who dat? contest.

(yo stee. i know
who dat?)



last game:

singer kim carnes.
betty davis eyes.

first correct answer:

the lovely sara


all the left columns, think you a spy, pretty ladies.

rules for cats


So I was reading Bust (not for all the sex talk, you dirty people!), and came across the "Dont's For Boys" (in the Stories section) - a sort of Rules for men to keep in mind during Dating, Sex, Relationships.

And frankly, I think there is a lot to be said for establishing these guidelines early in a relationship. That's why I feel the need to give my new cat a similar list. I mean, it is my house she's invading. She should learn what I expect from her...

If I want to pick you up when I come home from work, it's out of love. And because you're soft. Deal. I am not trying to kill you. I swear.

And when I put you down after holding you, there is no need to dig your claws into my chest. I will put you down gently and upright. I promise.

Eyes closed = Sleeping. Do not try to wake me up. Do not lick me. Do not meow. Do not find plastic bags to chew loudly by my head. I will just be mad at you if you do these things. Sit quietly until I get up. Then you can be as excited as you'd like. (And I know you're smart, but just because my clock radio starts playing, it doesn't mean that I'm waking up. In fact, 4 out of 5 times, I hit the snooze button and close my eyes again. You know this.)

Don't meow at me like you're a poor, neglected, dying kitty who hasn't been fed in months, and then turn out to have food in your bowl anyway. I realize you enjoy the ritual of being fed and the control you have over me, but I don't.

Don't kick cat litter onto the floor. I appreciate your efforts to keep things clean, but avoid the wild scooping/digging action.

Don't step on my balls. Thank you.

Just a hint: though it's very cute, you will never catch the cursor on my computer screen. I wish I could fetch it for you, but trust me, I can't.

Don't lick your ass in front of me. It just reminds me that I probably shouldn't let you lick my arm anymore.

Don't watch me when sex is going on, in whatever form. It's creepy.

Don't give me that look when I have to leave for work in the morning. Daddy's got to put food on the table, missy.

If you absolutely have to puke, don't do it on the carpet. The pad is 80% hardwood floors. Play the odds, baby.

Don't hiss at the vacuum cleaner, the fan, or the printer. They don't like that.

And lastly, don't think you're going to turn stee into a creepy cat person who will start writing cute journal entries about you...

...oh, damn.


ONE YEAR AGO TODAY: I don't really remember. I think I was in Fiji that week. Or maybe Bali. You know, it's so hard to remember these things...


The Larry King Happy Song Corner

 
 
I keep a close watch on this twat of mine. I keep my eyes wide open all the time. And the condom on your dick's the tie that binds. Because you're mine. You're gonna sleep with me even if it kills you. You're gonna sleep with me even if we die. You're gonna sleep with me, better get used to it. There's no use in fighting because it's do it or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. You're going down on me even if it kills you. You're going down on me even if you die. You're going down on me, better get used to it. There's no use in fighting because it's do it or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. All that's left is to take off your clothes. And do it, do it, do it till you're bone dry. Do it till you're all worn out. Just do it, do it, do it till you're bone dry. Do it, there is no doubt. Do it, there is no doubt. I'm gonna give you head even if it kills you. I'm gonna give you head even if you die. I'm gonna give you head, better get used to it. There's no use in fighting because it's do it or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. Fuck or die. I keep a close watch on this twat of mine. I keep my eyes wide open all the time. And the condom on your dick's the tie that binds. Because you're mine, I walk the line... speaking of which. You know, being in broadcasting for most of my life, I appreciate and champion the First Amendment as much as the next guy - depending on who the next guy is, of course. And this type of dirty-talking is fine. It's all well and good for Larry - my ears are no virgin flowers, I tell you - but I just feel obligated to say that this sort of dirty talk from a young lady is not, as the kids say, "hot". No, it's cool. Or cold. That's how it leaves me, anyway. See, while many men love the sight of a naked woman, it's too much for me. There's no mystery left. But gimme a dame in a little flowered summer-dress with tanned legs and the hint of her natural perfume wafting from under that dress... yowza!!!
 
 
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