Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:
It has not gone unnoticed that I am completely without suitable material for my Tinker-Tatters decor AND my Tinker-Tissue Toys. I have been unable to secure a single dirty kleenex, roll of toilet paper, paper towel, paper bag or piece of tissue paper in the last week. I know you are hiding them. This is unacceptable.
You will tell me where they are located immediately or I shall begin shredding the mail. I am not above using Tinker-Torture to secure this information. I am sharpening my Tinker-Talons. And waiting.
Speaking of Tinker-Torture, please tell Strange Man to stop trying to teach me this thing called "Patty Cake." It is a ridiculous game, and anyone who would make a cake out of someone named Patty is seriously disturbed.
-Tink
Monday, November 25, 2013
Friday, November 15, 2013
November 15, 2013 6:21 a.m.
Dear Tink:
This morning, I was awakened at 6:02 a.m. (far too early for a woman who does not have to go to work), by the sound of you digging in my purse. You quickly pulled out a dirty kleenex (I'm not proud) and began chewing it up. This is a disgusting habit. Far more disgusting than me keeping dirty kleenex in my purse.
After taking said kleenex away from you, and putting it in the zipped portion of my purse (again, I'm not proud, but I was sleepy and the trash can was an entire room away), I attempted to go back to sleep. I immediately heard the sound of more digging. When I looked down, you had extracted from my purse yet another dirty kleenex. I sighed in exasperation, grabbed my purse and began searching it for dirty kleenex. I removed all the dirty kleenex from my purse (seriously, there weren't that many), and threw them away.
When I came back into the room, I discovered you playing. With another dirty kleenex. WHERE ARE YOU FINDING THESE THINGS?? And more importantly, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM???
At this point, I can only assume you are manifesting them yourself. And if you are capable of manifesting things, please start manifesting your own food and water. And someone to clean your litter box. And Hugh Jackman. If you can get Hugh Jackman to clean your litter box, well I guess that's one less thing.
Although you seem to prefer dirty kleenex, I did also find you with your head in the kleenex box last night. I can only assume you were attempting to pull the unused kleenex from the box. This is obviously some sort of karmic payback, as I used to do the same thing to my mother when I was a baby. So I suppose I can't be mad at you for that, as karma is, in fact, a bitch.
But you really do need to stop with the dirty ones. It is gross.
And please stop chewing up my shoes. That is something dogs do. It is beneath you.
You are about to be in Tinker-Trouble.
-Woman Who Feeds You (And is Tired of Cleaning Up the Dirty Kleenex)
This morning, I was awakened at 6:02 a.m. (far too early for a woman who does not have to go to work), by the sound of you digging in my purse. You quickly pulled out a dirty kleenex (I'm not proud) and began chewing it up. This is a disgusting habit. Far more disgusting than me keeping dirty kleenex in my purse.
After taking said kleenex away from you, and putting it in the zipped portion of my purse (again, I'm not proud, but I was sleepy and the trash can was an entire room away), I attempted to go back to sleep. I immediately heard the sound of more digging. When I looked down, you had extracted from my purse yet another dirty kleenex. I sighed in exasperation, grabbed my purse and began searching it for dirty kleenex. I removed all the dirty kleenex from my purse (seriously, there weren't that many), and threw them away.
When I came back into the room, I discovered you playing. With another dirty kleenex. WHERE ARE YOU FINDING THESE THINGS?? And more importantly, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM???
At this point, I can only assume you are manifesting them yourself. And if you are capable of manifesting things, please start manifesting your own food and water. And someone to clean your litter box. And Hugh Jackman. If you can get Hugh Jackman to clean your litter box, well I guess that's one less thing.
Although you seem to prefer dirty kleenex, I did also find you with your head in the kleenex box last night. I can only assume you were attempting to pull the unused kleenex from the box. This is obviously some sort of karmic payback, as I used to do the same thing to my mother when I was a baby. So I suppose I can't be mad at you for that, as karma is, in fact, a bitch.
But you really do need to stop with the dirty ones. It is gross.
And please stop chewing up my shoes. That is something dogs do. It is beneath you.
You are about to be in Tinker-Trouble.
-Woman Who Feeds You (And is Tired of Cleaning Up the Dirty Kleenex)
Friday, November 8, 2013
November 8, 2013 2:26 a.m.
Dear Tink:
There seems to be some confusion regarding the rules of the household. For clarification, here is a list of places you are not allowed to occupy. And don't try to deny it. I have found you in every one of these places in the last week.
The kitchen table
The kitchen counter
The dining room table
The kitchen trash can
The bathroom trash can
The top of the pile of clean laundry
(dirty laundry is acceptable, though you seem to have no interest in it)
Snowball's bed while Snowball is in it
Penny's box while Penny is in it
Pumpkin's head
The dishwasher
The refrigerator
My purse
The lap of anyone sitting on the toilet
The toilet
The inside of the piano
The top of the curtains
The planter
My dinner plate
My water glass
The top of the coffee maker
Strange Man's coffee cup
The ceiling fan blades are also off limits. Though I have not yet found you up there, I've seen how you look at them. Don't even try it.
I have managed to make it to age 41 without ever being responsible for a two-year-old. I do not now intend to be held hostage by a Tinker-Toddler.
Sincerely,
Woman Who Feeds You
P.S. To Hugh Jackman (who reads this blog religiously) - these rules do not apply to you. I will also send you a private message containing a list of other areas you are allowed and encouraged to occupy.
There seems to be some confusion regarding the rules of the household. For clarification, here is a list of places you are not allowed to occupy. And don't try to deny it. I have found you in every one of these places in the last week.
The kitchen table
The kitchen counter
The dining room table
The kitchen trash can
The bathroom trash can
The top of the pile of clean laundry
(dirty laundry is acceptable, though you seem to have no interest in it)
Snowball's bed while Snowball is in it
Penny's box while Penny is in it
Pumpkin's head
The dishwasher
The refrigerator
My purse
The lap of anyone sitting on the toilet
The toilet
The inside of the piano
The top of the curtains
The planter
My dinner plate
My water glass
The top of the coffee maker
Strange Man's coffee cup
The ceiling fan blades are also off limits. Though I have not yet found you up there, I've seen how you look at them. Don't even try it.
I have managed to make it to age 41 without ever being responsible for a two-year-old. I do not now intend to be held hostage by a Tinker-Toddler.
Sincerely,
Woman Who Feeds You
P.S. To Hugh Jackman (who reads this blog religiously) - these rules do not apply to you. I will also send you a private message containing a list of other areas you are allowed and encouraged to occupy.
Friday, November 1, 2013
November 1, 2013 11:31 a.m.
Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:
Yesterday, you encouraged me to stop knocking things over. You suggested that perhaps the other kitties are so mean to me because they are jealous of my KnockOver super-powers. Though this does seem likely, I must decline. I cannot help it if I am better than everyone else.
I have discovered another equally satisfying activity, though. Interior decorating. As I am sure you aware, this house needs some serious cosmetic work. Today, I began redecorating the foyer. I am using my new designer collection, which I call "Tinker-Tatters." It consists of shredded toilet paper and paper towels. I have now completed the stairs and most of the foyer.
Tomorrow, I will work on the Library. Please provide me with several more rolls of material, as I am already out.
You're welcome.
-Tink
Yesterday, you encouraged me to stop knocking things over. You suggested that perhaps the other kitties are so mean to me because they are jealous of my KnockOver super-powers. Though this does seem likely, I must decline. I cannot help it if I am better than everyone else.
I have discovered another equally satisfying activity, though. Interior decorating. As I am sure you aware, this house needs some serious cosmetic work. Today, I began redecorating the foyer. I am using my new designer collection, which I call "Tinker-Tatters." It consists of shredded toilet paper and paper towels. I have now completed the stairs and most of the foyer.
Tomorrow, I will work on the Library. Please provide me with several more rolls of material, as I am already out.
You're welcome.
-Tink
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
October 30, 2013 3:53 a.m.
I have been placed in solitary confinement again for biting Angry Cat.
I still contend that the only reason Woman Who Feeds Me freaked out about this is that Angry Cat is white, and therefore the blood that was all over her was much more visible. When it comes to biting, Woman Who Feeds Me is so racist. I guess it will take time before the violence between the white cats and the Irish cats is finally eradicated. I plan to squeeze in as much violence as possible toward Angry Cat until that happens.
I just can't help it. Angry Cat irritates me. First, they call her "Snowball." What kind of stupid name is that? For a long time, I was utterly perplexed at this choice of name for Angry Cat. But then I remembered that when snowballs hit me, they do make me very angry. So I guess it might be a good name for her. Though it's a fairly labored metaphor. I doubt Woman Who Feeds Me is smart enough to have figured it out.
Then, she is constantly crying for food, even though she is rapidly approaching the size of Darth Fatty Fat Fatterson. And she always wants into the living room. Her method of attempting to access said room is to somersault her huge body into the door. This has never, ever worked. Though it does succeed in freaking out Woman Who Feeds Me. She thinks someone is in the house, knocking at the door. She watches too many horror movies. Just the other night she watched one called "Hotel for Dogs." It was terrifying and gave me nightmares.
I can't believe she let the children watch it. I guess there's a reason they call her The Wicked Step-Mother. As I have been locked in "the tower," I think I shall start calling her that, too. If she gives me an apple, please remind me not to eat it.
-Tink
I still contend that the only reason Woman Who Feeds Me freaked out about this is that Angry Cat is white, and therefore the blood that was all over her was much more visible. When it comes to biting, Woman Who Feeds Me is so racist. I guess it will take time before the violence between the white cats and the Irish cats is finally eradicated. I plan to squeeze in as much violence as possible toward Angry Cat until that happens.
I just can't help it. Angry Cat irritates me. First, they call her "Snowball." What kind of stupid name is that? For a long time, I was utterly perplexed at this choice of name for Angry Cat. But then I remembered that when snowballs hit me, they do make me very angry. So I guess it might be a good name for her. Though it's a fairly labored metaphor. I doubt Woman Who Feeds Me is smart enough to have figured it out.
Then, she is constantly crying for food, even though she is rapidly approaching the size of Darth Fatty Fat Fatterson. And she always wants into the living room. Her method of attempting to access said room is to somersault her huge body into the door. This has never, ever worked. Though it does succeed in freaking out Woman Who Feeds Me. She thinks someone is in the house, knocking at the door. She watches too many horror movies. Just the other night she watched one called "Hotel for Dogs." It was terrifying and gave me nightmares.
I can't believe she let the children watch it. I guess there's a reason they call her The Wicked Step-Mother. As I have been locked in "the tower," I think I shall start calling her that, too. If she gives me an apple, please remind me not to eat it.
-Tink
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
October 22, 2013 5:12 a.m.
Dear Tink -
I wish to put you on official notice that my vanilla-scented Chapstick is for my benefit - not yours.
Attempting to lick it off my lips in the middle of the night is not acceptable. Chewing on my earlobes is also forbidden.
Please stop.
-Woman Who Feeds You
P.S. Hugh Jackman - as you surely read this blog, please note that these rules do not apply to you.
I wish to put you on official notice that my vanilla-scented Chapstick is for my benefit - not yours.
Attempting to lick it off my lips in the middle of the night is not acceptable. Chewing on my earlobes is also forbidden.
Please stop.
-Woman Who Feeds You
P.S. Hugh Jackman - as you surely read this blog, please note that these rules do not apply to you.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
October 20, 2013 3:19 p.m.
Welcome to this week's issue of The KnockOver Report.
This week's KnockOver activity far surpassed any I have ever achieved. KnockOvers included:
- One large stack of video games that clearly should have been put away by the children
- One phone, sadly undamaged
- One large, metal lunch box (what a delightful sound!)
- One bottle of pills, which I'm proud to say, I knocked directly out of the hands of Woman Who Feeds Me. She screeched, and pills went everywhere. I had a great time scattering them further out of her reach. Unfortunately, she was able to rescue them all before I had a chance to sample any.
I'm sorry to report that the large cat called Pumpkin (Darth Fatty Fat Fatterson) still exceeds me in KnockOver ability. Yesterday, she successfully knocked the silver candlesticks off the mantel without even using her paws. She simply tried to walk behind them. I can learn much from this one.
This week's KnockOver activity far surpassed any I have ever achieved. KnockOvers included:
- One large stack of video games that clearly should have been put away by the children
- One phone, sadly undamaged
- One large, metal lunch box (what a delightful sound!)
- One bottle of pills, which I'm proud to say, I knocked directly out of the hands of Woman Who Feeds Me. She screeched, and pills went everywhere. I had a great time scattering them further out of her reach. Unfortunately, she was able to rescue them all before I had a chance to sample any.
I'm sorry to report that the large cat called Pumpkin (Darth Fatty Fat Fatterson) still exceeds me in KnockOver ability. Yesterday, she successfully knocked the silver candlesticks off the mantel without even using her paws. She simply tried to walk behind them. I can learn much from this one.
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