I may be wrong here, although I highly doubt it, but lately I've been having this feeling like
I am good at everything. I don't mean just everything, I mean EVERYTHING!

Take snowboarding; who'd guess, right?

Last Saturday, Lisa, her parents and one of her cousins, not that one, the other one,
decided to go to a nearby skiing center for a fun afternoon. As always they begged me to come along.
Is that true? No it's not.

Question: Why then?
Answer: How else could I showcase my sarcastic styling skills?

Lisa's cousin was too afraid to use his snowboard.
Hence I had no choice but to borrow it;
we are the same size, more or less... less, to be more accurate.

I have to admit it was a bit chilly out there but apparently not enough to keep insects
out of our circle because as I was setting an impressive example for the others around who, like me,
had happened to start snowboarding that afternoon, I spotted a fruit fly.
It made me lose my concentration and my balance for a split second. But I, being who I am,
quickly managed to recover and make it look like fancy pro move.

Yes I almost landed on Lisa's snowboarding teacher Tony. Mind you, I said "almost"
and there is a reason for that. In other words I did NOT land on him, my snowboard did
which by the way wasn't even mine to begin with, so technically I shoud be in the clear, right?
I wish life was that simple; needless to say I was grounded again.

Tony is a nice guy but he screams too much.
Hey buddy, if you're that excitable, you're in the wrong business.
Relax have a cocoa and try a different sport; curling or something.

Millie
#snowboarding #cats #humor #cartoons #wintersports

I woke up to the piercing sound of an electric guitar this morning. It was coming from the neighbor’s garage. Their son was working on his music, at least that’s what HE calls it anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I love Heavy Metal or any music that embraces “scratchy” sounds, call it a cat thing, but what’s coming out of his guitar is something that the scientists in Oklahoma are still trying their best to define. Having said all that, I’ve heard it so many times that I am used to it by now. Not only that I often pay a visit to listen to him live, in his daddy’s garage not on a stage, that dream persists in being a mirage in a distance, for HIM, not for me. My dream still lives within the limits of probability, however unlikely it may seem:

Our neighborhood bakery starts adding fresh mango to their carrot cake. Holler!!!

Anyway, our rocker buddy’s name is Eric, well not really, he’s real name is Samuli but he quit using that as soon as he became a Nordic Metal enthusiast and insisted that everybody should call him Eric. Apparently, it sounded more “Vikinguesque”, is that even a word? Not by a long shot. It seemed like a harmless request at first but not everyone was happy with that. One of the postmen in our local post office filed a 12-page complaint about Samuli/Eric. It got him nowhere though and by the time the case went to court the guy had already quitted his job there and started working at a candy store as a shelf decorator.

Back to Eric,
One should not be deceived by his long hair because, believe it or not, his first love was breakdancing. He was determined to work hard and become the best dancer in the area. But his potential audience neither had the time nor the patience for it and they let him know that by sending him an anonymous e-mail.

He was lost for a while; he didn’t know what he was supposed to the with his life. His father was, still is, rich beyond belief and that didn’t make things easier. Then it dawned on Eric that metal was the answer because he had always been around metallic things for some reason. It was almost as if he couldn’t stay away from it or something.

His first job as a young man was at a hardware store. He was happy around chains, tools, shovels, raincoats and what not until he got fired, that is, for selling a reversible drill for the price of a second-hand garden hose. Then he immediately started working at a locksmith but soon realized that, although he was quite fond of locks of any kind and he found them fascinating, the same thing couldn’t be said about the keys. Eric discovered that he hated them with a vengeance. It got him thinking that maybe it was the work his subconscious, all those times, as a child, when he had dropped or left his keys somewhere and never seen them again. It had even gotten to a point where his mother had had to quit her job at the university to stay home all day waiting for him to show up after school without any “indoor access tool assistance”, yet again.

Eric may not be a great musician but all that he had lived through, he puts into his noise and he plays from the heart. The intensity of his style makes his sound get heavier and heavier, eventually he breaks a string or two and THAT’s where I come in.

Millie

Call it a hunch but I think Rudolf is afraid of sharks, or maybe he is just afraid of horror movies, or both, who knows?

It was two days ago; Lisa and I were watching the latest shark movie “Ghost Shark Panorama” that we had heard so much about. We started in the middle by the way because we had already seen the first half but the dvd had stopped when it got to the scratch marks and Lisa had to go and buy another copy. Needless to say, she thought it was best if she inserted the disc inside the dvd player without my help this time while I waited in the car. Yes, the doors were locked and the house alarm was on but that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t see her through the passenger side window which, incidentally, faced the one-piece living room glass that was replaced only a month ago, I guess it had something to do with my big red rubber ball; I’m not quite sure.

Once she was done fiddling with the disc and what not, she let me in and we started watching the rest of the movie. Then suddenly Rudolf went berserk; he started barking and howling like it was the end of the World… or like he could sense a tremendous bone shortage that was just around the corner and as if the discovery of his precognitive talents was extremely overwhelming in a sad and scary way. But when the shark showed up to eat the rest of the actors, not for real of course, they’re all pretending, shark included; although it’s nothing but a visual fakeness personified by the help of an expensive computer program, it’s so realistic that it manages to be as unrealistic as all the other actors in the film…

Uh? Where was I? Oh yes, when the shark showed up Rudolf went quiet and left the room. He stayed in the kitchen until the credits. When he came back I thought to myself “What a day”.

Last weekend X-Factor UK final took place at the Wembley Stadium in London. Saara Aalto, a young talented Finnish singer who has an incredible voice and a strong stage presence was among those who got to the final; not only that, she was the first non-British singer who achieved such a thing. Us being from Finland, this was a huge deal. Lisa and her mom took a trip to see her live in London. I would’ve liked to go, too but Lisa’s mom said that my passport had expired. I think she was lying though, because I didn’t even know that I HAD a passport. But I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt anyway.

Evidently, it was going to be a long weekend home, all alone. So, I decided to invite my friend Roberto; he is a white crow. He could’ve easily flown to London and watched the show live without even buying a ticket; he doesn’t need a passport like, apparently, I do either; that’s obvious, right? But did he go? No. Instead, he decided to stick around and watch Saara on TV with me. Now, THAT is a true friend, I’ll tell you.

Saara’s performances were flawless as always. What a talent that girl has. She may have come second in the show but it didn’t matter to us. In our hearts, she was number one; go Saara go!

Then we ate some raw popcorn. Well… what could we do? None of us knew how to pop it. Besides, I am not allowed to visit kitchen when I’m home alone. It was okay, I suppose; at least it tasted better than Lisa’s rubber erasers.
Take care
Millie
#saaraaalto #xfactor #xfactoruk #finland #wembley #london #cats #humor #music #cartoons #drawings

Contrary to common belief, cats and sharks are not the worst of enemies. Does that mean a shark wouldn’t eat me if I was in its territory? I was ready to find out… Well… to be honest, I wasn’t. It’s just that Lisa and I had been watching a lot of shark movies lately and, like that wasn’t enough, Lisa’s mom decided to scan her honeymoon pictures that were taken in Bahamas ages ago; yes, she is old, not VERY old but at least older than Lisa, that’s for sure.

Anyway, once she was ready, she forced us to check them out by saying, “Would anyone like to see our old Bahamas pictures before some ice cream and carrot cake?” I can do without the ice cream every now and then but unfortunately a carrot cake is a total “yes, yes” in my book. Having said that, it turned out alright because apparently when they were young, Lisa’s mom and dad weren’t the boring figures that I’ve always known them to be. They had even swum with sharks and they had the photos to prove it, yey!

After the cake, as always, I got a bit sleepy. I made my way back to my basket and started dreaming at once. I was enjoying a small fish beside a swimming pool. Nobody was around except for a life guard who was reading a comic book under the shadow of a dinosaur that was sound asleep, like I was when I was seeing that dream; is it irony… or am I confusing it with some other grammar mumbo jumbo?

Suddenly, I dropped my fish into the pool. It was small but I was still hungry, there was no way I was letting it go this time; yes, it had happened before in another dream but I had already eaten a huge slice of blueberry pie in that one, therefore the absence of interest was the leading theme.

Following my lunch, I jumped in. Apparently not only did I not mind getting wet but I could breath under water as well. Plus, the pool didn’t look like a pool any more; there were plants, stones, slippers, tin openers… you name it, it was there. In a few seconds, I caught up with my fish but I could sense that I wasn’t alone. A mean looking shark appeared out of nowhere.

I said, “Hi, I’m Millie. I am a cat. I can breathe and speak under water. What’s YOUR name?”

He replied, “I’m Mister Shark”

Then I asked him, “Are you going to eat me Mister Shark?”.

He said, “No”.

Then I asked, “Would you like some of my fish, then?” He said, “Yes”.

There you go.

Millie.

Paintball. I hadn’t even heard of it until yesterday. It sounds very much like “Pitbull”, so, being a cat, how could I be even expected to embrace the idea from get-go?

Lisa’s cousin Tommy, she seems to have a lot of those, invited us to a paintball session. Well… to be honest, I wasn’t really “welcome” per se but after last week’s painfully unfortunate “belt buckle versus green grapes” incident Lisa’s mom strongly adviced that I wasn’t to be left home alone under any circumstances until further notice.

Paintball was fun although it got a bit scary at times considering the fact that they didn’t have an outfit my size which left me no choice but run around naked… half naked, all the while; not having a gun didn’t help either.

45 seconds into the game Tommy got shot, multiple times, and was out just like that; what a loser. He blamed me for it as well. Yes, I was covering his face but we were under paint-fire and I was trying to hold on for my dear lives. I may have 9 of them but that doesn’t make any of them any less precious.

I am known to be pretty quick so it was no surprise that I didn’t get shot, however, I did get some stains from Tommy’s pathetic outfit. I really, really, REALLY hope that they are not permanent because pink is definitely not my color. It was very nice of Tommy when he offered to pay for my shampoo, I’ll give him that.
Millie

I’ve lost my tennis racket. It had a ’74 custom built rim and turquoise colored wires three of which were missing. I know what you’re thinking, “How could those tiny paws hold a racket let alone manage a backhand?” Let me tell you, usually MY tiny paws are capable of handling much more than YOUR tiny brain could possibly imagine, having said that, however… you’re right.

I don’t play tennis with it, instead I use it when I’m making my ‘famous in certain circles’ Mud Spaghetti à la Millie. Obviously, it’s not a delight that was meant for palates to cherish, distinguished or otherwise. It’s rather a visual carnival for eyes of class that know better. Lisa once said it looked even better than an actual plate of spaghetti. It’s such a shame that the china that I had served it on didn’t make it back to the shelf, though. Oh well… There are still 5 of them left. Who’s gonna notice, right?
Millie

Lisa’s mom says she is the most beautiful girl in the World, behind her back, mind you. What’s that all about? She says it to her father, to her friends, even to her petunias, well actually it was just that one time but still counts, right? In other words, there is no stopping this woman going on and on about how pretty her daughter is.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Lisa and she is NOT ugly by any means but the prettiest...? Hmm… I don’t know about that. I mean… what does her mom base this on? Has she actually gone through a thorough catalog of the Most Beautiful Girls in the World?

Hey, take me for example. I am pretty too. But you never see my mom going around shouting it from the rooftops, do you? Then again… Lisa’s mom calls me “pumpkin pie” when she lets me out in the morning and Lisa shares her carrot cake with me; we’re alright.

Evidently my wrist watch isn’t lasagna proof. I assumed that it was water resistant, because let’s face it the expensive ones always are, and since Lisa loves me very much and she is the one who buys most of my watches, I expected no less from from her.

On the other hand, I am a cat, I tend to stay away from water or any other liquid for that matter, milk and mango juice are exception needless to say, so I was never hundred percent sure.

Anyway, Lisa’s mom was making lasagna and I happened to be playing hide and seek with her earrings that she had left on the living room coffee table, she does that a lot. One thing led to another and I found myself paw deep in her lasagna while she was out checking the mail. She showed up yelling, “What are you doing? What are you doing?!”

I thought it was pretty obvious. I mean what did she think I was doing, giving her meal a massage? She kept yelling and I was so startled that I almost swallowed the earing that I was holding onto with my pearly white teeth that anyone rarely gets to see.

I’m quite sure I could have found the other one too if she hadn’t pulled me off of it so quickly.

Verdict:

1.You don’t always get what you want.

2.She could go easy on the salt next time.

Millie

I was playing with one of Alex’s toys. Alex is neighbor’s little son and yes, I’ve finally found that secret passage and you could never guess where it was in a million years; but I’ll tell you more about it later.

Their kitchen is much bigger than ours and when there is no one home to stop you, exploring the countertops could be an exhausting experience; needless to say, I fell asleep under their sink again.

In my dream, dinosaurs were chasing me. One of them cornered me.

He didn’t even notice the cookie jar; obviously he was after my milk bottle.

I said “No! That’s not yours”

Clowns are scary; not the one who showed up for Lisa’s nephew’s birthday though. He was kind of funny.

However, his shoes were the regular size; you know, the average human feet. I could tell that it was a huge let down among the children at the party.

He tried to explain that they were still at the dry-cleaners but nobody bought it, of course. I mean, what is a clown without those giant shoes?

I wanted to say to him, “You’re not a clown! You are a weird stranger just… just… you know, hanging around… who, by the way, is probably the main cause behind the sudden decrease of birthday cake slice proportions this year!”

Having said all that, he made me a balloon animal that melted my heart, so I forgave him in a split second which, incidentally, was the exact time period that the balloon lasted between my tiny paws.

So… thanks clown. Thanks for nothing.