so, kitty doesnt like fish.

kitty doesn't like eating fish. i don't know why but i've never been able to get him to eat it.
he got into a big fight the other
day. sean and i were sitting in the study when we heard what sounded like a grunting pig, or perhaps warthog, which we know is the sound of an angry possum (yes, possums actually sound like grunting pigs, they don't make like "tck tck tck" noises, or, dental clicks (like skippy the bush kangaroo) for those who are linguistically educated (such as myself (i can do the bracket thing too, shaun mayze .).) closely followed by a stampede of small footsteps, the screech of a cat and the loud thud of something jumping on/under/into our house (we couldn't really tell).
kitty came home an hour or so later with tufts of his fur hanging out of his coat and looking very miserable. we are yet to find the possums body (kitty always wins).
so, this is not a rare occurrence really. for example, there is an ugly grey cat that lives across the road and he is always over here picking fights with kitty. it only dawned on us today that maybe kitty gets so much hass (that's hassle for those that aren't down with the hip lingo) is because he doesn't eat fish, and therefore isn't seen by the other cats (which i like to refer to as his "crew" - despite the fact that they have repeatedly assaulted him, and clearly hate him.) as a real man (or cat-man).
so kitty would waltz over to his crew, who reek of fish (they really are a grotusque mob of hooligans), and be all like "what's up my homies?" and they'd be all like "sif be talking to us like that, coles brand meat and liver chunk boy! get some fish in ya!" and then he'd be all like "it's my missus, she don't buy me none of that fish goodness, know what i'm saying yall?" and then they'd be like "...he's a racist, let's get him" and then he'd be like "i'm black, suckas!" and then he'd beat them all up.
it would probably be a lot easier for him to just eat the fish. not to mention fish is 20c cheaper per can.

louise is the moon and i dance beneath her.

so i might be going away for a while...

i'm being exiled on account of i killed a bird.. again.
we've already been through the issues i have with the inequality between members of the rodent and bird families, so i won't go there. let me just say that next time you find a dead rat lying in the grass i don't want your praise. i may be a murderer but you're nothing but a speciesist. that's right.

can i also add in my defence, coles brand meat and liver chunks taste like crap. sometimes i don't know why i even stick around here. they should be thankful that i go to all the trouble of eating doves, rather than simply finding better owners.

so, like i said, i might not be on here for a while. stay tuned and hopefully i'll be back soon enough to thwart the pending flood of katie-blog's. because, lets face it, hers are shit.

so kitty is a murderer.

i found a beheaded dove in the garden today. yes, another one.
it was placed, ever so sneakily, around the side of the garage where no one goes.
.. unfortunately for kitty the trail of grey feathers was a dead giveaway (pardon the pun).
this all took place no longer than an hour after i walked all the way to coles to buy him some food, after he meowed angrily at me all morning.
kitty is an ungrateful turd.

so i like eating rats whole...

i got in trouble today for spying on a little bird that was in the shade house.
hunting rats is ok, but it can get a bit monotonous.
apparently birds have some special right to life that rats and mice don't share.
... i killed a bird once. a dove.
i left his head and half a wing on the door mat.
i got in trouble, but it was worth it. he totally had it coming.

so my fingers are magic..

do your fingers ever type words that are completely different to what you actually intended to type?
i know mine do. sometimes i think i should really record all the accidentally typed words, just in case they spell out some secret message from god, or perhaps my subconscious.

so here we are.

ok, so, i have a blog now. it's all seans fault and i do not accept responsibility for anything on this site (unless of course you think it's clever in which case i should have you know that i am cleverer (and substantially more alive) than Baudrillard - you'll have to ask sean about that one.)
i also have a photographic memory.. for words. yes it's true.
in case you hadn't realised what you were getting yourself into, this is an introductory blog where i waste hundreds of innocent characters explaining to you in great detail about how cynical, wise and, of course, hilarious i am.. enjoying it so far?
i'm female.
i'm eighteen.
i don't like abbreviations.
i don't do capital letters.
i have a kitty and a sean.
i study psychology.
i like music.
i take photos.
i get angry at stupid people.
i'm violent.
i have anxiety.
and social phobia.
i'm not a writer and i'm not a comedian.
well, i'm glad that's out of the way.