What do you get when you cross a healthy dose of paranoid anxiety with panentheistic solipsism, throw in a fake doctorate, encyclopedic knowledge of Robert Heinlein & a Masters of Mixology, add a dash of Discordian Hindu mysticism, give the result an addiction to the printed word in all its forms, and then employ it answering phones?
I tried to coax the fat orange Eldest Cat into a spot suitable for photographing, but here's a grainy image of her in her natural habitat, curled up with a paper grocery bag in the hall.
posted by Pope Lizbet @ 10:05 AM
6 comments
6 Comments:
"Bitch, I *know* you're not trying to take a picture of me...I will cut you!"
She probably would.
She just settles for making biscuits with her sharp, sharp claws.
I love orange kitties. You're only the second person I've met who has a female orange kitty- usually they're almost always male.
(Vows Evil's next friend will be an orange kitty)
"I'm trying so hard to look tough, but I so ridiculously adorable, it's not working."
Those cats are adorable!
Irina came by! Hi!!!!
Glad you and I are of the same opinion about the cuteness of my kitties, as it's one ideological principle on which I refuse to compromise... :)
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