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.