I sure wish dad would make up his mind! Friday, during the day, he couldn’t sing my praises enough, making such statements to mom as; Princess sure appears motherly with Mimseigh, Princess has really turned the corner on her behavior, I can’t remember the last time Princess pooped on my dining room floor! Well, after praises like this, you would think I would get some upstairs cred! The Furball, who’s barely able to remember to breathe and walk at the same time, he gets to sleep upstairs! The little hippie girl they call Summer, eats like every meal might be her last, she sleeps upstairs! Me? I’m motherly to the wrinkle bag they call Mimseigh, plus, I gave up pooping on the dining room floor! Where do I sleep? Downstairs, like a common half breed. Well this just frosted my kibble, I would have nothing more of it! Friday night, I decided to take a stand! After mom and dad (big paw air quotes) "snuck" Furball upstairs, and went to bed, I started voicing my injustices! Woof, (translation: come get me, I know Furball is up there,") three minutes later, woof, (translation: "I’m not going to stop, until I get to come upstairs.") I continued this until, you guessed it, dad came rumbling down the stairs in his underwear, snatched me up faster than Monique grabbing the last chicken leg at dinner, and carried me upstairs! Excellent, victory at last, at least it appeared as such! Once I was upstairs, there it was! The biggest bed I have ever seen! Dad sat me on the carpet and jumped back into his bed. Not much of a victory, there was mom and dad lying in this huge bed, with that no good sack of fur, Furball, hanging his head over one end. To make matters worse, Furball was all smug, sticking his tongue out at me! I tried to jump into the bed with them, drats, how’s a petite girl such as myself expected to jump into such a tall bed? Oh well, I’ll just enjoy the carpeted floor by rolling around. To let dad know how much I appreciated being upstairs, I thought I would do some grunting and groaning as well. So much for showing your appreciation, dad grabbed me back up, took me down stairs, told me to go to bed, then went back upstairs! Well, I have never been so insulted, woof, (translation: "not this time daddy-o, I can do this all night,") With this crazed look in his eye, here came dad, running back down the stairs, for pity sakes, buy some pajamas! He grabbed me up again, I thought, finally, he’ll apologize, then carry me back upstairs. Oh no, all of a sudden I’m being spanked like one of those Kardashian girls after a cheap bottle of wine! Just as quick as he came down the stairs, back up he went! Woof, (translation: "was it something I said?") Saturday night, the little hippie girl had a couple of her girlfriends over for a sleep over. Dad asked Summer if I could sleep in the basement with them. Hang on dad, who knows what kind of hippie activity might go on in the basement? But guess what? there wasn’t any pot taking, or, anything at all you would expect out of a degenerate hippie, it was actually kind of nice. We just did some girl stuff, watched a movie, then went to bed. Sunday night, dad seemed all remorseful for giving me the business Friday night. We then went through the ritual of dad sneaking the Furball upstairs and him telling me to go to bed. After dad went to bed, I thought I would get a drink of water, what do you know, the water bowl’s empty, I’ll just let dad know. Woof, (translation: "hey, I’m out of water down here.") Here comes dad, running down the stairs, why do I even bother, with nothing but his underwear, to get me a fresh bowl of water, I thought! No, dad wasn’t coming for water, he grabbed me up again and began to pick up where he left off Friday night! He then puts me back down, tells me to be quiet, then goes back upstairs. Woof, (translation: "I guess a roast beef sandwich was out of the question!")

You won’t believe this! Mimseigh gets special treatment, this is nothing new, I can live with that. But mom has started photographing the little menace’s poop! No, this was not a misprint, the woman is taking pictures of poop! She says the poop resembles the shape of a heart! Really? Heart shaped poop? What’s next? Barf that smells like lilacs! Just so we all have this straight, the sack of wrinkles poops on the floor and mom acts like the paparazzi at a Lady GaGa sighting! I poop on the floor, I get the business end of a fly swatter! Yeah, sounds fair to me. A while back, I had a poop which looked like Andy Rooney, without the nose and ear hair of course, but still, Andy stinking Rooney! You would have thought 60 minutes was ending right there on the dining room floor! Did mom take pictures? No! I was just a bad girl! An Andy Rooney pooping bad girl! We did have another harrowing event in the middle of the night last week! As I was lying on the couch, enjoying my beauty sleep, a terrible storm came rumbling through! The next thing you know, a siren went off, which brings dad running down the stairs in a stupor, just like during the fire, wearing nothing but his underwear! You’d think he would have learned his lesson after the fire, but no, there he was, running toward the basement like a Wisconsin Senator running toward an Illinois Holiday Inn, wearing nothing but his tighty whities! Poor guy, he was so distressed, he forgot to grab his little Princey girl on the way to the basement again! Mom was close behind dad, with the kids following quickly behind! The next thing you know, this roar came over the house, you could feel the house shake! Dad described the roar as the sound of a freight train. In fact, every time he repeated the story, he would say “it sounded like a freight train...” If you would have busted out one or two of his front teeth and put him in front of a trailer park, you would have swore you were watching the ten o’clock news!

It’s been so long since I last blogged, I really don’t know where to start! Let me see, how about I pick up where I thought Crunchface was shrunk by a process called Mimseigh. Turns out, Crunchface wasn’t shrunk at all, she was just sent back from whence she came, Mimseigh is her replacement’s name! Silly me, I do get confused from time to time. I guess Crunchface broke the golden rule, don’t turn dad’s lap golden, if you know what I mean! Mimseigh’s not too bad, in fact, I get these strange feelings deep inside me once in a while, almost like I should take care of the little four legged bag of wrinkles! I must learn to suppress these feelings deep down inside. You know the kind of suppression ladies, like a first date after your new man sprung for Mexican cuisine, kind of like that! Another thing which really puzzles me, is this; Mimseigh gets to pee and poop inside the house, on something called a “puppy pad”! After a successful movement on the pad, mom and dad jump and down and praise Mimseigh like she just solved world hunger! Me? I poop or pee on the floor, I’m public enemy number one! Mimseigh’s treated like royalty, I’m treated like Bernie Madoff after an audit! A couple of days ago, mom took me to get my hair done. While we were there, my beautician talked mom into getting me the “spa package.” Part of the package included a blueberry facial! Normally, I’m all about being treated to a nice soothing spa treatment. However, the “blueberry facial” was nothing more than making me wolf down a blueberry Hostess pie! Another part of the package was a teeth brushing, which consisted of shoving a plastic brush covered in meat flavored soap down my throat! No wonder they can never get the boy they call Wyatt to brush his teeth, there’s no way I’d do that to myself either! Afterward, mom picked me up at the beauty shop, she was so happy! I guess having my breath smell like blueberries does beat out turd breath! The little hippie girl they call Summer, has switched boyfriends since last I wrote. The last one was a little too snuggly for my taste anyway. The hippie said she ditched him due to his smoking pot. This really ticked dad off, I don’t blame him, as much as he loves sitting on the pot, and some punk kid comes along and smokes it? What’s wrong with these kids anyhow? Why don’t they just stick to smoking weed?

Well, I finally found out what a Mimseigh is! A Mimseigh is when you are removed from the home, shrunk to one quarter your original size, then returned with a much better attitude! Imagine Rosie O’Donnell disappearing for a while, coming back as a plus sized model, and a whole lot less obnoxious! You would say “Rosie’s been Mimseighed!” Better yet, imagine Whoopi disappearing, coming back the size of Gary Coleman, only less offensive! You’d say “ole Whoopi’s been Mimseighrd!” This is what happened to Crunchface! They brought her back home after being gone for weeks, she’s one quarter the size she once was! I think the poor thing may have gotten some shock therapy! She has a much better disposition! To make matters worse, the whole family is rubbing it in Crunchface’s face! They’re all calling her Mimseigh! Talk about cruel and unusual punishment. Here’s the really strange part, Crunchface thinks I’m her mom! She’s been trying to latch on every chance she gets! The bad thing, she’s latching on in all the wrong places! Another strange thing, I’m feeling some maternal instincts here! No, I'm not going to be running over to exchange recipes with Madonna anytime soon, but motherly just the same. This could really cramp my style. I better fly right, the last thing I want, is to be Mimseighed!

It’s been a while since the fire, I really miss those rabbits! Let me be more clear, I really miss those little rabbit nuggets of deliciousness! I have been reduced to things I never thought I would do in a million years! With the nugget drought, I’ve been having to get my poop fix from the Furball! To make matters worse, there’s a foot of snow on the ground, I can’t risk letting the poop land and losing it! I have to get it while the getting is good. I can hardly look at myself in the mirror. Poor Furball is getting bound up! Who can blame him, imagine trying to do your business with a poop addict lying in wait, staring up the business end of your poop pump. Dad’s been having a hard time letting me get up close and personal with him. I can’t blame him, I just can’t help myself! The little hippie girl they call Summer, caught me in the act the other day, ever since she’s been walking around like she’s all high and mighty! It was okay when she was just high, but the mighty part is really making me mad! Who does she think she is? I don’t laugh at her when she’s eating, which, by the way, resembles a hyena gutting a wildebeest on the Serengeti! My name is Princess, I have a poop problem! Gotta go, I hear Furball’s stomach gurgling!

Things have started to settle down a little since last I wrote. I do feel a little uneasy being alone with the Furball these days! Not that I liked being alone with him in the first place, but I’ve got a vision burned in my mind, I just can’t shake. Earlier this week, mom and I went to go pick the sack of fur up at the beauty shop. Well, when we walked in, there he was, wearing a pink muzzle! Now, I’m usually one who says live and let live, what a dog does behind closed doors, is up to him. But this little freak was right there, in the middle of the store wearing nothing but a pink muzzle and a glazed over look on his face! I don’t know if it was all the verbal beat downs I gave him, his hamster finally fell of the wheel, or, watching too much Lady GaGa, but he is one sick puppy! Poor mom, she even had to tip the hussy who was playing out the Furball’s warped fantasy. I don’t know how he can even show his face around here any more, of course, he has no shame! Just when I thought it might be safe to walk around this place without my pepper spray, the Furball reveals this side of himself, Who knows, maybe the little hippie girl they call Summer slipped some Viagra in his kibble! I’m hoping mom makes the Furball register down at the police department. Gotta go, dad needs some help with his popcorn!

To say I’m living on the edge, is an understatement! First, Crunch Face goes for a ride with dad and does not return, Earlier this week, we had a fire here at the house! Furball was on it right away, he started crying, as usual, so mom and dad just ignored the town crier. The smoke started getting pretty thick, so I figured I better get in on the action. Ruff, I barked! Translation, get your butts out of bed, your house is on fire! Nothing! Woof, I barked! Translation, my paws are too big to dial 911, won’t you please get out of bed! Howl, Furball cried! Translation, I’m too young and handsome, to die! Finally, dad came rumbling down the stairs, wearing nothing but his underwear! Really? The house is on fire, and dad comes down the steps in his underwear? I thought, get me, your little Princey girl out of this place! As I sat there on the couch, suffering from the vapors, waiting for dad to scoop me up, he rushed right on down to the basement! Mom came rushing right behind, not quite as romantic as dad swooping me up, but hey, the house was on fire, so mom to the rescue it is! To my chagrin, she followed dad to the basement, leaving me and the Furball behind! Next thing you know, mom came running back up the stairs and woke up the boy they call Wyatt and the little Hippie girl! Apparently, the fire was outside, in the rabbit hutch, where those double crossing bunnies Crazy and Hazey lived. After a while, the Fire Department arrived! I thought jackpot! I’ll be swooped up by a big burly fire fighter, carried outside, maybe a little CPR, a quick snapshot by the media, the cover of Time Magazine, Movie of the Week, who knew where this could have taken me! Apparently, the fire fighter didn’t buy my damsel in distress look, and went right past me, and you guessed it, to the basement! What were they doing down there? Playing pool? After the fire was under control and everything calmed down, I heard the shocking news! Blazey and Glazey, oops, I mean Crazy and Hazey were killed in the fire! Something like this really makes one stop and think, mom and dad could have lost their most precious possession. What would they have done without me? I will miss those bunnies! Oh, and one more thing, please check the batteries in your smoke alarms! No, really, get up now, and check those batteries!