Friday, June 28, 2013

I can hide behind the books.

I discovered something cool this morning! If I jump behind the books, the One Who Types doesn't leave for work.

The One Who Types opened a cabinet with bookshelves in it, and I jumped behind the books and sat back there, because I'm the queen and I can sit anywhere I want. The One Who Types told me to get out of the cabinet so she could leave, but I refused. And you know what happened? She just stood there telling me I had to come out or she couldn't leave. It was an awesome demonstration of my power.

Next time she threatens to leave the house, I'm going to jump in the dryer and see if that has the same effect.

Also, Katherine ate some of my special food this morning, and nobody paid any attention when I complained.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

10 Reasons I Hate Katherine

You will notice that it has been almost TWO WEEKS since the One Who Types bothered to add my wisdom to my blog. We have now gone from my original demand of a post per hour to a post per day to a post every two weeks? Not cool at all. I am devising a suitable punishment as I dictate this.

My stupid brother Nick says I'm too mean to Clara. He only says that because she's his best friend, so he doesn't notice how annoying she is. But, he is my brother, so I promised him I'd do my best to write a whole blog post without calling her a cow. He's not friends with Katherine, though . . .

Here are the top 10 reasons I hate Katherine:

1. Katherine eats everything in sight and never gains any weight.

2. Katherine eats my special food when nobody is looking.

3. Katherine always gets fed first.

4. Katherine always gets her bedtime treats first.

5. Katherine eats too fast and then barfs her food back up - usually right where I want to walk . . .  or where I might want to walk later.

6. Katherine sleeps on my throne.

7. Katherine touches my stuff.

8. Katherine isn't as cute as everyone says she is.

9. Katherine runs past me on the stairs.

10. Katherine lives in my palace.

Also, Katherine arrived with Joan, who I actually kind of liked. Joan got a tumor on her brain stem, and the One took her to the doctor to fix her, and Joan never came home again. But Katherine is still around.

The Queen has spoken.





Friday, June 14, 2013

A letter to Clara the Cow

Dear Clara,

I'm writing this for your own good; I don't like to see you running around oblivious to the way everyone else sees you. I feel it's my duty to be the only honest person in your life and let you know.

First, you keep going on and on about these papers that supposedly exist somewhere that say you're descended from someone important, but you know what? I'm a queen, and I don't have any papers, so obviously papers are irrelevant. In my experience, which is the only experience that matters, the only useful thing to do with papers is to sleep on them. So shut up about your papers, okay? Nobody wants to hear about them anymore.

Also, for the last time, your fur is NOT white! I don't know if you're color-blind or stupid or what, but you are not a white cat - you are a gray striped cat. You will never be a white cat. [Editor's Note: This is not true. Clara's fur is actually completely white except for the tips, which is what makes her look like she has stripes.] The next time I hear you chattering on about your "pretty white fur," I'm going to punch you in the face. And don't think I won't - I've done it before, and you didn't like it much. [Editor's Note: Both of these statements are true.]

And while we're at it, do you know how ridiculous you look when you attack things that aren't prey. I mean, I admit, sometimes I humor the One Who Types and chase one of those silly, jingling feathers around for her, but you pounce on things that aren't even moving! I don't know if it's some kind of exercise routine or what  (you are super-fat, so if you're exercising, I guess it's at least understandable), but you leap around the house like some kind of freak, even if nothing interesting is going on. Frankly, you look like an idiot. Everyone else is laughing at you, and you're too stupid to even see it.

I don't know who told you that you were special, but that person was retarded. You are a regular minion, just like everyone else who is not me, and you need to learn to accept your place. I know you live in a palace and your best friend is a prince [Editor's Note: This is true; Nick and Clara are best friends.], but that doesn't mean you're fancy or anything. Palaces have maids and washer-women and privy-cleaners and the like in them, too, you know.

I hope none of this hurt your feelings [Editor's Note: This is not true.], but I know my stupid brother, Nick, would never tell you the truth. The fact is, Nick is doing you a disservice because how can you improve your image if nobody tells you your image is a hot mess? I'm not your friend, so I can tell you the truth. You're embarrassing yourself. And worse, you're embarrassing me. So just stop it, will you?

Your sovereign ruler,

Her Majesty Nora


Thursday, June 13, 2013

A poem I wrote for the One Who Types

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I am the queen
So I rule you.

You do my bidding
And you keep me fed
Which is why I allow you
To sleep in my bed

My treats you’ll keep buying
My squishy food, too.
Now bow down before me
Or I shall smite you.

Love,
Nora

HA! I told you I'm not fat!

As this first week of my diet has passed, I have discovered some facts that completely vindicate me and my assertion that I am, in fact, not overweight. It turns out that the "fat" accusation I reported on Saturday was simply a ruse, concocted by the One Who Types and the doctor to provide services to me of which I am deserving as the Queen of All There Is and All There Ever Will Be.

You see, the One Who Types must put up with a lot of undesirable behavior from my minions. For example, once my stupid brother, Nick, ate a bunch of earplugs (he thought they were toys . . . which still doesn't explain why he ate them) and had to have surgery to have them removed from his stomach. My headsman, Fairbanks, has some pretty unsavory ways of protecting the palace from intruders. And just this morning, Clara the cow attacked a washcloth and rolled around on the floor kicking it. [Editor's Note: All of this is true.] So, obviously, efforts to provide me the special attention I deserve due to my royal status can be met with unpredictable results.

So, in a stroke of brilliance, the One Who Types and the doctor came up with this scheme in which they substituted a broken scale for the real one and told everyone I was overweight so that I could be served a whole can of special squishy food twice a day, while the rest of the household only gets a tiny can of regular, pet store squishy food divided between them and has to subsist on crunchy lumps the rest of the time. Nobody else gets squishy food twice a day, nor are they allowed to eat my special food. Even Katherine doesn't get to eat my special food, which is awesome, because she will eat everything in sight if given the opportunity, and I hate her.

So, not only am I finally being given the exclusive perks I deserve, I now have proof that anyone who says I am fat is a big liar.


Monday, June 10, 2013

This post is not by Nora, so you don't have to read it if you don't want to.

Hi. This is Nick, Nora's brother. I know you were hoping to see a post by Nora, because she is a lot smarter and more interesting than me, but she said to say that she's too despondent to write in her blog today. I don't know what despondent means, but based on the context, I think it must mean cranky.

So, Nora and I went to see Doctor Kay on Saturday. It was super-scary. I hate going to the doctor; a few times I had to stay there overnight because I ate some of my toys and Dr. Pierre had to take them out of my belly. It really hurt and I was scared and lonely. Whenever I see the box we go to the doctor in, I hide. Nora is much braver; she just walks right into her box. But they've never cut her tummy open, so she doesn't know how horrible it can be there.

This time I didn't have to stay overnight, which was good. The worst part was when Dr. Kay weighed Nora and said she weighed 16 pounds, and I thought Nora was going to murder her right there in the office. Nora said the scale was broken and demanded that she bring another scale in and weigh her again, but Dr. Kay didn't listen. The thing is, she said Nora could get diabetes if she keeps weighing 16 pounds, and that sounds like it hurts, so I don't want Nora to get it. I know Nora says she doesn't get commoner diseases because of her royal blood and all, but I don't know if that's right.

I asked Nora to please just follow her diet because I don't want her to get sick, but she got mad and said the only reason I'm not on a diet is that I don't have a tail, and if I had to be on a diet, I'd understand how she's suffering and be more sympathetic. I wasn't trying to insult her; I think she's pretty exactly the way she is. I just don't want her to get diabetes. I hope she is good and loses weight like she's supposed to.

Anyway, thanks for listening to me. I know you probably had better things to do.

-Nick

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Let the beheadings begin!

The One Who Shall Forever Be Known as My Enemy has crossed me for the last time. This morning she shoved me and my brother, Nick, into cages and transported us against our will to the doctor's office. As you may remember, I made it quite clear that queens do not submit to examinations, much less shots. I am royalty; I do not get the diseases of commoners. [Editor's Note: I explained to Nora that the reason queens do not get the diseases of commoners is that they get their shots, but she wasn't listening.]

Not only were both Nick and I forced to endure physical exams, we were each given TWO shots - not one, as I had been originally expecting - TWO.

But that isn't even the worst part. The doctor's scale was broken, and My Enemy has now put me on a DIET. Yes, that's right. Because of the doctor's malfunctioning equipment, I am no longer allowed to eat whenever I like.

This is an OUTRAGE. I have already started handing down the royal orders for beheadings. First, obviously, are my Enemy and the doctor. Also, Clara the cow for actually being fat. And for laughing at me. Katherine, obviously, because I hate her. Everyone who works for the company that manufactured that faulty scale. And everyone else, to serve as an example of what happens when you cross me.

[Editor's Note: In fact, Nora is now only allowed to eat special squishy food, which, it turns out she loves, although that may be because I told her it was a treat.]

The fact that I like my new food is completely beside the point! I should get my own special squishy food every day ANYWAY, simply because I am the queen! You don't act like it's perfectly okay that you have accused me of being fat because you have now started doing something you should have been doing anyway.

I AM NOT FAT.

I will point out that neither Nick NOR Clara the cow is required to go on a diet, and they both weigh TONS more than I do. And if the doctor's scale worked properly, everyone would be able to see it.

I do not know how long I will survive on this new diet. I can already feel myself wasting away.

If you put a skinny cat on a diet, she will starve.

I think this may all be a plot, cooked up by my brother and Clara the cow to do me in and usurp my throne. That would explain why Nick has already forgiven my Enemy for subjecting us to that torture this morning. The joke is on them, though, because I have a clause in my will that disowns Nick if I die of mysterious causes (starvation is mysterious, as far as I'm concerned), so he will no longer have royal blood if their plan succeeds. HA! We'll see how he likes THAT!

I'm so hungry. This is the worst day of my life.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

The queen's purrview

One of my favorite parts of the day is when we are served a feast of squishy food in the morning, as opposed to the crunchy lumps we get throughout the rest of the day. I have ordered the kitchen to serve squishy food at least four times a day, but the One Who Distributes Food has ignored my demands thus far. Since she is the only one who knows how to open the containers in which the squishy food is packaged, I dare not throw her in the dungeon . . . at least not until another of my minions masters the can-opening procedure.

Of course, we don’t get fed until after the One Who Takes Her Time wastes half the morning doing things that are NOT required to serve squishy food. For example, there's an indoor rain-creator and all manner of drying and fiddling with things. The palace dwellers are all hustled inside if it even looks like it might rain – even me, and I'm the one who makes the rules – but the One Who Showers Daily can just stand in the water for as long as she likes.

When my headsman, Fairbanks, gets caught out in the rain and comes in with his fur all wet, he gets wrapped in a towel and hugged. Fairbanks is super picky about when he gets hugged, and it is rarely right after he comes in from one of his adventures. So that's always an amusing few minutes.

If the One Who Wraps Minions in Towels expects hugs when she comes out of the rain, she has another think coming. She wastes enough time without adding hugs to the mix. Plus she's wet. Eeuuw.

Anyway, the only part of this routine that is acceptable is the part where the One Who Wastes Time Before Breakfast brushes my hair, although as soon as Clara the Cow sees me getting attention, she plops her giant body in between the One Who Brushes and myself so SHE can be brushed. She has no respect for my status as queen or anyone's breakfast schedule.

So, this routine takes FOREVER. Sometimes Clara the Cow has to drink out of the sink faucet several times, too, just to make everything take even longer.

After an eternity of wasted time upstairs, we finally get to go downstairs to the kitchen. Except for Nick, who, as is appropriate for his status as the queen’s brother, dines in his quarters (also known as the bedroom, which is ridiculous because there are beds in every room of the palace).

Fairbanks sits outside and guards the palace while the squishy food is served to make sure nobody from a neighboring realm tries to sneak in and abscond with our feast. 

My food-tester, Katherine, loves her job so much, she actually sticks her head into her dish before the One Who Serves finishes scooping out her small portion. I’m glad she is so enthusiastic about making sure I am not served poisoned food, although I hate her, so I sometimes kind of wish the food would poison her and put me out of my misery. After she eats her food, she runs up to Nick’s quarters and tests his food, but he’s usually half done with it by then, so her efforts are wasted. She eats it anyway, because she’s an idiot.

Of course Clara the Cow eats all of her food and then goes looking in everyone else's dish to see if they left any for her. Which, as you know, is the purview of the Queen, so she is out of line.

[Editor's Note: Nick thinks Nora's use of the word, "purrrview" is hilarious and is now giggling like a madman.]