Ode to Cat Vomit

Recently, my dear cat Rocky passed away at the ripe old cat age of 16. From early morning wake-up howls to peeing on my bed, he was a master of self-expression, particularly in his favorite medium–vomit. Inspired by the great Dr. Suess, this is for you old friend:

He puked on my bed
He puked on my head
I really wish he’d puked elsewhere, instead

He puked on the floor
He puked near the door
He puked and puked, till there is no more

He puked on the rug
He pukes up a bug
All the while looking quite smug

He puked on my nose
He puked on my toes
Yes, he even puked on my clothes

He puked on a chair
He puked in my hair
Basically, he puked everywhere


Holiday Gifts for the Workplace Bloodsucker

Gifts-FBThey’ve tormented you all year, now it’s time for you to communicate your true feelings to your bloodsucking boss or coworker with one of these  holiday horrors!

  1. Porn
  2. Extension cord
  3. Coaching tapes about how to be successful at work (great for your boss)
  4. DNA test kit (great for single moms)
  5. Fish of the Month Club membership
  6. Adult diapers
  7. Framed picture of yourself
  8. Santa-themed lingerie or man-kini
  9. Branding iron
  10. Manila file folder (just one)
  11. Anything boasting “As Seen on TV” on the box
  12. Low-fat cookbook, workout DVD,  and/or scale
  13. Hotel soap, shampoo, and conditioner (especially from different hotels)
  14. Back hair shaver or nose hair trimmer
  15. Toilet seat
  16. Half a bottle of booze
  17. A book of etiquette
  18. Feminine hygiene products
  19. Grocery store gift card for $7.58
  20. Stretch mark cream

Bad Spanish and Bunny Feet

Count Fastracula recently took a trip to Mexico to meet his creator–Heather Harwood–the woman whose illustrations breathed life into his undead, plushy form. With a few hours to kill on a layover in Mexico City, he decided to take in some of the city’s tastes and sights.

A craving for seafood led us to a little restaurant known for its delicious crab claws–manitos de cangrejo (little crab hands). But thanks to the Count’s butchery of the language, he actually ordered a considerably less appealing dish–manitos de conejo (little rabbit hands). If not for our waiter’s ability to interpret the Count’s horrifying pronunciation, instead of a crab feast, we’d have dined on the appendages of Bambi’s little pal Thumper.

crab claws








20131116_114326But the embarrassments didn’t stop there. The Count doesn’t like seeds in his salsa, so he attempts to request it sin semillas (without seeds). However, his pronunciation sounds more like  sin semena (without semen). The next time you’re out for Mexican food, ask for semen-free salsa and enjoy the wild-eyed stares and giggles.

After some food, there was just enough time for a little sight-seeing before catching our flight to meet the Count’s creator, Heather. (Some sights were more interesting than others.)

IMG_0253 IMG_0250

The Count took to Heather right away. They got to know each other over margaritas.





All too soon it was time to head back to the airport and home. Until next time, adios Mexico! And may your salsa always be sin semena.