Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Suggest a Caption?



"There's room in this house for only
two of us, Stranger...and I ain't leavin'!"

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Calling in Sick

"Hello?"

"Um...[sniff, sniiiiiiiiff]...Agent?"

"Yes, Empress..."

"I'm not going to be able to...[exaggerated fake sneeze]...blog today."

"No? [yaaaaaaawn] And why is that?"

"An account of I'm sick."


[Awkward, pregnant pause]


"You're sick..."

"Yes. I think I have Mononucleosis."

"The 'kissing disease?' Wow! That sounds really terrible!"

"It's hurts something...[cough, cough]...fierce! I think I caught it from making out with Al Gore at the Vanity Fair Oscar after-party."

"That's quite an accusation you're making about the former Vice President. Are you sure you even met Mr. Gore, let alone kissed him? I mean, he's a marri..."

"Yep, I did. Listen. Is Mononucleosis covered on my HMO? Do I just automatically get a check from my insurance company for being sick or do I have to go pick it up or something? How does that work, exactly?"

"That's not how health insurance works, Kukka. But that's irrelevant, because you're not even insured."


[Silence.]


"If I'm not insured, what are you doing with all the money I give you each month?"

"You don't give me money. You have never given me money! Kukka, I think it's in your best interest to blog today. Not only will you NOT receive compensation for calling in sick, I'm going to have to pro-rate your monthly expenses and ask that you reimburse me for the food, water, and litter you intend use today."

"Hold up! I just saw on the Good Morning America news ticker that Al Gore's Mono has been cured by a mix of cat treats and Vodka!"

"Well, I guess there might be hope for you, yet! Meet me in the kitchen, diva..."

Monday, February 26, 2007

Empress to Oscar: "Well...EFF YOU, TOO!"

Associated Press (AP): What started as a glamorous and delightful evening for Empress Kukka-Maria, ended in misery last night at The 79th Annual Academy Awards.

Arriving in a stretch Hummer gas/electric hybrid limo and toted to the red carpet in a Swarovski crystal-covered pet carrier, The Empress was a stunning sight, if not perfection. She paused and posed for photographs, scratched autographs for fans and even resisted the urge to claw the eyes out of Cojo, Entertainment Tonight's obnoxious fashion correspondent.

It wasn't until Kukka-Maria was stopped at the door to the venue that things went awry.

"Having to tell Empress Kukka-Maria...the Empress Kukka-Maria, that the Oscar she won for 'Best Supporting Oscar Acceptance Speech' was awarded at the Scientific and Technical Awards on February 10th, was awkward. No, not so much awkward as completely [expletive]ing terrifying! But, I had to tell her she was not invited to the televised awards and that I could not let her in," trembled Tom Fritz, Oscar security guard. "The twenty-seven seconds of silence, during which she bore holes into my soul with her vindictive eyes, seemed like eternity. I have to admit: I peed myself a little bit."

As Kukka digested the information, witnesses say she began salivating, pacing and licking her lips wildly. Amidst the mumbles of profanity, she peppered sudden screams of "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE MOTHER-[EXPLETIVE]ING KIDDING ME HERE!" Then, as suddenly as the storm erupted, it stopped as The Empress extended her paw with a smile. "Well, I thank you, Mr. Tom Fritz, for your assistance here tonight. I wish you a long and fruitful life."

"The air stood still and the deafening noise of camera shutters, the screams of fans, and the growling of anorexic stomachs were silenced...as if by a switch," Fritz explained. "I had thought we were cool about all of it, but the look of pure evil she was giving me caused me to wet myself completely."

"So she showed up on the wrong night? No one told her she wasn't going to be televised? Classic Kukka!" said a laughing Brad Pitt in a telephone interview from his movie set in New Orleans. "Of course she wasn't going to let it go! I've spent enough time with that super-sexy, yet very manipulative and cunning feline to know the battle may have been over, but the war would rage on. Don't they train those poor security guards in Kukka-specific battle tactics?"

Witnesses say that in one quick and stealthy movement, Kukka leapt toward Fritz's crotch, claws extended. Grabbing onto his testicles, she was suspended in the air for at least 7 seconds, until Fritz was brought to his knees with a single thud. Whether to give him much-needed relief or to catch her own breath, The Empress cracked her knuckles while Fritz writhed in pain. Staring at her prey, she jumped on him again, kicking his testicles with all four paws until he begged and screamed for mercy.

"Oooooh, that [expletive] meant business!" exclaimed Oscar nominee, Eddie Murphy. "I wouldn't want to meet that crazy pussy in a dark alley!" Turning to his agent, Murphy continued, "If I ever do a movie with her, make sure it's in my contract that the producers provide a protective cup for me!"

Finally leaving a sobbing Fritz in a puddle of his own bodily fluids, the empress bolted down the red carpet, her custom-designed Roberto Cavalli gown billowing in her wake. Stopping suddenly, she plucked at the rug with her french-manicured claws. "KUKKA!" her Agent shouted in the deepest and most threatening version of her voice. "KUKKA! NO! NO!! STOP PLUCKING RIGHT THIS INSTANT, YOUNG LADY!"

Without a blink, bystanders say Kukka-Maria stared her agent down as she released her bladder on the red carpet.

"When Kukka-Maria urinated on the red carpet, I wanted to join her!" laughed Oscar winner, Helen Mirren. "I've played many a gutsy woman in my time, but nothing like her! Tonight, I won an Oscar for 'The Queen,' but I won't consider my career a true success until I get the opportunity to portray The Empress."

Walking a few steps away from her puddle, Kukka-Maria shocked witnesses by sitting down and licking her lady business--for three solid minutes. Then, without pause, she began dragging her derriere down the red carpet...leaving a streak behind her. Cameras flashed as she leapt onto Tom Cruise's pant leg and scratched her way down. Sources tell us that this was not an impulsive move, but an attempt to further fuel a long-time feud between the two.

According to Oscar security reports, it took 14 men with taser guns, 2 rabid dogs, and a squad of 7 vigilante hamsters to apprehend the celebrity feline and remove her from the red carpet.

While absent from the televised awards, Kukka was seen at the Vanity Fair after-party with an equally disgruntled Beyoncé Knowles. Raising her flute of Cristal, Knowles was overheard to say, "I'm the real mother-[expletive]ing DREAM GIRL! That [expletive]ing Jennifer Hudson has my Oscar...!"

"That [expletive]ing security guard still has my panties..." responded Kukka, belching loudly.

Kukka's intoxicated body was last seen on George Clooney's lap as he lovingly gave her belly-rubs and ear scritches throughout the night.

Better luck next year, Empress. Better luck next year.

Friday, February 23, 2007

Pre-Oscar Beauty Sleep



If you think I have a lot to accomplish before I make my Oscar appearance on Sunday, you are absolutely correct! Fortunately for me, I've delegated 93% of the tasks to my employees (Agent & Brach).

My Agent's to-do list: Give me a mani/pedi, martinize my designer gown, hire the limo, confirm my date...the list goes on and on!

Brach's main objective: Refrain from using the litter box. I can't bring his stank on me to the event.

Today I will focus on getting my beauty rest and restricting my calories. I need to shed at least ¼ lb before Sunday and aerobic exercise is just not an option.

I hear the camera adds 1½ lbs to you! Crap.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Thursday Thirteen, Edition #23



I've written about her negligence in "26 Reasons Britney Spears is No Longer Allowed to Cat Sit for Us." I've even written an open letter to her, in which I communicate my concern for how her recent nutty-nut-job behavior will affect her bound-to-be-felonious children!

For those of you taking a well-deserved break from 24-HR BRITNEY WATCH (is she in rehab or isn't she?!), please have a seat and kick up your feet.

I've always suspected my dear fan and loyal reader, Daisymae Maus, was brilliant, but this week she has proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt! Based on her suggestion, may I present:



Thirteen Reasons I Should be
Awarded
Custody
of Britney Spears' Children
.



  1. A litter box is better than sitting around in a dirty diaper all day!


  2. At our house, we are free-fed nutritious kibble...as far as the eye can see. There will never be another meal of Hot Cheeto Mush for those kids!


  3. They won't be at risk from improper car seat use (or none at all). I'll just stick them in pet carriers!


  4. I would rename them with appropriate monikers for the children of a royal feline blogging celebrity. Something like Apple, Banjo, Maddox or Bogart. Or, maybe Kukka-Mario and Kukko?


  5. I'm convinced Rhett Butler was thinking of Britney when he said, "A cat's a better mother than you."


  6. While they seem to be beyond the ages of suckling the teat, my mama's milk is does a body good and is far less dangerous than the toxic silicone mixture leaking from Britney's nipples.


  7. You know how they say dogs help men pick up women? These kids are going to make me an effing tomcat magnet!


  8. As their guiding light, I will instill in them a positive image of REAL women--that pussies are meant to have hair!

  9. Carrying them in my mouth, by the scruffs of their necks will make it virtually impossible for me to drop them in a paparazzi storm.


  10. GOOD NEWS! The nicotine patches they will require to rid themselves from their second-hand smoke addiction are covered on my HMO!


  11. This last Christmas, Santa brought the boys Walmart bags, empty Red Bull cans and loose hair extensions. This Christmas, Santa will bring them stimulating and educational toys like fake mice, milk jug rings and hair ties.


  12. Someone needs to teach them that cigarette butts are not teething rings.


  13. Their millions of dollars of inheritance come with them, right?



CHECK OUT MY THURSDAY 13 ARCHIVE!



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, February 21, 2007

Preparing my Oscar-Winning Oscar Acceptance Speech Speech

No, that title isn't a typo. I have been nominated for an Oscar for "Best Supporting Oscar Acceptance Speech." What an amazing honor! Despite my absence from last year's ceremony, The Academy determined that the speech I wrote, but never gave, was one of the best of the evening and deserved recognition!

While I missed my opportunity to wow the masses last year, I fully intend to unleash this year's masterpiece, "AppreciaFest 2007," on their asses Sunday. When they read my name after, "And the Oscar goes to...," buckle up for a tear-filled, laughter-laden speech that will resonate in your hearts for years days minutes to come.

Since you were unfairly deprived of my words last year, I offer you an opportunity to see my notes from my nominated speech:

OSCAR ACCEPTANCE SPEECH NOTES, MARCH 5, 2006
  • When they announce your name, bring your paws up and shake your head while throwing random glances around the room and tearing up. No matter how much you knew you were going to win, act surprised. People eat that shit up!

  • Blindly work your way to the stage, pausing to give Will Smith a high-five and Brad Pitt a tongue-kiss. Stop to raise the roof with Warren Beatty and deliver a threatening hiss and swat to Tom Cruise. Pause a few times, look around, and pretend you can't find your way to the stage. After about 4 seconds, some hot stud will come to your aid by picking you up, and carrying you up the stairs. This is not only an endearing move, it's practical! Those Jimmy Choos, while custom-made, are murder on my four paws!

  • Once on stage, be sure not to resist the hugs from presenters, Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson. You know Meryl is going to want to hold you like a baby and snuggle your snout! And, while you hate it, understand it's only because you are so super-sexy and irresistible. Plus, it might make a great candid for E!.

  • Make a lame joke about the positioning of the microphone. Laugh nervously, gesture up toward the mic stand with your tail, shrug and wait for Jack to lower it to the appropriate 1ft.

  • Start out by claiming to be surprised (even though you are not). Make an off-the-cuff comment about not being prepared to give a speech and make mention that, due to the caliber of your co-nominees, you are amazed to be receiving this honor.

  • At this point, it's crucial you resist the overwhelming urge to yawn! Apparently, it's rude and disrespectful.

  • Thank random people at first. Your veterinarian for keeping you healthy. Iams for filling your tummy. The squirrel that plays in the yard who keeps you on your toes. Rambling on like this will both bore the crowd and make your Agent fear she will be overlooked.

  • Go beyond just thanking God. Consider making a statement like, "I want to give a 'what-what' to my Big Poppa in the sky. God, you sent me down here as an angel of mercy and example of perfection to the sinful masses...but I didn't stop there! I nabbed myself a [expletive] OSCAR, baby!" Yeah, it would be better without the censoring, but expect they'll have you on a seven second delay for nudity, anyway.

  • Thank your Tomcat Stable for the lustful admiration they unleash upon you. Be careful not to start naming specific names, though...as you don't want to forget anyone or, heaven forbid, mispronounce their names. Note: Learn how to pronounce all their names instead of calling them Stud 1, Stud 2, etc.

  • Don't make any passionate political statements. Not only could it be detrimental to your popularity, it's not worth it. Plus, it's not like the war will be still going on this time next year!

  • Ignore the swelling music. They can't smoke you out with a little MC Hammer. As they blast "Can't Touch This" to urge you off the stage, remember THEY CAN'T TOUCH YOU!

  • Reluctantly thank your Agent, but fight the urge to roll your eyes or give her the middle claw.

  • Lastly, wipe a fake tear, thank the Academy for recognizing a little ol' kitty like you, and express gratitude for the honor to work with such talented peers and to be living your dream!

  • IMPORTANT: DO NOT FART ON THE STAGE!


Truly an Oscar-worthy acceptance speech! Be sure to tune in this Sunday when I win "Best Supporting Oscar Acceptance Speech" and lay down the foundation for a nomination next year with "AppreciaFest 2007."

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Open Letter to the Clearly-Insane Britney Spears

Dear Crazy Bitch,

I'm not going to start off telling you how I think the notoriety you've achieved due to your behavior over the last couple of years has far out-shadowed any fame you achieved when you "sang" (air quotes) and hypnotized tweens with your fabricated hooters and pelvic gyrations. I'm not going to bring up your failed marriage to "Mr. Right." And, dear Britney, I refuse to suggest your children may be better raised by rabid mountain lions than you.

No, wait. The kid thing is important. There are things that just need to be said.

Britney, I'm concerned. Every day, I am subjected to late-night, scandalous paparazzi shots featuring you. Sans panties. Drunk. Hanging with The Devil (Paris Hilton). With all that after-hours carousing, I'm guessing your days consist of waking up at the crack of noon and watching the nanny care for your children.

Or, you simply throw some Cheerios and Starbucks in the play pen and take off. It wouldn't surprise me.

At this point, the damage is already done. Instead of interviewing for prestigious pre-schools, you may as well spend your time helping Sean decide between the Bloods and the Cryps. In fact, I'd line up his parole officer now. It will save you time when he's 12.

I've taken the liberty of providing you with an age-progressed photograph of little Sean Preston. He looks so young, doesn't he? Unfortunately, his growth was stunted by the steady diet of Red Bull and cigarettes throughout his childhood.

The teardrop tattoo by his eye? He killed a man on Rodeo drive...just to watch him die.

What you do not see in the photo are his severely atrophied legs, due to years of sitting on his ass, wasting his inheritance on video games and booze. Taking his cue from you, he'll have a few "practice marriages," resulting in three to four illegitimate children. And, Britney, expect to pay for years and years of psychotherapy due primarily to you dating all of his friends and being exposed to your pantiless poontang.

Heed my warning, Spears. If you do not stop your berserk and irresponsible behavior, there will be more than a failed career at stake.

Don't mistake my concern for your kids as concern for you. I've experienced your cat-sitting...and I'm still recovering! You can't care for little kitties; motherhood is catastrophic--at epic levels.

As for the other kid, What's-His-Name? No use even addressing that. He'll be in jail, anyway.

Get it together!
The Empress

Monday, February 19, 2007

I'd call her a "Copy-Cat," but that's just an insult to my species.

What a weekend!

It all started with my losing a bet to a very drunk Barbara Walters. I was sure I could out-drink her...shot for shot of tequila. Thinking her already wobbly (and uncomfortably flirty) body would ensure an effortless victory for me, I failed to consider the difference in body mass. Oh, and her galvanized gut.

The bet? Loser endures a Brazilian Wax. You know. Where the violently rip all the hair off a kitty.

I took my loss with the grace you would expect, holding my bald head high as I farted in her general direction upon my exit. Hair or no hair, I'm still super-sexy (and clearly classy). Plus, I find great comfort in knowing the raging rumors at ABC indicate Barbara's fur is in far greater need of attention than mine!

My freshly exposed skin, though chapped from the cold air, is not what chapped my ass about my weekend, though! Somehow, the media whore, Britney, caught wind of my new do and decided to copy me. AND grab all the tabloid attention she could while doing it.

I know that you were mad when my Agent banned you from cat-sitting for us, Spears and I get that you're still a little miffed that I leaked the details of your divorce papers. But, let's call this what it is: STOLEN THUNDER.

Britney Spears, I expect an apology from you within 24 hours and $2648.94 for my custom-designed, authentic chinchilla fur, full-body toupee. I actually don't give a crap about the apology, but please get the cash to me right away. They won't deliver my wig until I pay...AND THE OSCARS ARE THIS WEEKEND! The last thing I want is to have you looking like me and the public mistakenly thinking it's I who wants to look like you!

Damn Barbara Walters, her tequila and José Eber (who, curiously, carries wax on him when he attends Barbara's parties)!

Friday, February 16, 2007

Sometimes when we touch...the honesty's too much, and I have to close my eyes and hide.


At times I'd like to break you
And drive you to your knees!
At times I'd like to break through
And hold you endlessly...


Thank you, Dan Hill, for giving me the words I just couldn't find on my own. Sometimes you just have to tell your life mate just how important he is.

And other times, you have to bite him and claim your rightful sleeping spot.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Thursday Thirteen, Edition #22



A struggling photographer. A long-time attorney, confidant and friend. Mr. Zsa Zsa Gabor VIII. Even the frozen sperm of J. Howard Marshall, himself! The list just keeps growing.

To set the record straight, may I present:


Thirteen Things that Prove
I am Anna Nicole's Baby's Father
.



  1. With my gray coat, and her money goggles, she mistook me as a rich, old geezer and seduced me.


  2. I have room in my bank account for a few hundred, million dollars.


  3. Dannielynn has my long eyelashes...and whiskers.


  4. Anna Nicole and I had one passionate night together, during which there was a lot of heavy-petting, tummy rubs, ear scritches and crazy quantities of Methadone.


  5. TrimSpa, baby!


  6. She might have her mother's baby blues, but she has my vertical pupils!


  7. I am a medical marvel! Yes, I am a spayed female feline, but those veterinary idiots underestimated me when they never thought to check for testicles. I'm so potent, I could knock a bitch up just by throwing my underwear on the bed!


  8. My legal name is Dannielynn Hope, Sr.


  9. She has my non-surgically-enhanced, multiple nipples.

  10. All the cool kids are claiming paternity...and we all know who leads that clique!


  11. If you remove the baby's bright, red acrylic nails, you'll see some fierce kitty claws!


  12. "Like my body? I was honored to be on our...next performer's new video...and if I ever record an album...I want this [cat] to produce m-mine...and make me beauuuutiful duets!"


  13. I went on Larry King and claimed paternity! 'Nough said!


CHECK OUT MY THURSDAY 13 ARCHIVE!


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, February 14, 2007

"Dear Kukka...", Volume XVI

Valentine's Day. For some, it's the most romantic day of the year. For the rest of the world, it's the most emotionally abusive holiday on the calendar (next to dysfunctional Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations with the extended family).

For me, it's just another day for creatures of all kinds to love me. Oh, and yet another opportunity to take my fans by their paws and lead them to inner peace and tranquility. Or at least hear myself talk.

As I look in my mailbag on this day o' hearts and love, I am amazed that so many of my fans are pathetic, loveless losers! "Whine, whine...whimper, whimper! I don't have love in my life...boo-hoo."

It's a good thing you have me! Let's stick an arrow in Cupid's ass and get this party started!



Q: Kukka, I've dated the same man for over seven years. Recently, I've recognized a troubling pattern in his behavior. He tends to break up with me one week prior to major holidays (Christmas, Valentine's Day, my birthday...) and then calls to reconcile one week after. My friends say he is cheap and doesn't want to buy me gifts. I think he's just scared of commitment and that, with time and a little effort, I can love that fear out of him. What do you think?

A: I say dump his ass! Unless you're not super-sexy. If you are moderately sexy, at best, hang on to him. He's probably the best you can get. Celebrate his consistency and keep trying to change him. I've heard that works.


Q: For three years now, Empress, my husband insists upon inviting his mother to join us in a romantic Valentine's Day dinner. Am I wrong in thinking this is inappropriate and slightly sickening? She's a nice lady, but I'm getting frustrated.

A: She might be a nice lady, ma'am, but she is also one skilled cock-blocker. From what I understand, after you're married, the one day a year you get laid is on Valentine's Day. Okay, and maybe your anniversary...if he remembers. This woman is keeping you from the penis that is fueled by the Viagra YOU PAY FOR! You must take action. And quickly. My advice? Check the will. If you stand to inherit scads of cash from the old bag, buy her a shrimp cocktail and shut your pie hole. If you are not listed in the will or if you are referred to as "my son's current wife," send granny packing and make no apologies.


Q: Kukka-Maria, you always seem to have so many admirers. I would love to be just like you. How do you do it?

A: I'm foxy. Most people look at me and think this level of super-sexiness just "happens." Wrong. I've worked hard to perfect my super-sexy glances and my oh-so-sultry purr. If you're a feline? Forget it. Few, if any, have what it takes to be like me. If you're human, I have a few tips. First, grow all your body hair out. All of it. Next, give up traditional showering. Your tongue should be sufficient. Finally, let someone else do your flushing. Have you ever heard of me scooping my own litter box? You do that and let me know how things work out.

[Editor's Note: Looks like she's setting you up...do you really think she's going to help someone become as super-sexy as her?]


Q: My girlfriend didn't buy me a Valentine's gift this year, saying the herd of Genital Crabs she gave me was the gift that keeps on giving. I'm dumping her. Will you go on a Valentine's date with me?

A:
Oh, yes! Of course I will! You keep scratching your crotch and wait for my Agent to call and set something up with you. Great, now my lady business itches just at the mention of crabs...


Q: Kukka, I don't have any money to buy my girlfriend a Valentine's Day gift this year. Do you have any suggestions? I don't want her to dump me, thinking I don't love her!

A: There are a lot of things you could do! A massage, a home-cooked meal, a sensual strip-tease...all of these things can be nice. But not as nice as money and gifts. Take out a personal loan or a second mortgage on your house. Return bottles and cans for the deposit money! SOMETHING! You need to buy access to her sissy, my friend. I didn't make up the rules of the game; I'm just reading the box top for you.

[Editor's Note: This type of attitude is not encouraged in our home and should, in no way, be construed as a "life lesson" I have given her. As usual, I take no responsibility for her words or actions.]


Q: Empress, what is the best Valentine's gift you've ever received? Who gave it to you?

A:
Hmmmm...that's a tough one! One year, Brad Pitt gave me an Aston Martin Vanquish S. It was a great gift, but without a driver's license and a booster seat, what was I supposed to do with it? Before Tom Cruise went crazy, we had a Valentine's date during which he present me with a wad of cash and an afternoon at a Scientology spa to get my thetan cleansed of engrams to help me reach the state of "clear." Wait, did I say that was before he went crazy? I suppose it was George Clooney's greeting card, filled with "Love Coupons" for things like belly rubs, ear scritches, and cleaning my litter box. The thought was precious, even though he never came through on the scooping.



Whether you're alone, with a special "someone," or a celebrity feline blogger surrounded by a stable of super-sexy tomcats...may you feel love today and every day! Happy Valentine's Day!


Read more of my mail in my "Dear Kukka..." Archive!

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Tomcat Stable Valentine Haikus

Since tomorrow, I will be dedicating my Valentine's Day to finding love for others, I wanted to make a public profession of love for each of my Tomcat Stable Members.

This Valentine's Day, I value the monogamous relationship I have with each and every one of you! As you read these morsels of poetic perfection, know that each of you holds a special place in my heart...right next to treats and ear scritches. Oh, and tummy rubs. And let's not forget treats! Can't forget treats!

[Editor's Note: You said "treats."]

Well they bear repeating.

Scratchy tongue kisses, boys!



My first tomcat boy!

Weather-stripping makes him swoon.

I've a sticky back...




My sweet little tom.

Don't let the fluffy tail fool...

He is one bad-ass!




King of the Greek gods,

Zeus is a master blogger.

His words conquer me!




King of the futon

and lover of fine lunch meat...

Call me "Ham," baby!




He is large, in charge!

Likes to ride on dad's shoulders...

To look down my shirt!




A rough, tough rebel,

Max should have many women...

Alas, only me!

Monday, February 12, 2007

Reps for Feline Blogger Say it was: "An Unfortunate Wardrobe Malfunction."

Associated Press (AP): One avid Kukka fan called it "The best multiple nipple flash I've seen in my entire life...WOOOOO!" Representatives for The Empress have referred to it as "A tragic and unexpected wardrobe malfunction for which we sincerely apologize."

No matter your take on it, Empress Kukka-Maria's stunning display of feline nudity was the highlight of the 49th Annual Grammy Awards.

"I was shocked," stammered a sweaty and trembling Samuel L. Jackson. "We had talked backstage for awhile before presenting. I laughed so hard at her impression of me as she yelled, 'I have had it with these mother-[expletive] snakes on this mother-[expletive] plane!' All in all, it was your typical award show scene. Typical, I guess...until she whipped her titties out on stage!"

Just as the category winner was to be announced, The Empress flopped down on the stage and her gown fell open.

"When her gown dropped and the lights hit her multiple nipples, there was, like, three seconds of silence followed by deafening applause and cheers," explained long-time Kukka blog fan, John Mayer. Revealing his swollen palms, he continued, "I literally clapped until my hands were bruised! I had seen pictures of her topless on the blog before, but to see them live, large and in-charge? Breathtaking..."

Producers struggled to keep the show on track. "Once we realized the applause was not dying down, but actually growing with intensity, we tried swelling the music, hoping Mr. Jackson would pick up Kukka-Maria and exit the stage quickly. Neither star could hear the music and, quite frankly, Mr. Jackson appeared to be hypnotized by The Empress' healthy rack. Cutting to a commercial was the only option we had after 3 solid minutes of a thunderous standing ovation."

Whether due to a long-time feud or anger at being upstaged, a clearly jealous Natalie Maines, from the Dixie Chicks, announced plans for a summer topless tour at the post-show press conference. "We've been planning Titty Tour 2007 for months," she angrily stated. "Y'all...we are honest to God rebels! How many people would rather see kitty titties than what we're sportin' here? How many Kukka-Maria discs have been steam-rolled? The Dixie Chicks define rebellion!" Grabbing her band mate's gown, she yanked. Gesturing toward one of the sisters' breasts (does it really matter which sister or which breast?) with one of the five Grammys earned by the band during the evening, she bellowed, "YEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAAAW! The nip stops here, bitches!"

Kukka's Agent was a bit more pragmatic in her explanation of "Nip-Fest 2007."

"Kukka had some last-minute wardrobe adjustments before coming to the theater tonight. She had gained...I mean, lost some weight and had her gown altered merely minutes before her limo arrived. The fact that inferior thread was used to fasten her bodice is unfortunate. The fact that millions of minors were subjected to a bare feline bosom is regrettable. We apologize for any inconvenience and/or psychotherapy her super-sexy, yet inappropriately exposed multiple nipples have caused the viewing public."

The majority of CBS affiliates, expecting crude displays, chose to put the awards show on a 7-second delay. Said one Arkansas station manager, "When we heard Kukka-Maria was presenting, we thought it best to prepare. Fortunately for us, we were able to catch and contain the flying nips before they were broadcast. Having a very clever and hilarious rerun of Two and a Half Men queued and ready to run was a great choice for us."

"Damn!" barked a toothless man, living deep in the bible belt and previously unaware that his CBS affiliate had done the ol' switcheroo. "While I was laughing my [expletive] off at Ducky Dale and that man-whore, I could have been seein' me some kitty titty?"

Was it staged? Was it an accident? Empress Kukka-Maria was not available for comment, nor would Grammy officials speak about her fate as a participant in future award ceremonies.

Friday, February 09, 2007

So Sayeth the TSBoD

Recently, Miles Meezer, celebrated Tomcat Stable member and super-sexy feline, committed the ultimate betrayal.

HE TOOK ON A SECOND GIRLFRIEND.

I know what you're saying to yourself: "Um, Kukka? I might be out of line here, but don't YOU have multiple love interests? Why is it so terrible that Miles have a sweetie on the side?"

Get out of here! Seriously. Stop reading and leave. If you think that sort of "logic" and "common sense" is welcome here, you are dead wrong!

From my perspective, the Tomcat Stable members, upon joining my love posse, knew the rules. They would love me--and only me--forever and ever, while I would be free to pursue simultaneously monogamous relationships with multiple super-sexy tomcats.

How is that so freakin' unfair?

To be clear, Sanjee (the other woman in this case), is a class-act. No one can dispute her beauty and moderate-sexiness! While I hold no ill feelings toward her, both she and Miles must understand and obey The Tomcat Stable Code of Conduct if Miles wishes to remain in my love den and he and Sanjee wish to continue their lust affair (I refuse to call it "love," as that word is reserved for me and only me).

For the last seven days, the Tomcat Stable Board of Directors has been in closed-door sessions discussing this issue at length. The tension in the room has been thick and, at times, tempers have risen to dangerous heights. While the board's collective view was that Miles was in the wrong, his fate has been the point of contention for the last 152+ hours.

At this time, I would like to present the minutes from the Tomcat Stable Board of Directors' meeting:



DATE: 02/02/2007

REPORTING SECRETARY:
Fmr. Pres. and Retired Stable Member, Bill Clinton

BOARD MEMBERS PRESENT:
Donny Osmond, Carrot Top, Brad Pitt, Diane Sawyer, Kelly Clarkson, Maury Povich and LaToya Jackson.

BOARD MEMBERS ABSENT:
Joey Buttafuoco (who was booked as a keynote speaker at a porn convention in Vegas), Tony Soprano (who is a fictional character and unable to participate) and Paula Abdul (who, while physically present, clearly was not "there...")

OLD BUSINESS:

  • Donny Osmond thanked the board for the surprise birthday party in December. He was touched by the helium balloons and really liked the cake.
  • Diane Sawyer took credit for the cake.
  • LaToya Jackson asked if anyone had heard of any opportunities that would allow her to be on television. The room was silent for a solid 4 minutes and 27 seconds.
  • Carrot Top put on a hat that was also a toilet paper dispenser and told joke after joke, only shutting up after the board offered up polite chuckles.


NEW BUSINESS:

  • Kelly Clarkson presented the facts of Meezergate.
    • FACT: Miles pledged affection for Sanjee without Kukka's consent.
    • FACT: Kukka discovered this on The Crew's Views (where Tomcat Stable members Max and George reside).
    • FACT: Kukka cried for minutes hours days over this act of betrayal.
    • FACT: The bylaws must be amended to address this and any future acts of Tomcat Treason.
  • Diane Sawyer cried.
  • Brad Pitt sprained his wrist angrily throwing a chair across the room and broke a hand-mirror over Maury Povich's head (unrelated to his Miles rage).
  • Paula Abdul mumbled incoherently, drooled and clapped her hands.



TOMCAT STABLE ADULTRY BYLAWS (effective immediately):

It is understood that, at times, members of the Tomcat Stable will feel neglected due to Kukka's lack of attention (for reasons including, but not limited to: other tomcats, public appearances, admiring herself in the mirror, dates with human celebrities, answering fan mail, etc.). If and when this situation arises, each Tomcat Stable Member (TSM) is allowed to take on no more than one (1) mistress.

Bylaws are subject to change at any moment, without consent or notice.

MISTRESS CLAUSE

"The other woman" (TOW):

  • May be "sort-of-sexy," "moderately-sexy" or "plain-jane-sexy." May not, at any time, exceed "somewhat-sexy."
  • May be lean, but not skinnier than Kukka.
  • May be opulent, but not rubenesque.
  • May not have surgically enhanced multiple nipples that overshadow those of The Empress.
  • May have silky fur or long, flowing fur...but not silky and long, flowing fur.
  • May never expose more nipples than Kukka in public or in private.
  • May only wear designer "knock-offs" of Kukka's fashions and no less than one (1) season behind.
  • May never stand taller than Kukka.
  • May never look Kukka directly in or anywhere around the eyes.
  • May never be photographed with a TSM. Doctored photographs merging two existing pictures together is permitted, if photos are tasteful and sharing of said photos is kept to a minimum. If said photos are printed in tabloid magazines, heads will roll.
  • May never speak to the media about her "alleged" relationship with a TSM.
  • May never speak Kukka's name. Or think it. Unless it's nice things said and good thoughts. But, even then, it's questionable...
  • May have eyes, but not of the "bedroom," nor "come-hither" variety.
  • May never have pinker paw-pads than Kukka. When in the presence of The Empress, pinker paw-pads must be hidden or muddied immediately.
  • May never kiss, lick, nuzzle, make goo-goo eyes at, or sing to a TSM in public or in Kukka's presence.
  • May never speak to or about The Empress at any time, unless offering a sincere (or insincere) compliment.


TOMCAT CLAUSE

All TSMs with wandering eyes:

  • Must never speak of TOW to or around Kukka-Maria. It is understood there will be times when thoughts/feelings are documented about said woman in public places (comments or blog posts), but speaking directly to Kukka about a mistress is prohibited--even if she tries to trap a TSM into speaking about said feline. TSMs should be smarter than to fall in that manipulative female trap!
  • Must always take Kukka's calls when she dials a TSM's cell phone. If said TSM is speaking with TOW he must immediately switch to Kukka's call--without explanation or a goodbye to said tramp female.
  • Must never buy or make a gift for TOW unless gift of greater monetary or emotional value is provided to The Empress.
  • Must play stupid. If a TSM and TOW meet up with Kukka on the street, he is to immediately ignore the mistress and turn all affection to The Empress. When asked who his "friend" is, he is to respond, "Friend? I've never seen this woman before in my life!"
  • Must make dates with Kukka priority #1. If Kukka bestows and invitation to a TSM (including, but not limited to: red carpet events, interviews with the media, or massages on her pretty pink paw-pads), that occasion is to take precedence over any other plans he may have. TOW's birthday? Sorry. Meeting the mistress' human adoptive mother? Too bad. You, sir, are on call 24/7 for Kukka duty.
  • Must never pimp another TSM out. "My mistress has a sister that would be perfect for you!" NO! If a TSM strays, he is alone. Encouraging other TSMs to prowl is prohibited.
  • Must compliment Kukka incessantly--especially if it is known you have taken on a mistress.
  • Must give Kukka-Maria top billing. On holidays, special occasions or just any day, when speaking or writing about Kukka and TOW, Kukka's name must be spoken or written first. And said louder.

Any TSM who disagrees with or disregards these bylaws immediately forsakes his throne in the Tomcat Stable and will be relegated to "just friends" status by The Empress.





Diane Sawyer reinforced the fact that Miles Meezer WILL NOT be asked to leave the stable, as Kukka's heart could not take that level of pain. He will be asked to review the bylaws and determine if he wishes to remain her boyfriend.

Kukka-Maria, eavesdropping on the meeting, sighed with relief.

Kelly Clarkson ended the meeting with a song.

LaToya chimed in.

Everyone ran from the room.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Thursday Thirteen, Edition #21



As you may recall, I was nominated for a Share the Love Blog Award last week. As you may or may not know by now, I did not (no, that was not a typo) make the top five in my category: "Best Humor."

While I am thrilled that one of my Tomcat Stable members, Zeus, did make the top five in his category (and should be voted for as soon as you finish logging in your daily 5 hours at my blog), I can't help but feel a little like Leo DiCaprio when he was snubbed during award season (circa: Titanic). But then again, look at Leo this year. There's hope for me yet.

To help explain the fact my name is alarmingly absent from the top-five-in-no-particular-order list, may I present:


Thirteen Reasons The Empress'
Blog Just Didn't Cut the Cheese
.

[Editor's Note: I think she means, "Make the Cut."]



  1. Like Kukka, most of the voters prefer spelling "HUMOR" as God (and the British monarchy) intended it: HUMOUR. When they saw the category "BEST HUMOR," sans "U," they got confused and voted for the wrong site.


  2. There was a nasty and vindictive smear campaign, led by The Christian Right Canine Coalition, which mistakenly had people believing that a vote for my CAT blog was a vote to promote pornographic PUSSY.


  3. People claimed to be disgusted at my constant references to the "bestiality" I affectionately refer to as my tender and unrestricted love affair with Brad Pitt. "Disgusted?" Try jealous...


  4. There were countless questions about my "alleged" porn star career. I was young. I was new to show business. Don't judge me. And I would hardly call myself a porn star. I was more of a porn extra.


  5. I heard Tom Jones was a poll-worker for the survey and, remembering how I upstaged him in a duet last year, threw out the majority of my votes. Boo, Tom Jones...Boo.


  6. With all the posts (and comments, thankyouverymuch) about my super-sexy multiple nipples, people believed it was a pay-to-play porn site, so they never came to check it out. People. You should know by now that I consider bringing my multiple nipples to the masses (free of freakin' charge) my life's mission. "Let no man, nor beast, be cast away from Kukka-Maria's voluptuous teats because of fiscal inferiority!"


  7. There were a myriad of sites posting concerns that if I were to make the top five, the gravitational pull from the sudden inflation of my ego could accelerate Global Warming, change the oceanic tides and spark Armageddon. Sudden inflation of my ego? My ego has been gradually and consistently growing for years. Plus, isn't this "Global Warming" thing just a myth? Sort of like Oprah's "engagement" to Stedman?


  8. It was rumored that the five finalists were going to face off in a fierce dance-off where it would be no surprise I would dominate. The other nominees, completely intimidated, begged to keep me out of the top five. You may have gotten your way this time, nominees, but I hope we don't meet in a back alley where there is a DJ, thumping house music and a glit...ter...ball...


  9. A lot of my co-nominees were funny mommies telling pee-in-your-pants stories of their hilarious kids. I was surgically altered, as a kitten, and am unable to produce a litter. Not one kitten. The horrific taunts from the other nominees still echo in my head when I close my eyes. "Kukka can't have baaaaabies...Kukka can't have baaaaabies!" Sure. Kick a barren bitch when she's down.


  10. Kukka frequently uses filthy and offensive words and phrases, like: OPRAH, STAR JONES-REYNOLDS, and EMPTY FUCKING FOOD BOWL.


  11. I'm already viewed as a "Triple-Threat," due to my noted success in film, music, and all-around super-sexiness. Adding a nod in literature would just be a superfluous honor.


  12. My polyamorous approach to dating (ref: My Tomcat Stable) is considered an "alternative lifestyle" and people are threatened by that. For the record, I am monogamous with each and every one of those sexy toms!


  13. The "Share the Love Blog Award" wasn't that into me. He just should have been upfront about his intentions from the beginning and called himself the "I Just Don't Like You Like That Award."


CHECK OUT MY THURSDAY 13 ARCHIVE!


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!

Is it a Bird? Is it a Plane? Wait...What's that String?!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen...you've read about her before! Prepare to be amazed again!

THE TAMPONATOR HAS RETURNED!

After months and months of perceived disinterest in all-things-tampon, I surprised my Agent last night by dusting off my super-hero uniform and raiding the 'pons once again. While she was a tad miffed, even she could not deny the need for my assistance was there.

As I walked down the hallway, past the bathroom, I suddenly froze. "What is that noise?" I asked myself. "I think that is the desperate cries of imprisoned tampons!"

I stealthily skulked into the bathroom and discreetly slammed the bathroom vanity door 7 or 8 squillion times to get it open (I may have super-powers, but I lack opposable thumbs). What I found was unspeakable.

But you know I'm going to speak about it.

There were tampons everywhere. Regulars were absorbing the terrified tears of the itty-bitty Lites. Fights had broken out between strong and amazingly absorbent Super-Plus 'pons, pitting cotton brother against cotton brother.

It was feminine hygiene mayhem. And I knew just what to do.

I ran under the bed to shield my transformation from the probing paparazzi. Winking my left eye thrice and releasing a thunderous air biscuit, I chanted my magical mantra.

[Editor's note: For security purposes, the mantra is encrypted.]

"• •• ••• ••• ••••••-•••••• •••••!"

The bed shook and the walls quaked (primarily due to the breathtaking flatulence) as I morphed into the very impressive, yet slightly less amazing version of myself: THE TAMPONATOR!

Scampering from under the bed, my cape flowing behind me, I ran to the bathroom to save some tampon lives.

KABLAM!

I ran directly into the vanity door. Apparently, hearing my attempts to open it minutes before, my Agent closed it whilst I was morphing. Can't a super-hero catch a frickin' break?

Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. (Yawn) Slam. Slam.

YES! THE DOOR WAS OPEN AGAIN!

I sprung into immediate action. Scaling the treacherous Toilet Paper Mountain, I cautiously peered around the hair dryer and surveyed 'Pon Valley. To say I found a bloody mess there would be both a disgusting image (think about it) and highly inaccurate (as they were still in their sanitary packaging). But I can tell you that the scene was messy.

There was a box, securely sealed, holding tampons of all shapes and sizes. I had to get in there. Lives were at stake.

Flick. Flick. Chew. Flick. Chew. Chew. Bite. Flick. Bite.

Attacking the box for what seemed like hours, and getting one flap of the box to lift, I suddenly froze at the sound of footsteps.

"KUKKA! Where are you and what are you doing?"

My Agent! I leapt from beneath the vanity and hid behind the protective shield of the shower curtain. As the bathroom light came on, I had to laugh. My super-feline body is equipped with self-adjusting ocular regulators...called PUPILS. Despite the efforts of the Evil Agent to blind me, I was unfazed by the sudden burst of light.

"What the..." she muttered. Reaching into the open vanity, she closed the tampon box and shut the door. As she turned off the light she mumbled, "What the hell is so amazing about an effing tampon?"

Shit. As the tampon screams filled my ears, I realized I was back to square one.

Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Door.

Flick. Flick. Chew. Flick. Chew. Box.

As I opened the tampon box, I was overwhelmed at what I found.

"Save me!" yelled one tampon.

"No, me!" shouted another.

"Don't save them...they'll give you Toxic Shock Syndrome! I have the pamphlet here to prove it! SAVE ME!" pleaded another.

"ONE AT A TIME! I WILL DRAG EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU TO SAFETY...JUST PIPE DOWN AND BE PATIENT!" I bellowed.

Apparently, I bellowed too loudly, for I heard the footsteps again.

"KUUUUUUUKKA-MARIIIIIIIIIIA!"

I literally flew (I have a cape, remember?) into the bedroom and slid, undetected, beneath the bed. Changing out of my fancy frock, there was a part of me that was riddled with guilt over leaving so many desperate tampons behind to face a tragic fate.

There was a larger part of me, though, that recognized being a super-hero involved way too much effort and was really just time spent away from eating treats.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

I HATE STICKY POSTS

Scroll down to the next post for the latest dose of The Empress.

BUT ONLY AFTER READING THIS.

I'm up for a Share the Love Blog Award in the Humor category. If you believe I'm worthy of your support, please take a moment to vote for me (and for the other stand-outs...in the other categories, of course). Simply click "CLICK HERE TO ENTER" on that page and vote away! You may only vote once, so do your research well prior to casting your ballot.

¡Muchas gracias! (I should get your vote simply because I used the appropriate Spanish upside-down exclamation point...)

Brad Pitt to Fight Canadians in Next Movie

I got a call yesterday to do a movie with my ex-boyfriend, Brad Pitt. Despite the fact it's been ages since I've [never actually] made a movie [in my entire life], I was a bit surprised they didn't ask me to audition.

Surprised, at least, until I remembered who I was. An Empress does not have to read for a part!

My Agent encouraged me to take a look at the script before committing to the role, but I refused to be tied down with details. It doesn't take a mathlete to figure this one out: (Me + Brad Pitt) + Steamy Love Scene = Oscar!

"Read the script, Kukka..." she pleaded.

"Shut it..."

"Well, don't come running to me if you are unhappy later!" she blurted.

I made the "blah-blah-blah" chatty jaw motion with my paw and began grooming my fur with my tongue. If I was to be meeting Brad, the director and producers in a few hours for our first table-read, I had to have my hair did!

As I waited at the door, in a stunning Stella McCartney halter dress (Brad loves my bare shoulders), my Agent flitted past me and grabbed her keys and purse.

"Have you read the script?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes and flipped her the bird with my hind paw (my front paws were still feeling a little tender from my weekend run-ins with Oprah and Star Jones-Reynolds).

"Are we taking your car?" I sneered, clenching my teeth.

As is typical, my agent shunned the idea of hiring a limo service, so I soon found myself in the back seat of her Volkswagen Beetle. There are so many things wrong with that sentence, my head is swimming! I'm not even going to get into the fact I was contained in a...pet carrier!

We arrived at the producers' offices 7 minutes late.

"Kukkaaaaaaaaa..." crooned my former love. "Still making me anxiously await your beauty, I see!"

"Hello, Brad." I could hardly hear my terse and forced voice over the thundering thuds of my heart.

Pulling my chair and booster seat out for me, and filling a water dish with fresh Evian, Brad flashed me that rugged smile and winked. "Still looking as super-sexy as ever," he whispered, his breath making the fur in and around my ear quiver. It took every bit of concentration I could muster to keep my tail from thumping the chair excitedly.

"Alright, people!" Steven Soderbergh yelled. "Let's get this first read going! The scene opens with Brad and Kukka, sitting on the couch together. Brad, you are upset, having heard you are being shipped off to Canada to fight in the Great Maple Syrup War. Kukka, you are comforting him. ACTION!"

"Kukka...oh, Kukka," Brad murmured. "I will be away so long...away from you. The war will be brutal; the Canadians are pissed. Their battle tactics are heinous! As I spend lonely months enduring sharply-worded insults, slight slaps across the face, and long bouts of the ol' silent treatment...I will be thinking of home. And of you."

I tore my eyes from his and read my line. "Purrrrrrr..."

PURRRRRRR?!

"I will have Old Lady Milford, from next door, check in on you daily. She'll give you food, water and those tasty little treats you like."

"Meow."

What the eff? MEOW?!

"I've also asked her to scoop your litter box each and every day because I know you like it clean like that."

"Meeeerrrrrowr." Who the hell wrote this drivel?

"There is a knock on the door," shouted Soderbergh at the top of his lungs. "Brad, you'll move Kukka aside gently and walk to the door where you'll find...wait! Where is our leading lady?"

"WHAT?" I screamed in my head. "I'm right here, Soderber..."

"Hola, everyone! Sorry I'm late!" The door suddenly burst open and Penelope Cruz entered in a blur. "My driver eees sick and my Volkswagen Beetle eees a stick-shift. I'm just not that good at it!" she shrugged with a giggle.

I glanced at my Agent, who was giving me the "I-told-you-my-car-was-super-cool" look. Rolling my eyes, I looked back at Penelope. What the hell was she doing here?

Making eyes at her, Soderbergh smiled, "We completely understand, Penelope. You're not late; you're just in time! We are right at the part where you make your entrance." Freeing himself from her temporary, but powerful Vagina Spell, he turned to the rest of the team. "Ok, everyone! Knocking at the door...do you hear it?! And...ACTION!"

Brad pantomimed opening the door as I looked dumbfounded at him. And then at Penelope. My eyes gradually and angrily narrowed as they darted back and forth...from him to her...from him...to her.

"Cecilia...my love!" Brad shouted.

Penelope breathlessly delivered her line. "Dirk! Eees is true you are leaving me? Are you really going to fight the mighty Canucks?"

"Ok, now you kiss passionately. And begin removing one another's clothes..." Soderbergh drooled.

The room trembled as I howled, "WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUC..."

"Kukka!" barked my Agent, snatching me from my seat and carrying me across the room.

"What is that bitch doing with my man?!" I hissed, struggling to free myself from my Agent's grasp and thrusting my claws in Penelope's general direction.

"Empress!" shouted Brad, leaping from his seat. "What is wrong?"

"Oh, eeesn't that preciosa?" Penelope muttered through clenched teeth and a forced grin. "That little kitty thought she was going to be the leading lady..."

"Let! Me! Go!" I hissed, wrestling with my Agent. "Just give my claws 30 seconds with her face!"

Brad suddenly approached me, his voice tender and low. "Kukka...is that true? You thought you were cast as my love interest in this movie with the working title, Brad Fights Canucks and Gives Penelope Good Fu..."

"I did." I strategically interrupted. My shoulders quaked as I sobbed. "I thought we would be making out, dining by candle light, going for long walks in the forests of Canada, and making out."

"But she's una gata!" Penelope laughed.

"She's not just a cat, Penelope," Brad thundered. "She is MY CAT! And she is my love!"

Turning back to me, he stroked my face, kissed my nose and said, "But, seriously, Kukka. I think man on cat love is a little too creepy for the general public and I'm not sure I want an NC-17 rating on my résumé. I'm going to be making out with Penelope in this flick. Sorry."

As my Agent hoisted my pet carrier past Penelope's Bug in the parking lot, I reached out and clawed the entire driver's side, not even attempting to hide the joy on my face.

Hell hath no fury like a Feline Empress scorned.

I know what you're thinking. "Will Brad now be added to your Shit Litter List, Kukka-Maria?"

My head says, "Absolutely."
My heart says, "I can't!"
My lady business says, "Are you freakin' kidding me? NEVER!"

My junk always wins.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Empress Injured in Freak Flip-Off Accident

In what spectators are still calling the most amazing display of middle-finger mayhem, Empress Kukka-Maria sprained both of her front, middle claws over the weekend in unplanned and very awkward, simultaneous run-ins with Oprah Winfrey and Star Jones-Reynolds.

When Oprah approached from the left, Kukka whipped up her left claw, presenting "The Bird." As Jones-Reynolds called her name from the right, Kukka swung "The Finger" from Oprah toward Star, while presenting a fresh, right-pawed bird for Oprah in a clever, crossing motion.

Middle claws were akimbo as The Empress shrieked and threw herself onto the floor in a painful mess.

Apparently, when you feverishly flip people off, you are putting your health and wellness at risk.

Life lesson #72.

Friday, February 02, 2007

POINT/COUNTER-POINT:
Me & My Shadow

WELCOME SPRING!
by Punxsutawney Phil

Happy ME Day, everybody!

Can you believe it? I did not see my shadow this morning! That means Spring is just around the corner! While the air is crisp and cold, I can smell the tree buds as they prepare to burst into beautiful, green leaves!

Can you hear the blades of grass waking up from their winter slumber? The snow has packed them down, but as we all know, they will stand tall again...and very soon! Remember? I did not see my shadow and we know I'm the boss of Spring!

I got a phone call this morning from my step-brother, a Black Bear named Steve, who has been hibernating all winter long. I was surprised to hear from him, as I thought his heart-rate and breathing would still be slow as, in almost a comatose state, he'd be dreaming of all the fun we're going to have this Spring (as long as he doesn't get shot...again). He said that he had been in a deep sleep, but was awakened when it was announced on Good Morning America that I had not seen my shadow.

"It's Spring, bitch!" he thundered.

"Slow down..." I chuckled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, brother! It's not here yet, but it's coming very soon! You might want to consider catching a few more winks, Steve. We all know you get a little fussy when you don't get enough hibernation time."

To sum up?

  • There is a day that celebrates ME!
  • I did not see my shadow this morning.
  • My Groundhog mom married a Black Bear (long before it was socially acceptable).
  • And SPRING IS COMING SOON!



SHADOW, SHMADOW!
by Kukka-Maria

I don't need to see my shadow to know Spring is far, far away.

I just need to look outside my window at the squillion inches of snow, watch my Agent scrape ice off her car windows and shovel the sidewalk (which is hilarious, by the way), and burrow under the covers because the skank turns the heat down when she's gone during the day.

Who gives a crap about a ridiculous groundhog somewhere in Pennsylvania?

Give the Steve my number, though...he sounds super-sexy.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

The Post Where I Shamelessly Beg for Votes and Plug a Carnival

First things first.
If you're jonesing for a hit of my
Thursday Thirteen...scroll, baby!



Have you checked out the "Carnival of Satire" this week, hosted at "The Skwib?" DO! (I'm participating with this post.)


Also, I was informed today by my dear friend, Island Girl, that I was nominated for a "Share the Love Blog Award" in the humor category!

[Sheepishly wiping a tear from her eye] I just don't know what to say. You don't even know what this does for my self-esteem! [Editor's note: Crap. Like she needs more reasons to adore herself!] I'm honored. I'm humbled. I'm worthy.

It seems the voting begins today!

YOU MAY ONLY VOTE ONCE IN EACH CATEGORY, SO MAKE YOUR VOTE COUNT BY SLAPPING ONE ON ME BY FEB 6. The first round of voting determines the top 5 in each category, and then a second round of voting will commence. I'll share the second round instructions with you if I make it that far. (How's that for a teaser?)

Share the love, my adoring fans! And can I get a "what-what" for the little darling who nominated me? While you are officially anonymous, I have a hunch who you are...STAR JONES-REYNOLDS!

Thursday Thirteen, Edition #20



Each and every weekend, my Agent, the whore, joins her friends at her favorite local watering-hole to engage, on our behalf, in what she calls a "Daddy Hunt."

Apparently, she thinks we need a man in our lives (her life, mostly). It's clear what she's looking for in a man, but it doesn't appear she's considering what I need in a father.

To help her narrow the Daddy Demographic, may I present:


Thirteen "Must-Haves" that make
a Sufficient Human Father for an Empress
.


  1. MUST HAVE a genuine affection for cats (not just lip-service to get in my Agent's pants) and no cat allergies! This is one my Agent seems to consistently disregard, claiming a little convincing and Claritin can effectively bridge the gap.


  2. MUST HAVE no qualms about sharing the passenger side of the bed with moi (read: sleeping around me), as my seniority and super-sexiness will obviously trump his physical size and strength.


  3. MUST HAVE the time, commitment, and desire to accompany Brach to his Tomcat Scout meetings and help him make his pine box derby car for his Making Stupid Shit Badge. My Agents sucks at wood-work.


  4. MUST HAVE a large and powerful frame to act as a barrier between me and the rabid paparazzi. A black-belt in a martial art is a plus.


  5. MUST HAVE a wardrobe that matches my fur so I don't have to hear another human in the house bitch and moan about my shedding.


  6. MUST HAVE "careless" fingers that "accidentally" drop food on the floor so I don't have to beg or try to steal dinner directly from his plate.


  7. MUST HAVE an attractive car that accentuates my super-sexiness when I travel to red-carpet events (or *choke* to the vet).


  8. MUST HAVE a six-pack. Not solid abs...a six pack of beer at all times. I likey my ale!


  9. MUST HAVE large, strong, beefy thighs of steel to adequately cradle my ample frame on the couch each evening...all evening...without a single whine or complaint.


  10. MUST HAVE considerably colossal hands (preferably a tad calloused for my pleasure) that can cover large areas of my fur as he pets me non-stop...all evening...while I'm cradled on his lap.


  11. MUST HAVE a steadfast commitment to putting the toilet seat down so Brach, that filthy little boy, can't drink from the bowl.


  12. MUST HAVE strong forearms with which to hoist the massive clumps of my business from the litter box. Also, must recognize the box should be scooped far earlier than when you can smell it from the other room (make a note, Agent).


  13. MUST HAVE the ginormous, brass balls required to rebel against my Agent and give us treats when she denies us. Stones of steel also acceptable.


CHECK OUT MY THURSDAY 13 ARCHIVE!


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