Puparazzi part 2

I can't believe those dastardly devils are still hounding me.  The Puparazzi won't leave me alone.  The latest pictures circling the Internet are unauthorized and taken out of context. 

Let me explain.  

The latest headlines claim "From the Runway to the Gutter", implying that I am spinning out of control.  Not true!  Yes, there was a low point in my life when I lost my senses (that happens to all of us, right, Brittany?), but I learned from my mistakes and have been living a life of utter refinement and dignity ever since.  I live sensibly and consciously, and do my part to reduce, reuse and recycle.  However, some seemingly sentient beings live dangerously apathetic lives (is that too harsh?) and cause harm to my mother, Nature.  As I am a loyal lady and want to protect Mother, I willingly go to great lengths to help clean up the mess caused by others.  

See exhibit A

Technically, this is not a gutter, so the accusation that I've returned to the gutter is illogical.  Furthermore, what you see in this picture is evidence that I take action and make deliberate choices to reduce unnecessary waste.  Here, I am exploring a delightful scent that I picked up and preparing to chow down on perfectly good, sadly discarded, morsels of food.  I disagree that this pictures shows that I am trashy, rather it reflects my commitment to lighten the load sent to landfills as well as my resourcefulness- I was hungry, there was food. More important is what you don't see, the lazy lad who couldn't be bothered to throw his trash in the dumpster or recycle his plastic water bottle.  Really, whose behavior is more disgusting?

Exhibit B

Here's another photo from the same day, same dumpster.  My impeccable skills demonstrate what is now being referred to as "dumpster diving".  Dumpster diving is part of the green movement and is growing in popularity.  Dumpster divers save perfectly good, but discarded meat, dairy, produce, flowers, wrapping paper, etc., from the landfill.  Notably,  I've been invested in the Earth cause for as long as I can remember, so I simply refer to this activity as smart.  

Unfortunately, this day's mission was ultimately unsuccessful.  I was prevented from consuming the treasures I found.  My assistants don't yest support this little habit of mine, so when their over-protective eyes are watching, I can't get the goods. 

Readers, take time to reflect on the messages in this latest blog; I have filled it with wonderful words of wisdom, such as:

Reduce, reuse, recycle

Be true to yourself

Look fabulous no matter what you are doing

Best,

Sweetie P. Clark

P.S.  If you want to comment, join my site and become a follower of Sweetie P.!

what to wear in winter

Dear Readers,

I've been observing the latest trends in winter wear and I am unimpressed.  When did it become fashionable to dress like a lazy slob?  Never!  

The first and best option for winter wear is to live in a beautiful, original black fur coat.  

Look how positively dashing a sight to see the luxurious black coat contrasted against the crisp white snow.  I look absolutely adorable with the spot of snow on my nose.

If you have neither the figure nor the finances to afford what I have, I am happy to provide a sensible and striking alternative.  Full disclosure, Hank, who you see pictured below, is an old acquaintance from my modeling days.  I've reprinted his picture with permission.

 Certainly I don't need to point out that Hank lacks fur and a perfect figure, but notice what he does with what he has.  The shades of gray, black and white compliment and camouflage his pear shape.  By choosing one main color for most of the look, and using other colors as accent pieces, he elongates his frame.  While it has become incredibly popular to choose footwear in contrasting colors, Hank is too smart to be fooled into that fashion faux pas.  He knows that wearing boots the same color as his garb will add length to his frame and help balance out his exceptionally long neck.  The black that he added along his torso creates curves in all the right places-did anyone see Kate Winslet's dress at Cannes?  The bright white adds a pop of color and draws attention to his slender neck and gorgeous face.  Hank has chosen to play up his magnificent eyes with some dramatic hues and because he keeps the rest of his look rather simple, it works.  

I'm most impressed with Hank's flair and the way he uses it to add a sense of dignity to his look while, again, hiding those darned imperfections (something that I don't have).  He has a tiny, little head, and a rather rotund derriere.  However, the feathers on the back of his head create balance, and again, draw attention to that wonderful face.  The feathers he's draped along his chest are stunning and distract from his bottom heavy shape.  They add a sense of royalty and refinement to his look.

Hank is a good and handsome boy, though every year he struggles with winter weight gain.  Still, no one has every seen Hank feeling sorry for himself and lounging around in a big sweatshirt with elastic waist pants.   Even when he doesn't feel his best, he looks his best.  And I know that once summer rolls around, he'll drop the feathers and show off his newly svelte figure.

My advice to you, dear readers, is to always look your best.  If you don't have what I have (and you don't), work with what you've got.  You have to look your best to look your best.

Yours truly, 

Sweetie P. Clark

Puparazzi

Readers beware!

The puparazzi has discovered where I live and has been infiltrating my private life.  I retired from the public eye years ago, preferring to live a life in quiet contemplation.  If I wanted to be in the spotlight,  trust me, one shake of my tail and I'd be back on the runway.  I don't know how they've found me, but they did.  My handler spotted curious pictures of me on the Internet.  While it's impossible for me to take a less than stellar shot, some of these photos are rather intimate.  I'm posting them here to debunk any myth that those hounds may try to circulate about me.  If you see them in any other media source, don't trust them.

So what's the big deal?  Sometimes I prefer to forgo the fancy linen and china and eat al strada, as I say.  This good old fashioned style of dining keeps me humble.  And, eating while standing burns more calories. Check out my figure for further proof.

Everybody has got a dirty little secret.  I happen to indulge in a good chew from time to time.  I don't think it's at all juvenile or undignified.  It's just something that I prefer to do in the privacy of my home without the watchful, snooping eye of the puparazzi.   Check out my sparkly whites! 

In the first photo, I suspect that the strange man who came to inspect my heating system took an unauthorized shot.  As I've established, I'm diligent when I'm on duty and I'm very strict about who I let in my front door.  I can name everybody that has stuck a toe in my new digs.  This man had the proper paperwork and performed the proper procedure, but somebody must have paid him off.  Unacceptable!

In the second photo, I was clearly enjoying some time in the great outdoors.  While I've noticed neighbors starring at me in the past, I thought it was due to my great beauty.  I guess that's not the only reason.  They recognize Sweetie P.

Tant pis pour moi.

Sincerely,

Sweetie P Clark

Best place to shop in Bloomington

Dear readers,


Since you value me opinion and understand the wisdom of my experience, I thought you'd like to know what I consider to be the best shop in all of Bloomington.  Don't let the name fool you; T&T Feed and Seed is the place for those with discriminate taste to find the latest and the greatest.  I go there for health food, beauty needs, treats, gifts, accessories, vitamins, and peanuts. Unlike some establishments in town, "my kind" is actually welcome at T&T. When I visit the establishment, I'm shown customer appreciation in the form of a delicious snack or two.  They truly provide the items that I'm looking for, all within a price range that fits into my budget.


When I'm at T&T, I get the feeling that they are concerned with sentient beings like me, even those who may be down and out, and so they do what they can to help, especially at the shelter just down the way.  Unlike some businesses, profit margins are not the bottom line at T&T.


What's really great about T&T is how much they love puppies.  They don't sell them.


Readers, be careful where you shop and what you buy.  I recommend visiting the best shop in town.  I've included a link below so you can read an informative article about T&T.


http://www.heraldtimesonline.com/stories/2011/10/07/business.qp-2884438.sto?1319932373


Yours truly,


Sweetie P. Clark

Taking it easy

Readers,


It's important to get outside and enjoy the sun, the shade, and the smells.  These seemingly simple pleasures are some of what I consider to be the finer things in life.  


Since I'm such a busy girl, it's not uncommon for me to feel a little bit sleepy if I'm reclining in the grass.  I tell myself, "Sweetie, close your eyes, just for a minute."

I get just a little bit sleepy.

I feel rejuvenated after I smell the smells and press my face into the wind.  I think you would, too.


I love admiring the squirrels flapping their pretty tails at me and hearing the birds singing their hellos.  Being outside feels so perfect  and I get so happy and before I know it, I'm rooting around in the dirt and absorbing as much of the outside as I can.  Lady nature and I have our own way of communicating.

Smell the smells.

After you read my latest words of wisdom,  get outside.


Yours truly,


Sweetie P. Clark


P.S.  Do you think I'm pretty?


P.P.S.  Snakes don't bother me.  On my last hike, I encountered Mr. Snake.  I said, "Pardon me!" and walked right on by.  (He thought I was really pretty.)

Questions

Dear readers,

I've been swamped in fan mail and have taken great pains to respond to all of your letters.  It seems that some of my fans have a self-defeating fear of technology and prefer to comment in pen, rather than online.  Don't be scared.  

Many of my letters contain similar content and there is a desire to know just who Sweetie P. Clark is.  Well, as a lady of refined manners, I cannot reveal too much.  I will, however, answer the most commonly asked questions right here, right now.

Q:  Sweetie, how did you get to to be soooo pretty?

A:  In addition to being born this way, I take proper care of myself and follow a strict beauty regimen. I make sure that I get plenty of sleep every day and every night.  I drink water; that's the only thing I drink.  I follow portion control.  In fact, I've been known to leave half of my meal in my bowl.  I am so exact in my measurements that it looks like an architect has created a masterpiece.  I go easy on the carbs, preferring instead to dine on protein, acquired locally when possible.  I never eat chocolate. I take vitamins. I go on daily walks.  I do yoga.  I do stair exercises.  I get massages. I see the doctor at least once a year.  I travel.  I work.  I play.  I relax. I don't hold grudges or stay mad for long. Most importantly, I never leave the house without my beautiful fur coat and full makeup.  

Yours truly taking a walk in my old hometown.

It's important to enjoy nature.  Here I am getting ready for a nap outside.

Q:  Sweetie, have you always been sooooo pretty?

A:  Well, I suppose I have!  There was however, one time in my life when I was so down and so out that I lost my beautiful figure to some very bad things.  As a result, I neglected my fur coat.  When I see pictures from that time, I just see a really sad, lonely, lost, cute little girl; not the beauty queen that you all know me as.

Q:  Sweetie, how did you get to be so smart?

A:  Life experience has made me wise beyond my years.  

Q:  Sweetie, what is the best way to break up with a significant other?

A:  The best thing to do is to disappear without a trace.  You don't owe anyone an explanation.  When it's done, it's done.  Move on.

Q:  Sweetie, what is the best way to attract someone's attention?

A:  The best way to attract someone's attention is to live your life as your marvellous self.  If someone doesn't notice you, there's nothing you can do to change that and it's really not your problem.  Move on.

Q:  Sweetie, how do you know if you are dating the right person?

A:  That's a no-brainer.  If you have to ask if you are dating the right person, you aren't.  

Q:  Sweetie, what is your favorite food?

A:  Well, if you are asking that question, you must not have read my previous blogs.  As already indicated, my favorite FOODS are: pastrami, turkey, bacon, ham, salmon, chicken, roast beef, pork tenderloin, tuna,hot dogs, sharp cheddar, capicola, salami, pancetta, Swiss cheese, vanilla ice cream, to name a few.

Q:  Sweetie, how do you balance your guarding responsibilities with your personal life with such grace and ease?

A:  It may surprise you to learn that I didn't always balance my life so well.  I used to think that I had to be on duty  always and could never say no when I was asked to work overtime.  That's all changed.  I've reviewed my contract quite closely and made sure that I understand both my rights and my responsibilities.  I do take my job seriously and when I'm on the clock, I perform at the highest level possible.  I never sleep on the job. Please note my perfect record if you require evidence.  I realize though, that my personal life is just as important as my professional life, so when I need to take some time off, I do and I don't feel bad about it.   I also take my two 15 minutes breaks, my hour lunch, and holidays.  It's all stated in my contract.

Readers, I've said enough for now.  Keep your questions coming!

Yours truly,

Sweetie P. Clark






 

Ricococo

Dear Readers,
After the heartbreak I suffered from Jean DeBout's sudden sail out of my life, I swore I would never fall in love like that again.   My poor little heart wouldn't bear more pain.  However, I never said I would, or in any way could, stop the fellas from falling for me.  And fall they do, but that's really not my problem.  


I was down and out in Paris; with Jean DeBout's departure all the glitter, glam, and romance of the city had vanished.  Of course my work on the runway continued uninterrupted as depression did nothing to lessen my looks, but without my true love's support, I was turning to very bad things for comfort.  Being the smart lady that I am, I knew I couldn't sustain this rough and tumble lifestyle forever.  I needed to help myself, and the best thing to do was to leave Paris quite quick.  A photographer friend suggested Italy.  With nothing but my fur coat, I shuttled to Italia. 


Once I landed in the fashion capital, it was obvious that the Sweetie P. phenomenon had slithered its way across Europe.  Photographers and designers were waiting to greet me and swept me away to a fabulous apartment.  I started working immediately and all the attention helped ease the hole left by Jean DeBout.


During my third runway show, I was taken aback by yet another sighting of a mysterious painter buried in the midst of the flashing lights.  Something was not right. Other more naive models may have overlooked this breach or agreed to looser terms and provisions, but I for one had stated very clearly in my contract that under no circumstances was my image, or any likeness thereof, to be captured by anyone other than an authorized photographer, not a painter. From my perch on the catwalk, I could see that this painter had neither proper credentials nor a press pass.  That was not right and it made me mad.  I was no dummy and I was most certainly not one to be taken advantage of! At the conclusion of the show, I gave a quick hello to my admirers- it was in my contract- then strode up to the interloper.  "Pardon me!  Where is your paper work?  Where is your pass?  This is not proper procedure and it is imperative you that vacate the premises now!" 


"Senorina!" he replied.  "You are la bella figura!  I have been looking everywhere for la donna perfecta and I see nothing.  But you! I see you and I must paint you.  The artist cannot control the inspiration; I must only paint." 


His big brown eyes were pleading for mercy, and his bottom lip bit back a tremble. I took pity on the painter and glanced at the painting.  What I saw took my breath away.  He was a true artist and had captured my great beauty in a way no photograph ever had.  Who was I to deny such an impressive work of art? We conversed over the intoxicating effect of my beauty and by the end of our conversation, I had agreed to pose for him.  Dear reader, I want you to know that I made it quite clear to him that under no circumstances would I be removing my beautiful fur coat.


Ricococo was a dashing fellow.  While he did not have the same kind of luxurious fur coat as me, he was quite gifted in the art of compensation.  Every day I posed for him, he was wearing a white artist's shirt.  It was always clean, crisp, and free from paint stains.  It was expertly tailored to drape across his lithe shoulders. He left the top 3 bottoms undone, allowing the fabric to fall in perfect pleats around his waist.  The arms billowed and accented his delicate wrists.  His kohl  eyeliner was artistically applied.  


Before I knew it, I was once again three quarters of the It couple.  We attended gallery openings (often for him, featuring me- the paintings always sold out), private viewings of the ballet, and opera at Teatro alla Scala.  We would weekend in nearby villas.  We had fun together and I could tell that he was falling for me.  When he wasn't painting me, we spent many an afternoon studying our respective languages.  Ricococo was a fantastic cook, but since I working the runway, I could seldom eat the pizza and the pasta that he prepared just for me.


Unfortunately, Ricococo developed a few bad habits afforded him by his wealthy commissioners. Though he was a talented and successful artist, these bad habits were a sign of immaturity and impropriety.  It was undignified, and I knew that Jean DeBout would never have behaved in this manner.  Eventually, the bad habits lead to laziness and the once ambitious Ricococo wanted to do things domani, domani, doppo domani... I had left France to get out of the gutter.  I certainly wouldn't get caught up in his mess here.


I knew it would break his heart, but the only way I could help both myself and Ricococo was to leave.  Late one night, when I was supposed to meet him at De La, I instead sent a courier to deliver a message.  "Dear Ricococo, you must forget me and never look for me.  We cannot be together.  Trust me when I say this is for the better.  You'll always have the paintings to remember me by.  Yours truly, Sweetie P."  


In my heart of hearts, I know that Ricococo has never gotten over me, but that's really not my problem.


Yours truly,


Sweetie P.


P.S. Next stop Madrid.

Thigh highs

I've decided to add a new regimen to my daily walks- stairs work.  Not only am I using stairs to do this and that, but to sculpt more muscle into my already delectable thighs.  Please don't get the wrong impression and think that there was any need for me to improve upon my already beautiful figure. I've just decided to take my stunning physique in a new direction.  

I gracefully zoom down the stairs.

As a result of my amended health plan, I've noticed I have an extremely beautiful curve in the back of my thighs which makes my wings stand at higher attention. The increased firmness makes my little leggies even more savory.  See for yourself!

Are you jealous?

How do I get more beautiful with each passing day?  I really don't know!

 Because stair work can be hard on the muscles, I like to get at least 3 massages a day; once in the morning, once in the afternoon, once in the evening.  My assistants love to rub my thighs.  Sometimes I request 3 massages per person, so that can mean I get at least 6 per day (If it storms, I kindly accept more.).  When I travel, I have more people on staff, so I easily receive up to 12 massages a day. 


Maybe some of you have some concerns about your thighs.  Perhaps you weren't born with a stellar little body like me.  And I doubt that you have exquisite thighs, as so few, besides me, do.  My advice to you is to start taking the stairs.  When you do, zip up as fast as your tootsies can carry you.  As you race down, it's essential to flow, as this allows your hips to undulate back and forth just so.  It makes for an intoxicating image.   Do this a lot.  Before you know it, you will love your thighs!


Yours truly,


Sweetie P.

Jean DeBout

Darlings,

I'm terribly sorry to have left you dangling for so, so long.  It probably made you quite nervous. I received a cryptic message about C.C.S. (to reveal his name would put both our lives in jeopardy) and had to rush to China to tend to him.  Since my last trip to Rome, I refuse to fly, and the boat I was on turned out to be a little slow, more of a steady paddle, really, but I made it to China in time.  I saved C.C.S.  

Once word got out that I had returned to China, people were begging me to complete one more photo shoot, which turned in to two, then three, then four, then five, then six.  It was all, "Sweetie, please, you're so pretty! Sweetie, you are a beauty queen.  Pretty girl, please do this.  Gorgeous, please do that. Sweetie, Sweetie, Sweetie!"- just like the old days.  I couldn't let my people over there down, but it made my stay longer than I intended. If you visit China sometime in the next decade, you'll surely see my pictures splattered all over Beijing and Shanghai.  Don't ask me to do any photo shoots here, though.  I am through with that bullsheet.

The last time, I promised to tell you about the love of my life, Jean DeBout.  It breaks my heart even thinking about him.  I'm a lady of my word though, so get ready to hear the saddest story of a lifetime.  

When I fled to Paris many years ago, I didn't know a single soul.  It was a rough go, even for a pretty little girl like me.  The streets always seemed wet and really good stinky, but I was all alone.  I knew very little French at the time and it was difficult to figure out where to stay (It was impossible!) and where to find good food.  Poor little old me, I was wasting away to nothing.

One particularly vivid night, I was wandering the docs, letting the tears slip from my enchanting eyes and splash into the Seine.  "Mademoiselle" I heard from a dark shadow over my right side.  Always on guard, I snapped around just as Jean DeBout was emerging from the shadows to stand under the single lamp post.  "I cannot help but wonder why an exquisite creature such as yourself is lingering on the docs.  Come, I've just prepared dinner.  Dine with me and tell me who you are."  

Since my taut little belly was grumbling, it was impossible to resist such an offer.  Plus, he was really, really, really cute.  We talked all night and into the morning, which was good for me since I was homeless.  Ever the gentleman, while Jean DeBout escorted me from the docs back to the streets, the sun was rising, setting a glorious glow over the city.  I knew then that I was in love.

We were inseparable after that, except for the times when Jean DeBout had to work the boats.  He was an impeccable sailor, ready to go at a moment's call.  Sometimes, he would sneak a boat out for me and we would journey up and down and around the city on the Seine.  We would picnic on the boat. Every night he serenaded me with his beautiful voice and little guitar.  It was so romantic. He wrote and recited poetry to me. He introduced me to his friends, taught me French, cooked for me, took me dancing, we had so much fun. Through his love, the once cold Paris felt like home.  

Jean DeBout and I were a dashing couple.  He always looked so handsome with his red and white striped shirt, blue scarf tied just so, and black beret cocked perfectly over his right ear.  His mustache was to die for.  I was so jealous, but also really proud.  It was a thin, little line above his lip and curled up just enough on the ends to make him look like he was smiling.  I wore my beautiful black fur coat; what could be better? As you can imagine, when we went out, we got noticed, especially me. 

Remember I told you about my accidental first photo shoot?  I don't think I'd mentioned that I was sought out when I was with Jean DeBout.  I mean I wasn't with him that night (another story), but I was with him. After that first photo shoot, quite quickly my career as a super model took off.  Jean DeBout was really excited.  He loved to be known as Sweetie P's boyfriend.  When he wasn't working the docs, he accompanied me to my photo shoots.  We even had a few smashingly successful contracts together.  Well, it seemed like the more I got booked, the more I got booked.  Soon, everybody wanted a piece of Sweetie P.  It was exhausting, but Jean DeBout was my savior.  He could look at my outside and my inside.  He kept me grounded.  We understood each other and were deeply in love. 

Eventually, unfortunately, my success got to Jean DeBout.  He didn't believe that I could love him, but I did with every hair on my beautiful fur coat.  When Jean DeBout didn't show up for a big gig, I knew something was horribly wrong. About halfway through the shoot, when I couldn't bear his mysterious absence any longer, I took off to the docs.  I got there just in time to see Jean DeBout sailing away.  "I'm sorry, Sweetie" were the only words I could make out as I watched the love of my life drifting away.  Against my better judgement (I have never voluntarily committed an act like this since), I lept into the water in an attempt to catch up to the boat and prove the depth of my love.  It was no use.  Jean DeBout was gone.

As I was climbing back up to dry land, I noticed that the locket Jean DeBout had given me, the one that I always wore and never took off, the one that had my only picture of the two of us, had slipped off my neck.  That's another smart reason to dislike water.

The only images I have left of Jean DeBout are the ones in my memory.  The last time I saw him was when he was standing on the deck of the boat, his blue scarf fluttering in the wind, looking so handsome, and so lonely.  I don't know what happened to him or where he went.  I've been all over the globe and neither spotted nor smelled him. It's like he vanished.  

Sure, I've had many loves since Jean DeBout, but I never loved any of them the way I loved Jean DeBout.

Yours truly,

Sweetie P.

P.S.  Do you still think I'm pretty?

Fur's the word

An advantage of living simply is that I can be ready to relocate in a moment's notice.  I see that when some people move they take a lot of this and that with them.  That's just silly.   I throw on my fur coat, grab a couple of essentials, and I'm ready to go.  That's all I need.  That's all I want.  I definitely do not want to have to put this here and that over there and move that other thing here and put that other thing there.  It's not refined.  It's superfluous.  As a girl who had it all then had nothing real fast, I will tell you that just about the only thing you really need in life is to look good.  A dashing personality like mine helps.


If you ever need help changing venues, don't bother asking me because it's really not my problem.


Your truly,


Sweetie P.


P.S.  I've had a lot of questions about my loves.  I have not forgotten my darlings who are reading this and anxiously waiting to learn the ways of the world.   I will promise the next time I will tell you about my true love Jean DeBout.

Ethics

It wasn't  my idea to host a house guest, but as I am a lady with refined manners and pristine decorum, I consider it my duty to be a model host.  It is for this reason and this reason alone that I have made a choice to share my ham.  

Ta ta,


Sweetie P.


P.S.  Do you think I'm pretty?

Proof Postive

One of my many responsibilities is to monitor the neighborhood and alert everyone of suspicious activity.  It is a difficult job as it requires a keen level of skill to be able to decipher between proper and improper procedures.  It can be tiring and stressful, but I have people counting on me to perform my duties at a superior level (as stated in my contract). I've been told I'm really good.  Frankly, I believe it.

Now, guess who is not so good at security detail.  Somebody has been acting really tough and is trying to take credit for my work.  (Does that behavior sound familiar to anyone?)  I have evidence to show that is quite to the contrary.  Please see below and notice that Mr. Tough Guy is indeed slacking in his responsibilities.  

You should be wondering why he is laughing during an intense moment of neighborhood disturbance; I know I am.  I do not take to this kind of breach in conduct lightly and I don't appreciate his lackadaisical attitude.  I'm documenting this indiscretion and will be forced to take further disciplinary action if proper procedure is not followed.  

While you're here, notice my perfect form.

Ciao ciao,

Sweetie P.

P. S.  Do you think I'm pretty?

P.P.S.  I am sooooooooo pretty!

Mr. Barge on in

Well pardon me!  I had certainly been under the illusion that house guests were individuals welcomed into one's home.  That seems not to be the case anymore, at least if you are talking about a certain someone whose name will not be revealed.

Sweet little old me catching him in the stolen spot.  (I said I wouldn't reveal his name.  I didn't say I wouldn't show his image.)

I'm relishing a pleasant Sunday evening when he suddenly appears at my front door.  Before I can tell him to go mind his own business somewhere else, he's inside, barreling around like he lives in this place. Since then, he is stealing my favorite spots.  He is getting into my private collections without my permission.  This is not proper procedure. He had the gall to sleep on the bed!  I, personally, don't like to sleep there, but never, ever, ever have I ever been so insulted by such unrefined and undignified manners.

Getting no assistance with the situation.  I can't help that I still look really pretty even though he's makes me angry.

Whenever I go to a spot, he comes along and ruins it.  I've barely had anything to eat as around him I have no appetite.  The absolute worst is that he insisted on tagging along during my afternoon walk today. As a lady with refined manners and the utmost decorum, I indulged the fellow, but I did not like his company.

You can see that I see that he sees that I've gone to another spot and now he wants it.

He is certainly not nor ever will be one of my boyfriends.  I think Snowball thinks he's my new boyfriend but that's really not my problem.  Snowball can go think for himself.

I never!

Outraged,

Sweetie P.

P.S.  Do you think I'm pretty?

P.P. S.  I am sooooooooo pretty!

Attention! Follow me.

Pardon me!  This is Sweetie P. Clark addressing you for this very important announcement.  I have noticed that only one of my avid fans has opted to follow me.  After years of hearing, "Sweetie do this.  Sweetie do that.  Sweetie tell me about your boyfriends.  Sweetie, how are you so pretty? Sweetie, how are you so brave?  Sweetie, how are you so smart?  Sweetie, how do you know all these things?" I simply cannot understand the inability to give me some simple indication that you are listening to my words of wisdom and delightful tales, all of which I am doing for my fans.  This is not proper and it's just not right.  And I don't really like it.  I kindly request some activity on your part.

Thank you very much!

Sweetie P.

P.S.  Do you think I'm pretty?

What I want

Darlings,
I'm a girl who knows what I want.  I want what I want and I like what I like.  I don't make excuses or apologies for my select preferences.  If I don't want it, I don't want it.  I if I don't like it, I don't like it.  I can  always change my mind- if I want to.  


The following is an abridged list of things I want and like:

• walks
• naps
• ham
• sausage
• salmon
• certain people
• responsibilities
• proper procedure

This is all the information that I can reveal for now.  I have my responsibilities to tend to today and I shan't spare a minute more in this conversation.  If you will kindly excuse me, I will be sure to share more of my likes, as well as my dislikes, in upcoming sessions.

Ta Ta, darlings,

Sweetie P.

P.S.  Do you think I'm pretty?

P.P. S.  I am sooooooo pretty!

  

My beautiful fur coat

Darlings, 
I like to look good every time I step out the door, take a nap, eat, stretch, catch my stunning reflection in a window, you get the picture.  I always look my best.


My go-to ensemble is a beautiful fur coat.  It's a one of a kind, original design, unable to be duplicated, though I have seen laughable knock-offs.  Some may wonder how I could afford an item such as this.  I didn't; it was a gift.  A designer noticed me one afternoon long ago as I was strolling by Sacre Coeur.  He said he must create a masterpiece for me, all I had to do was show up at his place later that night.  I was a little leery of him at first, as rightly a girl should be, but since I love adventure, I accepted his request.  I was a nobody (if you can believe that) before the single dark, drizzly night long ago when I cautiously made my way to the back entrance his fashion house.  After an evening filled with fittings and fabulousness, I donned the fur coat, the photographer snapped photos, somebody "leaked" them, and, well, I became a somebody.  

Notice my coat's exquisite array of colors and textures.

I still absolutely love the fur coat.  I wear it all the time and refuse to take it off.  Since it was designed for me, it fits perfectly and I refuse to wear less than the best.  It keeps me warm in the winter  and I can run about town without fear of freezing.  I don't particularly like to get my coat wet, so I try to avoid water.  When it looks good (and it always does), I prefer to keep wearing.  If I get a little stinky, it's a good stinky and I wear my coat as is.  As long as I can help it.

I thought you might like to see another perspective.  My fluffy tail offsets the sharper lines around my face (remember my mustache) and my wings on my arms give me a little flair.

Darlings, what I'm saying to you is find something that looks good on you and wear it all the time.  A stellar signature look is priceless.  Once you find the piece that is truly right for you, live in it.

Yours truly, darlings,


Sweetie P.


P.S.  Do you think I'm pretty?


P.P. S.  I am sooooooooo pretty!

Never underestimate the power of a well-groomed mustache

Darlings,
Let's face it.  Some of us have more hair on our faces than others.  Unfortunately, many a lady seems not to know what to do with the abundance.  Strangely, I've seen gals try to camouflage it or get rid of it all together.  What a mistake!  As a fellow beauty queen, I say, work it girl!  A mustache is one of the greatest signs of beauty a girl can ever possibly have.


However, it is important to remember that even though we were fortunate to be born with fury faces, we're still going to have to put a little work into our beauty regimen.  Never, I repeat never, underestimate the power of a well-groomed mustache.  The male species can't help but look twice when he sees a pretty girl displaying a hairy lip.  We are irresistible.  I like to keep mine clean, dark, and neat.   I don't shape the mustache into anything trendy or extravagant as I want to use it to draw attention to my lips and white teeth.  Lately, I've been working a few white whiskers on either side of my mustache as an accent.  I have found that the whole look really works to frame my face and define my features.  It adds a sense of elegance to my overall presentation.  The mustache makes me look like royalty (which I am).

This is a good picture because you can see how sharp my mustache looks.  It does not get washed out in the artificial light.  Notice the medallion hanging around my neck.  I'll talk about that another time.

I like this image because you can see my beautiful whiskers.  The look really works.

Finally, my mustache works outside, too.  Notice that for this image, I have refrained from smiling.  Just 'cause I'm a girl doesn't mean I have to smile all the time.  Sometimes I prefer to show the more stately, dignified side of myself.


I hope these pictures have convinced you of the power of a well-groomed mustache.  If you haven't got one, don't give up hope yet.  It may grow in one day, when you least expect it.


Thank you very kindly.


Your truly, darlings,


Sweetie P.


P.S.  Do you think I'm pretty?


P.P.S. I am soooooooo pretty!

Pardon me, it's Sweetie P!

Well, pardon me!  This is Sweetie P. Clark at your service, ready and willing to give you all the advice and tips you could possibly need on fashion, beauty, love, and common sense.  I have lived around the globe and have lots of thrilling tales to tell about my romances- there's been quite a few!- and adventures.  I really think you are going to absolutely love learning all about me and you may even want to try living your life with the same grace and decorum as me.  It is my pleasure to introduce myself to you.  It is your privilege to read my blogs.  Thank you kindly.

Yours truly, darlings,
Sweetie P.

P.S. Do you think I'm pretty?

P.P.S.  I am sooooooo pretty!