Thursday, December 18, 2008

Idle Hands Make a Cheating Agent

So, without a laptop on which to blog, The Agent and I have had a lot of free time on our hands. I've filled my surplus with important activities, like...licking my lady business, napping, plucking the carpet, begging for snacks, bullying Brach out of his warm sleeping spots, admiring myself in the mirror, etc.

She, on the other hand, has filled her time with CHEATING ON ME!

I saw her get the yarn out and knit. I then saw smelled her filling little pouches with dry catnip.

CATNIP BISCUITS!!

So, while practically leaping out of my fur with excitement, I managed to calm myself and watch patiently as she took two finished catnip biscuits, stood up, walked toward me, placed them in a mailing envelope, and took them out the freakin' door!

WHAT?!

Of course, I confronted her and she denied, denied, denied. Blatant excuses that, with every "deny," became easier to accept as she coupled her words with ear scritches. (I'm not made of wood, people...)

She even went so far to tell me that I had dreamed the entire thing. Hey...it can happen! I have been known to do really odd things on asleep after taking Ambien (sleep-eating, sleep-farting, sleep-making crank phone calls to Tom Cruise, etc.), so I thought she might right.

Well, guess what yours truly found today!

Exhibit A:
Felix. With a freakin' CATNIP BISCUIT!


Exhibit B:
Oscar. With...what the...ANOTHER CATNIP BISCUIT?!


Apparently, Ms. Benedict Arnold sent some delectable nuggets to our her Arizonian fur-ball friends, without my consent!

So, what have we learned about Agents with too much time on their hands? Apparently, they don't try to cleverly spin/adamantly deny the recent gossip about me pooping outside the litter box...or attempt to get me starring roles in major films!

Instead, they knit fragrant, hand-made-with-love toys for OTHER FREAKIN' CATS!

I'd give her the silent treatment, but wouldn't that be more of a reward?

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

I'm in a secret fight with my laptop...

The bastard took a crap on us, preventing me from posting.

Between you and me, he was on thin ice before this; now, I might have to fire him completely!

Friday, December 05, 2008

The "It's Not the Fact He's Draped in a Pink Towel That Makes Us Question His Sexuality" Haikus


Kukka:
He's precious in pink.
Wearing feminity...
He is my gay man.

Brach:
I am wrapped in warmth
Towels do not define me!
I need a new wife.

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Russians Learn: You Don't Diss a Priss

Associated Press (AP): Sparking an international legal battle this week, Empress Kukka-Maria has filed a lawsuit against Siberian feline enthusiast, Nina Kostova, and her film production company for fraud.

Speaking on behalf of the feline empress, her legal team of feral alley cats claims she was fraudulently enticed to participate in a project where she was merely one of one hundred thirty supporting actors.

"Ms. Kostova assured us The Empress would be the featured, star performer in a main-stream, non-pornographic video," states Scamp "Damn Cat" Weinstein, lead attorney and professor of constitutional law with a focus on litter box liability and litigation at University of Tijuana School of Law and Bartending, located behind the Martinez Family's Garage on Union and 5th. "While the contract is written on an old, coffee-stained Quiznos receipt and is barely legible, you can clearly see the proof of our claim. We would have rather negotiated a cheap skin flick than to have our girl share a scene with a clutter of clamoring cats!"

A teary, yet stunningly super-sexy Kukka whimpers "I was cast in what I believed to be a starring role in a Siberian art film. I was supposed to have, at least, fourteen scenes in which I was featured as a solo artist, plus two tastefully-shot, semi-nude love scenes--one, a menage a trois." Gingerly licking her paw and rubbing it across her brow, she continues, "When I arrived, however, the crazy cat lady claimed top billing and told me to 'fall in line' with the rest of the extras!" Her angry words growing louder with each syllable, Kukka punctuates her statement with a growling HISS. "EXTRAS!?"

Representatives of Ms. Kostova claim the expectations were set clearly and early. "Kukka-Мария является whiny ребенка.."

Scruffy Weston, a matted Persian cat and world-reknown linguist, specializing in Meow, English, Canadian English, Chihuahua, and dabbling in Russian, was asked to translate. "It either means 'We told Ms. Kukka-Maria that she would be among a squillion other felines in the pursuit of kibble. This should not have been a surprise to her' OR 'Dónde está la biblioteca.' One can never be too sure in these cases."

Scamp Weinstein remains stern and sticks to the facts. "In her rider, it clearly states that she is to be the ONLY feline in the frame. In exceptional cases, where other cats are in the scene, it is expected they would stay in the background and simply feature her with jazz paws."

"I flew cargo to Siberia for the shoot and, once I arrived, realized they did not appreciate my super-sexiness, my ability to cry on queue, nor..." sobs The Empress, "nor my magnificent mutiple nipples! They just wanted a...CAT!"

While the amount The Empress is seeking in physical, emotional, and social damages has not been disclosed (mostly because the feral cat legal team lacks basic mathmatic skills and has been working to convert Russian Rubles to American Dollars for weeks), one thing is clear:

No one puts baby in a corner...with 129 other cats.

Monday, December 01, 2008

Haiku Trio for a Snowfall


Snow falls from the sky.
Its beauty blankets my view;
I want to frolic!

Gazing at snow flakes,
I roll on the warm carpet,
faking "snow-Kukkas."

The door opens wide;
my ass puckers from the chill!
I'll watch from inside!

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Pussies in Profile


Another great Google search phrase to bring in the sickos!

Monday, November 24, 2008

"Dear Kukka...", Volume XIX

Despite the fact it's been awhile since my last installment of "Dear Kukka...," it's not an indication that I've not [hired a team of idiots who have] read my fan mail!

You know the drill; let's get this party started!


Q: You don't seem to be blogging as much as you used to, Empress! What else could you possibly have going on that keeps you from writing 5 days a week?

A: What do I have going on? WHAT DO I HAVE GOING ON?! Well...nothing and everything, really! I've been diagnosed with Agoraphobic-Attention-Deficit-Bi-Polar-Manic-Depressive-Anorexic-Bulmaphobia with some Obsessive-Compulsive side-effects, brought on by my meds. Stop the tears. Seriously. I'm okay, as long as I have my daily dose of treats and belly-rubs. Well, and that, when I say, "JUMP," everyone immediately screams, "HOW HIGH, EMPRESS?!"

Considering my medical affliction, it's been tough to stay in touch. I originally sued The Agent because she wasn't giving me access to the computer. But, the judge said a Feline-American could not, legally, bring about a law suit, so I was left to work the medical angle. Thankfully, the FADA (Feline-Americans with Disabilities Act) brought back my right to blog. SUCK ON THAT, AGENT!



Q: Kukka-Maria, you often suggest part of your extreme super-sexiness can be attributed to your vertical pupils. Why do cats have them and why are yours so special?

A: Thank you for recognizing how incredibly awesome my vertical pupils are (or, at least acknowledging I think they are...). It is well-documented that cats have vertical pupils to see things at actual size. Because our eyeballs are relatively tiny, if we were to sport those little, round pupils humans have, things would look significantly smaller. 1:9, to be exact. With that miniature scale, our kibble would be virtually invisible and our litterboxes so small, we would consistently miss and, in our frustration, resist using the box altogether. Even my bank account would appear to have less money than it does! And I'm not having that!

[Editor's note: Her bank account doesn't have as much cash in it as she believes, since it's a fake account, filled with belly rubs and ear scritches.]

As for why mine are so special? Give me a break! Take a look at those eyes! Question, answered.


Q: Her Holiness, were you born super-sexy or is it a skill you acquired? I am considering becoming super-sexy (I'm only moderately-sexy at this point), so I'm hoping you might have some advice for me.

A: My advice: Give it up. It's not going to happen. Super-sexiness is a genetic thing. You either have it, or you don't. My birth-mother was super-sexy. HER mother was super-sexy. My great-grandmother was only tolerably-sexy, but that was because she had freakishly-grotesque bald spots in her fur and a lazy eye (her mother drank and used catnip when she was expecting that litter). While every day I become super-sexier and am about ready to make the leap to sensationally-sexy, there is nothing I do to make it so. It just is. Despite the shame that accompanies your dismal level of sexiness, keep your chin up. Maybe there are other attributes on which you can focus. Like, let's see...do you put out? There is little shame in being a slut! Or so I'm told...


Q: Empress, how is it that you have dated human celebrities and received no backlash in the tabloids regarding the bestiality angle?

A: Before I address this, I want to welcome all the pervs Googling "bestiality!" And a hearty WELCOME BACK to the many who have visited before when your "animal porn" search pointed you to my tongue-in-cheek, post called "Pet Porn--An Investigative Report." (You sick fucks.)

Having dated Brad Pitt for a year and a half which, in cat years is like twenty, Hollywood got used to our pairing. Did we get uncomfortable stares when we went to Pet Smart in the beginning of our relationship? Absolutely! In hindsight, though, I think that was more about our super-sexy auras than our inter-species pairing. It was clear to all that our love was strong and pure. Before Brad, I dated George Clooney.

[Editor's note: Representatives for Mr. Clooney offer this official word on his alleged relationship with Kukka-Maria: "We can neither confirm, nor deny a romantic history between The Empress and George. We can say that George experienced a great deal of heart-ache over a particular, un-named feline, but he is not in the practice of belly-rubbing and telling."]

Back then, things were different. We dealt with taunts everywhere we went. Many thought that was the reason I broke his heart, but it wasn't. It was because he had that pig (may he rest in peace) and I didn't want to share his attention with a filthy swine. I wasn't judging the pig; I was being my typically selfish self!


Q: I love the eye glasses you're rockin' in the "Dear Kukka..." posts! I never see you wear them in other posts; do you wear contacts the rest of the time?

A: Don't be ridiculous! CATS DON'T WEAR CONTACTS, FOOL! We only wear glasses.


Q: Empress, I must admit I'm feeling a little jilted. You blog, then you stop. You blog, then you stop. I get attached, then I'm left with NOTHING! How do you expect to retain your army of minions when you don't deliver consistently?

A: With all due respect, EFF YOU! I'm not sure what gave you the impression you were the most important thing in my life. I have my own struggles. My own joys. My own hobbies (which include knitting, animal husbandry, primping, and competitive UFC fighting). While I appreciate, nay LOVE the positive feedback, you must recognize that I am the most important being in my life. Quit crying! It's not like this is news to you!

Now be gone with you. I need a nap!

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Two Headed Kitten and Stuff


I'm pretty sure we all agree that we wish it were MY face that was duplicated.

Oh, by the way, I'm back, starting Monday, bitches.

Thursday, November 06, 2008

I know...I'm slacking...

I know I'm not writing much anymore. I blame The Agent (for no other reason than because I can).

Until the courts rule in my favor (yes, I brought charges against The Agent for my lack of blogging), I HAD to post this new pic of The Agent's new nephew and her feline niece, Zig.



I know I'D have shoved him over a bit to make room for my ample rump; Zig, on the other hand, seems to accommodate Simon.

She'll learn. As soon as he's mobile...she'll learn!

Makes me glad I only have Brach with which to deal!!

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Wait...You guys can actually UNDERSTAND what we say?!

Well, shit! No wonder The Agent denies me treats!

"Is he gettin' the treeths yet? Is he gettin' the treeths??"

*snort*

Be sure to check out the original (non-translated) footage to hear what we have always believed you heard when we chattered. That is, until now.

I can't believe I've no more secrets!

Sunday, October 19, 2008

OH. NO. SHE. DI'INT. AGAIN!!


I woke up this morning, and much like ANY morning, whined incessantly for treats.

Did I have a full food bowl? Uh...yes.

Did I have fresh water? You betcha!!

I wanted TREATS, mother-humper!

Do you know what The Agent said? "No, Kukka. For crying out loud...what have you done since the last time I gave them to you, merely hours ago?"

Hmmmm...really? Okay. I can play that! Let's see: Knock shit out of your cupboard, onto the counter, without you even having to ask me to?

I rest my case. And I shouldn't have to even bring up the fact I didn't maim you...again this month! I guess I feel that is just understood grace!

Saturday, October 11, 2008

The Agent is Cheating on Us!

Remember my cousins, Zig and Wids? Ziggy (originally named "Grace," but that changed because The Agent's sister is fickle) and Wids (originally named "Lucy," but, because she is "widderer" (little-er) than Grace, she ended up being called "Wids" or "Widdy"), live in California.

Well...apparently, The Agent now has a new human nephew named Simon. It's the first time she's been an Auntie, so Brach and I were okay with her traveling to California to see him for a week.

What we didn't expect was her snuggling with Zig and Wids! Imagine our surprise when we saw THESE on her cell phone!


This is Zig...the 20(+) lb cat.
I hate that she's looking so super-sexy while draped in a glamorous cobalt robe!
How! Dare! She!



And...here's Widdy, looking all "pet-me" like.
Apparently, while she has many of the same traits of her ginger-cousin, Brach
(like sleeping on the shelf in the closet, being a little more shy, etc.),
she unleashes the "pet-me-like-there's-no-tomorrow" belly rub stance like me!

The skank!

So...anyway...since The Agent's been back (a whole 3 hours), we've been ignoring her.

Well, I have.

Brach's way of "ignoring" includes leg rubs, loud purrs, and snuggles. I have more of a "tough-love" approach. I'm freezing her out.

Until it's time to sleep and I have to share a bed with her.

I refuse to sleep on...the floor!

I have my limits...

Friday, September 26, 2008

Buddha, Sunshine, and a Flip-Flop


Oṃ...śānti...śānti...śānti...

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

If you're NOT going to be gay for your OWN peace of mind...doing it for the children is the next best thing!

Dear Anonymous,

You didn't think I'd remember you, did you? After all, it was over three months ago when you blasted me for simply reaching out to Clay Aiken and encouraging him to come out of the closet and live proudly before his self-induced shame ate his face, ala Michael Jackson.

"He's so awesome. You guys are freaks for being so mean to this really nice guy. Get a life."

If you recall in my first open letter to you, I explained how I believed "...cheering someone on to be the most free and natural version of themselves is not being mean; it's called 'being a friend.'"

So, what's new, Rabid Claymate? Any news to report? No late-night phone calls you might have shared, over tears and aerosol-whipped-cream-applied-directly-into-the-mouth-amidst-sobs, with anyone who may have finally realized he should feel no shame for being who he is? Or at least giving his child something better than he's ever given himself: Truth?

Just wondering.

Oh, and I thought I'd take a moment to impart some further wisdom (because I can).

Just because a friend denies something you know is fact, doesn't mean it's not true. I repeat: Just because your buddy insists he's into chicks, but shrieks when he sees boobies, does NOT mean he's straight! It just may mean he needs your encouragement to embrace himself and learn to be proud of who he is and whose boobies he WANTS to see!

(By the way, MY multiple nips are on display 24/7...for anyone who's got the hunger...)

It should be said that sometimes, accepting who you are isn't always the best thing, however! Like, your plump friend might wheeze that she is "happy" with her body or is just "big-boned." To be a good friend, you really need to use your own judgment as you apply first-aid ointment to the muffin-top over her jeans that has billowed so fiercely, she now has denim abrasions.

Or what about your buddy who consistently wakes up in a pile of his own sick on day four of a three-day-drunk, but slurs he can stop drinking anytime he wants to? He, too, might need a dose of calibrated self-awareness!

Instead of encouraging them to further deny their true happiness in a pint of Ben & Jerry's, that fourteenth shot of tequila, or by renewing a never-read subscription to "Maxim," you might want to lovingly inspire change. For their own good! Life offers us enough problems; we shouldn't create them in our own hearts and minds. Too many people live lonely lives, pretending to be what they think people want/need them to be.

I fart on that load of horse shit!

Yes, Clay has lied to you for the last 5 years.

Yes, with those denials of homosexuality, you and your "roommate," Brad, would spend countless nights, crying as you spooned one another to soothe the guilt you both felt over wanting to tongue-kiss your special American Idol.

And yes, you sort of made an ass out of yourself on my blog, criticizing me for encouraging Clay to just be him...without shame.

To you, Anonymous, I say: KEEP YOUR CHIN UP! You will, one day, have the opportunity to manufacture a baby with your own elderly fag hag, will look in said child's eyes, and coo, "I love you more than I love myself. I give the gift of my love for penis to the world...for you."

And won't that be a happier day for all of us?!


Respectfully (believe it or not),
The Empress


P.S. Please note that the obesity reference in this open letter should never...NEVER be applied to feline royalty! I don't have jeans I need to squeeze into! And, as long as I can keep my business clean (even with assistance of hired help), YOU CAN ALL SUCK IT!

Monday, September 01, 2008

If you don't mind...Today is about me and MY birth...

Ugh...Playful AND foxy? I was the complete package from day one!



I was tiny; The Agent's shoes were ENORMOUS, compared to me!"



This is The Agent's favorite pic of the kitten-me.



If I can say so myself, I turned out quite studly!

Saturday, August 30, 2008

It's my Birthday, Bizniches, and I'm 9 Foxilicious Years Old!

Cue the music:
"Memmmmmmmmmories...Light the corners of my miiiiiiiiiiind..."



My ears are the same size NOW as they were at birth. Laugh and die.



Paws-down, the cutest, most precious picture of me to-date.
I'm not dead yet, though!



Diva!
You don't get to be this foxy without eating your human's dinner...constantly.
I think I wear every one of my 12 lbs in just the right places, thankyouverymuch!



Life is good, peeps. I dominate The Agent's bed, I stretch between my naps all day, I get two daily treat distributions, Brach is my minion, The Agent has a good petting arm...life is good, indeed!

Happy Birthday to me, mutha-humpers!

Sunday, August 24, 2008

She's whining...but, at least SHE didn't have to pick bits of flesh from her claws with her teeth!

What a fucking baby...

Personally, I think this is just an excuse to flash her ample cleavage online. The whore.

Wait. Whores get paid!

The slut...

(Oh, GAWD! Don't tell her I said that! I like my daily treat distribution and am not interested in interrupting that!)

*UPDATE*
The Agent told everyone at work she got in a drunken "chick fight" at the bar over the weekend (complete with an arrest and assault/battery charges). She claims it makes her look better than the real story: That she sat home, alone, cradling her cats like babies until they got so fed up they maimed her.

And, quite frankly...it does make her look better!

Saturday, August 23, 2008

How I'm Spending my Blog-cation

Yes...I combined Blog and Vacation. Deal with it.

Monday, August 11, 2008

It's Amazing How Declaring a Blogging Vacation Makes the Urge to Blog Stronger Than Ever...

So, this asshole of a feral cat has been lurking in our yard, causing Brach to be on high-alert every morning (a.k.a. Brach sees this cat, craps his pants (so to speak), attacks me because he thinks I'm the stray, and wakes The Agent up at 4:30a...which is NOT GOOD, on any level).

I finally explained to The Agent that the vagabond cat would probably stay out of our yard if she didn't have a pot of fresh catnip growing on the patio.

A-DUH!

So...she brought it inside! I know, right?! INSIDE! Where WE can graze on it! That bitch is stupid, crazy, or BOTH...but we love her nonetheless.

Thank GAWD for the paparazzi! If we didn't have this photographic evidence of the last 24 hours, I'd have no story to tell. Let's just say my memories are lost in a catnip haze...





By the way...Brach is still dead to me because of him attempting to kick the stray cat's ass, via mine. I just don't need that crap.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

I Funna Tayk Awgust Off.


I are pweetending I haf a conkushun and donut wememburr how to speeque English. I meen Engwash.

I tell The Ayjunt I haf wevertud to CatSpeak, my orrigunul languish, and she are by-eeng it!

Stoopid chik.

I are goween to wide this sheet owt as farr as it wil tayk mee...hoppfully to Laybur Day!

I are hoppy she cunt (oh, yes...I siezed the opportunity) unnerstand CatSpeak, so me finks I yum sayf.

Wish me luck as I embark on this endeav...I mean...

Gud luk to mee frum yoo!

Thursday, July 31, 2008

"No Fanfare, Just a PWESHUS Pic of Brach,"

Says The Agent!

Me? I say the annoying bastard has finally been locked in the mesh hamper of death and I'm throwing away the effing key! But not before I bury him in dirty clothes...

Monday, July 28, 2008

I want to Salt N' Vinegar All Night...And Party Every Day!


Thank GAWD for The Agent's affinity
for snack foods at the beach and
my subsequent luxury of licking
the left-over Pringles...
(Oh, yes...that chip has been photographed in motion. I worked that shit!)

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

My Creativity Tank is Running on Fumes...



Completely devoid of creativity and sweating my balls off, even in the air-conditioning, I don't feel much like writing.

I know, I know...I don't have balls! Don't eff with me; I'm a bit fussy. WHERE IS THAT PERSONAL PALM-FROND-WAVING ASS-CLOWN I HIRED?! Grab a frond and earn your keep, Brach!

So, in lieu of coming up with original material (fart), may I present some of my favorite feline headlines from The Onion...

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Note to Self:

The next time Brad Pitt challenges you to a drinking contest for the unlimited rights to release pictures of his newborn twins, DECLINE!

No matter HOW impressive you think your alcohol tolerance is, you'll just wake up in a puddle of your own urine--NEXT to the litterbox, with a wicked hangover, and pixilated Jolie-Pitt Twin photos scattered about that are not worth the paper on which they're printed.

This is the best I was legally allowed to send to you, Agent. I'll be home soon...

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Kukka Wishes You Were There!

Brach: Agent, did you see what came in the mail today?

Agent: What? More porn? I still can't figure out how I got on that mailing list!

Brach: Suuuuuuuure, you can't! Anyway...we got a postcard from Kukka.

Agent: A postcard? What do you mean? She's not here?! I thought it was a bit more quiet...

Brach: She flew to France for the birth of the Brangelina twins! Don't you remember her telling you she was leaving last week?

Agent: I remember her whining and meowing...I just assumed she was begging for treats, so I tuned her out!

Brach: (whispering under his breath) Would it kill you to learn a bit of Meow, for crying out loud?

Agent: I did notice the litterbox was significantly light on turds this week. Who knew her bowels made up >72% of the gross scoopage?

Brach: I have a dainty digestive system.


(Click to view larger)



Brach: OH! MY! GAWD! Is that a French Harry Potter stamp? (dramatically faints dead-away)

Agent: Looks like she doodled a pic of Miles, sleeping! She must think that's all he does when she's away. So vain...

Brach: (opening one eye) You know...treats are the classic antidote for a Harry Potter Faint. It's a scientific fact!

Agent: FINE! This is probably your one chance to actually EAT treats, without pulling back a bloody stump while attempting to get what's rightfully yours! Come on...

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Kukka's Gone Vegetarian?!


Question:
"Kukka, is there anything you WON'T eat?"

Answer:
"What I don't like, I have the courtesy to tongue-bathe..."

Thursday, July 03, 2008

The Post Wherein I List Various Nicknames The Agent Calls Me, Both Earned and Unfairly Bestowed

Lumber Bunny
Because I walk so effing slowly in front of her when her arms are full of groceries as she enters my house.


Licky McSlobberkins
I'm a sucker for wetting dry skin as she tries to sleep.


The Scratchinator
See explanation above.


Whiny Bitchmeister
This one isn't my fault. Why must it take a whole 52 seconds for her to sprinkle treats down when she walks in the door?


Quit-Licking-My-Dinner-You-Little-Bitch-Cat-Who-Thinks-All-People-Food-is-for-HER
This one might be warranted.


Monster
This one used to be Kukkie Monster, but she's shortened it, as I've been especially cranky lately.


Tequila Velvet
Wait. That's my porn name.


Smudgy VonWhiskerRub
Every few months, she notices the schmutz on the edge of the [insert wall, fridge, coffee table, cupboard, etc. here)] and resents the fact she must clean it off. So I rub my face against things! Would you rather I act like a dog and piss all over the stuff I claim as mine?


Sweetums Flufferbelly
She thought I was asleep when she called me this.


Fussy Plussy
Something about me being stubborn and portly.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Holy Ham Heaven, Batman!


Delightful ham bits
I roll them over my tongue
Salty ecstasy!

Miles, a ham addict,
Loves my super-sexy bod.
I wear pork perfume...

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Recently Overheard in The Throne Room...

Agent: "Kukka...stop rubbing against my legs as I pee."

Kukka: "No. Now please stop interrupting me as I rub my face harder against your ankle. It's a far more challenging than it appears."

Agent: "Kukka! Seriously! Stop it! Do I rub my face against you when you're using the litterbox?"

Kukka: "No, but don't act like you've never been invited..."

Agent: "Oh, for crying out loud..."

Friday, June 20, 2008

Bono, Kukka: "We Will Continue our Fight for The Little Bloggers. Comment Poverty Must STOP!"

Associated Press (AP): With our focus on what experts consider real tragedies (in the forms of floods, fires, and famine), it appears the celebrity-spurred, blog-comment equality campaign, I Still Haven't Found the Comments I'm Looking For, has all but disappeared. Though pressured to diversify and lend their names and images to countless other charitable efforts, co-founders and life-long best friends, Bono and Empress Kukka-Maria, claim ISHFTCILF is still going strong.

"We continue to fight for the tiny, new, and seemingly unpopular blogs," explains a tearful Bono. "Could they advertise to get more readers? Yes. Write about things that are actually interesting? Perhaps. Take a remedial English class at the local community college to enhance their writing skills? Of course! But the fact remains: Countless bloggers are waking up this morning to empty or, at best, sparse comment sections of their blogs. This injustice must stop!"

When the ISHFTCILF campaign launched in early 2007, there were countless celebrity supporters, an abundance of shout-outs in award show acceptance speeches, and a goal to eradicate blog-comment poverty by 2008. Yellow LiveStrong bracelets were quickly replaced with mauve, rubber "wristlets" adorned with a diamond-encrusted ISHFTCILF logo.

So, where is the hype now? Have we eliminated the problem altogether?

"I bought about a dozen of those pinky-purple bracelets on ebay last week," explains 69AssClown69, the author of an über-popular photo blog. Mistaking his anatomy terms, AssClown's "Uvula Utopia," offers "readers" voyeuristic images of anonymous upskirt shots through the eyes of hidden cameras and rakes in hundreds of comments on each post. When asked if his wristlet purchase is evidence of his ISHFTCILF support and if he's donated any of his daily comments, he laughs, "Hell no! I bought those bracelets as gag gifts to give away to readers who submit panty-shots for my blog! I ain't sharing no comments with no one!"

"AssClown is an example of the comments we are not hoping to obtain and redistribute," explains feline empress, Kukka-Maria, between daily naps. "The collective IQ of his readership is a number far less than the amount of nipples I have on my body. And that's a lot!" Gently licking her paw and rubbing it along her whiskers, The Empress continues, "We are looking for smart and witty comments from intelligent human beings that know the Uvula is the hangy-downy thing at the back of a human's throat and not part of the lady-business region."

In a recent Barbara Walters' interview with Kukka, scheduled to air next week and set at his Alpes-Maritimes Villa in the South of France, the impassioned lead singer of U2 urges the world to donate comments when and where they can.

"Comment redistribution is critical for our interweb survival! What kind of monster can look into the tearful eyes of a suburban 13-year old MySpace user, who claims to be 132 and living in Lichtenstein, and tell her the blog she posted with photos of herself, scantily clad and drunk on the Peppermint Schnapps she found in her parents' liquor cabinet...[Bono's voice, breaking with emotion] that the post is not comment-worthy?!" Wiping a tear, Bono looks at the ground and mutters, "I can't be...that monster. I...won't...be!"

Waking herself from a mid-interview nap with a fierce air-biscuit, Kukka spells it out for Barbara and the viewing audience. "Think of me as the Robin Hood of the internet. I take from the comment-rich and give to the comment-poor." Glancing at Bono, she continues, "Oh, and he's Little John."

As Bono clears his throat and shakes his head from side to side, Kukka corrects herself. "Fine. You can be Maid Marian, then, for crying out loud!"

According to blogging experts across the continents, blog comment inequality still plagues households, huts, dorm-rooms, and caves all over the world. The dynamic duo behind ISHFTCILF claim that if, by 2009, blog commenting does not even out, people will abandon their sub-par blogs in frustration.

"We'll be left to read only quality, well-written blogs that make us laugh, inspire us to think, and help us take a fresh look at the world around us," explains Kukka-Maria with a frown. "And what kind of internet is that?"

A dismal one, Empress. A dismal one, indeed!

Thursday, June 19, 2008

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

We all remember "The Muumuu Incident."

I hope to HELL The Agent doesn't see this site and think she has a new project!

*UPDATE*
Pay special attention to the site with the knitting pattern. Do you see, in the sidebar, there are multiple cat hat patterns from all over the world?

Like...
[Editor's Note: If Kukka hadn't acted like she was paralyzed when I put her in that muumuu I spent hours knitting, I'd make each of these awesome caps and make her wear them. Wait...that's reason NOT to? Me thinks the Ninja Mask may also act as a muzzle...hmmm...]

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

FURTHER Evidence The Agent Wants to be More Like Me...

Someone at The Agent's office building sent a humorous plea to the tenants regarding a fork that had been stolen. Trying to be like me, The Agent decided to pen the following and circulate it around the office. It's not as good as the stuff I write, but she tried. I thought I'd share, since I'm too busy lying in the sun today to blog.




Associated Press (AP): Once thought to be a safe kitchen-community, West Michigan has been rocked by an onslaught of utensil crime in recent weeks. Appearing to be the primary target, forks from Bridgeview Avenue to Martin Luther King Boulevard have been advised by city officials to stay close to home, for fear of abduction—or worse.

“It’s sad,” states Bill Carlyle, self-appointed City King. “When I was a kid, forks could roam the streets freely, without a care! What kind of world are we living in where innocent kitchen utensils must constantly look over their shoulders in fear?” When informed that most silverware do not actually have shoulders, an embarrassed Carlyle shakes his head and mutters, “Well, there’s the real crime…”

Some theorize the rise in cutlery crime is due, in part, to an increase of reporting in recent months. “People used to simply overlook missing knives, forks, and spoons,” explains Linda Langland, noted crab dip wizard and adjunct professor of Silverware History at the local community college. “I don’t believe the instances of utensil thievery have become more frequent; we are just hearing more and more about it. People are sick of blaming themselves and pretending they’ve left their silverware at church picnics, work potlucks, and friends’ cookouts. They’ve just been living in denial!”

While most citizens are blaming one another, Shannah Ridgely, esteemed notary and part-time hand super-model, claims to have seen the seedy underbelly behind the fork abductions up close. “As founder and president of Silverware Safety, a vigilante crime-watch group that meets in my basement every-other fifth Tuesday of the month, I know the real scoop,” she explains. Leaning in and whispering, she continues, “Los Banditos Tenedores. I’ve said too much.”

Los Banditos Tenedores (The Fork Bandits) is a gang of spoons who are allegedly terrorizing forks across West Michigan. Spending most of their time in a secret clubhouse said to be located on East Hunter Road, Los Banditos Tenedores have ransacked businesses up and down Hunter.

“I ain’t saying nothin’,” slurs Pancho, known as the alleged muscle of the organization. “You think juss a’cuz I’m a spoon, I hate forks?”

Yes. That’s exactly what we’re thinking.

Jeff Zimmer, Doctor of Kitchen Psychology and author of the self-published and modestly-selling book, “The Flatware Whisperer,” has studied the long-standing secret feud between forks and spoons. “The anger among these groups is staggering,” states Zimmer, shaking his head and wringing his hands. “And people have no clue! They assume everything is harmonious in their silverware drawer. If they were smart, like me, and would just take a moment to press their ear to the drawer at 3 a.m., like I do every night, they’d get it!”

“I’m scared to be alone in the building in the early mornings,” admits Stephanie Kitchner, Custodial-Genius/Landscape-Guru/Bike-Rack-Builder/Window-Installer/City-King-Foot-Decontaminator at in the Hunter Business Center and full-time hand super-model. “After those bandits hit our building, I began carrying a camera to try to catch them in the act. And it’s a good thing I did! If you think it can’t get worse than fork kidnappings, you are dead-wrong.”

Displaying a photo she secretly snapped in her office building kitchen at 6 a.m. one morning, depicting a large serving spoon and two baby spoons, she continues, “They are recruiting kids now that school is out! These tiny spoons that used to be busy serving up pudding cups and snack-sized applesauce in school cafeterias have a lot of idle time on their hands and are ripe for the picking.” When informed that most spoons, young or old, do not actually have hands, Kitchner rolls her eyes and mutters, “It’s a figure of speech, jackass!”

Until the mastermind ladle behind Los Banditos Tenedores is apprehended, city officials recommend you protect your forks and keep a close eye on your spoons. Silverware expert Zimmer further explains, “Even the most expensive spoons from the best homes are at risk for gang activity. Keep your forks close, and your spoons closer!” Turning to take a bite of his lunch Zimmer exclaims, “What happened to my fork!?”

Monday, June 16, 2008

WOO-WOO!


"Please be patient and keep your paws
carefully tucked as we attach a second
Cat-Car to this
Lounge Train.
In the meantime, please enjoy the
living room scenery to your right...
"

Friday, June 13, 2008

Hairball from Hell


How is it the kid's not bald?!

Thursday, June 12, 2008

WTF, Agent?!

[Overheard in Le Palace de Kukka]

Agent [In the most obnoxious baby-talk voice EV-ER]: "Awwwwwwww, Brachy! You're so pretty! Do you know how pretty you are? Well, you are! You are! Who's my pretty baby boy? Huh? Who is? YOU ARE, Brach! You're my beautiful baby boy!"

[Kukka rubs against The Agent's legs]

Agent: "You're cute too, Kukka...in your own way."

Kukka: "In my own...[choke] WAY?"

Agent: "Yeah, like...if you were to shut your pie hole every once in awhile. Or stop plucking at the carpet. Or not lick my arms while I'm trying to sleep. Or not meow for treats constantly. Or not shove your face under my mouse-hand while I'm on the computer. You know...as cute as you're capable of being, considering your demanding demeanor.'"

Kukka [Releasing a vicious air-biscuit]: "Bite me. Then give me treats."

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Tales from My Voicemail

"BEEEEEEEEP! Heeeeeeeeeeere kitty, kitty, kitty! It's Clinton. No, the other one. I'm just calling to find out why you've not been blogging. You know how I need a constant supply of pussy, and you're my favorite! Well, maybe not my favo...nevermind. You know you're up there toward the top 100. Anywhoooooooo...give me a shout when you can. Now that I'm home from supporting my wife's hobby...a.k.a. campaigning for my third term, I've got some time on my hands and am open to giving some of your favorite ear scritches. You know how you like that! And I'd appreciate it if you'd not revive your old joke about not knowing where my hands have been. It was only moderately funny the first seven times...BEEEEEEEEP!"



"BEEEEEEEEP! Oh, Kukka, you're so fiiiiiiiiine, you're so fine you blow my mind! Hey, Kukka! Hey Kukka! Whasssssssssssup, bish?! Ish me...the berry heteroseshual Clay Aiken! Ohmygod...I so dah-runk, you stinky kitty! I so drunk I blow your miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind! What? Someone is telling me they don't believe I'm calling a cat! Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahaha! You are stoopid, you sexy beast of a man because I AM calling a cat! She is the mose beeeeeyoootiful cat I know! And I a-know my a-pussy because it's a-what I a-like-ah to have sex with all day a-long, my friend! I am so into boobs I can harlly get it up. Wait....WHAT?! I meant...BEEEEEEEEP!"



"BEEEEEEEEP! Hello Auntie Kukka. I was calling to thank you for my birthday gift and to say...UGH! Okay. Daddy walked away. When are you coming to get me? This man is crazy! Every day he...shit! [whispered] He's back. Saaaaaaaaaaaaaave me! Please! BEEEEEEEEP!"



"BEEEEEEEEP! Yo, Diva. Sah dah tay! I've got a new crop of PRIMO catnip in and knew you'd want a cut. Call me and we'll...um...discuss it. Remember, don't call my phone. Page Tino, he'll let me know, and I'll call you from the pay phone down at the Quik-Mart. Tell your friends, Diva. This shit's awesome! BEEEEEEEEP!"



"BEEEEEEEEP! Hello, this is John McCain. My friend, Dick Cheney, and I are calling to speak to the registered feline voter of the home. We'd like to encourage you to vote Republican on November 4th in the year 2008 of our Lord. Who, by the way, is the bee's knees, if you happen to be a valued member of the Christian Right. Oh, horsefeathers, Dick! I meant to say 'groovy,' like the kids nowadays do! Never-you-mind. I am not sure if you're aware, but to inspire folks to come out and vote for me, on Election Day, I am putting every 5,000th registered Republican voter--who votes for me--into a swanky lottery-style drawing for a brand-new, hotsy-totsy EDSEL! That ain't no jalopy, my friend! So, don't be a wet blanket, pal o' mine! Don't let a palooka like Obama in the White House! Vote for the real McCoy...John McCain! And, in the meantime, if you have any clams you want to donate to my campaign, that'd be the berries!"

[Clearly, thinking he had hung up, but not hip to operating those new-fangled cell phones...] "Well, applesauce, Dick! How many more of these blasted calls do we need to make! I'm going to need a shot of hooch in a minute! Hey...who is that dolled-up dame? I would like to give it to her in the kisser...AND HOW! BEEEEEEEEP!"