tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62907852011-11-17T21:54:38.202+07:00The everyday life of a born-again movie goddess... in the body of a male cat.Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comBlogger451100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1119791796104882382005-06-26T20:16:00.000+07:002005-06-26T20:32:56.866+07:00

HELP!My official feeder's going to celebrate her baby's birthday! How come I NEVER HAD A BIRTHDAY PARTY?

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1119114832074036182005-06-19T00:13:00.000+07:002005-06-19T00:13:52.093+07:00

Tadaima!I'm baaaaaaaaaa~aaack! Now I start to look like my usual self. Decided to saunter away from the neighborhood for a while... only to check whether the official feeder and her family would raise some alarm. The thought that they'd search for me frantically while putting posters with my face on them made me warm all over. I was wrong, though. At least, when I returned, they showed their

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1111546629617987582005-03-23T09:57:00.000+07:002005-03-23T09:57:09.616+07:00

Once the baby cries, people run to his side. I have to squeal and meow and purr at least a zillion times... before they begin to notice me. Maybe this is my karma.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1108607163726083372005-02-17T09:26:00.000+07:002005-02-17T09:26:03.726+07:00

My official feeder prefers to feed her baby now. I thought I was supposed to be number one priority! I was wrong. Now I have to work hard to eat--being cute and sweet. My specialty in my previous life. Bad karma indeed.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1098289234993554042004-10-20T23:20:00.000+07:002004-10-20T23:20:34.993+07:00

I wonder. I puke on the floor yet they make such a big fuss about it. While the new baby pukes on their clothes, and here I repeat, ON THEIR CLOTHES, and still they consider him cute! I hate human babies.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1097772074441173362004-10-14T23:41:00.000+07:002004-10-14T23:41:14.440+07:00

People say I can sleep anywhere and anytime I want to. Well, they're right... *yawn* 

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1097771810046952322004-10-14T23:36:00.000+07:002004-10-14T23:36:50.046+07:00

I know I'm cute! So there! 

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1091958185277752762004-08-08T16:43:00.000+07:002004-08-08T16:43:05.276+07:00

What I'm doing when I'm not blogging... 

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1087430683806539562004-06-17T07:04:00.000+07:002004-06-17T07:04:43.806+07:00

Lost some weight. Well let me tell you! It's not the same when you're a cat. I look less cute when I'm thinner.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1085405006725134082004-05-24T20:22:00.000+07:002004-05-24T20:23:26.726+07:00

Mating season's over. Eating season has come again...

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1082790433355537882004-04-24T14:07:00.000+07:002004-04-24T14:11:23.246+07:00

I need a bath. God, how I miss my lavish bathtub in my previous life. Now their idea of a bathtub is a large pail. But I have no reason to complain. At least they fill it with lukewarm water. And I get to pee and poo while bathing!

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1081154869273582042004-04-05T15:47:00.000+07:002004-04-05T15:51:32.576+07:00

I felt the need to fight. So I challenged Minerva the Grandma. She was so old and thin that I was quite sure she'd fall to my threats. But what did you know? She managed to beat me! Dear Lord! What went wrong?

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1080524002737488542004-03-29T08:33:00.000+07:002004-03-29T08:36:56.200+07:00

Meyoooorrr, I'm bored. Bored of eating cassava and tempe. I think I'll add avocado to my diet.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1079988828832920832004-03-23T03:53:00.000+07:002004-03-23T03:57:13.496+07:00

Broke a new record. I slept in the official feeder's bed for ONLY three hours today.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1079404549245391192004-03-16T09:35:00.000+07:002004-03-16T09:39:04.873+07:00

My worst nightmare ever came true. It was horrible beyond belief. It came in the shape of a girl. Her shrill voice and talkativeness made me flinch. She touched me and I recoiled. That didn't stop her, no! She held me close. I was forced to yell for help. Pity those humans couldn't understand me... they thought I was enjoying it!

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1078745613602140572004-03-08T18:33:00.000+07:002004-03-08T18:36:38.843+07:00

Oh! The horror! The tragedy!I was sleeping soundly, minding my own business, when I felt that I had to move. Ohkay, so I moved. Too late, I learned that it was NOT WISE to move around when you were sleeping in an air bed. I ended up scratching the bedsheet. Hope the official feeder won't notice...

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1077079382132365342004-02-18T11:43:00.000+07:002004-02-18T11:45:40.763+07:00

Taught my kitten some combat skills. Gracefully feigned defeat. The official feeder thought that I was losing. Hah! Oh well. Of course I was... But they used their teeth! That was cheating!

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1076493132811025072004-02-11T16:52:00.000+07:002004-02-11T16:54:42.700+07:00

And why are they complaining when I sleep on their hair? Look at my body. There's hair all over me. And you don't hear me complain... much. Okay, I miss getting a creambath. But that's all.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1076390399715779512004-02-10T12:19:00.000+07:002004-02-10T12:22:27.623+07:00

What's with humans and courtesy nowadays? Don't they know that forcing a cat to have a bath and then hair-dry him in front of his kittens is like forcing a king to lick his crotch in front of his heirs?

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1075807926618266152004-02-03T18:32:00.000+07:002004-02-03T18:34:25.090+07:00

Woke up by the sounds of thunders. How I hate them! But I love the rain. I love looking at tiny drops of rain, pondering my existence in life. I always get the same answer--it's time to go to bed.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1075459608798785992004-01-30T17:46:00.000+07:002004-01-30T17:50:32.420+07:00

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

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1075113730637100862004-01-26T17:42:00.000+07:002004-01-26T17:44:17.936+07:00

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.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1074830925084458642004-01-23T11:08:00.000+07:002004-01-23T11:10:48.373+07:00

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.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1074654535844074422004-01-21T10:08:00.000+07:002004-01-21T10:10:56.310+07:00

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.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1074491391479670572004-01-19T12:49:00.000+07:002004-01-21T10:11:29.670+07:00

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.

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-107430884663107602004-01-17T10:07:00.000+07:002004-01-19T12:41:07.590+07:00

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?

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1074251318106927992004-01-16T18:08:00.000+07:002004-01-16T18:50:26.576+07:00

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

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1074146169780679672004-01-15T12:56:00.000+07:002004-01-15T12:58:01.530+07:00

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.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1074146142984568502004-01-15T12:55:00.000+07:002004-01-15T12:57:34.750+07:00

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.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1074140079807706152004-01-15T11:14:00.000+07:002004-01-15T11:16:32.076+07:00

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...

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073881036490239892004-01-12T11:17:00.000+07:002004-01-12T11:17:37.376+07:00

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...

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073628943087958632004-01-09T13:15:00.000+07:002004-01-09T13:17:25.463+07:00

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!

Primadonna Angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03741646836252098153noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376832771706182004-01-09T07:13:00.000+07:002004-01-06T15:15:03.563+07:00

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.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376816329500512004-01-07T02:13:00.000+07:002004-01-08T06:17:33.813+07:00

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.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376746109025852004-01-06T19:12:00.000+07:002004-01-06T19:17:34.986+07:00

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.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376555555402172004-01-05T06:08:00.000+07:002004-01-06T15:09:34.990+07:00

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.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376479873308042004-01-04T06:07:00.000+07:002004-01-06T15:08:19.320+07:00

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

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376370373060232004-01-03T05:06:00.000+07:002004-01-06T15:08:55.600+07:00

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

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376604054259502004-01-02T15:10:00.000+07:002004-01-06T16:18:58.796+07:00

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?

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073376286155777222004-01-01T15:04:00.000+07:002004-01-06T15:05:35.370+07:00

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.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073375989106449132003-12-31T08:56:00.000+07:002004-01-06T16:16:50.160+07:00

Fought a neighboring tomcat. Lost. Fell to my own poo and urine. Why do humans insist in bathing me? I mean, I’ve never forced them to lick their own crotches. Not in this life, at least.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073375662236165762003-12-30T02:54:00.000+07:002004-01-06T14:55:34.906+07:00

Chased a cockroach. Failed. I have little idea why the little bugger didn’t just wait for me. Why would it even try to save itself? You’re a cockroach, for clawing out loud! It’s not like your existence matters much to the world.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073375534683605382003-12-29T12:52:00.000+07:002004-01-06T14:53:40.143+07:00

Slept from dawn. Woke up at noon. Felt great! Thinking maybe I should exercise. Yawned. Stretched. Enough exercises. Slept again.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073374953469672542003-12-28T14:42:00.000+07:002004-01-06T14:53:56.096+07:00

Slept all day. Could barely eat. Puked twice.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290785.post-1073375762939511502003-12-26T11:56:00.000+07:002004-01-06T16:14:42.456+07:00

Slept on various beds. I realized now satin sheets are overrated. Try jumping at one without claws.

Isman H. Suryamannoreply@blogger.com