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 ├╝ber-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'!"

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


We all remember "The Muumuu Incident."

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

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?

[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


"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, 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 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' 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!"

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

9 Thing I Learned About Clay Aiken by Going Undercover at the Sperm Bank

[Editor's Note: My apologies for the constant use of "finger quotes" in this post, but when you're talking about Clay Aiken, can you really avoid it?]

With all the buzz about Clay becoming a "baby daddy" (a.k.a. artificially inseminating his elderly "best friend," Jaymes Foster), it's difficult to pare away the gossip and get the facts.

Did you think I wouldn't help you out?!

To get the skinny on my favorite closeted gay's foray into "fatherhood," I went undercover as a nurse at the sperm bank where Clay deposited his seed.

Yes...I, too, threw up in my mouth a little bit at that last part.

Here is what I learned:
  1. He wears a banana hammock to house his junk across which "I HEART CHRISTIAN BALE" is spelled in gems.

  2. The carpet doesn't match the curtains.

  3. He sent a list of items he would require to "prepare" for his deposit: Tiger Beat magazine (circa 1992) featuring a Joey Lawrence centerfold, assorted Broadway playbills, a photo of Simon Cowell in a tight t-shirt (so, basically, ANY photo you've ever seen of Simon), a lock of Justin Guarini's hair, the volleyball scene in Top Gun--played on a loop, and $325,000 (in small bills...and delivered in g-strings of various male strippers to be removed with his teeth).

  4. While the freckles on his face have clearly been bleached, those peppering "other regions" are still prominent!

  5. He has a small tattoo on his left buttock of Barbra Streisand, Liza Minelli, and Cher (a.k.a. The Gay Trifecta).

  6. And on his left cheek? "But, I am TOTALLY STRAIGHT!" (in an Old English font)

  7. When the press is around, he gets a little handsy with the feline nurses while shouting, "I'm a man's man! I love me some pussy in uniform!" I would really prefer not to talk about that piece further! [Editor's Note: Shake it off, Kukka...shake it off!]

  8. He has, what we call in the medical profession, "lazy swimmers." In his boys' defense, they may have heard they were going to be deposited into a woman (*shudder*) and, in fear of the completely unknown, tried playing dead.

  9. Three times, he slipped and called his hag "Liz Taylor," further supporting my theory that he is the Michael Jackson for the new generation!

Congrats to Clay Aiken on his pending test-tube baby! And many thanks for providing me a steady stream of future blogging fodder (as if your excessive eyeliner and creepy disposition weren't enough)!

Monday, June 02, 2008

Open Letter to the First Runner Her Own Life!

Dear Ashlee Simpson-Wentz,

While your efforts to perpetuate the buzz around your wedding by neither confirming, nor denying a pregnancy (until after you were officially married) were admirable, you must feel pretty defeated that your sister, once again, trumped you in the press during your special time.

Why you thought going the "mysterious route" would work, when it never had for you, is beyond me. Wasn't it around the time you were neither confirming nor denying a nose job that everyone was more fascinated with Jessica's break-up with Nick? Or was it when we were ogling her slim-down for her role as Daisy Duke? Or painfully sitting through her Proactiv commercials while she exhaustively spoke about her acne downgrading her to merely extremely sexy (which was still more interesting than hearing you deny obvious rhinoplasty)?

Did you not learn, then, that playing the coy card was ineffective? I guess not, because the last several weeks have been just as annoying for us as the whole nose thing.

Here's the Simpson Sister gossip headline tug-o-war, as I've observed it:
  • "Ashlee Simpson & Pete Wentz Get Engaged," but we were reading: "Jessica Simpson 'Couldn't Be Happier' for Ashlee and Pete"

  • "Pete: Ashlee's Ring Doesn't Have 'Conflict' Diamonds," but we were more concerned with: "Jessica Simpson: I'll Be Ashlee's Maid of Honor"

  • "Ashlee Simpson Dodges Pregnancy Questions – Again," but we yawned and preferred: "Source: Jessica Taking Tony to Ashlee's Wedding"

  • "Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz Get Married!" but we were more captivated with the idea that they ALLEGEDLY smooched publicly, amidst rumors of a break-up and focused on: "Jessica Simpson & Tony Romo's Wedding Day PDA"

  • Then finally, "Ashlee and Pete Wentz Confirm Pregnancy," but we still wanted to know what Jessica thought: "Jessica on Ashlee as a Mom: 'She'll Be Amazing'."

[Editor's Note: Nice pic, by the way. I started to admire you rocking the "Earth Mother" hair-do, but then was drawn to the mystery of why the armpit of Jessica's dress seems to align with the base of her right breast! You win again, Elder Simpson!]

While I've never lived in another's shadow, I do have some advice for you, Ashlee: Don't string us along to stretch the life of your strategically-released tabloid gossip. It only allows the more important Simpson sister further opportunities to talk about herself. Instead, come out with one, ginormous story like: "Ashlee Simpson Knocked Up, Marrying Pete Wentz, Releasing an Album, Postponing Summer Tour, Battling Gestational Hemorrhoids, and Scheduling Deniable Nose Job for Pending Child Upon Birth so Infant Has Chance of Remotely Resembling Her."

Really...what can she say or do to steal your thunder then?

Wait! HOLD THE PHONE!! Jessica had a bowel movement this morning? Sorry, Ashlee. Some things are undeniably more captivating!

Werd to the second banana...
The Empress