Wahmbulance!

Everyone Hates Rami!

Much as kindred spirits The Fug Girls occasionally allow Intern George to answer their mail, Dear Reader, my feline friend Harper, Duchess of West Hollywood, recently pitched an intriguing idea for an article, and I let her run with it, it being a topic dear to my shrunken, black, tarry heart... and yours too, I suspect, with delight.

So, without further ado, I present "Why Rami Suk" by Harper, Duchess of West Hollywood, etc.

ps klik pikchers to make more big and awezum kthx

 

Thank you Harper, I think you've summed up the feelings of a nation (and Nina Garcia) quite nicely.

please note though she doles out legal advice right and left, harper is not in fact registered to practice law in california.
x

Human children? Who needs 'em!

Remember, when you were about, oh, I don't know, eight or nine, Dear Reader, and your mother started dancing in the living room because she heard some ancient song on the radio?

Remember the HORROR?

I sure do.  My parents dance like... ewww. 

Well, I just relived that moment from the other side:  That's right, I just mortified my cat by dancing in the living room!

First, she looked at me with huge alarmed eyes.  Then, she ran. You can't get away form me, young lady!  Then I held her up like she was dancing... not very popular.  Then I chase-danced her around the room and finally she sat down and just looked up at me with pained "please STOP" eyes.

It was a brilliant performance, Harper, the research you must have done alone is worth an Oscar nod.  Brava!

In my defense, it was that kickass Ozomatli song on Sounds Elcectico, so I'm not completely retarded, as she would have you believe.

I think. Crap.

awwww, mom!
mlle_x

Jack Bauer, please change your Treo alerts.

I always knew I had a whole lot in common with Jack Bauer, Dear Reader, especially my incredible time warp driving skills, but really, this has to stop.

The last few times I’ve visited with Jack of a Monday night, I keep hearing my “hey- an idiot student just emailed you” alert.  This causes me and The Duchess to glance disconsolately across the room at my purse, briefly consider looking at the idiot student email, and then turn back to Jack.  And hit PIP* a few times as I most likely missed something.

Until my phone beeps again.  Dammit!  I’m not even teaching this session.  WHAT DO THEY WANT????

LIVE NUDES! LIVE NUDES! LIVE NUDES!

Remember, a couple of years ago, Dear Reader, when TIVO started recording nothing but porn?  And I tried to blame it on the cat and her nefarious TIVO wishlists?

Well, now I know it was her fault!

Where is your collar, young lady?

Holy Shit!  How did Mike Tyson get in here?  Oh, it's just Harper.  And her huge neck.

You should put that collar back on, Precious.  It was very slimming on you, if you take my meaning.

I certainly didn't record any porn,
mlle_x

Harper, the Deadbeat Cat.

The Duchess owes me $788. 

The Duchess has not cut me a check as of yet, and it doesn't seem that she's even considering it anytime soon.

"How does a cat owe you $788?"  you ask.

Well.  First of all, $788 is the bare minimum she owes, for one thing.

There was the time she got too frisky with her brother Otter.
Two parakeet stitches at the vet: $289.

There are the many broken mid-century collectibles.
Can't put a price on those, Duchess.

There is One Miracle Sofa, shredded.
Again, priceless, as it is discontinued, however, reupholstering one Wonder Couch, $2000.

There is the matter of the traffic ticket incurred while driving her to get microchipped.
Going through a red light you didn't see because you were trying to comfort your traumatized cat who really, really, really hates going in the car: $399 (plus the extra fee for traffic school).

There are also all the times I pretended not to notice that she licked the raw chicken I was about to cook, but the less said about that the better.

And what do I get in return?  Huh?  Huh kitty?  What do you give me in return, young lady?

Aw, come on, quit purring, dammit!  Oh, Little Duchie!

mlle x

ps: The Duchess has informed me that if people start leaving more comments ("especially Uncle Jake!") she might consider dropping me a twenty for some walking around money.

Awwww, crap. I AM a crazy cat lady.

So, I have this huge list of things to do.  I have the audit.  I have a car what needs a new transmission (god forbid).  I have a bunch of do-over shots at work.  I have bills to do.  I have skating early in the morning.  I have errands... And, and and! ... It's hot.  And I'm wearing sunglasses.

So what am I upset about?

Hey Mlle X... how'd you get that 5" gash in your face?

Oh this?  Privateering.
Oh this?  Fighting crime.
Oh this?  Knife fight with Wayne Brady trying to take over my corner at Sunset and Stanley.

         

Yeah, I make my living in visual effects, can you tell?

What you can't see in the picture is that it goes up over to the center of my lip.  I have a PIRATE SCAR! AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!  And the problems it's causing with the eating and the drinking and the talking and such.  And then there's the question, "well... do I put on makeup? Who knows?"  Good hair day though, huh?  Iron Grace Kidd (my pirate name) is pleased.

So, after the whopping fat lip Harper, Duchess of West Hollywood, gave me last week, now this.  She was stepping over me in bed, got scared by something, and POW! Dug in with her back foot to jump about 3 feet in the air.  Sing it with me:  Cat scratch fever... gah gah gahgah...

UPDATE:
No one can see it but me.  At least, no one will say so to my face!

Original date: 3/9/05