I learned that there are two kinds of cat in this world. Those who finish what they started. And those wh

The kittens are growing up. I need to teach them important lessons in life. Like who's the boss. Too bad their mother doesn't appreciate my example. Maybe she thinks she IS the boss. Just because she could give birth. Yeah, yeah, whatever.

Feel cheated. Found out that I don't have two kittens after all, but only one. Now that the kittens are a bit bigger, I note to my disappointment that only one kitten has the same mark in the face.

They bathed me again. Yuck. So what's wrong with falling to the gutter, eh? Eh? Well, the good thing is they did pamper me afterwards. I got two cookies and cheese as a reward for only pooping thrice in the bathtub. Not bad. Maybe I should poop more, then.

If you want to return to Hollywood then your figure should be great. So I have to watch what I eat. Gee, I'm starved to death. Today I ate two pieces of meat pies, four portions a day Whiskas instead of ten, a slab of cheese, a mouthful of mashed potatoes, a sausage, something exotic that my official feeder calls "tempe", chicken bones, a saucer of milk, a thin slice of cake, two pieces of fish. How undernourished I've become! Ah, we all have to sacrifice many things for our goals...

I sure look good in these pictures! I am definitely photogenic. Pity that I can't rely to my official feeder and her partner to take my pictures. Perhaps I should hire the professionals. I wonder, do they accept Whiskas or Friskies?

I've decided to return to showbiz.

I figured Hollywood still needs me. And I still DO have what it takes. Even in this form, I still can be the megastar I was born as. Observe...

I can still act. Here's me doing the ever-challenging impression of the Sphinx!


I can do commercials!



And I can even do a sex scene! All three combined fits for a Hollywood Goddess!

I will mail these portfolios along with my persuasive letter to my old manager Jim (that's not his name, but if you're a megastar, you can call your manager anything!) right away. And the world will rejoice for a reborn megastar!

But not before supper.

Here it is... the first ever public display of the new me! Notice that even in this next life, I still retain my trademarked sexy spot. Although the position has moved somewhere. Oh, well... nobody's perfect.

Am thinking of ways to show pics of my beautiful self online. Can't depend on the official feeder for this. In this kind of stuff she's like --excuse the phrase--a windblowin' less of a Marilyn Monroe.

I am SO bored. I have nothing else to do. Today I have done practically everything there is. I ate, drank both rain and freshwater, urinated, pooped, slept. Begged for food, scratched the furniture, yawned, hissed at another cat. What else? I think I'll just take a nap...

Slept on a couch, on various beds, on the carpet, near the humans, spreading my fleas. They are such unsuspecting folks. My official feeder praised me for not having as many fleas as before. Then she complained that there were so many mosquitos in the house, biting her, making her itch. If only she knew...

My two kittens were born yesterday! Yay! It means that I have to improve my diet before they get older and start taking my share. Tried to be nice by taking my own portion of goat's satay from the table. But since they shouted and removed me quickly from the spot, I assumed that they weren't delighted. I was only trying to be helpful, for God's sake!

Another human wrote to me, “How come you don’t sound like Marilyn Monroe?” Well, excuse moi. Try developing fur, being the opposite sex, and got around in four legs. If that doesn’t change how you talk, well, go lick yourself.

Scratched my neck many times. Had a human search for my fleas. I simply purred as her reward. And she was more than satisfied. Been there, done that.

A human wrote to me, asking about the blog’s design. She asked, “Why the minimal choices of colors?” Why the fuss in the first place? Cats are color blind anyway. And we can only read large fonts. Which means, I can't even read some parts of my blog. Get that to your system.

Suddenly it hit me. It’s good to be a male cat. At least I don’t have to worry about getting up to EIGHT boobjobs.

Got a minor eye infection. This called for an immediate remedy. So I slept.

Reminiscing. I was taken in when I was a mere kitten, seven and a half months. Maybe about one and a half month in human’s age. But cats are not known for their mathematical prowess. Imagine counting fractions with claws.

I used to hate other cats. I even hissed at my own reflections. On the other paw, I loved humans. I threw myself at them. Even before I realized my previous existence, I’d acted accordingly.

Why do I keep a weblog? You, being humans, may not know that cats have short attention spans. So it’s not that we don’t love you. We just don’t know who you are. We, however, remember that…uhm, what am I talking about?

Couldn't sleep. Too many noises. Horn blowing and what not. How these humans around me were capable to stand these noises without being drunk is beyond me.