SHE GOT DOWN TO THE NITTY GRITTY ALL OVER THAT POOR KITTY!!!

 

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Continuing with my December kickoff tribute to my sister’s Birthday, I wanted to wish her a year ahead full of many wishes coming true including never again evacuating her bowels on a cat! Yes, Happy Birthday Carlotta, my sister is the one that shit on a cat! Read the original The pretty kitty got all shitty before you go any further:

 

The Pretty Kitty Got All Shitty

 

I originally wrote this post about my sister shitting on a cat and thought it was really funny but I showed no regard for a certain special someone’s feelings and for that, I was wrong. I want to go back now and give her a chance to clear the air, so to speak, and after all this time to finally be able to tell her side of the story. This is a first for me, but without any edits or interference at all – I present you with a very special guest post written by none other than Pretty the Kitty. I try never to get into any he said/she said battles and I’m not taking sides, but a feline with a grudge after she was covered in sludge should not be ignored.
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(I transcribed the following as Pretty dictated to me. Come on, she’s a cat – did you really think she could type?)

 

It was a regular day and I was just chillaxing by my litter box when I heard a huge commotion in the next room. I had no idea why there was screaming and banging, but I jumped onto the toilet to have a better look when all of a sudden, I was abruptly thrown off my seat. Who does that? I jumped right back up determined to stand my ground when this crazy girl just started screaming and then shot off like a firework display worthy of July Fourth.

 

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It was as if a confetti cannon went off in the room – all of a sudden she was like the Black Eyed Peas with that BOOM! BOOM! POW!  I was just so terrified for my life with the sheer amount of explosions going on in there and the liquid shrapnel pelting every part of my body. It was relentless like Hurricane Katrina when the levees broke; it just wouldn’t stop. All I kept thinking was, “Why doesn’t she have to use the litter box too? That doesn’t seem very fair, now does it?” I’ll have you know that I’m a Vietnam “PET“eran but even I I haven’t seen incoming like that since the Viet Cong unloaded during the TET Offensive!

 

One minute I was just minding my business like I always do and in the next, I get screamed at, physically assaulted, and dumped on by a literal dump truck! And then she yelled “PRETTY NOOOOO” as if I were doing something wrong. Hey Girlie – you did me dirty – not the other way around! Whoa Nelly did she pound me though! 


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In all fairness, she did offer to clean me, but how could a shower make up for a chocolate prom scene reenactment from the movie Carrie? You think a cat like me wakes up and looks this fluffy and inviting by accident? I’ve been licking this left paw all afternoon to get that gentle curl you see here. And you know what else Bitch? How about a hot iron and some straight pins – You ever see a pussy look this good just using just a comb? I don’t think so!

 

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So there you have it folks, two different sides and two different versions, but one thing we can all agree on: That’s a cat that won’t get shit faced and just let it go! Also, I don’t see her wishing my sister a Happy Birthday anytime soon either, but here’s another one from me: Happy Birthday Cray Cray!!!”

 

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I Hate Birds: Part Two – Dirty Words about Filthy Birds

It’s a thin line between love and hate for most people, but for me and my relationship with birds – the line isn’t very thin at all. I realize that I might be crossing a line by condemning your flying friends, but I’m willing to risk it. Some of you reading this and a few of my close friends are actually bird lovers, but I don’t hold it against any of you. I am disgusted and appalled by it, but I don’t hold it against you.

People get so offended when you talk about their pets and, as a Real pet owner of a very cool dog, I totally agree when that happens – but here’s the thing: Dogs are pets. I will even concede that cats can be considered pets – even though I severely dislike them. Having a cat is like having an arrogant roommate that won’t let you touch their stuff and they shit on your stuff. Not to mention that when cats see a baby sleeping those sneaky bastards jump on the baby’s chest and try to suck the milk out of their mouth; but, like I said – birds aren’t pets! They are disgusting rats that just happen to have wings! Why in God’s name is there a rat on display in your house? Also, it is really fucking weird when a parrot asks me how I am, how my day was or do I need him to fluff my pillow! THAT IS NOT COOL IN ANY WAY – IT’S ACTUALLY VERY FREAKY AND WEIRD! 

Weezie and her surprises

My friend Weezie and I have known each other since college and she is one of my craziest friends. You’ll see a lot of stuff about her on here for one very good reason – something is seriously wrong with her! I mean to say that she’s truly nuts but that’s why we get along so well and I wouldn’t have it any other way! This is the girl that didn’t catch the bouquet at her brother’s wedding when the bride threw it so she rugby-slide-tackled the girl that caught it. That would have been OK if she let it go at that, but as they were rolling around on the dance floor tugging at the flowers – Weezie threw her legs around the girl, pincer-style and wrestled her for it. Talk about a wedding to remember! That is the very reason that my wife refused to throw the bouquet at our wedding – the last thing she wanted to see was Weezie taking out one of our friends from work with a sneak attack off of one of the banquet chairs like the Flying Karamazov Brothers! I, on the other hand, thought it would add a certain element of fun and bring the reception to another level – but marriage is about compromise and regretfully, I lost that battle.

Weezie and I were out drinking one night in Queens, so I crashed at her house since she lives nearby. Her mother Hazel has two gross tenants in their house that they call pet bids (but as I said earlier, birds are not real pets!) and after too many drinks to remember, Weezie explained to me how her mother does this “thing” when they have people sleep over their house which they think is really cute and fun. I, of course, immediately thought how great it would be to be woken up to breakfast in bed with pancakes made in the shape of the Fraggles or Luke Skywaffles, but that wasn’t the “thing.” What they think is cute is to have one of their filthy birds wake up their houseguest!

What’s wrong with her mother?

Her mother has one of those birds wake up the person staying over their house! “Wake Up, Wake Up! Good Morning!” it bellows as it literally struts across the bed and scares the shit out of (I mean, wakes up) the poor, unsuspecting visitor…I begged her to keep those birds away from me, but she just kept laughing at me and went off to her room. I told her that I didn’t want to be remembered as the guy who strangled their bird or shit the bed when the bird tried to wake him up, but she went down the hallway and ignored me. She went to bed and I couldn’t go to sleep in that house. I was up all night hiding out under the sheets terrified like that kid who saw dead people in The Sixth Sense. Literally, I got no sleep there out of sheer terror!

Luckily for that bird, she listened and didn’t bring it anywhere near me or have it try to wake me up. I am like a dead body when I’m asleep – I’m literally out cold – and I have been viciously attacked in the past by birds (see “I hate birds – part one”), so I get up ready to rumble if I’m jostled (sort of like my friend Sue who actually punched her Sorority sister Collette in the face as she tried to wake her up because she was going to be late for class – needless to say Collette didn’t try to wake her up twice!) I think Weezie realized that if I woke up and that thing was anywhere near me, I would have went all Kung Fu on that bird and beat the shit out of it!

You innocently invite someone into your home and then you turn on them and go all Man vs. Wild? I mean, what if that bird farts on the pillow as it’s casually strolling around – Do you then catch pink eye and bird flu? What’s next – are you gonna teach that bird how to talk with a Jamaican accent? Picture waking up to that filthy little thing bopping on the headboard with a little Rasta hat with dreads hanging down his neck asking if you want a Red Stripe or if want him to braid your hair. Not cool at all! This post should actually be hung at their front door and used as a public service announcement to any of Weezie’s friends about the dangers of sleeping over her house: Hazel is the cutest little thing on two wheels – but you have to beware of the cute ones!