We picked these roses especially for you! Betty MacDonald fan club event 2016 in France is so very successful because of some very famous honor guests.
Several Betty MacDonald fan club fans are very shocked that Spain lost against Croatia yesterday.
The Spanish team has to play against Italy now and that's very difficult.
And maybe Germany and France are waiting.
A very hard way to win the title!
I'll contribute a Betty MacDonald letter to Betty MacDonald fan club letter collection.
I, Mr. Tigerli, can hardly save myself
from being submerged in red roses! Oh dear, a loving cat has his
problems.
Surrounded by a sea of flowers!
Mind you I’ve earned it. I have risked so much for love in my life!
I have become famous because of being such a great lover. I am a Casanova cat.
Am I exaggerating? Are there not cats more famous than me, artists who paint or play the piano?
That may be so, but they are “nobodies” in the art of loving!
Look in the internet under “Erotica Felina”! You will see that my name immediately appears on the screen.
People boarding their plane in Singapore have found me at once on Google.
I am a world famous cat.
Oh
no, I don’t loose my head over female cats. But women! I love women.
Yes only women. These wonderful creatures give me everything! Not only
affection, good conversation and food.
I was four months old when I discovered my partiality for women.
One
time I was cavorting on the bed with Roswitha, my first love – although
it was strictly forbidden to get onto the bed – when under the woolen
blanket I suddenly felt a wonderful soft plump area! Roswitha’s tummy! I
was running backwards and forwards across it when suddenly a shot of
adrenalin rushed through my cat brain. At an early age I became a slave
to love!
But
it was Roswitha’s foot that surprised me with my first erotic feelings.
She had unknowingly stretched it out of the bed under the pressure of
my four paws and for the first time I saw the naked foot of a woman.
Five small tempting little sausages attracted my attention. How
delicately the points moved. They were more attractive to look at than
the mice in the fresh grass. I miaowed to them “I’m going to bite you”!
I understand men who kiss the feet of women so ardently.
I immediately lost my head and my innocence.
Now I began to nibble at these five little porkies.
Roswitha
continued to sleep and sighed softly. Encouraged I licked her whole
foot. Roswitha laughed sweetly and delightfully in her sleep.
Within eight months I was familiar with her leg.
I
love beautiful legs. Without hair, without ticks or other insects. They
have such a wonderful perfume. I could lick women’s legs without any
saliva. Wonderful! A refined lover begins with delicate movements, not
by taking the female creation by storm. Only goats climb on the back of
their females without paying a single compliment. You know, Betty, that
a Casanova doesn’t come straight to the point!
Roswitha,
I love you Oh, my first love! I felt so good in your bed. I lay at your
feet in the night. But after two intimate years deeply in love with
your feet, your husband came home. His field service away from home was
over, and sadly my home service with you too.
“Get
out of my bed”, he shouted. It’s not right to treat a loving cat so
rudely, even when men have the right to be jealous of us. We are after
all superior to them. We are supple and seductively beautiful until old
age. We are not rude or, even worse, drunkards! A woman can spend
romantic hours stroking us or even sleep with us in her bed and still
believe in platonic love, which is hardly possible for them with a man.
Women never become pregnant with us and this has advantages. Casanova
was the inventor of the condom. We are the condom.
I
was thrown out. Are men all so brutal, Betty? The bedroom door was
locked. But I was still allowed to live in the house: three sofas in the
living room, a bed in the guest bedroom, and an old divan in the cellar
were available for me. Roswitha could come to these. But I was
appalled!
Mr. Brummi avoided my dirty looks. Since then I have not befriended men, to say nothing of cats!
Without Roswitha’s feet I had to eke out a miserable existence in the house. And she complained that her feet were cold.
The
husband however was obdurate. He tried, without success, to take my
place: to stroke Roswitha’s feet, to rub them, to tickle them! But
Roswitha’s five little white toes remained in the bed as motionless as
if rigor mortis had set in.
There
were no more giggles. The doctor recommended an evening foot-bath. To
think that I should be replaced by a herbal bath! How outrageous!
Should
I have scratched at the bedroom door every night? I am a proud cat! I
would rather look around! She wouldn’t have heard me anyway. The husband
snores as loudly as a vacuum cleaner on the point of collapse. Should I
have dropped five dead mice in front of the door? But I don’t bring her
these presents any more. If you love me, I thought, get divorced!
“Darling” I hear her say to her husband, “Couldn’t you snore more quietly?”
I
comforted myself with her socks. The dirty ones, naturally. There were a
few flakes from her skin that I swallowed with joy. Some men even sniff
underwear. Idiotic love. That’s going too far for me. I, Mr Tigerli,
don’t do that because I am an aesthetic cat. Gradually I’d had enough of
the socks. Should I look for a new woman? The thought of being
unfaithful came to me quite suddenly.
The
nights in my basket passed peacefully - and also the nights in
Roswitha’s bed. Cold feet and migraines are two passion killers. The
husband was sullen. She never suffered with me. I laughed - even if cats
can’t laugh – behind my beard and knew that she had remained faithful.
I didn’t. I found the young servant in the house very fascinating. Her
legs were not so beautiful as Roswitha’s , but the risks were low. The young
woman was a Russian, temperamental, pretty and I liked her. Infidelity
was for me a triviality.
“Oh, Mr. Tigerli”, cried
Putziputzi (that was her pet name. I’ll say no more, she had two
brothers) “why are you licking me so tenderly?”
I could have answered. “You are my
second choice. I am missing Roswitha’s feet.” But I wrapped myself
round her leg, as all loving cats do.
She gave an even louder cry and ran away! I was perplexed!
I had no idea that genuine love-play begins with “No, no, I’d rather not, please don’t”.
I still had a lot to learn. Then I
thought: Quick , Tigerli, follow Putziputzi and sing her a song! After
that wonderful days followed: I showered her soft thighs with delicate
little love-bites. It was intoxicating!
We constantly changed the spot we
chose for our love-making. On Mondays and Fridays we lay on the three
sofas, on Tuesday on the bed in the guest room, but most of the time we
spent together in the cellar. She was crazy! Is this sex,
I asked myself. What man can make a woman so happy?
Putziputzi was soon dismissed from her job.
I have no great opinion of
husbands and I must admit I have good reasons for this. But that their
wives should react with such jealousy was for me an insoluble puzzle.
It wasn’t long before I was lying in bed with Roswitha again.
The husband had probably seen that
the loss of a servant can have serious consequences. Now it was his job
to vacuum the whole house: from the cellar to the attic. Roswitha
assured him this would only be for a short transitional period, until
she had found a replacement for Putziputzi.
“Yes, yes! But the replacement
must be ugly and unattractive and she should only work in the house and
she must not play with Tigerli”, he answered.
“Yes, yes! I agree”, answered Roswitha, “and it would be wise if you would allow Tigerli to sleep in the bed with me again”.
The husband willingly gave his consent.
He nodded his agreement and it was clear that he saw me in a new light.
I was no longer a competitor.
What the heck, he thought! The guy was sleeping in my bed with my wife when I was away anyway!
So thanks to the vacuum-cleaner I was able to continue my love-affair with my first love Roswitha.
****************************************** Who is Mr. Tigerli?
Ivan Perisic stunner for Croatia leaves Spain to face Italy in last 16
Spain and Croatia went into the last 16, but not in the order expected. Euro 2016
has another late goal and this is one whose impact may prove enormous,
the holders suffering their first European Championship defeat for 12
years and a day. With the score at 1-1 and 87 minutes gone in Bordeaux,
Aritz Aduriz’s shot was blocked on the edge of the area; two passes and
80 yards later, Ivan Perisic was tearing off his top and Croatia, not
Spain, were top of Group D.
Croatia
will face a third-placed side in Lens; Spain will play Italy in Paris,
knowing that Germany and then France may await. “This is just the
beginning,” Perisic said, while his coach, Ante Cacic, talked of
confidence and the need to “make the Croatian people happy”. That the
chances of one of the competition’s outstanding sides are improved now
was revealed by his opposite number. “This was not the path we wanted,
that’s the truth,” Vicente del Bosque admitted.If Spain
are to defend their title, they must do it the hard way and they cannot
say they were not warned: Sergio Ramos had a second-half penalty saved
by Danijel Subasic that might have made it safe but the threat had been
there since Nikola Kalinic levelled at the end of the first half. When
that went in, this changed. When the winner did, the group changed too.
The whole tournament did, in fact. Aduriz was denied and two swift diagonal passes from the back gave
Perisic, superb throughout and still sprinting up the field now, a sight
of goal. Perisic had made the first for Kalinic; this time the roles
were reversed. The shot clipped Gerard Piqué’s boot and flew in at the
near post beyond David de Gea who, falling backwards, had tried to stop
it with his foot.
Behind De Gea the Croatian fans erupted. The goalkeeper was edgy for
much of the match and there will be questions about him and not just on
the winner, however much his manager said he was not to be blamed.
Spain’s fans were silent at the end of a night in which it felt as if
the team had not entirely grasped the game’s significance until it was
slipping away. “A lapse in the 89th [sic] minute with the score in our
favour is not something we should allow to happen,” Del Bosque said. “We
have to recover mentally and emotionally but we’re still here.”As for Caric’s team, they may consider themselves candidates now:
they had beaten Spain without Luka Modric and despite trailing after six
minutes. That goal, like the winner, 81 minutes later, came via a move
in which the ball travelled virtually the length of the pitch, until
David Silva found Cesc Fàbregas and his clip over Subasic was nudged in
on the line by Álvaro Morata. If the chance to finish third rather than second as a way of avoiding
Italy, Germany and France really was on Croatian minds, the idea was
dismissed a moment later with news that Turkey led. Better, then, to
step out. And soon they were almost level. Under pressure from Kalinic,
De Gea’s dreadful clearance dropped to Ivan Rakitic, whose first-time,
curling lob was beautifully struck only to hit the bar, the post and the
goalline. Rakitic looked at the giant screens, as if trying to work out
how on earth it had not gone in.
If that would have been a lovely goal, the one Croatia did get on the
stroke of half-time might have been better still, Perisic turning away
from Juanfran and dropping a delightful cross into the six-yard box.
Ramos was beaten to it, De Gea did not move and Kalinic jumped to ease
in a gentle, back-heel-style volley with the outside of his foot. Until
then this had been an open, entertaining game, if seemingly lacking in
the tension and concentration of a decisive match. It had also been
mostly controlled by Spain, whose axis had tilted from left to right,
from Andrés Iniesta and Nolito to Fàbregas and Silva.The Manchester City playmaker shone but Spain not only failed to
increase their lead, they lost it. Kalinic’s goal was the first they had
conceded in 733 European Championship minutes, stretching back to the
opening game against Italy four years ago. And although the second half
started with a chance for Morata, the Croatian threat was clearer now;
Perisic, fast feet, determined to run at opponents, was especially
troubling. His run led to the Darijo Srna cross that had De Gea scrambling and
star-jumping, the ball eventually flashing wide from Marko Pjaca’s
overhead kick, and then Pjaca went over Ramos’s leg. Ramos accused him
of diving and may have been right but there was risk in the challenge.
The referee did not give that but did give one at the other end when
Sime Vrsaljko was judged to have pushed Silva. The contact was slight at
most and accidental too, the defender stumbling, possibly pushed. Yet
the Croatians’ fury became celebration when Subasic, dancing about,
lurched forward to save the penalty, struck centrally by Ramos – an
unexpected choice of taker and one Del Bosque justified as a question of
“confidence”. Gerard Piqué prevented Kalinic running through and Spain sought the
winner to set them up for the fortnight ahead, but just how costly that
miss was became revealed when Croatia broke with three minutes to go
turn the table and the tournament upside down.
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