Memoirs of a Feline Empress in Exile

Back to School

2011-09-09T10:12:00.000-04:00

I see pictures on the interwebs showing children on their first day of school and I feel gypped. These kids look happy with their backpacks, boarding a big, yellow babysitter. I am home schooled, so I am missing out on the glee that is the first day of school.
The morning after Labor Day is the first day of school in Michigan. The Governor passed a bill that made it so. Apparently, tourism dollars were lost when school started before the holiday.

I don't get it. People are always boarding tour busses to get a glimpse of my home! No matter what day of the year. Of course, I refuse to share those profits with the state, so I guess it makes sense.

The first day of school was terrible for me. First of all, Brach got sick. All over the floor. He was so psyched about the day, he ate his food without chewing. Ass! So, the morning began with The Agent cleaning up his moderately-digested food from the floor. She was not happy. With good reason!

Then I had issues with the flat iron. I thought I had it set on 15, but, as my fur began smoking, I realized it was on 30. Waaaaaay too hot! I needed to look foxy for the first day of school in my own livingroom! After all, paparazzi were lingering to capture my special day.

So, with singed fur, I went downstairs. With a nervous look towards The Agent and a don't-you-dare-say-anything-about-my-hairdo look towards Brach, I was ready to learn.

But, why no big, yellow babysitter? Why couldn't I have a school bus transport me from my bedroom to the livingroom?! The Agent explained that it was not necessary because I wasn't leaving the house.

Sigh.

Of course, I passed my entry exams and of course, I was a star student.

The Agent keeps saying that, by my age, I'm about the 7th grade level. She says she expects shouting matches, crying jags, and slamming of doors as I head into teenager waters.
I don't understand. WHY MUST SHE BE SO DIFFICULT! IT IS NOT FAIR TO MEEEEEEEE! *sob*

So to sum up, I singed my hair. Brach horfed. I was resentful that I didn't get luxury, yellow transportation, and my mom started a fight with me that ended in tears and a slammed door.

All in all, it was a good day.

My fur will recover.

Where's Kukka?

2011-08-01T18:34:00.000-04:00

Hint: Look behind the shower curtain.

Lovaaaaaaahs

2011-07-19T17:31:00.002-04:00

Bristled Brach O'Lee

2011-07-19T17:29:00.003-04:00

In the throes of brushing ecstasy.

Red Flags Fly

2011-06-07T12:54:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you need help from the experts.

Even though I have a husband, I need to

maintain the health of my dating life!

Sunbathing in Stages

2011-06-02T19:21:00.000-04:00

So what if my husky and sturdy bootie causes an eclipse!

And then...

2011-05-30T12:27:00.003-04:00

The Agent: Kukka-Maria! What happened to this new bag of food I just bought for you!

Me: I'm sorry...huh?

The Agent: This torn up bag of food! THIS one! What happened?

Me: Funny story. Well, not so much FUNNY as...scary. Yeah! SCAAAAAARY!

I came aound the corner from the hallway and saw him.

The Agent: Who him? Him who?

Me: This big, um...dog. And then, as he tore through the bag, his eyes glowing red with rage, I politely asked him to stop effing with my food. And then he turned around, apparently not a fan of the f-word, and glared at me. Foamy saliva pooled at the corners of his mouth. The stench of his breath filled the air as he panted and panted and panted and...

The Agent: Kukka, get to the point.

Me: And then I was all "You better check yourself, beast. The Agent will have your head on a stick if she catches you messing all over the counter with scraps of paper and shit, yo." And then...he turned back to the bag that was desperately trying to contain the kibble and spat. Yes, SPAT on the food! And then I went into a blind rage and batted my claws at his tail. And then one of my claws hooked into his wagging appendage and he yelped and ran away.

AND THEN...Oprah walked in, head moving about as if she were a life-sized bobble-head doll. She was like, "OH NO YOU DI'INT!" And then I was all, "What, bitch?"

That sent her off the edge. Over the next few seconds, amidst her high-pitched, shrill shrieking, I think I learned:

The kitty-kibble-crunching dog was hers.
That Oprah's dogs are allowed to do anything they wish because "...they are Oprah emmer-effing Winfrey's babies, skank!"
That one of "Oprah's Favorite Things" is to viciously and repeatedly swat innocent cats on their super-sexy and robust hind quarters with no remorse.

And then...AND THEN, Oprah started clawing into the bag! Yeah! And then she was shoving cat kibble into her gullet like it was the last meal she would ever be granted for the rest of her life. And that's why it clearly looks as if much of the food has been eaten!

She was all, "NOM, NOM, NOM! *belch* NOM, NOM, NOM!"

And then I was going, "No, Oprah! STOP!"

She was like, "NOM, NOM, NOM! OPRAH...HUNG...RY!"

And then she heard you coming up the stairs, jumped upon the window ledge, sprouted demon wings and leapt into the air. The wind from her flapping wings is what blew all the cat bag paper around and made a mess.

And then...

The Agent: So you expect me to believe that a wild dog, belonging to Oprah Winfrey tore open your bag of food, you swore at the dog, clawed him on the tail after which he ran away. Then Oprah showed up, yelled at you, engorged herself on kibble, sprouted demon-like wings, and flew from the window.

Me: Wait! I haven't even scratched the surface of the Willy Wonka angle and how the water was splashed from the dish and splattered on the floor! Those Oompa Loompas are a fierce gang of hooligans!

The Agent: So, Kukka, how long did it take you to obliterate the bag of cat food?

Me: About 4½ minutes. WAIT! NO!

Dang.

Pretty Pink Paw Pad Peek

2011-05-29T14:21:00.001-04:00

Pink paw pads peek out,

Sleep never interrupted.

A lazy Sunday.

One Pat Cat

2011-05-28T14:52:00.000-04:00

Brach is such a tease! He will act as if he wants a squillion scritches,

then will walk under The Agent's hand once...and done.

Meanwhile, I want a squillion scritches and am willing to walk back

and forth, endlessly, until her hand cramps or she is worn out.

That spoiled cat takes The Agent's pets for granted.

I am smart enough to know you take what you can get when you can get it!

REAL...OR...FAKE®!

2011-05-23T14:44:00.002-04:00

Announcer: Hello and welcome to America's favorite game show, REAL...OR...FAKE^®! Please welcome your host, Kukka Winkindale!

Kukka: HIDEY HO, EVERYONE! We, at REAL...OR...FAKE^®, are taking a break from Breast Month to feature a cat whose fame is only existent because of his celebrity wife...BRACH O' LEE! Today, we will be challenging this plant addict with the question, "Is this plant REAL...OR...FAKE^®?" Ladies and gentlemen, let's greet our guest, Brach, with a round of applause. Brach! Come on out!

(Cue heavily-orchestrated music in the style of Lawrence Welk)

Kukka: Welcome, Brach! On REAL...OR...FAKE^®, contestants receive a clue as they study an image. They are then asked, "Is that image REAL...OR...FAKE^®? Each question is worth 100 treats, with a final bonus image worth 500 treats. Are you ready to play REAL...OR...FAKE^®?

Brach: You bet your obvious toupee, Kukka!

Kukka: (Adjusting her "hair") Well, then, let's start with the first image.

This authentic, genuine Christmas Cactus doesn't look like your typical cactus. Known to bloom around the holidays, this plant is rather tasty and is not poisonous to cats, though dining on its leafy goodness is strongly discouraged in your home. Now, Brach...is this plant REAL...OR...FAKE^®?

Brach: Well, Kukka, I have seen this one before in the living room. I have been known to knock it off its plant stand in an effort to get a bite. I know this one. This Christmas Cactus is...FAKE! WAIT! No! REAL!

Kukka: (Holding a paw to her ear) I am sorry, Brach. The judges are telling me in my ear piece that we must go with your first response. You said "FAKE" and it is, in fact, real. You did not win 100 treats for this question.

Let's shake this off and move on to the next image.

This flower arrangement sits at the end of the hallway at your The Agent's parents' house. Its collection of silken petals are colorful and made of silk. Our question to you, Brach, is one with which you are very familiar. Are these flowers REAL...OR...FAKE^®?

Brach: I know this flower arrangement well. I have spent many a night chomping on its plastic buds. This arrangement has to be...REAL! Final answer.

Kukka: (Shaking her head slowly) Brach, I am sorry, but you have missed the mark yet again. Made of silk and various plastics, this arrangement of flowers is FAKE. Fake...

You still have one last chance for 100 treats before ever-challenging bonus round. Now let's see the next image!

This cluster of artificial roses, bound tightly with twine, sits in the spare bedroom at The Agent's parents' home. Nestled in a bed of faux grasses, these buds stand proudly in the sunshine and clean easily with a vacuum cleaner or hair dryer. For 100 treats, Brach...is this arrangement REAL...OR...FAKE^®?

Brach: I am sure of this one, as I have tasted these flowers first-hand. These beautiful blooms, though tough to chew, are succulent and a delight to the taste buds. I am confident that these flowers are...REAL!

Kukka: BRACH! Seriously?! I am sorry, but these flowers are obviously fake. I could go into how I have been giving you hints and how block-headed you must be to keep answering incorrectly, but I think we should just push on to the bonus round.

This horticultural phenomenon is known as The Kukka, which in Finnish means "Flower." Its texture is soft as a cartoon cloud and shiny like the mirror in which it likes to gaze. It has incredible intellect, amazing talent, gorgeous form, and super-sexy multiple nipples. For 500 bonus treats, Brach...and I encourage you to think very hard on this one, is this flower REAL...OR...FAKE^®?

Brach: I have lived with one of these for almost 11 years.

Kukka: Talk it through, Brach.

Brach: While the plant itself appears very real, everything you described seems quite fake. I am going to have to go with...

Kukka: Take your time, Brach. 500 treats are on the line here.

Brach: I am going to have to go with...FAKE!

Kukka: OH, BOO-WAH! I am sorry, Brach, but yet again, you have answered the question incorrectly. This flower is very real and plans to kick your ass for not bringing home prize treats.

As for you, ladies and gentlemen, tune in tomorrow when we return to Breast Week on REAL...OR...FAKE^®! Good night, everyone!

Dog Bullying Series of Haikus

2011-05-21T16:10:00.000-04:00

Uncle Cooper blocked.

Brach and I trapped him. Dumb dog.

He was very scared.

Brach and I laughed hard!
Brach on one side, me...other.
Cooper was trembling.

He barked for his mom;
She was downstairs, not hearing.
More laughter...HILARIOUS!

The Agent was mad.
She made us release his ass.
That will sure teach him!

MANIPULATION 101

2011-05-20T22:09:00.003-04:00

Welcome to "MANIPULATION 101," your comprehensive guide to managing and controlling your human. I am your instructor and world-renown expert in human manipulation, Empress Kukka-Maria.

Today, we learn about OBTAINING TREATS.

There are several approaches that, over the years, I have found to be profitable. The key is to find a method that best suits your needs and showcases your unique talents.

The I'm-The-Cutest-Thing-You-Ever-Did-See
With my drop-dead beauty, this has been a fan favorite in my home. There are many ways to feature your preciousness without revealing your underlying purpose. Here is a tried and true recipe.

One Part Backside
Two Parts Front Paws
Six Parts Nipples (super-sexy multiple nipples not required, but preferred)
One Part Furry Head
Two Parts Come-Hither Eyes

Turn yourself onto your backside, curl your front paws toward your multiple nipples, cock your furry head to one side toward Your Agent, and blink slowly with come-hither eyes. Let Your Agent soak in your slutty approach; repeat, if necessary.

The Don't-Look-While-I-Lick
This tactic requires a sleek body, a well thought out entrance, and a sly departure. This is a favorite method for Brach as he is virtually invisible in the shadow of my celebrity. Because of my Rubenesque form and my bodacious swagger, I tend not to go this route. The recipe below should help you.

Four Parts Limber and Steady Legs
Four Parts Quiet, Feather-like Feet
One Part Squatty Body
Two Parts Shifty Eyes
One Part Scratchy Tongue
Eleventy Squillion Parts Patience

Squat your Body slowly until it is almost resting on your paws. Shift eyes back and forth, spying your target: Your Agent's plate of food (or empty plate of sauces, juice, and/or crumbs). This is also a good opportunity to case the joint, ensuring there are no witnesses. If you see a witness, do not panic! Simply stay still until the individual looks away. ~~If that nosey individual is Kukka-Maria, give her the middle claw and continue your mission.~~ Walk slowly on your feather-like feet. So slowly, it doesn't appear you are moving at all. Reaching your target will require all the patience you can muster, as moving in super-slow motion is taxing to the soul. Quickly extend your scratchy tongue and feast! If you get caught by Your Agent, refer to the I'm-The-Cutest-Thing-You-Ever-Did-See recipe.

The Begging-Is-So-Humiliating-But-Absolutely-Necessary-Sometimes
When all else fails, beg. This recipe is simple, yet painful.

One Part Pride
One Part Whiny Voicebox

Swallow your pride and use your whiny voicebox to plead with all your might. Wait for Your Agent to wear down or scold you. If you get lectured, refer to the I'm-The-Cutest-Thing-You-Ever-Did-See recipe.

I hope you have found these recipes to be helpful in your quest for treats/snacks/yum-yums/finger-lickin' goodies. If you have any questions on this instruction, feel free to add your inquiries to the comments and I will be ~~most inconvenienced~~ happy to answer them!

Happy Treating!
Your Professor, Empress Kukka-Maria
Celebrity to the Stars

Choppin' Brach O' Lee

2011-05-16T17:55:00.000-04:00

I have 17 hotels and 42 houses on Park Place...PAY UP, BITCHES!

2011-05-16T17:43:00.002-04:00

What a crazy weekend! Who knew that buying property, building houses and hotels and bankrupting my friends would be such a heady experience!

It was!

After fielding phone calls all day Saturday from people wanting to be near me, I finally decided it was time to hold my traditional "Cut-Throat Monopoly Tournament...A Bloody Battle to the Death." I chose my competitors carefully. I wanted them to be sweet (so they didn't get too violent when I took all of their multi-colored money), intelligent (but lacking the ability to effectively strategize), and super-sexy (that helps me deal with the sobbing when they lose, as tears streaming down a super-sexy face are still cute).

Since my celebrity friends don't meet all of the criteria, I went with some local tomcats. And, because my Agent is not keen on gambling, fake or otherwise (she is still in a secret fight with Las Vegas), I decided to hold my game in the back room of The Pussy Pub, the local feline watering hole.

First, there was Elmar, a super-sexy German Rex. I met him only recently, but I find his meows difficult to resist, as they are enhanced with a seductive German accent. Ich bin sein liebesklave! While I feared his heart-melting smile might distract me from nabbing all of his faux cash, I felt pretty confident that I could fight my urges and maintain my "take no prisoners" approach to leaving him penniless. I'll admit it here once (and will deny it later), but I did float him a low-interest loan during the game when he was teetering on the edge of financial ruin.

What? I didn't do that!

My next guest was a Persian named Rourke Kavanaugh, III. Though equally irresitable, he has a tendency to antagonize me and isn't the biggest Kukka fan which, of course, infuriates me. He has a reputation for being quite the ladies' tom; it's unclear whether he's actually earned it or if it is merely urban legend. Despite the fact he is very conservative in his views of the world (something that gets me going...and not in the good way), I think he secretly pines for me and, if he were to grow a pair (his were surgically removed early on), he might make a move. The potential of him being my sex slave is just enough reason for me to keep him around.

Next was Gus, a Mastiff. Don't judge me for including a dog in my game! He is a new friend and a sweet pup who, when not monitored, tends to slobber on you a bit and sniff your lady business. He means well, so you sort of have to forgive him. A gentle dog, he sometimes gets distracted--which makes him a great Monopoly opponent. He asked to bring a girl to the game, but she has a reputation for being an overly trashy drunk and I was just not having the ~~competition~~ chaos at my Monopoly table. There is room for only one trashy drunk at the game, thankyouverymuch!

And that trashy drunk is my dear friend Maria Carmen Gabriella Reyes de Casarez. Constantly ready and willing to rumble with the toms, she is always on the prowl and can be quite the whore at times. Wait...whores get paid. I guess she is just slutty. The only reason I didn't have much of an issue inviting a rival female to the game, is we tend to have different taste in toms. Maria Carmen Gabriella Reyes de Caserez (or MCGRdC, I prefer to call her) came to the game directly from mass. A devout Catholic Wiccan (a new hybrid religion she invented), she is a perfect combination of tradition and evolution. She is an extremely intelligent feline, but exhibits great grace when confronted with combative and intolerant cats. Dressed in a mantilla and clutching a rosary, she gives a devout and holy first impression...until you realize she is dressed only in a mantilla! Yes, she is completely nude underneath her fur!

The game began mildly. I distributed the fake cash (shorting a few players, I'll admit) and we rolled to see who would take the first turn. While I didn't win the roll, I proceeded to throw the temper tantrum of all tantrums and, with much reluctance, the group let me go first. Work it, Kukka!

The game progressed and properties were getting snatched up at an astounding pace! I stomped my paws in anger a few times, especially when Gus and Elmar teamed up to keep me from getting all the red properties. Damn you two for ripping Indiana and Illinois right out of my paws! Yes, I hadn't actually purchased them yet, but isn't possession 9/10ths of the law?

"Great play, Kav!" barked Gus, holding out his paw for a high-four.

"Um...I don't touch people. I don't want germs and I'm not about to muss my fur," Rourke responded, tossing back a filthy martini.

"Haven't you had enough?" I asked him, while guzzling my ~~fifth~~ ~~sixth~~ seventh White Russian.

Aggressively swishing his tail back and forth, he snidely mocked me in a nasaly tone. "Haven't you had enough?"

"Listen. It's your turn to roll," I responded calmly. In my head, though, I was screaming, "GO TO JAIL, JAIL, JAIL!"

After a quick toss of the dice, he exploded, "WHAT THE...MOTHER FFFFFF...GO TO HELL, MONOPOLY!" He stormed away from the table and Gus calmly placed Rourke's thimble into the jail cell on his behalf.

"He'll be back in a minute," explained Gus. "We've been friends a long time. He just needs a breather."

"I'll give him a breather," I said, chuckling. "I toss an air biscuit his way and see how he enjoys them apples!"

Suddenly, and without warning, MCGRdC hopped onto Elmar's chair and began nuzzling him. Clutching her rosary to her chest, she began chanting under her breath, "Te deseo. Te necesito. Debes ser el mío...". Elmar, equally flattered and confused, whispered, "What are you saying to me?"

"Nothing! I am just praying the rosary. Don't get so cranky!" Maria Carmen Gabriella Reyes de Caserez oozed, licking her lips lusciously.

"Kukka, I'm uncomfortable..." Elmar pleaded.

"She won't bite," I explained. "She will lick you up one side and down the other, but no bites."

Turning to Gus, I asked, "When will Rourke be back? It's his turn again and I'm growing impatient. I've texted him, I've called his cell phone. I know he's just in the other room, but don't you think he could be courteous enough to respond at all?"

"I'LL RESPOND WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT!" Rourke bellowed as he re-entered the room. "I got your text messages...I was just busy self-soothing and did not have the time to entertain you, Selfish! Now, am I out of prison yet?"

"Rourke, I understand your position and think you could even be justified in your response to Kukka," MCGRdC cooed," but I would ask you to reconsider your impression of her. Yes, she can be demanding. Yes, she can sometimes be intensely selfish, but she is worth having around...even just for her celebrity connections!"

"Whatever, you liberal snot," Rourke mumbled. "I suppose next, you'll tell me I'm supposed to be tolerant of...the filthy Siamese!"

"Have you even met a Siamese cat before, Rourke?" challenged MCGRdC in the most gentle and sweet version of her voice.

"No, but I've heard enough about them to know they are sneaky and shady. Let's just say I wouldn't want to be with one...not because I think they'd hurt me physically, but because they might hurt my reputation!"

Elmar, Gus and I stared at the debating duo in shock.

"Can't we just play a friendly game of Monopoly in which I take all of your money and make you cry like sissy-babies?" I pleaded. "Come on...doesn't that sound like fun for me you?"

"You know, Kukka...why don't you just text me anything you want to say. That way I can ignore you and not feel guilty." slammed Rourke.

At this point, Elmar decided he had enough. "I'm taking off, you guys," he muttered, grabbing his two pair of boots (it was raining) and rabbit-fur coat (not made from rabbit pelts, but with rabbit fur that had been shaved off of rabbits who had recently joined the military to protect our home soil while all the human soldiers were being sent to Iraq).

"Elmar..." I desperately pleaded as I flashed my multiple nipples in an effort to convince him to stay.

"Put those things away, Kukka. Save them for another day when the climate of the room is less tense."

Before I knew it, Maria Carmen Gabriella Reyes de Casarez and Rourke were at it again.

"You can not build a hotel on your property unless you've already built four houses," she explained, while reading the rules from the box top.

"Good freakin' GAWD!" roared Rourke.

In an attempt to placate Rourke, Gus said, "I'll take Baltic Avenue off your hands for $100, Rourke. That's $40 more than the face value!"

"I want $250 for it."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "You bought it for $60!"

"I did some work on the house and amped up the curb-appeal, so it's appreciated greatly since I purchased it."

"I'm done," sighed MCGRdC. "Rourke, can you please hand me my coat?"

"I'm not touching a Mexican coat!" blustered a clearly irate Rourke.

"What did you just say?" I hissed.

"I said I didn't want to be tainted from touching a Mexican coat!" he retorted. "I'm not saying anything I wouldn't say about a Siamese coat..."

Steaming, I stood and flipped the Monopoly board over, scattering the dice, thimble, tiny car, top hat and Scottie dog (chosen by Gus, of course) to the floor with a deafening shatter. "I can not believe you just said that to my Mexican friend. And, by the way, I have Siamese friends and they are some of the best cats around!"

Shrugging, Rourke gently lifted his paw to stroke the ginger fur on his head. "Whatever."

Turning to Maria Carmen Gabriella Reyes de Casarez, I said, "Get your things. We'll leave Rourke with his backwards way of thinking."

But Maria did not hear me. Clutching her rosary and raising her right, front paw to her lips, she spit and muttered thrice, "Mayo tus descendientes tienen los cuernos y los pitchforks de su padre..."

He'll get his.

Canine Chaos

2011-05-16T17:01:00.002-04:00

So, the Agent is staying with her parents for awhile and brought us from our castle to theirs last week. Remember when I spoke of Uncle Cooper? Remember that he is a DOG?!

The first night was pretty eventful. I, of course, dined from my dish as soon as I was released from the diamond-encrusted feline transporting device most commoners refer to as a "cat carrier." My husband, Brach, ran and hid under the spare room bed. Of course.

After exploring the digs upstairs and christening my litterbox with exceptional excrement, I decided to venture downstairs. As I pranced preciously down the 18k gold, winding staircase (kidding...we were not at home). As I lumbered down the berber covered stairs, I felt someone staring at me.

Now, you know I am not a stranger to stares of admiration. This, however, seemed more...intense. Acting as if I owned the place, I strolled across the living room and stared right back. He approached cautiously then stopped, with stumpy tail wagging foolishly.

I stared.

He stared.

I stared harder.

He started moving toward me again and was startled when I hissed at him. I have to say, I was more than pleased to see him jump and run the other way.

Unless he is useful in helping me obtain treats, I really don't see his purpose. He barks maniacally at the Fed Ex truck, the newspaper delivery girl, the furnace repairmen, and anyone he thinks is approaching the house (including people walking by).

Wait! He may have a purpose after all! I recently fired my body guard due to sexual harassment (he now has a restraining order against me, court date pending). Maybe this crazed and protective dog could take his place. Because he is my uncle, I love him but I'm not in love with him, so I think I can keep my paws off him

For now, I have demanded he be caged in my presence. I am not taking any chances until I know I am safe around him.

After all, I am still The Empress.

www.kukka-maria.com

2011-04-01T22:48:00.001-04:00

So...we've come to this.

The Agent has decided that, if anyone wants to know what I have to say (assuming I am able to get to a fucking computer), they should point to http://felinesovereign.blogspot.com/. She says she's sick of paying for a domain name I am not willing to use.

I will keep this up. I will post when I'm sober.

Sometime in April, www.kukka-maria.com will no longer point to me.

That cheap bitch.

POINT/COUNTER-POINT:Age is Just a Number

2010-11-06T15:46:00.000-04:00

WHO YOU CALLIN' OLD?!
by Kukka-Maria

The Agent used to be consistent with the food she provided. While trying to pinch pennies in the last many months, she has switched it up. Every week, she comes home with a new food and, every week, said food is somehow more repulsive than the former. Many a day, I have shaken my head in disgust and proclaimed, “There cannot be ANYTHING worse than this!”

Then she walks in the door with a bag of worse.

She promises when she gets rich (again), she will spring for the good stuff, but I have a hard time believing her. That, however, is not my main concern. My main concern is that today, she unleashed something more diabolical than the most bitter, foul food she has purchased thus far.

I am talking about senior food. SENIOR FOOD!

“You are getting older, Kukka-Maria. I know you don’t acknowledge it, but it is happening, sweets,” she said.

Eff that. I am just as super-sexy and lean as I have ever been! (Editor’s Note: Clearly, Kukka-Maria does not fully understand the definition of “lean.”) I run sometimes…to the food bowl. I do yoga…when I clean my lady-business. I eat healthy…unless I am sneaking food off of The Agent’s plate.

And. I. Am. NOT. OLD!

I am 11. When The Agent was 11, she was with friends, playing yard-games, and discovering boys! How is lying around, farting, and napping all day any different than dancing enthusiastically to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller?” Apples to apples!

Yes, while I was born with grays, I am starting to find them amidst my blacks. Yes, I used to have more energy. And, yes…I am (claw quotes) “ripening,” but I am not a senior…SENIOR!

Eff.

YOU ARE NO SPRING CHICKEN, CAT.
by The Agent

You are getting older, Kukka-Maria. I know you don’t acknowledge it, but it is happening, sweets.

I have not wanted to admit it, either! When you lumber down the hallway and stand to claw the doorframe, I still see the sprite youngster who would RACE down the hall and LEAP to hang from the doorway—4 feet up. When you eat at the bowl, lie down for a rest, then get back up to continue eating, I still see the itty-bitty-kitty who chomped her first bites in my home. The kitten who, after filling her tummy, walked around and around my head on my shoulders. You threw your tiny body against my cheek in appreciation.

SO WHY ARE YOU SO UNGRATEFUL NOW? (I choose to avoid the “tiny body” vs. current state issue.)

I buy you food. I buy you treats. I buy you toys. I buy you litter (I sometimes fail to scoop; that is not the issue at-hand). I think, if you had a concept of money (other than that which has been shoved in your g-string….no, I have not forgotten May 18-19, 2001) you would have a greater appreciation and be glad that I even PROVIDE food for you! If I am buying, I am choosing!

And…You are old. OLD! Get used to it! It happens to all of us and, quite frankly, we should be happy to grow old. The alternative is to be dead.

As for the gray hair, sis? When I decide to address my own, we can discuss addressing yours. As for now? Work to extract them with your scratchy tongue while grooming.

Check on...check one, two, three...

2010-10-20T20:54:00.001-04:00

Is this thing on?

My So-Called Kitty Slang

2010-06-18T21:43:00.000-04:00

Every once in awhile, The Agent will unleash what she believes to be the most current and cool "kitty slang."

Tonight, for example, it was, "Yo, Kukka...are you going to get in the Litter B? It's freaky-fresh, yo!"

It took everything within me to suppress an obvious eye-roll.

When will these people get that they can't hang?

Fleeting Facebook Fame

2010-05-13T09:01:00.000-04:00

The Agent has already disbanded my Facebook Fan Club!

Skank.

She said that, as the Administrator, she was giving up her too much of her anonymity as she was suddenly having to manage a bunch of crazy and unknown friend requests for her own profile.

So, apparently, her comfort and happiness takes priority over my fans.

Again.

For now, imagine my Facebook status update as such:

Empress Kukka-Maria: is totally miffed and is plotting her revenge. While the specifics are currently unclear, she suspects it will involve some the flicking of bodily waste where it doesn't belong.

Thanks to all who joined or expressed interest!

Facebook Fans Unite

2010-05-10T17:14:00.001-04:00

Yeah, I did it. Screw Catster (on a side note, I totally love you and don't know why I would write something contrary)!

I'm going to now reside on Facebook (I'm not going to delete my blog, but...I will be posting more frequently (and briefly) on Facebook). If you want to find me there, search for me. I'm Feline Empress Kukka-Maria.

I'll totally keep the blog for more, um...elaborate topics.

Also...the Twitter account is going to be deleted. I feel like I'm telling you that Santa, The Easter Bunny, AND The Tooth Fairy are fake!

Love me, still?

Another Kitty Called "Cash"

2010-04-30T17:10:00.001-04:00

Today, The Agent was at her parents' (our grand-dude's) house and came upon a visitor. He explained that he, his wife, and 4-year-old daughter had rescued a kitten from the shelter.

And, then, it cost him over $2,000.

The little boy, "Scamp," was fine, at first. They went to Florida for 2 weeks and paid $65 to a woman (with cats) to care for him (at her home).

Scamp came back to them...sick.

They went to the vet because he wouldn't eat and "wasn't himself." The initial tests were no less than $100. They decided he needed medicine ($50).

The cat started spiking a fever and they said he had FIP and might not live...then, a day later, his fever went away and his bloodwork was fine.

THEN, because he still wouldn't eat, they took X-Rays. There was a "circular object" in his intestines, as well as a mouse carcass (GO, KITTY!). They needed to operate.

It reminds me of my gay husband's dilemma!

So...needless to say, their new kitty for their 4-year old daughter, has now cost them over $2,000.

I am grateful for people who will commit to an animal, no matter what. We are not disposable!

The Agent rebukes, but I know she will cough up the goods!

She's Lucky

2010-04-23T13:20:00.000-04:00

So, The Agent has realized the longest and most successful relationship she has had, in her adult-life, has been with me.

I KNOW, right? This is cause for celebration, not a pity party!

She has been a great pet for me, despite the fact she has trained me to know the sound of my own name, to respond when the word "treats" is uttered (or typed, bitches...), and to cock my head to the side and rub on her when she says, "Love on me?"

I'm not made of wood, people.

I love that Agent o' mine. That's why I insist upon sleeping on top of her or, at least, in the middle of the bed. That's why I nudge my nose under her mouse-hand when she's on the computer. That's why I pluck at the carpet when I don't feel she is paying enough attention to me. That's why I will lovingly intimidate Brach to acquire his warm sleeping spot.

It's all for you, Agent...all for you.

Our friends lost their dog, Brizzy, this week. Today, love especially hard on your pets...human or otherwise.

Sabi is Going Home

2010-04-16T23:05:00.004-04:00

He came to stay with us on Jan 11, 2010. Granted, we've had our issues (mostly Brach, as he has been traumatized by the youthful Sabi attacking him), but we're sort of sad he's actually going.

And, by "sad," I mean "ecstatic." Granted, The Agent isn't in full agreement with me. She is actually SAD. Brach? Well, he will enjoy a well-deserved break! How many 10 year old cats must endear 3½ months of a pre-pubescent tom, chasing, punching, and biting? Not many in this house...before Sabi's stint.

To honor Sabi, the 3-year old who rocked our world, please enjoy the a look back at our house guest:

I will not go on record as saying I will miss him (because I will NOT miss him...but, super-secretly will. Thank GAWD for the secrecy of parentheses!). I will say that, while he was here, I got to boss TWO tomcats around

I call that...BLISS!

Treat on Deck

2010-03-30T20:21:00.000-04:00

So...keeping a treat on the sly is wrong?

Tell that to my stomach...later!

Zombie Brach

2010-03-26T18:09:00.001-04:00

You will succumb to my power.

You will call me "MASTER."

You will give me treats, as I beckon.

You will not bully me...Kukka!

If you don't agree, I will eat your braaaaaaaaain!

Adult Content

2010-03-21T14:22:00.000-04:00

You act surprised.

Read the back-log and you won't be.

I'm flagged as "ADULT CONTENT" for a reason...

Inverted Brach

2010-03-20T22:47:00.000-04:00

It's as if He Lives Here and Gets to Breathe the Fresh Air

2010-03-18T21:33:00.003-04:00

Slider open...Sabi EVERYWHERE!

A New Crazy Cat Lady Low...

2010-03-16T19:38:00.002-04:00

The Agent had someone imply she was a crazier, cattier lady than she is.

The framed pictures on her desk, at work:.

and

Her co-worker approached, "I've been wanting to ask you...are those real cats?"

"Real cats?" The Agent responded, puzzled.

"I mean, are they yours or are they just pictures of cats?"

After The Agent stopped laughing, she responded, "Are you suggesting I might find cute pictures of cats on the internet or (GASP) buy cat calendars, print and (wait for it) FRAME them?"

The Agent says she feels better about herself, knowing there might be worse out there.

By the way, the pic that SHOULD be on her desk? From Halloween 2007 (aka "Crazy Cat Lady" costume):

Why am I facing the back of the couch?

2010-03-13T17:32:00.000-05:00

A diva need not answer.

2010-02-27T15:11:00.062-05:00

To Whom it May Concern at Every Cute Animal Website in Existence:

I hope you're happy.

I am sobbing...SOBBING! After perusing your websites filled with pictures of adorable kittens, I'm now questioning my own cuteness. I have viewed photo after photo after photo of frolicking, soft, non-saggy-bellied felines that suggested to me I'm past my prime and no longer super-sexy.

Thank you for that.

Please allow me to address my favorite two sites, individually.

You had me at the baby hedgehog and kept me with the baby bunnies, baby monkeys, and baby mongooses. Baby mongeese? Either way, I never thought you'd sneak up on me with kittens. Excuse me, while I shake my paws in the air as I yell, "KIT-TENNNNNNS!"

At first, I would sneak quick glances, saying I could deal with it...I was strong. Quick glances became longing looks. Longing looks became lingering stares. One day I found myself staring at myself in the mirror shouting, "GET PRETTIER!" It damaged my self-esteem.

You, Cheezburg, went a step further. Not only did you post a myriad of what I call "Kitty Porn," you had to add cute, phonetically-spelled phrases as if they were uttered by the models themselves!

What the hell?

"Shh!!! They don’t noez we here!!"
"Rule #16 For Blind Dating Always chek breff for fishy smel!"
"U cans maek teh bed later. I’z nawt done playin’ cave kitteh!"

I've spent years...YEARS learning proper English and in 3 minutes of viewing your site, you stumped me. I knew they were out there, but to cater to the "Tawkin' Like Stoopid Kittehs!" demographic seems so rudimentary. Thank goodness Brach can not read or I'd have two belligerent, rebellious "kittehs." Damn that Catspeak!

It's a daily challenge to be on Twitter, Facebook, and Catster--the "MySpace" of the cat community. It saddens me that I must now add your sites to the "STUPID DOUCHE" section of my browser.

Thanks, cute pet sites. You either make me feel un-sexy or make me feel "stoo-pid!" Blech!

Some things never change...

2010-02-20T16:38:00.000-05:00

That sonofabitch keeps taking the sleeping spot I never

knew I wanted! I had...just HAD to school him!

Shhhhhhh...don't tell anyone, but...

2010-02-20T10:35:00.000-05:00

I just licked The Agent's bbq chicken pizza.

A lot.

And now I'm watching her eat it and chuckling.

Today will be a good day.

Sabi is Showing Off to Impress Me

2010-02-10T19:00:00.002-05:00

So, the boys wrestle...they chase...it's been nauseating.

UNTIL...I realized Sabi is TOTALLY trying to impress me with his masculinity.

EXAMPLE #1: Sabi chases Brach around the living room, while I lounge on the couch.

I pretend not to pay attention...that's my way. But, Sabi will trill and meow like crazy to get my attention! He'll swat at Brach, bite at Brach, and chase Brach with no mercy. I get, now, that he's looking for me open my eyes and see him for the tom he is.

EXAMPLE #2: Sabi flexes his muscles every time I'm in a 5' radius of him.

I have no PROOF of this, per say...but I notice his gludious maximus muscles contract when I approach. Granted, many times he's in the litter box, making a deposit. But I think it's because he knows I'm watching.

EXAMPLE #3: Sabi gets crazy mad at Brach.

Sabi knows Brach is my (allegedly gay husband). I suspect Sabi is also "juicing"...causing the 'roid-rage. Well, the rage AND the backne. I'm saying...I see through the fur. His mother says he's "petite...a small boy," but she's not looking at his neck. His NECK is effing HUGE! Yes, he has tiny legs and an incredible six-pack, but the tom is a maniac!

EXAMPLE #4: Sabi tries to get ear scritches while I'm in The Agent's reach.

He secretly wants to rub against me while he's pretending to get strokes from The Agent. That woman falls for it all the effing time! I just throw him my flirty eyes...and hiss. I find that making him think I'm a physical threat is best. It worked for capturing Brach in my lasso...

That boy is wrecked over me! But, can you blame him?

Does It Get Better Than This?

2010-02-06T14:47:00.000-05:00

Communal Tuna Juice

Speciests...

2010-01-29T20:03:00.001-05:00

Am I cold?

Am I cute?

Am I in need of a fleece garment that will keep me warm, yet keep my paws free?

YES!

The Snuggie™ people are speciests. There. I said it.

BOYCOTT SNUGGIES! And by "boycott," I mean "SHED YOUR BACKWARDS FLEECE ROBE AND REALIZE THAT LITTLE BIT OF WARM HEAVEN IS NOT WORTH TURNING YOUR BACK ON AN ENTIRE SPECIES OF PRECIOUSNESS!"

Or...Hot Pussies Rock.

Tweet...tweetle-eet!

2010-01-24T13:54:00.000-05:00

When I hear "tweet," I typically press my nose against the glass and moan at what I'm sure is a tasty bird feeding off the bait The Agent hangs outside.

Now? It's ME that's tweeting! Don't tell The Agent, but I went rogue and decided to start a Twitter account. I've not had time to blog as much with the new job of being boss to BOTH Brach and Sabi. I know...you'd think hissing isn't hard work, but my throat has gone dry with the extra effort!

If you tweet, find me at @kukka_maria.

I'm not abandoning you here; I'm just making myself more accessible to my fans!

And, if I hear you're the one who snitches to The Agent, you will be dead to me. DEAD. TO. ME!

The Sweet Suck-Up

2010-01-21T23:10:00.003-05:00

Brach has this thing about lying next to The Agent on the couch, stretching out his paw, and resting it against her leg as he sleeps.

She says it's because he wants to be connected to her.

I think he's perfected his pretty-boy, suck-up, kiss-ass moves.

Next, I'll be the ONLY one bitching about surfing turds in a litterbox that needs a good scooping...as he sprawls across her lap, drooling!

I've Decided He's Not an Unwanted Roommate...But a New Lover. Nay...New LO-VAH!

2010-01-08T19:59:00.027-05:00

Okay.

So, this 3-year old (or is it 3 year-old...or 3-year-old) Sabi is going to be residing with me. And, despite my initial grumblings, I have reconsidered the impact of his presence. Here are my reasons:

I am awesome, so Sabi's desire to associate himself with me makes complete sense.
I love men. Hello...I've always had a HEALTHY and VIRILE stable of Tomcats.
I could bitch and bitch and bitch, but The Agent seems to have a mind of her own (despite the catnip I strategically place in her pillow), so I have to adapt.
I have NEEDS! Must I say more?
My shiny coat needs maintenance and Brach's tongue is getting weary.
I'm going to be honest: My nether-regions need action.
While I don't want to share my food with anyone, I might be interested in splurging for kibble...if Sabi puts out!
They say my whiskers are sensitive...let's have the new boy discover Kukkamerica!
Now, The Agent will calculate MORE CATS with MORE TREATS and, since I'm older and more rotund, I can muscle more snacks (with limited bruising...if the subservient minions are smart)!
I can blame Sabi, the youngster, for the shenanigans around the house that result in broken items and dreams.
Flirting with Sabi will make Brach jealous and, consequently, will make my husband pay more attention to me. It's the law of testosterone, ladies!
While Brach CLAIMS to be upset when I bathe him gently, then bite him until he vacates the warm napping-spot, he loathes me bullying someone else.
Sabi looks like me enough to act as a stand-in for the paparazzi. Can you say, "Stunt Double?"
The designers clamoring to design award-season gowns for me have accepted Sabi as my dress-maker's dummy...because I have better things to do and he is in better shape.

Oh, yes. This partnership can be advantageous for us. And, by "us," I mean "me."

Flustered

2010-01-06T18:49:00.002-05:00

Sabi is coming to stay at ~~our~~ my house again. This time...FOR SIX WHOLE MOTHER-FREAKIN' MONTHS!

Apparently, his agent is leaving West Michigan for some place called "I-OH-WAH" for work. The rub is she's taking her dog, but not her cat.

Yes, THAT DOG! I am tempted to dress that little Sabit up in a dog suit just to avoid having to deal with him.

So, The Agent, fearing her buddy was going to declaw Sabi to let him live at another house, volunteered us to catsit. Now, while I take a strong stance against declawing, I wish she had volunteered our garage instead ~~our~~ my home.

Wait, wait, WAIT! Catsit?! Um, try babysit! Sabi is 3 years old. Me? I'm [unintelligible] years old and Brach is 10! We have matured to the point where sleeping, napping, eating treats, and snoozing are our favorite activities!

Stay tuned, folks. It's going to get ugly on January 10th.

UG-LY!

The King of Back-Handed Compliments

2010-01-04T19:13:00.003-05:00

So...over the holidays, I met a tomcat with attitude. He talked to a friend of mine and told her he thought I was super-sexy. I, too, thought he was super-sexy.

Then he talked.

"You wear your fur beautifully...for a fat cat. I mean...most cats your size can't pull off a coat like that!" I looked at him ever so closely and realized I was seeing him with tasty-treat glasses. HUH? I am beautiful FOR A FAT CAT?

Then..."I'm not into looks as I age. Now that I'm 13, I feel personality is more important than looks." SERIOUSLY? You're into me now, and buying me catnip, so now you're saying I'm NOT HOT?

He bragged about his scratching post, then boasted about how he designed his collar. THEN, his fat tummy puffed up and he talked about his...um...manhood. Between you and me? His manhood was nipped when he was a kitten.

Why do tomcats try to make we super-sexy pussies inferior, thinking that's how they can pick us up?

I'm just sayin'...

Successfully Bullying Since 2000

2010-01-02T13:50:00.001-05:00

2010 and nothing has changed. Intimidating Brach on Grandma's quilt.

PAPARAZZI RELEASE! EXCLUSIVE!!!!!

2009-03-29T01:30:00.002-04:00

Blind Item: What diva feline NEVER is seen snuggling with her so-called "husband" (rumored to be gaaaaaay, but we're not saying it)?

You be the judge!

What the CRAP is this?!

2009-03-21T13:14:00.001-04:00

You want us to clean our teeth while we dine on treats?
We'll show you! We'll put them in our mouths, then spit them out.
That's how we roll.
$4.32 wasted, dear Agent!

Look What We Bought at the Store!

2009-03-18T19:18:00.002-04:00

I hope The Agent kept the receipt, because I'm prepared to return him already!

Sleepy Agent Haiku

2009-01-27T08:36:00.003-05:00

Evil, little puss.
Keeping me from sleep all night;
Alarm chimes...you sleep.

They asked...so I posed.

2009-01-25T16:35:00.001-05:00

The Brach Fur Files

2009-01-11T15:43:00.004-05:00

The Brach fur from "The Fight." (Kukka totally won!)

The Brach fur from "The Brush."

Brach, grooming himself against the the brush.
Seriously, dude...have some dignity!

Stand on Me

2009-01-05T23:08:00.009-05:00

Every night, I walk on The Agent's prone form, in bed, as she patiently (and sometimes NOT-so-patiently) waits for me to settle down. Most of the time, I'll stand there and stare at her. Occasionally, I'll turn around and around, in circles. Still other times, I'll stand, lie down, stand again, invite Brach over to stand with me, and lie down again.

Artist's Rendering:

What is actually happening:

What The Agent claims it feels like:

What a whiny baby!

While she perceives it to be about her lack of comfort, I think she's missing reality completely. Clearly, this is a twisted and horrific take on Hans Christian Andersen's The Princess and The Pea! How am I supposed to be expected to sleep on such an uncomfortable lump?!

(On a side note, I think we can all agree our resident artist must be legally blind. There is no way The Agent is that flat-chested or I'm that not-super-sexy! Although, The Agent's bed-head is dead-on!)

Idle Hands Make a Cheating Agent

2008-12-18T12:48:00.005-05:00

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?

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

2008-12-10T12:54:00.003-05:00

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!

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

2008-12-05T20:47:00.003-05:00

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.

Russians Learn: You Don't Diss a Priss

2008-12-02T13:10:00.011-05:00

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.

Haiku Trio for a Snowfall

2008-12-01T16:45:00.007-05:00

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!

Pussies in Profile

2008-11-26T11:00:00.002-05:00

Another great Google search phrase to bring in the sickos!

"Dear Kukka...", Volume XIX

2008-11-24T18:31:00.004-05:00

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!

Two Headed Kitten and Stuff

2008-11-22T09:19:00.008-05:00

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.

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

2008-11-06T23:29:00.006-05:00

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!!

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

2008-10-21T08:43:00.003-04:00

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!

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

2008-10-19T08:04:00.007-04:00

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!

The Agent is Cheating on Us!

2008-10-11T22:35:00.008-04:00

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...

Buddha, Sunshine, and a Flip-Flop

2008-09-26T08:00:00.000-04:00

Oṃ...śānti...śānti...śānti...

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

2008-09-24T08:03:00.007-04:00

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!

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

2008-09-01T07:36:00.007-04:00

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!

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

2008-08-30T08:49:00.010-04:00

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!

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

2008-08-24T16:46:00.009-04:00

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!

How I'm Spending my Blog-cation

2008-08-23T12:07:00.004-04:00

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

Her Touch Gives Me a Whisker Erection

2008-08-13T09:45:00.002-04:00

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

2008-08-11T09:02:00.010-04:00

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.

I Funna Tayk Awgust Off.

2008-08-05T15:23:00.005-04:00

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!

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

2008-07-31T07:18:00.003-04:00

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...

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

2008-07-28T20:47:00.008-04:00

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!)

My Creativity Tank is Running on Fumes...

2008-07-23T13:42:00.004-04:00

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...

Like Boxes Of Shit In Your House? Get A Cat!

Are Your Cats Old Enough To Learn About Jesus?

Local Cat Attempts World Record For Things Sat On

War On String May Be Unwinnable, Says Cat General

Cat Likes It Doggy Style

Cat Fancy Magazine Blasts Area Kitten

Free-Thinking Cat Shits Outside The Box

Cat Prepares For Anal Display In Owner's Face

Cats Are Better Than Dogs (Point/Counter-Point)

So-Called Obese Pets Held To Unrealistic Body Standards

All Of Pregnant Woman's Favorite Names Used Up On Cats

Note to Self:

2008-07-17T14:09:00.004-04:00

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...

Kukka Wishes You Were There!

2008-07-15T14:14:00.008-04:00

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...

Kukka's Gone Vegetarian?!

2008-07-08T19:15:00.003-04:00

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

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

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

2008-07-03T20:23:00.007-04:00

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.

Holy Ham Heaven, Batman!

2008-06-26T17:03:00.005-04:00

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

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

Recently Overheard in The Throne Room...

2008-06-25T09:20:00.001-04:00

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..."

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

2008-06-20T11:01:00.017-04:00

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!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

2008-06-19T12:00:00.002-04:00

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...]

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

2008-06-18T15:51:00.009-04:00

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!?”

WOO-WOO!

2008-06-16T08:38:00.003-04:00

"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..."

Hairball from Hell

2008-06-13T09:00:00.001-04:00

How is it the kid's not bald?!

WTF, Agent?!

2008-06-12T18:49:00.003-04:00

[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."

Tales from My Voicemail

2008-06-11T14:57:00.015-04:00

"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!"

Six Reasons I Don't Feel Like Blogging

2008-06-06T15:55:00.008-04:00

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

2008-06-04T09:41:00.009-04:00

[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:

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

The carpet doesn't match the curtains.

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).

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

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

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

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!]

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.

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)!

Open Letter to the First Runner Up...in Her Own Life!

2008-06-02T08:50:00.025-04:00

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

On Vacation

2008-05-28T20:57:00.003-04:00

I delegated blogging to Brach, but apparently, he feels sleeping in the sun, pooping, and coughing up hairballs are more important.

I'll be back Monday; check back then. UNLESS...he decides to write something!

That lazy git.

Furry Multiple Nipples BE GONE!

2008-05-23T10:06:00.006-04:00

It's bikini season and, let's be honest...my nether-region fur is a bit out-of-control! Because I had such a bad experience when I tried hot-waxing my fur the last time, I've been desperate for a waxing alternative.

Imagine my surprise and delight when The Agent got a piece of paper from the kitchen drawer to run over her bamboo knitting needles to make them slippery. The paper? WAX PAPER!

I waited until she had placed the wax paper on the table, then made my move. I painstakingly flicked at it with my paw until it floated to the floor, then sprung to retrieve it. Pausing several times along the way from sheer exhaustion, I dragged the massive sheet into the living room where I pawed at it for about 5 minutes. This step was, in part, to activate the wax (in theory), as well as annoy the beejayzus out of The Agent.

Convinced the paper was primed, I flopped my multiple, hairy nipples on the paper and waited.

And waited.

And fell asleep for awhile.

And waited some more. In fact, I lounged on that paper through the entire Ugly Betty season finale!

I called Brach over to inspect my belly as I rose from the paper and could tell, from the look on his face, I was just as furry as when I had started. Apparently, wax paper does not remove hair after all! My theory, as well as my subsequent imaginary interweb business through which I bilk millions of Americans of their stimulus checks by selling sheets of wax paper for the purpose of hair removal, was kaput.

I still plan to nap on the wax paper, nonetheless. It's smooth on my belly and makes my nipple hair slippery, which makes me giggle.

Don't judge me!

Ode to Liquid Love

2008-05-21T15:54:00.008-04:00

My precious tuna water...
Your polished surface glimmers in the sun
Only interrupted by peaks of stray, fishy flesh.
Tuna Juice, I love you.

I lap your sweet saltiness from the plate
With a speed and vigor unmatched by mere mortals.
I think you were created just for me.
Tuna Juice, I heart you something fierce!

Occasionally, when I inhale on the down-swing, you remind me who's boss.
Sneaking into my nostrils and make me choke?
Nice move...I respect your authority.
Tuna Juice, will you be mine forever?

Make no mistake, Tuna Juice,
When my nose bumps Brach's as we fight to partake of just more than our share,
We are not sucking face!
Tuna Juice, I would NEVER cheat on you!

You hold a special place in my stomach,
At least until I deposit you into the litter box.
But your spot in my heart is permanent.
Tuna Juice, I'd marry you if you'd have me.

And, if it were legal.

Aerobic Stroking?

2008-05-19T08:00:00.002-04:00

So, get this:

The Agent is lounging on the couch this weekend, so I see an opportunity to get my Love Tank filled.

She extended her paw; I walked under it, feeling her hand move down my spine.

As I felt her fingertips gently squeeze the tip of my tail, I turned and the weight of her wiggling fingers graced the nape of my neck.

We both just stood there, looking at one another, in a "stroking stand-off."

"Walk under my hand," she said lazily chuckling. "As you walk, my stationary hand will move over your back. It's petting AND exercise, Kukka!"

PETTING AND EXERCISE?

Should I have reminded her that I'm not the one whose "fat jeans" fit a but snugly this spring, after a winter of sitting on her ass?

Exercise...pffffffft.

Things I Wanted to Say to "Anonymous" After Reading His Whiny Comment on my Recent Clay Aiken Post, but Couldn't...Because He Dumped and Ran

2008-05-16T08:43:00.012-04:00

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

Where to begin? Where to begin...

When you Googled "I want to kiss Clay Aiken's weiner," did it ever occur to you that you might not find a fan site? I'm not sure how new you are to the "interweb," but the it's filled with sites that are...hold onto your hat...SATIRICAL! Google that!

If you actually read the post (instead of just looking at the pretty pictures), you would have seen me encourage Clay to be comfortable with his gayness, instead of taking the tragic road of Monsieur Jackson! How is that mean again? In my world, cheering someone on to be the most free and natural version of themselves is not being mean; it's called "being a friend."

What do you have against other American Idols? I see you jumped to Clay's defense, but left the snarky comment I made about Justin Guarini alone. What gives? Do you not heart him as much because you know he wouldn't put out or is it the undeniable, raw sexuality that comes through Clay's freckles and effeminate, southern lisp that make your junk quiver? I think you're mean for choosing one American Idol over another. For the record: I loathe them all equally!

I see you spent an entire 1 minute and 36 seconds on my blog (53 seconds of which were probably used to spell-check your comment, pat yourself on the back for your "bravery," and tongue-kiss a poster of Señor Aiken). Had you taken a moment to do your research, you would have found I am an EQUAL-OPPORTUNITY SNARK. I have spent hours upon hours criticizing the likes of Tom Cruise, Oprah Winfrey, Star Jones-Reynolds, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears...the list goes on and on! You don't see their fans curled in a corner, embracing a jar of their tears!

I think it's cute you lost sight of your nutsack in the moment and hid behind the name "Anonymous." Yawn. I would have respected you more, had you even tried to be clever in your disguise...like writing as your CAT, for eff's sake!

In some circles, Bea Arthur is considered MAD-sexy and one would consider it an honor to have her image as the projection of their future self. I don't know where these circles are, but I'm sure they exist!

Your advice to me and my commenters was so compelling! "Get a life." Seriously? Hello, Kettle? It's me, Pot...you're black.

I'm sad you missed the point of that post, Anonymous:
"Feel free to be your true-self and celebrate the natural you...before you spend your whole life trying to fit into the false mold of others' expectations and stifling the shame and guilt you associate with the monster you believe yourself to be...and it comes out through horrific body mutilation and inappropriate attraction to small boys."

I do hope you return and bring all your Claymate friends with you to harangue me. Maybe we can do one another's hair, listen to Clay's new release, and sew some fierce outfits for you to wear to the next Aiken concert...or gay pride parade!

Or, are they one in the same?

9 Secrets Kukka is Dishing About the Brangelina Babies

2008-05-15T09:01:00.010-04:00

Well, it seems any and all insiders can't seem to keep their ginormous yappers shut about Brad and Angelina's pending arrival. First, Jack Black let it slip that twins are expected. Then, Dustin Hoffman boo-booed by releasing the August 19 due date.

Since they are all talking, I might as well tell you what Brad and Angelina have confided in me:

While she is carrying these children herself, to further diversify her family, Angelina is actually using donor eggs. While I will not confirm or deny my involvement, I can recommend you not to be surprised when two kittens, who look remarkably like me, are delivered on August 19.

Much to Brad's dismay, Angelina has taken her doctor's advice to avoid penis during pregnancy so her child doesn't develop an allergy. Wait...what? I'm being told it's PEANUTS! Well, no matter...Brad's either hungry or horny. That can't be bad for the rest of us (especially super-sexy, feline flight attendants with access to an unlimited supply of dry-roasted delights)!

The Jolie-Pitts are registered at Walmart! Anyone want to chip in on a baby blanket for $4.62 (that, sadly, Maddox's 8 year-old cousin sewed for a mere 7¢ per day...)?

The twins will have collagen injected into their lips at birth. Apparently, there's a two-fer deal and it's just more convenient, since they're all at the hospital anyway.

In an upcoming issue of Vanity Fair, that is sure to generate an outcry of public criticism, ultra-sound photos will be published with the fetuses in nothing but a sheet, with their entire backs exposed! I believe Billy Ray Cyrus' publicist is advising Angelina to deny being there when the suggestive photos were taken and, soon after they learn to speak, the twins will deliver a prepared statement apologizing for appearing inappropriately slutty (only for their ages, of course...right, Britney?).

The family is slated to join the barrage of half-hour, weekly reality shows. Their show, "We're the Production in Reproduction," is set to be sandwiched between Jennifer Lopez's "Motherhood is SOOOO Hard with Only 6 Nannies" and Nicole Richie's "Does My Baby Look Fat to You?"

Brad and Angelina are growing a crop of "organic" kids to trade for future adoptees. Like buying a house with a huge down-payment, coming to the table prepared to swap your OWN kid makes their monthly baby payments cheaper!

The Jolie-Pitts have signed an exclusive deal Joe Francis (of "Girls Gone Wild" fame) to record and market his new series "Births Gone Wild." They have only committed to the next 10 babies they have, though. In a related story, Larry Flynt has offered $2.5 million for the stills of the conception...

Brad and Angelina are starting a religious cult for "Super-Sexy Individuals." Because of the strict standards, they have decided to populate the cult internally. While Kukka is a charter member, sadly, three of their current children have not been asked to join until they "grow into their looks a bit."

Clay Aiken, remain calm and stop awkwardly dirty-dancing with that girl on stage! This is a Gay-tervention!

2008-05-14T10:19:00.016-04:00

Dear Clay Aiken,

I see you recently dropped a new album! Congrats! I had no idea you were still singing! I guess I will remove your name off of the "American Idols Who Have Predictably Faded Into Obscurity" list.

Sorry, Justin Guarini...you're still there.

Anyway, Clay, I happened to catch a glimpse of your new "look" and it started me thinking: What other famous singer started his career at a young age, had notable success, and denied his sexuality until it manifested itself in unimaginable and undeniable ways?

Let's take a look:

I've seen it happen before, Clay.

Step 1:
Deny your obvious gayness.

Step 2:
Pretend to adore the role of "imaginary boyfriend" for all your teen-girl fans (while secretly hoping for a boy or two to heart you).

Step 3:
Live a lonely life in order to maintain a false, heart-throb image.

Step 4:
Allow your frustration and shame to come out through horrific body modifications while harboring secret (oh, and not-so-secret) lustings of the boys you should have felt free to crush on when YOU were a lad.

Don't you think it'd be less freaky for the world to accept you as gay, than to have your nose (or lack thereof) be the gossip at every water cooler and the butt of every late-night talk show joke?

Clay, I plead with you: Put down that puppy you are substituting for REAL LOVE and stop denying who you are! Michael Jackson's lack of a nose and history of inappropriate sexual contact with minors (allegedly) doesn't make him less gay...it just makes him gay and CREEPY!

My advice: Be gay BEFORE you cross the creepy line. There is no coming back...

PFLAGging it on your behalf,
The Empress

P.S. (For Derby...see comments):
We don't judge the choices of a costume designer...

Brach-Dogg's New Video Drops Today!

2008-05-09T10:13:00.003-04:00

Try JibJab Sendables!

And here we thought Brach was sooooooo innocent!

And this is wrong...WHY?!

2008-05-07T09:42:00.003-04:00

See more of Simon's Cat!

Feline Empress Refuses to Appear on Oprah's Cruise-Lovefest

2008-05-06T11:04:00.009-04:00

Associated Press (AP): They all assumed she'd be there, but Oprah fans were highly disappointed when Kukka-Maria failed to appear on the Tom Cruise 25 Years in Show Business tribute on the show, Monday. The audience was allegedly locked into the studio for over 8 hours, while celebrities like Dustin Hoffman, Will Smith, Renée Zellweger, and the ever-sexy David Beckham (who, apparently, was lucky enough to get an early-release from parochial school for the afternoon) regaled the audience with story after story, attempting to create an almost-human-like image of Mr. Cruise.

"After about hour three, there was audible mumbling throughout the crowd," recalls Betsy Grayson from Greenwhich, CT, who had flown in to attend the taping. "I mean, we all like Tom Cruise, I suppose, but we assumed Kukka would be there, or at least there via satellite." Recalling how the royal feline's absence churned the crowd into a frenzy, Grayson continues, "I could have stayed home and watched the damn thing on TV, and would have, had I known The Empress would not be there."

"Of course she was asked to participate," explains Oprah producer, Marybeth Finklebaum. "We phoned, but received no return call. We emailed, but only received response with an attached photo of The Empress...her middle claw prominently displayed. She made it clear to us she had no interest in celebrating Mr. Cruise and his career."

During Dustin Hoffman's video tribute to Cruise, he ate cereal at a table with a cardboard cut-out of Tom. "What you didn't see was that I had a cut-out figure of Kukka, too!" muses Hoffman. "Though the producers seemed chilly to the idea we include it, once they saw it was a figure of The Empress licking her lady business, it was quickly deemed a definite no-go." Shaking his head, a tear rolls down his cheek and his voice breaks, "I guess I'll have to save it for Kukka's video tribute..."

It was rumored Oprah had invited Brooke Shields, a target for Tom's avid anti-psychiatric-drug campaigning. "My reps told me I was going to be joining Kukka to protest the taping and footage of our outcry would be run during the show," relates Shields. "When I arrived at Harpo Studios, Oprah handed me a script that included what I felt were objectionable phrases, so I refused to participate."

While Shields would not reveal the actual content of the script, a Harpo insider provided an email with the following excerpts from the proposed dialogue:

"Nothing comes between me and my Calvins...except that picture of Tom Cruise I keep in my panties!"
"I feel the need...the need for Scientology!"
"Tom Cruise, I should have listened to you about the whole psychiatric drug thing because, while you've never experienced the hormonal hell of Post-Partum Depression, you have been in show business for 25 years and, with the guidance of Xenu, can heal everything simply with the power of your mind."

While repeated requests from Empress Kukka-Maria were refused, reps for the feline released the following statement: "It has never been a secret that Empress Kukka-Maria dislikes Mr. Cruise and Ms. Winfrey. Encountered individually, they are moderately tolerable. In this situation, where they would both be in her presence, it was feared Kukka's head would explode, at best. We have no further comment."

It has not been determined whether she will attend the baby shower for Britney's sister in L.A. next month. With a guest list that include The Olson Twins, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and Jessica Simpson, among other celebutantes, Kukka's reps fear for her life.

"Though a robust 12 pounds, The Empress is still too small to build up enough gas to launch the appropriate amount of air biscuits that will guarantee the area immediately surrounding her be free of pantiless, mindless, drunken twits. Is is probable she will just send her traditional gift of Cheetos and Red Bull to the newest, little Spears."