay good money to see that sort of stuff!

I can not possibly overlook dear Ayla the Grump! In addition to sending me headbutts and purrs, remembered my comment about loving her Pillow Monkey and GAVE ME ONE OF MY OWN! I can't wait to snuggle with it and emphatically forbid Brach to even touch it! That boy needs to recognize his limits! Thank you Ayla (who, incidentally reminds me of my old cousin, Pilate, who is no longer with us. She was beautiful and grumpy, too!)!

Xavier, acknowledging my wild and freaky side, gave me an 18k White Gold, yellow sapphire and yellow cat's eye Chrysoberyl bead nipple ring! Zeus wondered why I would get only one, considering the staggering volume of nipples I sport, but I had to admit I had only one nipple pierced. I won't go into the details...let's just say it involved some sailors, some malt liquor, some catnip, some handcuffs and a super-painful nipple piercing. Despite the fact I would love to have bling dangling from every nipple, I've learned my threshold for pain is low...very low. I can't wait to "install" this one, Xavier! And welcome to my Tomcat Stable, stud!

Derby, a long-time blogging bud and Brach's virtual twin, surprised me with...oh my gawd, I'm trembling like the final two contestants in the Miss America Pageant...CASH AND A NEW TIARA! The cash is making me dizzy as I dream of all the things I want to buy...NO, MOM! I WILL NOT SAVE IT FOR A RAINY DAY! As for the tiara, I am either going to save it for special occasions--because it's so elegant, or I'm going to wear it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's a toss-up, really!

Merlin, Shadow and Ko Ko spent their hard-earned money on an awesome "Bad Kitty" t-shirt for me! I'm surprised my mother agent didn't book that modeling gig for me! I would be perfect for that shirt! I'll have to look to make sure they didn't get the XL for me...I maintain I am an XS. Quit laughing!!

The Poiland Rodentia (also known as the gaggle of rats and ratlets) splurged on an incredibly cool Smokin' Kitty Sticker! That is especially appropriate since I registered and received a cigarette holder of my own for my blogiversary. I plan to paste this sticker right over my food bowl (since I spend so much time there). I think my mom might get jealous, though, and try to steal it. I hope the adhesive is strong enough to keep it where it should rightly be!

Rabbie Burns, BMD appropriately purchased a Bunny on a Bike Ride postcard! I've never seen a bunny ride a bicycle, let alone have documentation of it! I'm so appreciative that Rabbie took time out from his cycle of destruction to honor me with this gift! I tell you what...The fact that I received so many gifts from the Poiland Tribe is humbling. Thank you all!

Mattingly and his baby sis, Harlie, came out of their blogging hiatus to give me...brace yourself...INSURANCE FOR MY FERRARI FOR A SQUILLION YEARS!! It arrived, complete with a gold seal of authenticity and genuine signatures from the generous benefactors. Wow. Now my mom will let me whip around the living room in my car without stressing about crashes. Well, at least about the car getting totaled. I can't speak for the couch, coffee table, chair, entertainment center, piano, etc. I hope those are covered on her insurance. Whatever. I'm set!

Fat Eric, knowing my affinity for hot, motion picture studs, gave me my own pirate/slave/eye-candy! Dreamy...just dreamy! I'm pretty sure he'll agree that coming to live with me will be the best thing that has every happened to him in his entire life--even though I plan to keep him in my travel crate. (And then, get this...) Eric later decided, due to extreme pressure jealousy from a certain cat's mother, to give me this lovely cat throne in place of Johnny Depp. I am accepting the throne with joy overflowing from my heart, but I'm KEEPING JOHNNY DEPP, TOO! Eric, there is no sales receipt for Johnny Depp, so I am unable to return or exchange him. It's really out of my paws at this point. Plus, when I told Johnny he might be leaving, he began crying. Not because he didn't want to go to that cat's house, but because he couldn't bear the thought of being separated from me. And can you blame him? Until I get sick of Johnny and put him out, he and I will be making out on my new cat throne. No offense, other cat's mom...I'm sure, with your extensive spit-swapoping schedule with Phil Keoghan, you wouldn't have time for Johnny anyway...

Alberta, Sky, Blackie and Charlie (From Feline Oligarchy) gave me the ultimate vacation! One week in a luxurious hotel on the Gulf of Mexico (complete with airfare and limo service)! I hope to get some amazing sun-time and pick up a couple of cabana boys! Let's keep this one a secret from my mom. I don't want her tagging along...

OMG! Bonnie Underfoot and Victor Tabbycat thought of me and my dreamy slumbering needs. They gave me a bed, which can only be described as pure luxury! I can't wait to lie there, on my back, and stare at the jeweled canopy. Wow...I think I'll up my napping hours to 19 now that I have such an amazing bed!

Moose, one of the charter members of my Tomcat Stable, and his sisters Turtle and Nala gave me a beautiful bauble. A jeweled Hello Kitty bracelet should fit nicely around my neck. Now, instead of just being jealous of my beauty and talent, my friends to be sooooo very jealous of my new bling!

Princess Mia, true to her royal pedigree, offered a breath-taking crystal chandelier! I plan to hang it directly above my food and water dishes and will demand it stay lit 24 hours a day. I just hope my mother doesn't expect me to contribute to the electric bill! Mia also gave me air kisses on both cheeks. Muah, muah to you, too, dahling!

Beau-Beau and Angie, knowing I take such pride in my appearance, gave me a day at the Palms Resort and Spa! I plan to get a facial, massage, mani/pedi, a good brushing and a mud bath to rid my body of toxins. I hope they don't expect to do a teeth-cleaning. I just may have to bit them. They may offer to do a make-over for me too, but who are we kidding? I don't need a make-over when I look as stunning as I do!

Mouse, the cat, thought long and hard before choosing an exquisite jeweled collar! From what he told me, he had to have a motorcade transport it--because of it's enormous value! That surely is a gift fit for an Empress! I can not wait to wear it at my next red carpet event! Paris Hilton--EAT YOUR HEART OUT!

And, because he's so important to me (not just because he was the very first member of my Tomcat Stable), Squilliam of Mass Destruction gave me the best gift of all...HIM! I wasn't sure I wanted to add him to this public list, because I didn't want everyone else getting jealous that the Tiny Boy was mine...all mine, but then I thought, "Let them be jealous! He's a hunk and has offered himself to me for my blogiversary!" I surely don't want this strategic omission to be misinterpreted as an oversight by my first internet boyfriend! Thank you, Squilly!!

Thank you all for giving me the gifts I so richly deserve in honor of my first blogiversary! If I have inadvertently missed anyone's generosity, please let me know! I didn't expect to receive so many amazing gifts! Thank you!!

Your Chance to Give me Stuff!

Let's get this out in the open straight away: I am not having a party to commemorate the one year mark of my blog. There will be no teleporting of cats to my house to celebrate at a party I'm hosting because:

1. Teleporting felines and all things supernatural make me feel oogie--which is why Mr. Tom Cruise and I no longer date (Scientology=Creepy). That...and the fact he is a selfish lover.
2. I don't want to have to share my food and treats with other cats--virtual or actual.
3. Finally, throwing my own party is tacky and I am a staunch opponent of the idea that the honoree is supposed to organize their own celebration. Bah!

Having said that, though, I am open to receiving expensive gifts! And, keep in mind, these gifts are for me--and me only! While Brach is a sometimes-contributor to this chaotic mess, the blog is mine (hence the super-sexy boudoir shot of yours truly at the top of the page and the title "Memoirs of Feline Empress in Exile." No Emperors here!).

The official cut-off date for giving me gifts is...well, there is not a real cut-off date. If you want your gift to count toward your blogiversary obligation, then I should receive it by Saturday, July 15--the official anniversary of my blog.

If the gift is late, no worries; I will just credit it toward your birthday gift to me (Aug 30). Understand that if this happens, though, your permanent record will still show a deficit for my blogiversary celebration in 2006, causing you to have to buy 2 gifts next year and incur the appropriate late fees for your tardiness. Clearly you've read that in your contract, so I'm just telling you things you already know! And, of course, if you have questions about the legal relationship between Kukka-Maria (blogger) and [INSERT NAME HERE] (reader), you can always confer with my brilliant legal team, made up of uneducated, yet vicious feral alley cats!

Now that I've gotten the legal mumbo-jumbo out of the way, I am pleased to announce my gift registration lists for my official blogiversary extravaganza! I have registered for the following items:

• Pink Leather Stainless Steel Flask to hold all of my booze. You might want to spring for the engraving, as I am sure to leave it behind somewhere as I'm bar-hopping. ALREADY GIFTED BY MILES MEEZER.
• Thigh-High Vinyl Boots (two pair for all of my legs). While I am sure human ankle boots would hit my thighs, they are not quite as sexy and you know I have to lure more tomcats to my stable...
• Vintage cigarette holder to perpetuate my allure. Audrey Hepburn has nothing on me! ALREADY GIFTED BY BONI, SANJEE, MINI, PEPI AND GREE
• Louis Vuitton pet carrier so I can tote Brach with me on my treks around the world (or at least my treks around the living room). ALREADY GIFTED BY MIA & GHOST AND PRINCESS ZIPORAH
• Oasis Halter bikini top (the Cliffrose Pink looks stunning against my fur). This is on clearance at this point in the season, so I won't feel badly for telling you I have registered for 3 of them to cover all (or most) of my nips. ONE HALTER ALREADY GIFTED BY GEMINI, GEORGIA AND CHEYSULI--THERE ARE STILL TWO LEFT ON MY REGISTRY
• Pink Pet Stroller SUV (inspired by one of my boyfriends, Buddy). With its high-traction tires and Sport Utility Vehicle billing, I am looking forward to doing some rough off-roading in this baby! Two-Tracking and Bog Blasting, here I come!! After all, they don't call me "The Dirty Birdy Empress" for nothing. It is because I go off-roading, right? Isn't that what they mean by "dirty?" Mom! Look into it--I can't afford the bad press!
• Ferrari F430 Spider--just to get me around town. Nothing major. ALREADY GIFTED BY THE AMAZING ZEUS
• Insurance for the Ferrari F430 Spider (for the rest of my life or as long as the car lasts--whichever comes first). You can use any insurer you wish and, other than the fact I don't have a driver's license, my driving record is impeccable. That should make it cheaper.

Please don't disrespect one another as you clamor to choose your favorite gift to give. Since most of you (except Squilliam and his dimes) don't have exorbitant funds, you'll probably want to chip in together for some of these.

Just make sure you all sign the card, so I know who to give credit for the gift and I don't invoice the wrong people for flaking out on giving me a gift.

WHEW! With all the preparation I've put into this gift-giving process, I can't imagine why this would not run smoothly!

Open Letter to my Agent, Vol 7

Dear Egomaniac,

Simply put: Make room on your lap for me every time you are seated. I don't mean one leg. I don't mean me sitting next to you as you occasionally pat my head. Full lap. Full time.

What makes you so special that you can decide how and when your lap will be used? Aren't we a little selfish...and by "we," I think you know we're not talking about the "me" part of "we."

I am going to say this only once, two times: If you don't concede to my demands, I know more than a handful of people--including squillions of celebrities, who would welcome me on their laps with open thighs. (ONE)

If you don't concede to my demands, I know more than a handful of people--including squillions of celebrities, who would welcome me on their laps with open thighs. (TWO)

I'm pretty sure the "you" part of "we" wouldn't want to see that happen. Consider yourself warned.

I mean this and, if you could hear the threatening tone of my voice, you'd know for sure. And don't try to bribe me with treats--it probably won't work.

Deadly serious about these threats,
Precious and oh-so-huggable Kukka-Maria