Stan the Man

We've decided to entertain a guest blogger. This is an e-mail we got from Stanley Hamelberg about his confusion on how to comment on this blog. If you are wondering also, just click on the tiny word "comment" at the bottom of this (or other) posts. --Jazpurr

Uh Yeah Uh Hey There---
I uh like don't really know nothin bout this blog stuff, but uh I could mebbe be following what all yous got to say dere. Ya know?
My female parent says I gotta introdoos myself. I'm Stanley - that's Stan THE Man to yoos. I could prolly add some thoughts and stuff-like to what you two prissy catz are talking about.
You know - like how I kill chipmunks and baby bunnies and little wrens and stuff. Oh, my female parents sayz not everbody wood like all that.
But I cud think up stuff, ya know?
I juss need to know how to get on there to be a follower - which I ain't, believe me. But that's YOUR word, ya know.
So, let me know.
Yer cousin - or something like that,
Stanley of Orange Township

Victory (ball)!!

Meg and I played Rock, Paper, Mega to determine whose post would go at the top of the page today. She's off in the corner nursing her paper-covered rock wounds.

I'd like to discuss this thing the people's call "the shower".

How can the furless ones survive in that water torture box? You're trapped and surrounded by pummelling water molecules in some attempt to get "clean". Why can't they use their tongues to clean up?

This photo is of my first experience with the wet place.

I remember the first time I saw Mom get in the torture closet. I cried my baby heart out to warn her of the danger of being soaked, but she just said it was OK. Every time we change homes, Mom gets in a new water box and I have to look in there to see what's going on. Then I cry some for her soul.

The other day, Mom was in the water box and I was spying on her. She reached her hand out to me so I thought she wanted help. I pulled on her arm to get her out from the dangerous droplets, but she resisted. I don't get it...

La la la la Mega

Mom and Ryan like to sing lots of songs about me. I thought I'd share how some of them go here.

"Her name was Mega, she was a show cat. The softest spot on the door mat..." (Think Copacabana)

"And the shadow of the Meg will embrace the world in gray." (Linkin Park anyone?)

Mom will sing "mega mega mega" to the tune of the underground theme from Super Mario Bros.

Mom and Ryan saw The Lion King the other night and so mom sang, "Shadow Meeegggg. Her fur is fluffy. Shadow Meeeggg, she is our love..." (like that Shadowland song)

In other news, I've been socio networking. Ryan keeps bringing boys over to my palace land. I'm pretty popular. Mom says I'm a socio butterfly, a social Megafly. I like to roll about and show them my irresistable tummy and rub my cheek-based scent glands on them. THAT'S RITE, DUMPSTER KITTIES! When these boys leave my home my scent will waft from them and let you know that I am champion of the Hideabed!

NincomPOOP

The other night I spied with my little eyes some threats to my queendom. Outside my window I gazed MY momma feeding four street rats. These yellow kitties, whom I understand to be called Jean-Tom, Cheese and Crackers, Cat and Peter Nincompoop, are DUMPSTER cats, which of course are the lowest lifeform 'maginable.
I'd finally escaped the opposum (she means "oppression"--J) of Pretty Kitty, Queen of the Sunbury cats, and the torment of that munion (she means "minion"--J) Little Kitty. I am now Queen of my domain, complete with throan, and these dumpster pals are coming to move in on my mom. No fair, Mare.

MEG

Gonna paint a wagon, gonna paint it good. I ain't braggin'; we're gonna coat that wood!

The other day there was a painter outside my window. Normally I'm pretty shy, but since there was a pane of glass between us, I figured I was safe. I said, "Hey, what are doing? How'd you get up there."

--Jazpurr

Pavlovian hummers

So Meg doesn't know it but Mom and Ryan are turning her into one of Pavlov's dogs. Ryan feeds Meg what they call "Mega Meals" of canned "ArtistoCATs" food (although I see Mom gets pretty on edge when Ryan call it "Artistocrats" food), and while preparing the food and while she eats, they clank a piece of metal against an Evil Dead shot glass. It makes a "tink" noise to which Mega is beginning to respond. Poor fool.

I thought I should bring to your attention a friend of ours the mention of whom might make an appearance on this blog on occasion.

Flit is our hummingbird that frequents our porch. Mom has given him a hummingbird feeder, and once he invited a lady friend to it, but we haven't seen her since. Domestic violence?
Nevertheless, Flit came onto the porch this morning while Mega and I were sitting inside behind the partially open screen door. Flit hovered in front of us for a while, checking us out. Mom said he was going to come inside but he didn't, he just pooped and left.

By the way, this photo I've posted is of a modeling spot I once did. Mega doesn't have all the looks in the family, in fact she has a very small percentage, wouldn't you say?

I was born a poor, black cat...

Not for realz. Today I got into the dryer cuz it looked cozy. Mom said I was born in a dryer. I wasn't sure if she was joking, but then she showed me these pitchers.

While I was in there, the insides turned round. Mom said something about a hampster wheel and my being "hefty," but I just thought it was like whirleewoo.

More about Meg

I thought it was time to put some picturegraphs up so you can see what we look like. When not blogging, I do some modeling work.

How do I look?

--Meg

This is Jazpurr. I've hijacked this post in order to point out something about Mega's modeling job. Meg is a PLUS-size model. She did this spread for the Sports Illustrated swim suit edition, but it got cut. Wonder why?

Hey! This is Meg again. Don't lesten to that punk. I'm NOT a plus size model. The camera adds 10 pounds, which is significant since in real life I weigh 11 pounds. Anyway SI said they just didn't have room to fit me among the human moddles and they're saving this job for the cat edition.

Hellow strange world of webs of various widths. This is Meg. Irregardless of what my brother might tell you, I ain't no idiot. Just cuz I'm a conosoor of foodstuffs doesn't mean I don't know how to 'spress myself.
This morning I was waiting by the back door trying to look thru the black curtain at the birds. Mom came and opened the curtain but there were no birds. Later, there were birds. Mom pulled a chair up to the window so I could watch. Later I beat up Jazpurr. He's a puss. Ryan brushed my hair the other day and now its super soft-like. If you bring me a Mega Meal I'll let you touch it.
Chow,
Mega

Here we go.....

Good day. This is Jazpurr Higgins. You will be seeing posts on this Web log from both myself and my sister, Mega. Our mother forced us to start this blog as a means of occupying ourselves during the day. Mom says we sleep too much and then make a ruckus all night long, which, although true, is no reason to force me to share this interweb page with Meg.
From here forward, you can be assured the posts with my signature will be intelligible, whereas the ramblings of the rotund one will likely be classified as low brow.

Farewell for now,

Jazpurr