Friday, May 07, 2004
Rave of the Day for May 7:
Funnies about the feline side of life, courtesy of Ducky....
Signs Your Cat has a Personality Disorder
Couldn't muster up sufficient disdain if all nine lives depended on it!
You've repeatedly found him in the closed garage, hunched over the wheel of your running Buick.
Sits for hours in fascination while listening to Bob Dole.
Teeth and claw marks all over your now-empty bottles of Prozac.
No longer licks paws clean, but washes them at the sink again and again and again...
Continually scratches on the door to get in... the OVEN door.
Doesn't get Garfield, but laughs like hell at Marmaduke.
Rides in your car with its head out the window.
She's a dues-paid, card-carrying member of the Reform Party.
You realize one day that the urine stains on the carpet actually form the letters N-E-E-D T-H-E-R-A-P-Y.
Has built a shrine to Andrew Lloyd Webber entirely out of empty "9 Lives" cans.
Spends all day in litterbox separating the green chlorophyll granules from the plain white ones.
After years of NPR, Tabby is suddenly a Ditto-Puss.
Sullen and overweight, your sunglass-wearing cat shoots the TV with a .45 Magnum when it sees cartoon depictions of stupid or lazy felines.
Your stereo is missing, and in the corner you find a pawn ticket and 2 kilos of catnip.
Makes an attempt on "First Cat" Sock's life in a pathetic attempt to impress Jodie Foster.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Signs Your Cat is in With The Wrong Crowd
One day, without your permission, he gets his ears pierced.
Your credit card is overcharged, mainly for 9-Lives cat food.
You find, attached to the refrigerator, a note that reads: "Leave a steak on the front porch at midnight, or you'll never see Spot again."
Too many times a week your cat comes home after one in the morning, totally plastered and with a strong odor of catnip about him.
You come home to catch him in the act of raiding your liquor cabinet.
Several hundred dollars' worth of phone calls appear on your phone bill to 1-900-PUSSYCAT-MEOW.
You find out that the lifetime's supply of cat food wasn't a prize from "Kitten's Life" magazine, but that your cat has been selling catnip in the neighbourhood.
After failing to get your attention with constant meows and by rubbing up against your leg, your cat pulls out his Magnum-44 and aims it at you, demanding "Friskies" and catnip.
Signs Your Cat has a Personality Disorder
Couldn't muster up sufficient disdain if all nine lives depended on it!
You've repeatedly found him in the closed garage, hunched over the wheel of your running Buick.
Sits for hours in fascination while listening to Bob Dole.
Teeth and claw marks all over your now-empty bottles of Prozac.
No longer licks paws clean, but washes them at the sink again and again and again...
Continually scratches on the door to get in... the OVEN door.
Doesn't get Garfield, but laughs like hell at Marmaduke.
Rides in your car with its head out the window.
She's a dues-paid, card-carrying member of the Reform Party.
You realize one day that the urine stains on the carpet actually form the letters N-E-E-D T-H-E-R-A-P-Y.
Has built a shrine to Andrew Lloyd Webber entirely out of empty "9 Lives" cans.
Spends all day in litterbox separating the green chlorophyll granules from the plain white ones.
After years of NPR, Tabby is suddenly a Ditto-Puss.
Sullen and overweight, your sunglass-wearing cat shoots the TV with a .45 Magnum when it sees cartoon depictions of stupid or lazy felines.
Your stereo is missing, and in the corner you find a pawn ticket and 2 kilos of catnip.
Makes an attempt on "First Cat" Sock's life in a pathetic attempt to impress Jodie Foster.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Signs Your Cat is in With The Wrong Crowd
One day, without your permission, he gets his ears pierced.
Your credit card is overcharged, mainly for 9-Lives cat food.
You find, attached to the refrigerator, a note that reads: "Leave a steak on the front porch at midnight, or you'll never see Spot again."
Too many times a week your cat comes home after one in the morning, totally plastered and with a strong odor of catnip about him.
You come home to catch him in the act of raiding your liquor cabinet.
Several hundred dollars' worth of phone calls appear on your phone bill to 1-900-PUSSYCAT-MEOW.
You find out that the lifetime's supply of cat food wasn't a prize from "Kitten's Life" magazine, but that your cat has been selling catnip in the neighbourhood.
After failing to get your attention with constant meows and by rubbing up against your leg, your cat pulls out his Magnum-44 and aims it at you, demanding "Friskies" and catnip.
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