I am very proud that I’m related to big cats. Majestic, strong, IN CHARGE! And they catch huge wildebeasts with their PAWS. Their paws, readers. Those are dinner plate sized weapons of DEATH! So cool.
Anyway. I saw this lady…and I wanted to personally scratch her eyes out:
1. Am I a big cat?
Okay sorry thats the only one I could think of. She’s not a big cat. Therefore, she shouldn’t be wearing a fake pelt. I know she must envy their spots or stripes [cause lets face it, if she has a matching leopard outfit…there is a tiger one in her closet.] but lady, COME ON. You look stupid. That would be like me dressing up as George Lopez. Just can’t be done.
Besides…tacos give me gas.
Human just informed me I have never had tacos. Well, HUUUMAN, I am sorry, they LOOK like they would give me gas. Better? Geez.
I don’t like these sort of people. Hell, I prefer the ladies that wear animal scrubs. Yes. You heard me. Animal scrubs win over animal print every time. Don’t try to convince me. I’m a cat. Us cats stick to our guns.