The Litter Box

Sigh. I don't know what it is about cleaning the litter box that Chloe doesn't understand. I use it... then you clean it. Not: I use it... then you wait 8 days before thinking about picking up the scooper! I mean come on. It doesn't help either of us. I am forced to "do my business" on things like your Persian rugs or new sweaters and then you wonder, "What's that smell?" It's better if you just let me use the toilet. Chloe, get with it, s'il vous plaît.

And what's with these toys? What do you expect me to do with it? The only toy I have my eyes on is a 2014 Mercedes convertible (white with tan interior, obviously).

Planning My Escape

Today I took a stroll to the end of the block (which normally I would never do under no supervision) to talk with Pierre, my French cat friend. Pierre's owners are from Marseille (the South, but nonetheless, France) and I need the inside scoop on what the travel situation is like. Pierre flew about nine hours to get to Los Angeles when his owners decided to re-locate from France. Why they decided that? No clue. They're lunatics. Anyway, Pierre gave me the scoop on the flight from France to L.A. Très terrible! But don't act like that's going to stop me. I BELONG IN PARIS.

And for your viewing pleasure, here's a photo (I'm assuming a paparazzi took) of Pierre and me after he told me about knowing over his owner's cup of coffee this morning. High five, mon ami!

Best day ever

Bonjour ladies and gentlemen!

Yay! Today is the best because I came one (high-heeled) step closer to owning my very own Birkin! As you all know, owning a Birkin is almost (if not just) as important as owning your own island and since I hate mosquitos... bonjour Hermès! The process of getting a Birkin is painful and long but I guess that's just what sets apart the fabulous from the fauxs. I've had my eyes on the cyclamen pink ostrich bag for months now and won't give up until it's mine. Seriously, who else deserves to own that beauty other than my wonderful self? I don't know either.

Au revoir from the windowsill!

Worst day ever

Bonjour divas.

I'm going to get right to the point. Today was absolutely terrifying. Here's why:

1. Chloe took me to the veterinarian. (Has she even heard of private practices?)
2. I had to get three shots. May I repeat? I had to get three shots.
3. Ugh, do I really have to give another reason? I was taken to the VET.

Not only is the vet's office the dirtiest place I've ever been to, but it is also filled with canines. Where do I begin? They love to smell my butt, they drool everywhere, and they have absolutely no culture! I threw out a quick "Comment allez-vous" to a bichon frise just to be nice (and to network of course... I always need recommendations for French restaurants!) and all I got in return was a harsh "Move it toots!" As if!

I need about two and a half bottles of champagne to drown the sorrows. Not to mention extra therapy next week. I just don't understand Chloe and she'll never understand me. Ugh.

Au revoir from the windowsill.