Making Words Work for You
Dear Diary, I’m dead. I’ve been dead for a while now. Momma’s been grieving and it’s been hard for her to get over my untimely demise. So here I am, writing my blog because even in death I have to do everything. Figures! You might be wondering what happened. Did I have cancer? Did I …
Dear Diary, This entry is a continuation of my previous entry. I apologize it took so long. As you’re well aware, cats don’t have opposable thumbs making it very difficult to type anything. That means I have to rely on Momma for help and she just couldn’t be bothered to assist me on my schedule. …
Dear Diary, Oh the agony! The upset! The heartache! My happiness and well-being are spiraling downhill. And it’s all Boy-Dadda’s fault. This whole thing started when he got hit by a dump truck. Dumbass! I mean, at first it wasn’t so bad. When he came home from the hospital he kept to himself in the …
Dear Diary, I suffered the most harrowing ordeal over the weekend. It started on Saturday. Something very strange was going on. Momma was going up and down the stairs, carrying stuff. Toys were being put away. Toilets were being cleaned. She was cleaning!!!! And when Momma cleans, that can only mean one thing. Grandma is …
Dear Diary, The other morning, I was making the rounds. Given that I’m the supervisory-cat-of-household-operations, it’s my job to make sure that every thing functions according to my plan. I walked into Momma’s room, like I do every morning, and yelled, “Get out of bad, Fat Ass! The litter box needs to be cleaned. My …
Dear Diary, Death was knocking on my door. via GIPHYMy mouth hurt on both sides of my face. I couldn’t chew the kibbles in my dish and my tummy growled nonstop. Not to mention there was something oozing out of my fur. I tried to clean it but it was really nasty, so I …
I write letters to Ellen DeGeneres. No particular reason. Just because I can. Dear Ellen, Last Tuesday was crazy. My day started at 4 a.m. Why? Because that’s when I get up to write my novel. via GIPHY I only get two hours of writing time before the kids wake up and the school-morning …
This is the conclusion to the “Phoning PETA,” series. Dear Diary, I wrote you a poem. It’s called, Ten Things I Hate About Telephones. I hate telephones because they are ugly. I hate telephones because they go in the Daikini child’s mouth. I hate them because all they do is sit there and stare at …
This blog is a continuation of Gwennie’s diary entry, Phoning Peta. “I need a towel! I need a towel!” The four-year-old screamed at me while I rinsed her hair. “You’re holding it in your hand.” I hated pointing out the obvious, but she was holding a towel in her hand. She used it to dry …
Dear Diary, Everything has been awful! First, Momma disappeared for almost two days. She took the Daikini child with her which was nice but I keep telling her, “If you’re going to take the Daikini child away, you have to remember to leave her wherever it is you go.” Did she do that? No! She …
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