The Cat and The Butterfly Girl

I was having the darnedest time getting open a trash bag, yesterday. It was one of those plastic bags where you can find no apparent groove in which your forefinger and thumb might separate one corner from the other. Doesn't this drive you to utter madness?

Now, I had the idea to lick my fingers so that I may gain purchase when I finally discovered the secret spot in which to open the bag but I thought, That may not be the best idea. I mean, I just petted my pussy cat's head a minute ago and although, he might be a clean pussy, as pussies go, he might have a smidgen of dry pussy pee on his noggin. After all, we have a big dome-covered pussy box in which he will go inside to use and perhaps, just perhaps, his urine spray might have ricocheted off one of the walls and landed on his head. Imagine.

Instead, I got the idea to put my forefinger and thumb under the water faucet, get them a little wet and try that. Well, wouldn't you know it? It worked! I got the trash bag open and placed it inside the trash can. Glory be! What a wonderful day it was to become!

Now, when I went downstairs to get rid of the full trash bag, I encountered another cat. I looked at him and noticed he was drinking a bottle of beer but I didn't think much of it at the time. After dumping my load (my bag in the dumpster), I went back toward the door and the cat put his paw out, saying, "Hey, would you mind a bit of company for awhile? I'm feeling kinda blue."

The cat took a swig of beer. He added, "Your cat buddy upstairs won't mind, will he?"

I said, "I don't know about that but you're welcome to come up for a bit before the Mrs. comes home from work."

When the cat, who called himself Marco Polo, came up the steps and into the apartment, he immediately folded his paws and commenced praying.

I had to ask, "Are you Catholic or Protestant?"

Marco Polo said, "Neither."

I had to ask, "So... Why are you praying?"

"I'm praying to The Superior Entity in the hopes he will offer me a sign or words of wisdom that will guide the humans on this planet to stop making so many wars, causing unnecessary life loss in order to appease the powerful and the rich."

I stood there as he continued his prayer and interrupted him, inquiring, "So you believe there's a Superior Entity that will give you this sign or words of wisdom through prayer or any other means?"

Marco Polo went back on all fours, belched and then said, "Beats hoping that humankind will come to their senses, pull together for better causes and try to get along. Heck, I'll try anything at this point."

No sooner than this was said that The Butterfly Girl flew in through my open window.

I marveled at her beautiful, flawless skin and soul searching eyes and silently wondered how it would be to poke her in her butt.

The Butterfly Girl's wings ceased fluttering and she positioned herself in an upright stance.

With arms outstretched, The Butterfly Girl said, "Though the minds of a portion of mankind have allowed them to achieve dominion over their own species and other life they consider less superior to their own, it may be that this world you exist upon has other plans for you. A scenario that is expected when smaller, mischievous living things aggravate and cause injury to the bigger living organism."

I said, "Does this mean you wanna do it?"

I made my tongue flip flop in my mouth, repeatedly, while I made a sexual, somewhat rude noise that one might consider an expression that I wished to lick the Butterfly Girl's labia and much much more.

The Butterfly Girl said, "Those who wish to dominate will do so by first attempting to manipulate your way of thinking."

When she said this, a picture formed in my mind. I'm not sure how it got there but I suspect the Butterfly Girl communicated it to me, telepathically.

Marco Polo rubbed up against The Butterfly Girl's leg and pleaded, "Could you please take me away from this world of pain and ignorance?"

The Butterfly Girl said, "There are no certainties that the next world will hold a better life for you than the one you have here."

Marco Polo said, "I'll take my chances."

Butterfly Girl picked Marco Polo up from the floor and caressed the pussy until it purred.

Before she abruptly vanished, with Marco Polo still in her arms, Butterfly Girl gave me a magical vagina mouse for my computer. She said that with it, I could find the answers that would lead the way into understanding our minds and unshackling old concepts that bind us and keep us in a state of stagnation or worse.

I plugged my vagina mouse into a port, went back and sat it my computer chair. I observed that when I pressed the middle love button, the mouse squirted an enticing, aromatic liquid.

"Juicy," I concluded.

The rest of the day was spent searching for any signs of understanding, any words of wisdom, any paths that might help and that I could use to persuade humankind to abide by for their own sakes and benefit. At times, I did find such things. But, I somehow knew that mankind would likely ignore these things and they would have to find the paths to a better existence on their own.

After all, I thought, humans were well known to better accept something that they themselves discovered rather than something that was carefully pushed into their minds by subtlety or the direct approach. But then I thought, Nah, these dumb asses will follow anything if the bait tastes good enough. I laughed at this until I cried. As some will.

Funniest Video You'll Ever See

Short but sweet.

Dangling Objects

This following story was forwarded to me by my dear old Aunty Kay. I have no idea if it's true or not but I found it to be funny.

We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top this one:

Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable.. No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.

On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my head. The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.
Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.

Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.

'Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it.'

'You know where the button is,' I protested through the shower pitter-pa tter and steam. 'Reset it yourself!'

'But I'm scared!' she persisted. 'What if it starts going and sucks me in?'

There was a meaningful pause and then, 'C'mon, it'll only take you a second.'

So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behaviour as extremely cowardly.

Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.

It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances. No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.. It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.

Wild animals are sometimes faced with a 'fight or flight' syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the 'flight' option. I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent.
The impact knocked me out cold.

When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.

Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of 'been-there, done-that' paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter......and not succeeding.

Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was.

'What's the matter?' They all asked, 'Cat got your tongue?'

Ice, Snow And Cats

Since yesterday, our area has been hit with ice, rain, freezing rain, sounds of thunder and five to seven inches of snow. I know there are areas in this country, especially Washington DC and most of the North Eastern US have got it a lot worse. According to the news, Washington DC is going to get bombarded with two and a half feet of snow. The most snow they've seen in years. I pity them and everyone else on the East coast.

It will be rough.

I've survived four major blizzards, that I can remember. A couple of them were the cause of the power going out and the water lines freezing for days. Fun ahoy!

Here, in our county, we have a level 3 snow emergency -which means if you are seen driving out on the roads, you can be ticketed by the cops. Our county is the only one in the tri-state area to have this level of emergency. I'm glad we went to the grocery store Wednesday to get food, drinks and most importantly, toilet paper. Wiping your ass on paper towels can be rough -literally.

Many people in our area live on back country roads. They're pretty much fucked because they are the last ones to have their roads cleared off by the city.

Needless to say, WalMart, Krogers and every other store was packed with panicked customers buying salt, snow shovels, cans of de-icer and so on, the day before. My wife not only had to work at WalMart nearly ten hours that day but she also had to struggle up the incredibly steep ice and snow covered hill to make it home after work.

Here are some photos, I just took, of our scenery outside. I've also included a picture of my oldest cat, Mufasa (the one that looks completely relaxed, on the floor) and my younger cat, Victor (the orange tabby on the chair). We keep them indoors, of course.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

I Go Away For A Month And The Whole World Goes To Hell

But that's what happens when I'm gone and I will not accept it lightly. No sir, I'm going to have to form my "Army Of Darkness" and root out the cold and the greedy bastards that got us in this bottomless shit hole. When are we going to stop the robbing of the American poor and middle class and make those greedy bastards pay, in various ways, like torture, for instance?

Hey, just an idea.





Ooopsie. I'm letting my psychotic side show.







And what about this Octo-Mom shit? All of this attention paid to a dumb bitch who gets off on dumpin' lil' rug rats out of her vaginal cavity. Can't we pour some cement in that overused hole between her legs? Good gravy!






Anyway, as you may have noticed, I've been gone for close to a month from my emails, my blog and everyone else's blogs. And so on. For that, I apologize.




I was going to bore you as to why I've been away. But you might get violent.


Instead, I shall tell you of a wonderful secret. Tomorrow, we are taking our cat, Mufasa, to the vet. Long-haired and full of bite, Mufasa will cheerfully take a chunk out of your hand if you gently pet her. For free, even. Mufasa's fur is heavily matted and she is so fat she can't lick her back, asshole or junk anymore. I think female cats can have junk, can't they? Hell, I don't know.



We put her on a kitty treadmill once, wearing a jogging suit. That didn't work. We feed her diet food. That doesn't work either. And I've tried chasing her, frantically, around the house while I've yelled, "Whoop! Whoop! Heeba Bah Jeeba!"



Anyhoo, we are getting her put out, to avoid injury to all involved and letting the vet's assistants have the joy of shaving her. Heh heh.





I'll take a picture of her when they're done with her and she's recouped for awhile. I'll post the picture on my next post.






And what about the nun and the alter boy? Will they ever find happiness in their one bedroom apartment? Sometimes you have to wonder.

Here's The Outside Scene Around My Place

First, we had our shitload of snow. Then we had our icy rain storm on top of that. Then we had a grand ol' second dumping of snow for the third layer. So far, 10 to 11 inches of snow and ice. Since the driveway/parking lot of our apartment complex is a frozen tundra and at the bottom of a hill, we are snowbound- with only two rolls of toilet paper left. When that runs out, I'll have to start using one of our cats to wipe my ass.




Here's some shots of our back balcony. Thought these were kinda cool.





These are my two cats. The grey, brown and white calico is Mufasa, named from a character from "The Lion King" movie. She's heavily matted now. Mufasa has trouble licking her hair out, especially her back and ass parts, because she's so chubby. In a couple weeks, we're going to get her shaved. She'll be put out first, of course. The last time someone tried to shave her, while she was awake, she bit a dozen holes through her leather muzzle until finally breaking through and taking a chunk out of the pet groomer's arm. After that, she celebrated victory by pissing and shitting all over the place. Ordinarily, she's very loving toward us. Doesn't care much for strangers, however. Tends to hiss and sometimes nip. Adorable.







Luckily, we didn't get sued by the pet groomer. Heh heh.



The next one here is of Victor, our red haired tabby. He's my baby. In this shot, you can see him doing something he's not supposed to do- which is get up on our kitchen table chair. And yes, that's our very cluttered kitchen table in the backround. LOL.




So there you go. That's all I got for now.

Candles

I like candles, as long as they don't burn my place down. Have you ever forgotten to blow out your candle before leaving the house or going to bed? Then you wake up or return home to find your candle jar is holding a lake's worth of wax and there is just a teensy, lil' flame weakly flickering on your drowning wick. Don't you feel like a complete dumbass?

No?

Well, you should, damn it.

My cat drank all the liquified wax out of my candle jar a couple months ago and when he pissed and crapped, it smelled like Dreamy Vanilla Cream.

Gosh, that litter pan smelled wonderful, for a change.

Well, enough yakin'. Watch this video clip and learn something important, damn it!

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Thirty Seconds Of Fame

YES, I AM FULLY AWARE OF MY FAILURE TO BLOG.

It's been a whole damned week since my last post. I've been a very bad boy and I shall certainly try to do better. With that said, let me share some news that's sure to titillate you, your comrades and the entire hootin', hollerin', square dancin' bunch of freakazoids living underneath your roof. Ready? Here it is: My pussys have made it on tv.

I'm not talking about my harem of female blog groupies. Lord knows I have many. (snicker snicker-hee ho) This is what I did: I sent a picture of my cats, Victor and Mufasa, to Channel 5 Morning News. They have been showing pics of viewer's pets during the weather forecast part of the show. I was sure they wouldn't show mine, but I thought, what the hell. I emailed the picture and Eric Green, the weather dude, showed it to THE PEOPLE, adding where they were from and their names. The anchor woman and guy on the show said they were adorable and oooowed and ahhhhhed. Unfortunately, I was on the crapper at the time but my wife saw it and told me about it. Actually, she was shouting at me to get off the pot while their picture was being shown on tv. I tried, with all the determination of a woman trying to push out a set of triplets, but failed to "cut it short" in time.

The weather guy wrote back, "I love your kitties." I should have replied, "Then send me a forty pound bag of cat chow to feed the little porkers." (See picture of them both in my earlier post to get my meaning)

Anyway, I told the cats they were tv stars now and they just looked at me as if I were a raving loon. Funny- they always give me that look. Ah, well.

Puff-A-Lump and Krazy Kitty

I have two cats. The orange haired cat is Victor. Mom named him shortly before passing away. He's two years old and very affectionate. Sometimes I call him Krazy Kitty. For good reason. The other cat is named Mufasa, after a cartoon character in the Lion King movie. This calico is getting on in her years but still enjoys playing. She is cute, plump and enjoys hissing at people, cats and little children.

Cats are, in my opinion, more intelligent and sophisticated than dogs. Dogs tend to be really needy for attention and love. Cats don't give a shit. I like that. That kind of personality gels perfectly with mine. Wonder why. Ha and ho. Where a dog will jump up and down and throw his/her dirty paws on your nice, spiffy dress pants and then lick his balls like there's no tomorrow, a cat will stare at you as if you're a complete retard when you beg for it to come over to where you stand.

Victor is a pretty smart feline. But he does enjoy taking advantage of our love for him. Lately, he has been engaging in this nasty habit of collapsing in our baskets of fresh clean towels, not long after taking them out of the dryer. Here, you can see he is quite comfortable. When he's hot, he'll go into the bedroom, press the on button on the air conditioner and sit on the end of the bed, directly in front of it. What's more, before he leaves the room, he'll turn the air conditioner off.

Another trick of his, is upon hearing someone outside our door, he will jump straight up, five feet, eleven inches to look through the peep hole. Victor is nimble, as well.

I have two little stuffed gorillas. One black. One white. Originally, they were Valentine Day gifts for my wife. Both of them whistle, when you press their paws, as if they are whistling at a hot chick. Now the stuffed animals are Victor's toys. When I throw one, Victor will chase it, and sometimes catch it in mid-air. Then he will bring it back and drop it next to my hand. He fetches, just like a dog.

Time to time, he likes to check himself out. He'll go into the bathroom, close the door, stand up and place his paws on the door's full length mirror and stare at himself for a few minutes. I've witnessed this while "dropping the kids off at the pool", so to speak. Ok, that one he does isn't so much a trick as it is odd behaviour.

I call him "Krazy Kitty" because he will run around frantically, nearly tripping me at 5 in the morning, before I've had my first cup of java or have taken a pee. And I'm not a morning person, whatsoever, my friend. I don't know how many times I've nearly tripped and done a "header" into the shower in the morning. He likes to go nutty, chasing the lights on the walls, as well. His head and little paws shake so frantically. Hee hee. Maybe we should turn them off every so often before we have to take him to the cat shrink.

Anyway, I just thought I'd show off my hairy little kids. As you can tell, I'm a bit of a cat freak. Hell, just a freak, in general. And please, try not to look too closely at the picture of me holding Victor. In my defense, I was running a fever and blowing chunks out of both ends at the time.

Dandy Fun.