Ice ice baby.

...the harpoon is my penis.

Any chance I can get a Dr. Horrible reference in I go for it. (Nathan Fillion is my mancrush.)

'Cause maybe you're loveable.

Mom's been listening to Ed Sheeran a lot lately ( she's excited because of some concert that she got tickets to or something... and she keeps talking about how he's a "Ginger God" ; completely forgetting that there can only be one God and his name is Spyder... but I digress). His lyrics are pretty amazing though, so even though I think she's put him on a bit of a pedestal, I'd suggest you all check him out.

Feeling a little Nick Carterish today.

Yes, yes, I'm twice the size of mom's leg.

I'd blame genetics, but really it would be more correct to state that "I've been blessed by genetics"... and I've had it going on for years (oh yeahhh). So as long as you love me, let's have a party, and I'll show you the shape of my heart... 

I think I may have to have a talk with mom about the 90's music she insists on playing while she folds laundry; I'm starting to sound like a fangirl and I don't even like BSB (I was always more of an Aqua fan myself).

Mariah Gets Me.

Oh man, my mom left me and she's the one who updates this page with my musings... I know, I know right? How could anyone but this brilliant feline specimen come up with such witticisms? Don't worry, she's just the scribe. OR WAS UNTIL SHE LEFT!!1!!1

I've been working on this single blog post for about 4 weeks now; apparently opposable thumbs are all that they're cracked up to be... now if only this could be my future. NAY, my present.

Anywho, mom just came back! (I told you this has taken me a while) and she mentioned something about how she was only doing these "house sitting" and "dog sitting" gigs to make extra money to pay for MY vet bills... I just want to know how sitting on a house or a dog could be a lucrative venture as I've sat on a few roofs in my time and received diddly squat. Maybe her agent is just better.

I'm planning on ignoring her whilst silently moping in a corner and listening to Mariah Carey on my iPod (those lyrics... they speak to me!) by the fridge for the next year or so, moving only to saunter over to her bed to pee on it...

Oh wait, she has tuna.