Sunday, December 22, 2013

Holidays that aren't about me are stupid.

Aside from the celebration of the month of my birth and regular celebrations of my reign as benevolent ruler, there is no reason to have other holidays. When holidays arrive, the One leaves the palace for overnight visits elsewhere and spends money on things that aren't for me. Today she spent over an hour vacuuming not just the floors, but my throne (which humans apparently call a sofa), which I'm sure is somehow related.

I made it clear last year that we do not care for holidays and that they are not something that ought to be repeated, but here they are again. I thought we were going to get a reprieve this year; we saw no signs of holidays in the palace all month. But it was all a ruse. The box of wrapping paper appeared the other night, and everyone in the palace groaned in collective displeasure.

The One is a terrible gift-wrapper. She means well, but she tends to put bows on in stupid places and add tape where it's not needed while leaving other areas that clearly need tape gaping open. I told her that, if she's going to insist on participating in this holiday nonsense, she must allow me to assist her. She let me help wrap the remaining presents, but I don't think she was taking any of my advice seriously.

She also doesn't get the whole gift-receiving concept. I understand that this could be because, technically, the only one in the palace who should receive gifts is me. If I feel someone else is deserving of a gift, it is within my power to bestow such an honor, but that decision should be mine to make. Others fail to understand this rule, though, and often see fit to furnish the One with little tokens to demonstrate how much they appreciate her efforts in making it possible for me to share my wisdom with them.

Anyway, the Blonde One intended to purchase the fourth season of Justified (Fairbanks's favorite show) on DVD for the One, and even left her house in bad weather while suffering from a cold to do so, only to find out the One had stopped on her way home from work and bought the DVDs for herself.

Now, I ask you: what kind of a moron does something like that? Four days before a holiday? When everyone knows she's been coveting said item and even put it on her wish list, like, a year before it was even released? Honestly, it's the kind of thing I'd expect Katherine to do.

I appreciate the fact that she feeds me and brushes me and occasionally types my blog for me, but sometimes the One is just an idiot.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

An Open Letter to My Critics

Dear Haters,

Contrary to popular belief - instigated by a woman who claimed to be a pet behavior expert (if she was such an expert, why did she not bow down before me and offer me treats?) - my presence in the palace is not the reason Fairbanks is unhappy. And I can prove it.

As you can see in this picture, Fairbanks is sitting at the foot of my throne, and he is in a perfectly good mood.

No fury here. (No, Nick, it is not spelled "furry.")

This is because he recognizes and accepts my superiority, appreciates the fact that I leave him alone and don't eat his food, and has benefited from gainful employment as my executioner since my reign began.

Now, take a look at this picture, in which Fairbanks is clearly highly agitated and shooting eye-beams-of-death at his nemesis, Clara the Cow.

Beware the wrath of Fairbanks.

(Yes, I know Nick is in the picture, too, but Nick is too stupid for anyone to dislike him. Also, Fairbanks's death glare is obviously directed at Clara. I mean, just look at him! He's in such a rage, he can barely contain himself! I'm surprised he didn't claw her to shreds just after this picture was taken. That is one angry cat!)

As further proof that I am being unfairly maligned (yes, Nick, I know what that word means; if you had spent more time studying and less time looking for your tail when we were younger, maybe you could use fancy words, too), every time Clara the Cow crashes into Fairbanks's personal space, he growls, hisses, and bites her ears. Does he do this to me? Of course not. Because he does not loathe me. He loves and worships me, which is as it should be. Additionally, I don't invade the personal space of others. Because I am a queen, and that sort of behavior is common and beneath me. Also, Clara is always there first.

So, in conclusion, I believe I have definitively proven that Fairbanks's misery is not due to the fact that he lives in my palace, but solely due to Clara the Cow's presence in his life. I propose that Clara be banished immediately. And that everyone who has, until now, blamed me for Fairbanks's bad behavior apologize and offer me his or her allegiance, along with three cans of Fancy Feast, within five days or face consequences.


Your Benevolent Ruler
Queen Nora Charles

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Chief minions do not need resumes.

So, the One Who Types was ignoring me last night, and when I demanded that she stop what she was doing and worship me, she told me I had to wait because she was "working on her resume."

"What do you need a resume for?" I asked. "You already have a job as one my chief minions."

She explained that being my minion doesn't pay the mortgage on the palace or keep my food dishes full. This led to a shocking revelation. Apparently, my food is not, as I had surmised, delivered to us in the form of taxes and sacrifices from my subjects! This means my subjects are all running around doing as they please and offering up nothing in honor of me! So, when the One leaves the house in the morning and stays out all day, she is not, in fact, out collecting tributes to my glorious reign; she's out TYPING FOR SOMEONE ELSE!

You will recall that I have been quite unhappy with the amount of time the One is willing to devote to my blog. I have many important things to say about numerous subjects, and we have barely touched on any of them because the One refuses to take dictation when I instruct her to. Now I find out that she is slipping away every morning to type something she calls "advertising copy" for the monarch of a kingdom about 30 miles from mine called ZG.

This is so far beyond unacceptable, I would be rendered speechless if I were a lesser being. It is almost as intolerable as Katherine's presence in my kingdom . . . nay, in the universe.

I have decided to issue a decree that requires all my subjects to deliver at least a year's worth of food (special food for me and my stupid brother Nick (who is royal, even if he is stupid), hearty food for my headsman Fairbanks, and the cat food equivalent of bread and water for Clara the Cow) to the palace immediately so the One has no excuse for leaving the house again.

In addition, I demand that the One cease typing for the king of ZG and devote her time to my blog forthwith.

Finally, I banish Katherine to ZG for all eternity . . . maybe even longer (I shall check with my royal magician to find out if a longer sentence can be arranged).

All I need is for the One to come home and type up my decree so Fairbanks can go out and post it on every tree in the kingdom. The food offerings should begin appearing on the palace doorstep any day, and this resume nonsense can be forgotten.

And then I will finally get brushed.