Just like Fashion, it's a Passion for the with it and hip...

I’ve decided to dedicate this blog to all of my fellow fat felines and fence jumpers. Rather than grovel in disgust over my recent weight gain, I am instead embracing my pudgy lamp chops; I’m going to work it better than Precious did in her multiple hallucination dream sequences.


So here’s to my canine cohort and feline fat sickles who are suffering with swollen guts and limbs. You deserve to be recognized for your inner and outer beauty. Here are just a few of my friends I met in the “Nathan’s Juicy Plump Hotdogs” chat room:









well, well, well, would you look who it is... didn't realize Bailey was a chatroom whore.

...ummm, I think this girl just wanted to be a part of something bigger than herself.... hard to imagine...something bigger that is...(hehe)

You know, I don’t mean to start on a rant (because that never happens), but it’s really not our fault if we’re slightly plump, round, fleshy, curvaceous, tubby, portly, what-have-you. We eat just about anything you put in front of our faces, and aren’t allowed to eat it until after you say “uhnn, leave it!!” and then, “ok, now you can eat it.” (Exceptions for me include: grapes, Doritos, vegetables, Grade D meat from Taco Hell because that’s all they serve, anything Alpo, plantains, strawberries, fruit in general, and any/all leftovers…b/c microwaves cause cancer)… which brings me to my next rant.

It’s been brought to my attention that I have a repulsively huge boil on my beautiful, slick jet black body. A boil! (How ghastly, I know.) In the past few weeks, it’s nearly tripled in size. We thought it was a wart (um, eww right?), but this thing is massive, blood red, and hard. It needs to grow legs and skip on its merry way before mom’s attempts at popping it succeed, and I’m left with a fugly scar. (I have no clue what her fascination is with popping things, but boy does she get off to it).

I for one don’t think it's one of those things that can be popped necessarily. However, Mom continues her efforts in researching what it could be and how/if it can be ruptured. I don’t really think she cares exactly what it is, but is more fixated with how to get rid of it.

[Side note: If this lump is malignant or I die from a staph infection because my mother can’t get a handle on her pop craze (not to be confused with the other type of pop craze in which victims are fooled by mainstream bubblegum “artist” who miraculously top the pop charts with synthesized vocals, and make a stink with their excessive wardrobe selections, stank attitudes, easily forgotten interviews and need I say, terribly hilarious acting skills”) case in point: please refer to this blog.]

All I’ve heard come out of her loud mouth for the past month: “Damnit Joe. That thing is an eyesore. And not to mention, it’s getting in the way of your bi-weekly haircuts.”

I got on my laptop just the other day and she had intentionally accidently left this youtube video up.



Behind the video was a Word document that read:

“Oh… Poor Abby!! Joe, do you really want it to get to this point?....I kind of do….[insert evil laugh here: Muahahahahah.]”

……Speechless. I had no words. So, I quickly put on my thinking cap (it’s cute and pink and my Aunt Mrs. Suzanne bedazzled it for me) and decided to have my friend Luther over to help me stick it to the man (woman…mom, I mean). Instead of finding me in her bed when she got home, she found this picture of Luther instead…



And the note he was writing on my laptop?

“MaryClaire… look under your sheets. Love, Luther V.”



I decided to let Luther be the culprit rather than me, considering she can’t spank someone else’s child!! Sometimes my brilliance is overwhelming even to me. [insert evil laugh here:….muahahahahah!]

I’ll probably have my computer privileges revoked for that one, so until next time….
Joe.