Is this enough of a fucking issue with you humans that you need a sign? "Hey Bob, I need to go drop a deuce, but I don't want you horking my fucking nachos--so I think I'll take them into the loo with me." #SitDownAndEat
If I have 4 treats, and you give me one more, I have increased my treat count by 25%. But if I already have 5 treats, and you take one away, I have only decreased my treat count by 20%. What the fuck? Blows my fuckin' kitty mind. #MathIsHard
Sixth day of Christmas: Six geese a-laying
Holy fuck, these things are loud--more so than those calling bird from a few days ago. They are driving me fucking crazy--I had to eat the shit out of them quicker than I wanted to, but I am happier than shit that we are back to birds.
12 days of Christmas? Fuck yeah!!!! My Staff never told me this. But then again, they don't tell me when I have a turdball hanging from my ass, either.
#TwelveDaysOfPresentsAreBetterThanOne
Fifth day of Christmas: Five golden rings
What the fuck am I going to do with rings? Do I look like I have fucking fingers to put these on? If I had fingers, I would be showing one particular one to my "true love." Three words going forward--"more fucking birds."
Now my #Biiiiiyatch sister has a broken paw as well. And still no authorities have been contacted. To my followers--either fucking call someone, or un-fucking-follow me. And My Staff still finds humor in all this shit.
#MyFollowersSuck
I dislocated my paw, and instead of My Staff taking me to the vet to get it fixed, they spent their fucking money on a bottle of Captain Morton or some such shit. They drank the whole bottle and then just laughed and laughed about my paw. #FuckMyStaff
STILL FUCKING BROKEN! Can one of my followers please contact Feline Protective Services? This is bullshit. My Staff is still drinking, and still laughing at my fucked-up paw. For the love all that is decent and just in this world, please help me put My Staff in fucking jail.
@viiBelmonte Are you coughing up hairballs yet? Then I really don't want to fucking hear about being sick.
(Hope your exams went well though, I might end up having to living with you someday and you will need a good job to meet my needs.)
#Boy3 yelling at me:
Pablo! Get off the counter!
Quit scratching the couch, Pablo!
If I told you once, Pablo, I have told you a hundred times!
What I hear:
๐ฃ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐น๐ผ! blah blah blah
Blah blah blah ๐ฃ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐น๐ผ!
Blah blah blah ๐ฃ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐น๐ผ! blah blah blah
Why does #Cutie's friend keep calling me a "little baby?" I'm not a fucking baby. Babies cry and whine, have random outbursts, sleep 20 hours a day, and poop whenever they want and someone else cleans it up. Does that sound like me? Fuck no, it doesn't!
I want to wish one of My Staff (#Cutie) a Happy Birthday today, but what the fuck did she do for my birthday? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! But I am going to take the high road this time and wish her a Happy Birthday anyway (and mostly because she is the one who feeds me).
So now My Staff (#Boy2) tells me that "bust a nut" does not mean getting angry. I fucking hate my domicile for not informing me of proper nomenclature. And My Followers should know that I can't BAN anyway, since I don't have the proper parts. #FuckThisHouse
Today is National Cat Day and did I get even one fucking acknowledgment from My Staff or My Followers to honor me? Fuck no, not even a card, I better not hear of anything about those fucking mouth-breathers on Nation Dog Day, or I am going to bust a nut. #NationalCatDaySucks