Since I do not get nearly the face time that my handsome self should get...
I have decided that I need a reality show... Oh yes, you read that correctly... a REALITY. SHOW! It shall be called,
Note that "Housecat" is not plural... This would be show about ME, myself and I...
I mean, look at me... I can bling! We all know I can throw down with a mean cat-fight =). I have no job (other than admiring myself in a mirror...) I eat meals prepared by my own personal chef... I guess I would have to work on the meaningless, tacky, outrageously, over-the-top parties though... I'm not much for sharing (anything)... And my toleration threshold for admiring anyone other than myself for over 3.5 seconds... well, lets be real people, is NON-EXISTENT....
Imagine (if you will...) the typical episode...
<que dream sequence music>
The Opening Credit (no need for plural people... I only need to thank myself!)... Pretty, blinging and HUGE!
The scene: <lavish living room with chandelier... little mouseys hanging off each arm of the chandelier holding a small candle> I'm standing on my two back legs... paws on hips... duck lips (people this is Hollywood! Get with it! Duck lips are BIG!)... My name fades in, sparkling like diamonds, the scene fades to me sleeping on a plush bed, sun beams creating a halo around my angelic head...
Now, for a typical episode, the "crew" (those people with the cameras and mikes to catch my every movement and sound) would follow me around the house... Still shots, of course, being taken every opportunity the sun touches my luxurious fur... (back off PETA... the fur, it's mine... you lay one little vegan finger on me and I'll sue you til I own your last piece of tofu... ) What I envision for every episode is basically a half an hour of watching yours truly go about my daily routine... of eating, sleeping, grooming... blinging... And then the last 15 minutes (there are at least 15 minutes worth of commercials for my hour show... act quickly! Slots are filling up fast... And Garfield, no room for you, my lasagna snarfing friend... My show = class... and you, ARE NOT!) can be outtakes of my outrageously gaudy and excessive party... Turkey pate anyone? Pass the insults...
Can't you picture it?
Lights! Cameras! ACTION!
*Murrrrrrrooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwww*
Please send your requests for autographs with a self-enclosed stamped envelope and a small handling fee of $100 (USA) to me here in VT.
The STAR of the show!
~R
I have decided that I need a reality show... Oh yes, you read that correctly... a REALITY. SHOW! It shall be called,
The Real Housecat of Vermont!
Note that "Housecat" is not plural... This would be show about ME, myself and I...
I mean, look at me... I can bling! We all know I can throw down with a mean cat-fight =). I have no job (other than admiring myself in a mirror...) I eat meals prepared by my own personal chef... I guess I would have to work on the meaningless, tacky, outrageously, over-the-top parties though... I'm not much for sharing (anything)... And my toleration threshold for admiring anyone other than myself for over 3.5 seconds... well, lets be real people, is NON-EXISTENT....
Imagine (if you will...) the typical episode...
<que dream sequence music>
The Opening Credit (no need for plural people... I only need to thank myself!)... Pretty, blinging and HUGE!
RILEY
The Real Housecat of Vermont!
The scene: <lavish living room with chandelier... little mouseys hanging off each arm of the chandelier holding a small candle> I'm standing on my two back legs... paws on hips... duck lips (people this is Hollywood! Get with it! Duck lips are BIG!)... My name fades in, sparkling like diamonds, the scene fades to me sleeping on a plush bed, sun beams creating a halo around my angelic head...
Now, for a typical episode, the "crew" (those people with the cameras and mikes to catch my every movement and sound) would follow me around the house... Still shots, of course, being taken every opportunity the sun touches my luxurious fur... (back off PETA... the fur, it's mine... you lay one little vegan finger on me and I'll sue you til I own your last piece of tofu... ) What I envision for every episode is basically a half an hour of watching yours truly go about my daily routine... of eating, sleeping, grooming... blinging... And then the last 15 minutes (there are at least 15 minutes worth of commercials for my hour show... act quickly! Slots are filling up fast... And Garfield, no room for you, my lasagna snarfing friend... My show = class... and you, ARE NOT!) can be outtakes of my outrageously gaudy and excessive party... Turkey pate anyone? Pass the insults...
Can't you picture it?
Lights! Cameras! ACTION!
*Murrrrrrrooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwww*
Please send your requests for autographs with a self-enclosed stamped envelope and a small handling fee of $100 (USA) to me here in VT.
The STAR of the show!
~R
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