|I'm red faced embarrassed |
over last week's blog!
Last week, not a lot of you commented on my post, and some of the comments were really almost words of sympathy. My face is red as I feel like I blew it big time.
So Does Rich!
In fact, Rich was totally ticked off at me. I have to admit, it is his blog, and he has a reputation to protect (as bad as it may be, lol). He was so mad, he told me I couldn't guest post anymore.
I was crushed and will admit, I shed some tears in expressing my feelings towards his incommunicado attitude. Heartbroken, I felt as though I'd let down all my fans!
Yes, I broke down and cried and cried! When the big softy saw my matted fur around my eyes, he finally relented and decided to give me one more chance.
"Oh, great God of pussycats, please don't let me mess this one up!"
So now, the pressure's on me. I've got to stay PG rated (which dahrlings, is a real task for me) and still pull in the readers. He must think I'm Garfield! I'm actually finding a few white hairs in my beautiful black fur from all the stress. (Janine, I think it's time for that hair color we talked about a couple of weeks ago!)
So, let's get started. It may be my final walk down the pirate's plank, but at least I'll go down with my paws patting the keyboard!
First thing I want to bring up is this advertisement I just saw. Look at this one here to the right!
OMG, when did Obama go bald?????
He looks like Whoppee without
the dreadlocks and glasses!!!
the dreadlocks and glasses!!!
why didn't you buy some Rogaine for your man!
You can afford it, girl! Sell one of those dyed, burlap bag dresses you been wearin' to hide your big tail and get your man a prescription to bring back his hair!
And, iffin' he shaved his head tryin' to look all cool, you tell him he ain't no ugly man tryin' anything to look good, like Steve Harvey (Since he shaved his hair off, all he needs is a derby hat and he'd look like that old, big headed Mr. Potatohead, lol).
Obama needs to make himself look good again by growin' it back out! I didn't vote for no bald headed, chrome domed President! Put your hair back on, boy! This mama's needin' to fantasize about those hot nights with the Prez in the Oval Office, again!
Okay, enough of that. Any more, and I'm gonna get myself in trouble with Rich ... again!
Last week, Ruchira asked me ta talk this week about GNO. Now, I searched all week long to study the topic, but honey, there ain't a lot on the web about Gross Nose Obesity. I guess we could pull up a picture a picture of Steve Harvey and stare at his nozola for a while, but y'all would start feelin' nauseated quick.
|I added it anyway! lol|
Licensed under the
Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic
Then, Rich tells me that GNO means "Girls Night Out", not "Gross Nose Obesity." (Like I'm supposed to know that on my own.)
So, Ruchira, let's talk about it!
I'm waitin' girl! Start talkin'!
|Girls, let me get all your|
money so Geraldo and I
can enjoy our evening!
First off, she says her and her girlfriends used to go watch these Chippendale guys dance and strip on stage. I say, "Girl, what's the big deal about goin' and watchin' men dance, when you know they're going home with men when they're done?"
Give me a real hetero man! I like me a Tom cat that's lookin' at me and sayin', "Hey girl, you got the bootie I'm after", instead of, "Yeah, yours is okay, but Geraldo's booty is much tighter!"
Ooops! Sorry! Gotta be careful.
Almost went PG-13 there!
Girls, I want a Tom that looks good, and likes knowin' I'm lookin' at him as much as he's lookin' at me. But you humans, well, y'all are different. Where cats don't mind "cattin' around" and checkin' out the different dudes, you humans stick with only one mate ... most of the time! How stale that must get!
|Who the Hell Are You!|
I asked for Max!
With that being the case, I guess you feel safe in knowin' the dancers aren't lookin' for anything when they get done doing their dancing. You can sit there, stuff their jock straps full of dollar bills, get drunk, make jokes about the hubby and kids, cry a little, and finally decide who can afford a lawyer before figuring out who the designated driver is going to be.
You might as well stay at home and watch
Dancing With the Stars!
"Go Max ... Go Max!!!"
I remember how it used to be before the "Mommy" phase of life happened!
I'd go out, strolling the block. I'd be whippin' my tail from side to side, makin' sure all the Tom's had a good view. Then, I'd check out all the different Tom's on the block, and go to the next to do the same.
I'd be drivin' them crazy!
This mama had the motion to move the notion of the ocean!
Then, when I found a Tom worthy of my attention (not one of those damn alley cats that didn't care about you), I'd fluff up my tail real big ... real big!
Honey, that Tom's eyes would bulge out and he'd be sniffing the air to find out if I was just lookin', or ready to get to cookin'! That's when the chase would begin!
After that ... well, after that a girl's gotta keep some secrets to keep her reputation in tact.
We all had those wild days once. Now, we sit around let ourselves be tamed, taking life easy and eating Little Friskies ... or whatever. (I can't believe y'all don't like Little Friskies! You really ought to give them a try sometime.)
|So, who's driving home?|
And "Girls Night Out", well, it's something we do just to get away and remind us that we're not dead inside. We look at safe men because we know we don't trust ourselves to look at normal ones. There's still some feelings inside that we have to watch and control. The need to be free. The need to experience more of life. The need to show that we're not just tame house cats with no yearnings or desires.
In other words, the need to "cat around"
... just a little!
... just a little!
Yet, we look to our friends to keep us from going that extra mile that will get us in trouble. The act that would jeopardize losing all we have, including those we love the most. Those friends with whom we share our hearts and trust to help us keep from doing something stupid.
With these friends we share our "Girls Night Out." We can keep each other safe, have our fun, and then go home where we hug our families, and feel the warmth of the security and love they offer.
Unless you're a cat. Then, you just gotta party!!!
Take care, y'all!