Gabriela Speaks .... Again!

Hey Ladies!   It's Me, Gabriela!
Can we talk?

Okay, Rich is tired and worn out.  He's worked seven days straight and still has one to go before he gets a day off!  

At least, that's what he's telling me to say.  Actually, he's watching a basketball game.  Yeah, he's an ass at times!  Whenever college basketball season comes around, Faletame tells me Rich forgets about everything else and cements his big butt in front of his 50" television.  

I've never actually written a blog before.  Oh, I had that "Demon Cat" series that Rich has attached to his blog above, but that's in the past.  Besides, I might have pulled his leg a little on that one.  Tee hee hee!   Rich is so damn gullible at times!

So, I'm here ... and I know that most of you write "Mommy Blogs!"  Well guess what?  

I'm a mommy!!!!

So, I'm gonna fit right in here.  And Janine, you've got nothing on me, girl.  You want to complain all the time about not being able to crap in peace with only two young ones.  Hell, I had six of them clinging to my nipples at one time!   You want to talk about trying to take a crap in peace!  Girl, only having two of them young furry pests hanging around would have been a dream!

And ladies, I didn't even have a man around to help me!  No, he got his jollies off and then left!  No good bastard!   Left me before I'd even had a chance to enjoy it!   At least, I think he was the one.  When we cats go into heat, who keeps track!   It's what we like to call a real "block party!"  You all should try it some time!

But, there I was.  Before you knew it, I was bloated up like a dead armadillo in the middle of the road.  I waddled around the neighborhood, trying to find someone to take pity on me and give me a place to live.  Damn humans, sometimes they're so superstitious about black cats anyway!  Racist pigs!

Well, I found this old woodshed behind a house and set up housekeeping.  I could grab a mouse every now and then, but water was a little hard to come by.  No, I didn't get to enjoy all the pickles and ice cream and bananas and peanut butter you guys stuffed yourself on during your pregnancy periods!   I was lucky to find a mouse that hadn't eaten half a box of D-Con!  Girls, you don't know what rough is!

One morning, out they came!  

Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop!   

Yep, half a dozen ... one after the other.  Just imagine giving birth to six at once!   And you think you were sore!  It was like someone had given me a 64 oz. Big Gulp douche with matso balls!  

I rested about two hours, and then I had to find something to eat.  I was famished!  I finally found a garbage can with some halfway decent spaghetti and meatballs in one of them white containers I see you humans carry food in.  

I knew I had to get back immediately to the shed.  I'd set up a bed on some old rags, but I knew the kittens would be scooting around.  And they had!  I had to pick two of them up and set them down with the rest, and then make sure I didn't lay on them as I tried to keep them warm.

The next day, this young girl opened the door of the shed and found me in a very precarious position.  They had all just started feeding time, so none of them was even thinking about letting go.  I couldn't do anything but lay there and hope that she didn't decide to hurt any of us.  

Surprisingly, she left, but came back a few minutes later with a big box.  I'd heard stories about cats being either bagged up or boxed up and tossed in the river, but I just couldn't leave my kids alone.  One by one, she gently picked them up and set them in the box.  Finally, she grabbed me and put me in there, too!  

Would you believe there was a real blanket in the bottom for us all to rest on?   

The next thing I know the lid's on and we're all being carried somewhere.  When she opened it up, I hopped out to find a fenced in patio awaiting all of us.   It wasn't God's country, and was kind of cold at times, but it was better than the woodshed in that she supplied me with water and food most of the time.   

Well, the weeks went on and on, and that patio began to seem like a prison.  Besides that, my six kids were growing so fast!   Always underfoot, always wanting to eat (Breast feeding sucks ... literally!), always wanting something.  God!  If I could’ve just had some peace and quiet.  

Then, one day, my prison keeper puts me in a box and takes me in her car to this real house of horrors.

Damn bitch had my tubes tied!   I had four feet walking pigeon toed!

So, the next day I get back to the house, and half my kids are gone!   Not only am I sore as hell from the operation, but my kids are missing.  Where the hell are my kids???    

Before I can figure it out, the doorbell rings and here comes a couple looking at the remaining three!  They took two of them!  Didn't matter what I said or thought, she just picked them right up and gave them to the couple!   

You might say I was somewhat pissed!

Rich, just tell her I've got a headache!
Just had to get me fixed, didn't you!!!???

The next day found another person coming and taking my remaining kitten.   Still sore, my kids all taken by Child Services and put into foster homes, and I'm stuck on this damn fenced in patio!   Boy, my life had sure gone to Hell in a hand basket!   

So, I'm a little depressed, you might say, and that's when Rich and his wife showed up.  Well, they both seemed nice enough, but I sure wasn't in the mood to be talked to or petted.  In fact, I was pretty damn fed up with life!

Next thing you know, I'm getting put into some sort of cage and taken to their house.  First damn thing I see is this good lookin' male cat named Faletame.   But, this guy's also been to the house of horrors and so he can't do anything even if I wanted him to!   Just what I wanted ... a life of abstinence.  

At least y’all get some when the kids go to bed!   

Anyway, that's my story.  I don’t imagine Rich will let me write here again.  This will probably be the only “Mommy Blog” you’ll see on his site.  Oh, he can be a real Mother _____ at times, but he’s no “mommy”, that’s for sure.  

It’s been real.  You all take care, and when you think you’ve had it bad, just think about me, living with a eunuch that thinks he’s a stud, and a couple of humans that are helping me to get fat!

By the way, how is that ice cream with pickles, anyway?

©Copyright RCRUMPLE2013. All Rights Reserved

The Wait Is Over!

My gosh, has two weeks passed since I last wrote a blog?

(Well, Rich, if you'd look at the date, you'd see how long it’s been, you dummy!)

So, today's question is ... "Does getting older automatically mean you start talking to yourself, and even answering at times?"

No, that's not today's question.  It's just a way to keep from talking about all the medical problems that have hopefully been taken care of.  Hubpages.com has the medical stuff, so if you're interested (see link below), that's the place to visit after you read what is going to be discussed here ... whatever that may be.

One of the greatest inventions ever developed by the Sadists Of America Club Is The Hospital Gown!  
It has provided doctors and nurses laughs for decades!

* I do want to thank all of you for being patient and understanding why I haven’t been visiting a lot of blogs as of late.  When dealing with double and triple vision, reading is close to impossible.  Even now, I have to take it easy for a while.  I overdid it the other day and started getting blurry eyed again.  Give me time and I’ll be back to making my stupid comments again!

Since this isn't a "Mommy" blog, I have to come up with something that will keep everyone interested.   Please, don't take me wrong!  There is nothing wrong with "Mommy" blogs!  In fact, I get a kick out of them.  It's sometimes extremely funny to see others struggling through some of the things they did to their parents years ago.  

These are my oldest daughter's angels (lol).  I have a
feeling the young man may make his grandfather
proud and be a pain in the neck to his teachers
just like his grandfather was!

The truth is that I am of the wrong gender to write a "Mommy" hub.  I guess I could write a "Grandfather" blog, but that almost sounds like something advertised on a porn site (or so I’ve been told).  Besides, Grandfathers are only known for farting, complaining, and falling asleep after eating.  Writing anything else would seem like only embellishments.  (Excuse me, I forgot belching, "Errrrrrp.")

My oldest daughter should probably start writing a "Mommy" hub.  She constantly moans and groans about the various things the kids are doing, and has started filling in as a substitute teacher in the elementary school grades.  So far, she's discussed three of them getting sick and visually reviewing their cafeteria offerings during the afternoon session, one that didn't want to raise her hand in time to make it to the bathroom for normal bowel movement, and one that brought his father's pocket knife to class.  (I guess he wanted to clear the way to the bathroom if he needed to get there quickly.)

Gabriela has just settled down for a long winter's nap,
or at least one until breakfast is served.  

Another topic I could talk about would be my cats.  Gabriela (better known as the “Demon Cat”) has made a 180 degree turnaround.  No longer is she a vicious creature of Satan. She's become a feline garbage disposal.  Gabriela’s getting fatter by the day, as she’ll eat her bowl full of food, and then squeeze Faletame away from his bowl and finish what he's not yet eaten! 

And, she’s requiring more and more love and attention.  She’s recently discovered she can jump to the top of my computer chair and lie against the back of my neck.  It does provide a nice, soft head rest for me, and it’s fairly comfortable.  

Like most men, Faletame (Fa-let-a-me) has changed somewhat since a woman came into his life.  He is still a growler when strangers approach the house, but he's not quite so brave when dealing with his mate.  Actually, he's puzzled how Gabriela has sharper claws and teeth than he, and even though he won't say it, I suspect a little jealous!

Foul Mouthed Faletame is a little upset
over being woke up for a photo session,
but he never will shy from the camera.
Still, I'm sure he'll be vocal about the
interruption when I get done publishing.

Oh, he’ll chase her until she turns, faces him, and hisses!  It's then when he goes into his Woody Allen routine.  “I don’t understand why you’re upset.  My mother used to get upset like that and my father would question her about it.  Never did any good though.  He'd say, "That’s what happens when you’re Jewish and you marry outside the church!"  He always told me never to marry in an alley!  Oh, there's plenty of room for your friends and you don't have to worry about cleaning up the mess, but there's a lot of garbage that comes with it!  There's enough garbage in a marriage that you don't need to bring more into it!“

In addition, Faletame feels somewhat slighted by all of the attention Gabriela demands, and is constantly searching for ways to receive more of it for himself.  His latest trick is to climb up on the table, put his front paws on the chair closest the counter, and reach out to paw you in the back as you’re trying to prepare a meal.  If you don’t turn and give him a pet or two immediately, he starts screaming some of the phrases he’s learned from my wife.  (Modesty forbids repeating them here, but if you've ever heard Al Pacino in the movie Scarface ... )

Anyway, that’s enough for now.  Much more, and you’ll never come back again for fear of being bored to death.  I’ll be back to normal soon (if there is such a thing for me), and exciting topics like German Chocolate cake and earthquakes will make their return.  


Or, maybe I’ll go back and have another operation so I can qualify to write a “Mommy” blog!


“What’s that, Faletame?  You’ve been there and don’t recommend it!  Nuff said!”


PS:  Here's the link to the Hubpages.com article discussed above
http://rcrumple.hubpages.com/hub/Hospital-Treatment-or-Torture

©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved