Nobody cares about my pain

Nobody understands the torture I must endure living in the palace with Katherine. She is insufferable, but my demands that she be executed, or at the very least dropped off at the pound, fall upon deaf ears.

This morning, I was sitting in the blanket drawer - don't ask what that is; it's exactly what it sounds like, dummy - minding my own royal business when Katherine suddenly appeared above me on the bed and proceeded to stare at me.

Obviously, all I could do under such conditions was vacate the drawer and make my way to the other side of the bedroom.

Nobody should have to endure such treatment, especially one as noble as myself. I insisted that something be done, and you know what the One said to me? She said, "Nora, she's not doing anything to you."

Let THAT sink in for a moment.

I am currently holding the One's brown pile of paper hostage until she recognizes the extreme inappropriateness of her comment. I don't know what she intends to do with this paper, but as long as I'm sitting on it, she can't do it. That will teach her.

I don't know what this paper is for,
but it's mine until I get my way.

Vicious Cows and Other Myths

Clara likes to play a game called "Vicious Creature in the Bathtub." The game involves a vicious creature crouching in the bathtub just out of sight, then leaping out to startle and possibly maul an unsuspecting passerby. 

Don't let those creepy glowing eyes fool you.
This is not a vicious creature.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, Clara plays the game wrong. If SHE were the unsuspecting maulee, I'd be all for it, but she insists on playing the vicious creature.

In case you have forgotten, Clara is a cow. 

Cows are not vicious.

In fact, I'd say it's nigh impossible to think of an animal that is LESS vicious than a cow. You aren't ever going to see a movie about a cownado. They tried the cownado concept in the 1996 movie Twister and found that, rather than eliciting dread from the audience, cows in tornadoes only induced laughter.

This is not scary.

Cows are not scary. 

Cows are not given to rampages of fury (stampedes occur because of stupidity - not rage). 

Cows are useless, slow-witted, and decidedly lacking in any feature resembling ferocity.

Now, if Fairbanks were to engage in a spirited game of Vicious Creature in the Bathtub, THEN you'd see some true brutality.  

Fairbanks could rip everyone in the palace
to shreds if he so chose.

Saint WHO???

I was shocked to find out that yesterday was a holiday entirely devoted to my stupid brother Nick. And, even MORE shocking, Nick has apparently been elevated to sainthood!!

Okay, folks. This is absolutely unacceptable. Nick's ego is already out of control because of the royalty thing - now you think it's appropriate to make him a SAINT?

Let me explain a few things about Nick.

First, Nick misplaced his tail. Yes. That's right. He had a tail. And then he didn't have a tail. And it's not like he just set it aside for later or sent it out to be cleaned - it's gone. He has no tail. Do you honestly think anyone stupid enough to lose his tail is worthy of sainthood?

"Where is his tail?" you might ask.
Where, indeed.

Second, Nick's best friend is a COW. You heard me. Nick - a royal prince destined to go down in history as the loyal brother of the queen herself - is best friends with a cow.

BFFs for life. Seriously.
The only thing that would be worse
would be if he were friends with Katherine.

Finally, Nick is whiny. When the imbecile, Shadow, lived with us. Nick bitched about him nonstop. I'm serious. He NEVER shut up. "Whaaaa, whaaaa, whaaa  - I don't like Shadow - make him leave me alone - why is Shadow here?" I have news for you, Nick. NOBODY liked Shadow. But did we wander around complaining like it was the end of the world? No. We bore his presence with quiet dignity, knowing that one day he would be gone and our lives would go back to normal.

Shadow
Nick's nemesis

Nick is not a saint. He is not even a teeny bit saintly. Plus, leaving socks and shoes out hoping Nick will put treats or toys in them is a complete waste of time. He may have put a toy in a shoe once, but I can assure you, it was a complete accident, and he promptly forgot he'd done it. I'll defend to my death Nick's right to be treated with the respect he deserves as a member of the royal family, but make no mistake: he is a buffoon of the highest order.

If I hear about people continuing this ridiculous St. Nick holiday nonsense next December, I'm going to be ordering a number of swift executions. Keep that in mind and make your choices accordingly.

Will the horror ever end?

It appears that invasions by the Keira, of which I wrote previously, are meant to be a regular occurrence. This in spite of my clear warnings to the One regarding potential consequences should the Keira be allowed back into the palace.

I have not yet determined exactly what sort of creature the Keira is. Fairbanks speculated that it may be some kind of weaponized mutant designed for a nefarious purpose we are unable to understand. It resembles the humans in features, but it is small and inarticulate and seems to have motor-control issues.

As you can see here, the Keira's limbs do not seem to be
controlled by its brain. It is possible it is controlled by a
 malfunctioning radio-frequency remote. I'll have
Fairbanks look into this.

It also eats a substance that has the consistency of my squishy food but does not smell appetizing at all. I ordered Katherine to eat some and report back, in the hopes that the Keira food might be toxic to cats, but she refused.

Here is a picture of the Shadowbringer feeding
the possibly-toxic squishy food to the Keira.

A new horror descends upon the palace

What in the name of all that is unholy is this???

Here is what my spies and I have been able to figure out so far:

1. It is called a Keira.
2. It belongs to the Shadowbringer and her manservant, Jon.
3. It is not furry enough to be a cat, nor does it have a tail, but it is much too small to be a person.
4. It has apparently been mistaken for a god or some sort of royalty from the way the One, the Shadowbringer, and Jon all cater to it.
5. Katherine likes it, so it is obviously evil.
6. It grabbed my fur in one of its little fists and wouldn't let go.

Also, it is apparently a girl, as evidenced by the
dress and the squeaky voice.

I have informed the One that another invasion of the palace by the Keira will not be tolerated. I don't think she was listening to me, though. For some reason she felt it was more important to hold the Keira up and help it repeatedly turn the hallway lights on and off. Any creature that finds such a pointless activity interesting is obviously either broken or up to some diabolical scheme. If it's the latter, I shall put a swift end to it.

Clara keeps sitting on me.

Have you ever had a cow sit on you?

Just take a moment and imagine it.

Seriously. Take a moment. I'll wait.

There. Now you're getting the picture. 

It is a singularly unpleasant experience and one I shall not stand for.

Why anyone would even consider allowing a cow into a palace is beyond me.

I hate Clara.

Yes, the cow and the others are fine, too.

It was brought to my attention that I failed to inform my loyal subjects that Clara the Cow, Fairbanks, and Katherine all survived the siege as well. I can't imagine why that would be relevant to anyone, but consider this your notification. They're fine, okay? Everyone survived.

We'll just call this the "Who Cares?" segment of the blog.

The siege is over!

Praise Me! The Contractor's siege has ended, and Nick and I are both still alive!

You lose this round, rodents!!

Nick and I have been in hiding for years [Editor's Note: Closer to four months, but I have to concur with Nora's perception on this one.]. It's hard to believe there's even a world to return to.

I know many of you were concerned. Perhaps you even speculated that I might be dead. I'm pleased to inform you that I am very much alive and well.

Like Anne Frank, I remained hidden away, sometimes starving and terrified, but always elegant and gracious [Editor's Note: Nora has been talking about Anne Frank a lot over the past months, but she doesn't seem to have much of a grasp on who Frank was or what happened to her.], even though my subjects were casting about for answers, because I knew my survival was critical

And now the day has come to emerge victorious. The Contractor did not find us, and he was ultimately forced to rebuild the sections of the palace he destroyed while he sought us out. As an added bonus, he apparently couldn't remember what the palace looked like before, because it doesn't resemble the original at all.

The Contractor attack continues.

Yesterday was Day 5 of the onslaught. We huddle together in the basement, listening to the Contractor's fury above. So far, I don't think he is aware that Nick and I are still in the palace, thank Me. If he knew, he undoubtedly would have stopped searching for us upstairs. He has now destroyed most of the walls and even some of the floor and ceiling on the first floor.

Fairbanks, who is smarter than all my other minions put together, has discovered a secret passageway out of the basement and has attempted to escape and bring back help several times. Unfortunately, the Contractor has found him each time and returned him to the basement to spy on the rest of us. Fairbanks has been loyal and has not given up Nick's and my position. I must remember to reward him when this is all over.

We thought that the One was seeking assistance each day while we hid, since she is always gone before the Contractor arrives and does not return until he is gone, but I am beginning to suspect that she is just going to work. It should not take this long for her to rally an army to come to our aid.

It occurs to me that perhaps the Contractor is afraid of the One, and if she were to just stay at the palace all day, he would not show up. This theory is being tested today - the One did not get up and leave this morning, and so far the Contractor has not appeared. If this is the case, we're going to abscond with Katherine's food, under the assumption that if Katherine starves to death, the One will be forced to stay home and grieve for at least a year. The One is foolishly naive when it comes to recognizing how awful Katherine truly is.

I send this message out into the world in the hopes that someone will read it and come to our aid. If it goes on much longer, the palace will be completely destroyed and my position will be found out. For the sake of the realm, we cannot allow the rodents to win. And, by the realm, I mean me.

The palace is under attack, and I have been forced to hide with Katherine and a cow.

Yesterday, the rodents sent a horrific monster called a "Contractor" to attack the palace. It ate all the bricks around the fireplace and smashed numerous holes in the walls surrounding the kitchen.

RIP bricks around the fireplace.
Sorry Contractors find you so tasty.

Fortunately, we knew it was coming, thanks to some fine spy work by Fairbanks, who captured a rodent informant and forced him to reveal the rebel army's plans.

Unfortunately, my stupid brother Nick accidentally murdered the informant shortly afterwards, leaving us with one less informant and a body to bury.

RIP rodent informant.
Sorry my stupid brother Nick is such a clumsy oaf.

Fortunately, we had enough information to know exactly when the Contractor would be arriving, so we were able to hide in the basement before it arrived.

Unfortunately, I was not able to convince the One that it was only critical to protect the royal members of the household (myself and my stupid brother Nick), so I had to spend the entire day in the basement with Katherine and Clara the cow.

Fortunately, the One left extra food down there with us, or we undoubtedly would have starved to death (and by we, I mean myself and Nick).

Unfortunately, Fairbanks was also trapped in the basement with us, so he was unable to vanquish the Contractor.

Fortunately, Fairbanks is working on a plan to escape through a secret hatch in the basement door. It's currently locked, but he believes he can find a way around it. When he does, he promises his first priority will be to amass an army and end the Contractor's reign of terror. It's a little hard for me to believe this, since his first task when he gets outside is usually to pee on the exterior wall, nibble on some grass, and take a nap, but he's our only hope, so I must take him at his word.

Until then, we must all huddle in the basement like rodents, which is obviously their diabolical intent.

The cattle industry is doomed.

The other night, I sent Fairbanks on an important mission for me. He was unsuccessful. Here is his account of what happened.

---

Fairbanks: Her majesty the queen has sent me from the palace to negotiate the sale of a cow.

Cattle Rancher: Queen Nora is a beautiful, gentle, and benevolent ruler. Please let her know that she does us a great honor by sending one of her trusted minions to transact business with us.

Fairbanks: Yeah. I'll pass that along. So, she has this cow she wants to sell. She says it's a giant cow. Easily big enough to feed an entire army and still have meat left over to feed starving kids or whatever. She also says, as a gesture of good will, she will include a small cat in the bargain.

Rancher: This cow of which you speak sounds magnificent! Do you have her with you now?

Fairbanks: No. She's back at the palace, but I have a picture of her. I also have a picture of the small cat.

Rancher: We have no use for a small cat, but I am definitely interested in the cow.

Fairbanks: The small cat is a gift. Her majesty believes you will be quite pleased with her. She barely takes up any room at all.

Rancher: We really don't need a cat. Can I see the picture of the cow?

Gigantic Cow for Sale

Rancher: That's not a cow.

Fairbanks: Her majesty says it's a cow. Contradicting her majesty is not recommended.

Rancher: That's a cat. I already told you we don't need any cats.

Fairbanks: I would advise you to keep your voice down. The queen is fond of beheadings.

Rancher: I'm not going to buy that ca . . . animal.

Fairbanks: She'll need a good reason. She tends to become cross when people don't do as she wishes.

Rancher: The reason is that she's trying to sell me a cat.

Fairbanks: She's trying to sell you a cow. And give you a small cat as a gift. You probably just looked at the wrong picture.

Rancher: Is that picture the cow she wants me to buy or the small cat she wants to give me for free?

Fairbanks: That's the cow. This is the cat. There's no way you could get them mixed up. One is small, and a cat. The other is the size of a small house, and a cow (according to her majesty).

Small cat free to any home
that will take her.

Rancher: That cat looks like she's the same size as the first one - it's just the picture that's a different size.

Fairbanks: I can assure you, the cow is much larger. I live with them both, so I'm an authority on their relative sizes.

Rancher: I . . . just realized I have enough cows. I'm not in the market to buy any more cows at this time.

Fairbanks: I shall pass on your message. Would you still like the small cat?

Rancher: No. I . . . don't need any cats.

---

Clearly, that cattle rancher is an idiot. If he can't tell the difference between a cat and a cow, I'm concerned for the entire beef industry. Next time you order a burger, you just keep this little story in mind.

Key differences between me and Clara

Last night when everyone was almost asleep, Katherine jumped at Clara and pummeled her in the face for no reason. It was hilarious. If anyone else had done it, I would have given her an award, but since it was Katherine, I pretended I wasn't pleased until I retired to another room, where I laughed uproariously for quite some time.

Before you get all "Ohhh, poooor little Clara" on me, let me just point out that Clara is an annoying, pushy, conceited creature who deserves every pummeling that she gets. Whereas I am dainty and polite and would never even consider walking upon the One (nor will Nick; he was trained well), Clara will plod across her body anytime it suits her. The other night, she walked on the One's FACE because she wanted to get to the other side of the bed. Disgraceful.

Here are some other key differences between me and Clara:

Clara is a cow. I am a cat.

Clara never shuts up about how beautiful she is. I am so modest, there should be a humility award named after me.

Clara thinks her fur is white even though she is gray with stripes. I know what color my fur is.

Clara is horribly obese. I am perfectly proportioned for my height.

Clara is a member of the Snow Bengal clan, who claim to have blue blood but are unable to show any evidence thereof. I am the queen, so by definition, I am of royal birth.

Clara is useless. I am the queen, so I don't need to be of use - others must be of use to me.

Katherine feels safe pummeling Clara in the face for no reason. Katherine would not deign to show that kind of disrespect to me.

Yesterday, I had this conversation with the One Who Types

Me: I command you to update my blog today.

TOWT: Nora, I have a lot of work to do today.

Me: Correct. You have my blog to update. And you may refer to me as "Your Grace."

TOWT: I'll work for a while and then I'll take a break and update your blog.

Me: Yeah, right. I know what that means. You're going to watch Netflix all day and then do your work right before bed and then claim you don't have time to update my blog.

TOWT: No. I'm working right now - see?

Here, she showed me her computer screen, which didn't have my blog open on it, so I didn't give it a second glance.

TOWT: I get paid to do this work, so I have to do it first.

Me: Ahem. I allow you to live in my palace and be graced by my presence on a daily basis. I highly doubt that "job" you're so attached to honors you this way.

TOWT: It does not.

Me: Write my blog now.

TOWT: I'll get to it later, Nora.

Me: You're a liar. And also I hate you.


As it turned out, I was right. She IS a big liar. She didn't update my blog yesterday. You know what she did? Get this. She worked forever, and then she watched Netflix for the rest of the day! Just as I had predicted . . . except in the opposite order.

If I can find someone else who knows how to open a can, the One's days are numbered. She is the worst assistant I've ever had. If she didn't brush me sometimes, I'd shun her. And I'd make everyone else in the palace shun her, too. Except Katherine. I'd inflict Katherine upon her - being around Katherine is a punishment fit for the lowest, vilest villains of the earth.

Look at her. All smug and skinny
and toy-hoarding.

Now I'm going to go eat a whole dish of crunchy food. It serves the One right if I get diabetes.

Fix this immediately!

Why is there no entry on Wikipedia about me?

Abandonment is cruel and far too usual. The authorities have been alerted.

In previous years, the One hosted Oscar Weekend festivities at the palace, which meant a minion (whom I shall simply refer to as S because he is Katherine's favorite, and I hate Katherine) visited the palace for the entire weekend. Everyone stayed in, ate tons of food, and delivered an appropriate amount of attention to me.

LAST year, the One disappeared for the entire weekend, leaving me and Nick (and the other minions, but I don't really care about them) to fend for ourselves. No special holiday food. No extra attention. Just an empty house.

Now I understand the same thing is going to happen THIS year!

A few weeks ago, the One left us to starve for days [Editor's Note: I was gone for one night.] while she went off on some Valentine's Day date. NOW she plans to abandon us AGAIN. I am not pleased. Not one bit.

I'm going to start hoarding food now, so when everyone else
starts to starve, I will still have nourishment.

The Queen has spoken.

Valentine's Poems for Palace Dwellers

I just found out I missed Valentine’s Day. I guess this would explain why the One was gone and didn't feed us for an entire weekend [Editor’s note: I was gone for one night]. I’d like to commemorate the holiday with some poems I wrote for my housemates.

Clara claims she's a bundle of snow,
But there's something you should probably know.
Her papers have yet to be found,
And I think she's suspiciously round.
She may think she's purebred,
But she's out of her head.
Her secret's out now;
She's really a cow.

Fairbanks, oh Fairbanks.

Man with an axe,

Executioner extraordinaire.

Your whiskers glisten with carnage,

You strike fear into the hearts of all.

That toy you drag around the house makes you look like an idiot,

But you are fierce and loyal,

And generally worth what I pay you.

There once was a kitten named Nick,

Who wasn’t especially quick.

He was quickly disgraced,

When his tail he misplaced,

And he never found it again and still wanders around with no tail, the moron!


Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I hate Katherine
And you should too.

Disappointing Nick is a serious offense.

My brother Nick wanted to play this morning, but the One was too busy getting ready to go to her "job" to participate. I glared at her and threatened to shun her when she gets home (I shunned her all day Saturday for spending far more time than could possibly be necessary petting Katherine before she got up and fed us . . . more on this momentarily), but she just kept drying her hair like I wasn't even in the room. Nick may be stupid and tailless, but he is still a prince and, as such, deserves the attention due one of royal blood. If she doesn't wave around that clump of feathers with the bell attached to it for Nick when she gets home tonight, I shall be forced to take extreme measures.

Poor Nick. Look how disappointed he is. 

I wasn't sure why my shunning was not having the desired effect on Saturday. I sat out of reach on the other side of my throne from the One all afternoon while she was watching Supernatural on television, but her suffering was not as significant as it should have been. Petting me is an honor, and being deprived of this honor ought to at least result in some tears, but the One endured her punishment with remarkable fortitude. She also continued to pay attention to Katherine, even though I had made it clear that was the reason for my dissatisfaction. Perhaps she would be more likely to take me seriously if I convinced my minions to shun her as well. Or, perhaps I will leave Katherine's bloody corpse on her pillow - I bet she'd pay attention then.

The One does not take me seriously at all.
Look at my face. Clearly I mean business.
Frankly, she's lucky to be alive.

The Blonde One is shirking her duties.

Ahem.

It has come to my attention that, unlike the One who lives in the palace, the Blonde One Who Types does not disappear to a "job" all day long; thus she has absolutely no excuse for failing to take dictation from me on a daily basis.

Yes, yes. I know she has MS (which obviously stands for "My Servant") and has constant pain and blindness and whatnot, but that's hardly relevant. Beethoven managed to write music while completely deaf, and James Franco climbed out of a crevasse and walked for miles after cutting off his own arm! I hardly see how a little touch of blindness and some pain can possibly interfere with her ability to listen to me and type what I'm saying.

She should also be able to brush me and serve me treats under such conditions.

New and Improved Nursery Rhymes

Dear Adoring Public,
Let's face it: Regular nursery rhymes are lame (just like my blonde typist--ha-ha!). They don't reference my life in any way. So I ask you: What's the point? (Note: That is a rhetorical question. Don't bother answering. Your response is as unnecessary as it is unneeded.) As usual, it is up to moi, Your Benevolent and Brilliant Ruler, to right this societal wrong. As a true Renaissance Royal, I have dabbled in poetry over the years, yet, because I am so humble and unassuming, I have never published under my own name. Until now, obviously.


Hey Diddle Diddle
Hey diddle diddle
Cats don't play fiddles.
The Clara jumped over the moon
But she's fat so she crashed
And the moon--it was smashed
And the world laughed at that buffoon.


--The True Nursery Rhymes, by Queen Nora


P.S. OMG. I am so horrified. Apparently a GOOSE is responsible for writing these rhymes!! A. Freaking. GOOSE!! Geese are mean and smelly and disgusting, and hang out in the WATER. That right there is a statement of their stupidity and irrelevance. They are not precious and cute and cuddly like kitty cats.


Private to M.G.: Calling yourself "Mother" does not, in any way, make you more appealing. Ever heard of Joan Crawford? RENOUNCE YOUR STORYTELLING PLATFORM AT ONCE, GOOSE, OR I SHALL BE FORCED TO TAKE SWIFT AND FAST ACTION TO BEHEAD AND/OR DECAPITATE YOU!

I am unique. And also the queen.

It has recently come to my attention that some people have foolishly made comparisons between myself and Grumpy Cat. Apparently, these people think that because we are both feline, Grumpy Cat and I have similar qualities. This is speciesist. And also unacceptable. If they bothered to look past our heritage, they would see that Grumpy Cat and I, in fact, have nothing in common.

First of all – and most important – Grumpy Cat is not of royal birth. This in itself is reason enough to recognize that we are nothing alike. I am a queen. Grumpy Cat is a commoner. 'Nuff said.

And, in case that reason isn't significant enough, Grumpy Cat also hates everything. I do not hate everything. I hate Katherine. And most of the time I kind of hate Clara the Cow. Otherwise, I am a loving, generous, benevolent ruler. I don't complain about things - I solve problems swiftly and judiciously. I stay executions at least once or twice a month. I give my minions a day off when they earn it. And this morning I allowed Clara the Cow to eat some of my special royal food. I could easily have punched her in the face, but I chose not to. Because that's the kind of queen I am. And, for the record, she didn't even appreciate it. So, who's grumpy now?

In case there is any further confusion, here is a list of cats with whom I have nothing in common:


Grumpy Cat – Reasons stated above

Henri, le Chat Noir – I actually think Henri may have royal blood somewhere in his lineage, but that's irrelevant unless he plans to try to usurp my throne . . . or marry me. Royal blood or no, Henri has terrible social skills, which is why he is never invited to balls.

Maru – Does anyone actually know what this cat does that makes him notable? His ears don't even work right [Editor's note: Maru is a Scottish Fold]. Nick is cooler than this guy, and he doesn't have a tail!

Snoopy Cat – This cat wears clothes. Need I say more?

Sam – I don't have eyebrows.

Lil Bub - Seriously?

The QNC Test - Rating movies based on what's actually important

You've all heard of the Bechdel Test, I assume.

You haven't? Okay. Well, the Bechdel Test is a film analysis tool used (from what I can tell) to demonstrate the absence of realistic portrayals of women's relationships in cinema.

To apply the test to the movie of your choice, you must determine if the movie a) has at least two female characters (with names) who b) talk to each other c) about something other than a man. If the movie does not fulfill these three criteria, it fails.

So, 12 Angry Men does not pass . . .

. . . but Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead totally does.

As interesting as all of this is (and by interesting, I mean irrelevant), all these film analyzers are completely missing the point. Most movies have both males and females in them (and if they don't, they're probably about martial arts or they're artsy films about a single character trying to keep his boat from sinking) – how many of them feature cats as significant elements to the story?

Having a hard time thinking of any? That's what I thought.

I call this the QNC Test [Editor's note: Nora felt it was fitting to name the test after herself, Queen Nora Charles], and I expect it to become the next big thing among film aficionados. As you consider all those films you think are so insightful, ask yourself: Does a member of the feline species actively contribute to the progression of the story? If not, the film fails. See how that side dish to your film-snobbery tastes.

I'm pleased that in 2013, the Coen Brothers managed to deliver a film that passes the QNC Test. Inside Llewyn Davis features a cat who is not relegated to the role of background scenery – or worse, a tool to create empathy for a character (yes, that's a thing - ask Blake Snyder).

The Coen Brothers understand how a cat can move
a story forward in subtle but significant ways.

I understand that in the original script for the play (and later the movie) Harvey, the pookah was a cat, but someone thought a rabbit would be more whimsical [Editor's note: Nora has no proof of this claim.]. Cats can be whimsical. We just choose not to.

Imagine how much better off Elwood P. Dowd would have been if Harvey had been a cat. He certainly wouldn't have had to worry about that meddling sister of his very long – cats have ways of handling meddling sisters that apparently rabbits are unaware of.

Harvey would have put a stop to all this nonsense
if he had been a cat.

[Editor's note: The film Harvey does pass the Bechdel test, FYI.]

I encourage all my readers to seek out other films that pass the QNC Test, make sure your own scripts pass the QNC Test when you write them, and demand that Hollywood start making movies that appropriately illustrate the important roles cats play in the lives of their minions. It's time for cats to be treated with the respect we deserve (and by cats, I mean me.)

Not okay, Nick!

The most horrible thing happened this morning! My eyes are still burning from the sight. I may never recover!

My stupid brother Nick kissed Katherine on the nose!

I think I may barf.

Ways to improve relationships among the palace dwellers

The One Who Types came across an article listing 10 habits people in happy relationships generally exhibit. Since I am rarely happy with the other palace dwellers, I decided to see if anything on this list might force the One and my minions to make me happy on a regular basis.

1. Go to bed at the same time

I go to bed when the One goes to bed because that's when she moves to another room; she can hardly pet me if we're in separate rooms. So, with respect to her, I guess this is a good suggestion, although it ought to go without saying.

On the other hand, recommending that the minions go to bed at the same time I do is hardly going to make me happy! If I'm using the bed, Katherine should be nowhere near it, because I hate her. Also, Clara the Cow takes up so much room, she pushes everyone else off. Fairbanks rarely sleeps on the bed, so I see no reason to add one more body to the mix if he's content to sleep elsewhere. I guess Nick can sleep with us if he stays out of the way and doesn't annoy me.

2. Cultivate common interests

This makes no sense at all. Minions should not have interests in common with those of us who have royal blood. My interests are all suitable for a queen. I'm hardly going to mingle with minions and participate in their common activities! Besides, their interests should be focused on worshiping me and making me happy.

Common interests, indeed.

3. Walk hand in hand or side by side

Ridiculous. How would anyone know I'm the queen if those of lower birth are presumptuous enough to walk along next to me like companions rather than servants?

4. Make trust and forgiveness your default mode

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

What's the next one?

5. Focus more on what your partner does right than what he or she does wrong

If I were to adopt his habit, I'd never have anything to focus on! Nobody in the palace does anything right - that's why I have to rule with an iron paw! Do you think I LIKE throwing people in the dungeon and beheading my subjects? [Editor's note: She does, actually.] I have no choice but to keep my subjects in line or they'd get up to all manner of mischief, such as eating all my special queen food, sleeping on my throne, and pushing me out of the way to get attention (you know who you are, Clara!).

6. Hug each other as soon as you see each other after work

Nick is in charge of hugs. I don't care what goes on in this category as long as I don't have to participate or witness it.

7. Say “I love you” and “have a good day” every morning

The One and the minions should already be saying these things to me - isn't that part of the "worshiping" contract?

As for me, I don't really care if they have a good day or not, and, frankly, if they think I love them, they'll take advantage of me, so . . . no on this one.

8. Say “good night” every night, regardless of how you feel

I don't feel like doing that.

9. Do a “weather” check during the day

I don't know what this means, but I know I don't want to do it.

10. Be proud to be seen with your partner

Right. Like I'd be seen in the company of any of my palace-mates. Really. I don't even like most of them, and Nick doesn't have a tail!





(The One says I have to give credit to the author of the original article - something about integrity and something else - I wasn't really listening. Anyway, here it is:

Goulston, M. (2009, November 14). 10 habits of happy couples: What does it take to be happy in a relationship? Retrieved from http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/just-listen/200911/10-habits-happy-couples )

New year resolutions in the palace

This is the first time the One Who Types has agreed to write in my blog this year. She is trying my patience.

Here are the new year resolutions of all the palace dwellers:

Fairbanks: To spend more time outside and to improve his hunting skills

Even when he looks like he's resting,
Fairbanks is secretly planning his next hunt.

Also, I think he secretly resolved to push Clara the Cow out a window, but he won't say if that was on his list or not.

Clara the Cow: To get plenty of beauty sleep

Although she has, indeed, slept a lot since the beginning of the year, I'd say her resolution was actually to invade everyone else's personal space at all times, because that's what she's been doing.

Here, Fairbanks and I were taking a perfectly pleasant nap,
and Clara had to stuff her giant cow body into our space.

Katherine: To figure out how to open cans of squishy food and treat bags

This has been Katherine's resolution every year since I've known her. So far, she has failed miserably, which is not surprising, since she's so stupid. I can open cans of squishy food and treat bags, but I don't do it because I am the queen and such menial tasks are beneath me.

I'm pretty sure she's mentally ill. Seriously. Look at her.

My stupid brother Nick: Nick didn't make any resolutions because he didn't want to commit to something that might infringe upon someone else's resolution and ruin it for him or her. He's an idiot.

It's a good thing I didn't allow Nick to take the throne.
The kingdom would be in ruins by now.

The One Who Types: To eat less, shop less, and find a job doing something she's passionate about

Clearly, her priorities need to be reevaluated. Note that "type her majesty's blog daily" is not on that list. Uncool.

Queen Nora Charles: I have no need of resolutions. I am already perfect. [Editor's note: stop laughing - she's serious.]