joyeux noel

Random I know. But that's exactly what Christmas is all about.

Props to all homeless cats who can find good quality left overs in the next couple of days.

Twice the taste with none of the calories

Yo. So I was reading about the latest soup/cabbage/celery diet that all the celebs use to keep looking fly during the holidaze. And I thought, I could look like paris or lilo for a day by having my paws for dessert.

So I left a trail of puke across my human's bedroom. Just so she knows, I'll eat what I want and still lose weight.

Peace out mo fos.

Asymmetric Love

Perousing the Guardian this morning I came across an ode to Zelda, an expert in asymmetric love. Given I am da queen of asymmetric lovin I was even more intrigued to discover that Zelda's human had a song composed about her hoochy bits. These are some of the lyrics:

"With her wobbly undercarriage swinging side to side/ As she lollops towards me across the lawn."

Props to you Zelda.

Catch yo peeps later.

Bootylicious for the Holiday Season

While my human was away I got to Catsit my homegirl Lani. She's a fairly high maintenance human and required waking at first light and constant reminders of my excellent hunting skills of inanimate objects. I've been in an exceee-lent mood since the introduction of full fat teeth cleaner biscuits. Diet hell has been mitigated by these nuggests of joy.

This year I have decided to take on Beyonce's bootylicious look, so you can see I am workin' it. I'm considering challenging B-Girl to a Zoolander style walk-off, but I hear David Bowie is in high demand at this time of year. Anyhoo, Beyonce knows that I'd win because her gut doesn't sweep the floor like my feathery sporran.

So. Whatever. I've got martini's to drink and a tatoo to design. Time to make my committment to Maxine '15 in ink.

Hissobel hearts Maxine

Yo S'up Ma Peeps.

I know it's been a long time since I last got my fluffly pantaloons on the interwebs, but I haz been busy killing venimous snakes and politicians. Managing Maxine's campaign distracted me from the diet, and what do you know I've lost half a kilo. Only 800 grams to go and watch out I'll be wearing stretch velvet again. I miss my hoochy tracksuit.





So, did anyone think this was "an accident"? Just a bit of slippery Isobel liquid gold sprayed thoughtfully in his flight path was enough to assist the miser in his graceful fall. I made a sprint for it and I don't think anyone suspected a thing. When the Max Factor started exhuberantly dancing to jazz in the streets of Bennelong I had to make sure she was a contrasting vision of co-ordination.

This woman is a national hero. Cats around the country are purring for Maxine '15

Or maybe I'm just purring for the new full fat bicuits I ate this morning to help remove tartar. I'm not really sure.

Y'all can call me Blissobel.

Catch.

Gangsta's Purradise

Yo. one, two. one, two.

Let me slam it down the microphone

I'm dying to eat, because I can't at home.

My human's been trippin with some crazy disease

No, that beotch won't feed me, even when I say please.

meowing with ma homies ...

I said meowing with ma homies ...

I been around ma hood, scoping out for bites

categorically, metaphorically, most every night

and I kinda get to thinking every time I go out

that my furry booty is workin' it like a girl scout

meowing with ma homies

everytime I say meow

you say

"biscuits!"

meow!

biscuits!

meow!

biscuits!

yo. yo. s'up peeps.

whooop! that was fun. time to go catch some zzz's.

The Beauty Myth

Yo. S' Up Peeps.

I've just been hanging around the house doing the usual. The last weigh in was, like, totally a let down for the human. Once again, I've only lost 10 grams.

He he he. She will give up soon, I am sure.

Decided to up the ante last week to REALLY make sure my human knows what I think of this bizarre supplication to norms of feminine beauty. Does she understand I am a feline? It's a totally different thing. I am not one of those catz who looks good in the magazines, but the reality is when you go in for a cuddle is a bag of bones surrounded by usually a short (ie. unfluffy) coat. The worst of these are of course the fuglies. I need not say any more on this matter.

Perhaps I should 'put out'. Maybe if I give my human a cuddle she might realise that she doesn't really want a svelt and sleek fug. She wants a bootylicious moi.

I digress.

So. Anyhoo. To make my point of protest, I have taken to spraying my unique eau de hissabelle on the carpet next to the heater. maXimum effect. rock out.

Catch yo later, peeps. I gotta go pee.

Love Hissabelle

Secret Stash = Sporran

Heh. Heh. Heh.

My human thinks that I'm suddenly full of energy and want to go outside and "play" for long periods of time.

It took the best part of a week to find, but I have discovered a secret stash about 1,000 tails away. Stored in a bowl with the words 'REX', I have found a supply of full-fat dry biscuits. It takes approximately half an hour to reach my supply, consume, and return to the immediate garden of my home. This should minimise weight loss and make my human question her ability to maintain the regime.

I WILL break her down. She will give up the nonsense.

Anyhoo. Catch yo later, peeps.

Love Hissabel.

PS thank you for the tip anon. re water retention. I will now try to consume an entire bowl of water prior to the next weigh in to minimise the weightloss results. Every gram counts in convincing my human that I am 'big boned' and should be return to normal portions.

6.2 on the richter scale

Yo. S'up peeps.

This diet thing is ridonculous. You know how much I have lost

... despite the pain

... the constant rumblings in my major intestines ... despite the desperate meows at 4am ... the racing to the food bowl anytime anyone goes anywhere near the servery

.... despite the acidic reflux of an empty stomach

... despite haughtiness and naughtiness

... despite scratching the couch as an act of resistance ...

despite EVERYTHINK!!! ...

I've lost friggin 10 grams.

Enter day 21 of diet hell.

Catch.

I am the Ghandi of diet resistance

Yo. Howdy Peeps.

Dieting Resistance Strategy No.1:

Sleep deprivation techniques are a highy effective means of communicating the need for food. Mini-humans do this by crying in the middle of the night. I do this by scratching at the door, meowing, walking my bootylicious self over my human, peeking through the curtains and letting the light in, and gently placing my cold wet nose against my human's face. I choose to do this at any time between the hours of 0400 - 0600 hours. Closer to 0600 hours is usually most effective as the human usually caves-in and gets up to placate my urgent nutritional fervour.

Dieting Resistance Strategy No. 2:

Allay touch and affection more than usual. Tease the human by idling towards her and then moving quickly past, leaving the tail limp so she gets no sat-tis-fact-shion from my lovely furriness. Hide behind the couch. Peep out looking especially cute.

Repeat Process 4 to 5 times for greatest effect.

I have been rather hyperactive the last few days. Decided some hooliganism was needed as things have been much too serious lately with the human sitting infront of the machine that flashes light in a screen infront of her. She uses her fingers to make a sound like rain on the roof. I tried to do the same thing once, but was told politely that 'key boards', cats, and thesis drafts don't mix. I don't understand why because a keyboard has a mouse. Mmmm. Food group.

Catch.

Human life begins on the far side of despair

Yo. S'up peeps. Thanks J-P for that inspiring quote. I'm feeling all frenchie-french au jourd'hui as I'm in the middle of reading a thriller by Colette.

The new fandangled diet involves plotting my progress on a chart. Next weigh in is in 2 weeks time. I've decided to research this issue so I can manipulate my human as much as possible. Zipped through 'fat is a feminist issue' and realised that maybe I like to wear my podge as a protective layer against intimacy. Afterall, being this hefty scares most humans away from the thought of trying to pick me up and cuddle me. I'm all for 'personal space' (must be a cultural thing). My human is the only one who hasn't been deterred, so I have to resort to squirming, hissing, and if called for, scratching, in order to release myself. So, why can't humans work out that felines such as myself aren't scared of intimacy - we just think it stinks of dog behaviour. Pish. I gotta get on with my reading before the human returns ..."She fled methodically and jumped carefully, keeping her eyes fixed on her adversary and condescending neither to fury nor to supplication. The most violent emotion of all, the terror of dying, soaked the sensitive soles of her paws with sweat so that they left flower-like prints on the stucco balcony"... Catch.

Diet Hell

Yo. S'up peeps. Yeah, the diet hell has commenced. Last week my human loaded me into the transportation device and we ended up at some stinky joint full of sick dogs. I think they call it the V.E.T. because it stands for Voracious Embalming Techniques, although I may stand to be corrected. Anyhoo, so they weighed me and all. Like. Sooooo embarrassment. I had to stand up there like one of those fatties on the biggest loser weigh ins. When the nursebot announced my weigh in at 6.3 kilos I was a little dismayed. I decided to play the game, and look slightly emotional. I thought I could go the tack of blaming it on my emtionally f**ked childhood, but decided it was better to go with *blame* techniques. So the diet has begun. I'll get back to you on all the details schmetails some other day, *Yawn* Gotta get back to those zzzzs. Catch.