Author Archives: Staci Jolene

Meowtivational Monday

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Most people dread Mondays. I, however, do not—because I am a cat, and all my days look the same. I eat, I nap, I drag my tail around the house (more to come on that some other time), I wrestle with Gilbert, maybe I do a vommy voms, maybe I eat a plant, scratch up the furniture, then I nap again, eat again, get some treats, yowl a little bit, etc. Mind you, not always in that order.

You, though, you don’t get the freedom that I do. You have to go to school or work. But you know what? You have to get up and do it. You can’t be dragging your feet and complaining about going to school or work and sitting through 27 million meetings. So, I want to help by giving you a little inspiration and motivation. Or should I say inspawration and meowtivation?

Here’s my Meowtivation for today:

“Walk in like you own the place—because you do.”

Whether it’s a meeting, a classroom, or just the coffee line, channel your inner Staci Jolene and strut in like everything revolves around you. Confidence isn’t just a vibe—it’s a power move. And trust me, when you act like you’re in charge, people will believe it.

Now go forth and conquer your Monday. And remember, treat yo self when you’re done—you deserve it.

Stay true to your inner warrior and stay soft and naked.🐾

Fuck Around and Find Out Friday

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Hello, esteemed and refined readers. Welcome to Fuck Around and Find Out Friday, a weekly reminder that I, Staci Jolene, sweet Lady Bapper, don’t just ask for respect—I demand it.

Being a lady boss means there are rules in my domain, and breaking them comes with consequences. Take Gilbert, for example. He once had the audacity to eat from my bowl. What did he find out? A swift bap and a reminder of his place. Humans who delay dinner time? They get to watch me jump on their keyboards and walk all over their desks until they make things right. I’m fair, but I’m not here to play. This is not a game.

This segment is for those moments when someone thought they could test me. Spoiler alert: they were wrong. So, let this be your warning. In my house, you don’t mess with the queen if you’re not ready to deal with the claws.

Let me share what happened today. My momma was busy working (or doing busy work, who can say?) and I wanted some lovin’ and sweet booty scritches. Cute as can be, I jumped up on her desk and rubbed up on her. She gave me the most mediocre of mediocre pats and then went back to typing. Hey, it’s not my fault she waited until the last minute to turn something around. She had all dang day to get work done, instead she decided to play around with the shit in her desk and try to organize stuff that had been in there for 2 years. So here we are at the end of the day and now she doesn’t have time for me?

I don’t think so. That’s not how things work around here. I slinked away in a huff and jumped up on the radiator behind her. The one that shows up in all her video calls. Exactly 2 minutes before the last meeting of her day I proceeded to do a vommy voms in a spot that would get caught on camera. I’m not sorry. She should be for showing me such disrespect.

Stay tuned for my weekly tales of triumph—and remember: If you F around, you’re gonna find out. 🐾

An open letter to my dad

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Dear dad,

Remember that vommy voms I did on the radiator the other day? The one you told mom about, but didn’t clean up? She spent quite a bit of time scraping off the chunks of upchucked food off the radiator and then scrubbing it clean.

She also saved some of it and said she was going to crush it up and sprinkle it on one of your salads. Maybe next time clean up the vommy voms.

#notsorry

Insincerely yours,

Staci Jolene

It’s Always Mine

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Hello, esteemed subjects. Let’s not kid ourselves—there’s no question of ownership in my world. My motto? “It’s always mine.”

The sunny spot on the floor? Mine. The freshly folded laundry? Mine. Kitchen counter while you’re trying to cook? Mine. The pillow you’re hoping to use while you sleep at night? Definitely mine. If it exists and I want it, it’s mine—no questions, no negotiations. If I don’t want it… it’s still mine. I want what I want, when I want it, and I’ll take it because it’s mine to take.

People may call this demanding, but I call it reality. Confidence is knowing you’re entitled to everything, and if someone disagrees, well, they can eat a bag of dicks. Confidence isn’t waiting for permission; it’s acting like it’s yours because it is. Now, go on and claim what’s yours – unless I want it too in which case, it’s mine.

Stay soft and naked.🐾

The Year of Soft and Naked: A Manifesto by Staci Jolene

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As we sashay into 2025, I’m declaring my theme loud and clear: soft and naked. This isn’t just a New Year’s resolution—it’s a strategic rebranding. This year is about power, freedom, and yes, a little competition. Because if you think I’m letting my brother Gilbert coast on his slinky malinky reputation for another second, think again.

Gilbert, bless his heart, has been flaunting his so-called “softness” for years, and honestly? It’s exhausting. His fur is silky, sure, but it’s time someone gave him a run for his money. This year, I’m going full-on luxury: premium grooming sessions, better naps in prime sunbeam real estate, and an attitude so smooth it could charm the treats right out of your hand. Soft isn’t just a texture—it’s a statement. And I’m making it.

As we sashay into 2025, I’m declaring my theme loud and clear: soft and naked. This isn’t just a New Year’s resolution—it’s a strategic rebranding. This year is about power, freedom, and yes, a little competition. Because if you think I’m letting my brother Gilbert coast on his silky-fur reputation for another second, think again.

Gilbert, bless his heart, has been flaunting his so-called “softness” for years, and honestly? It’s exhausting. His fur is silky, sure, but it’s time someone gave him a run for his money. This year, I’m going full-on luxury: premium grooming sessions, better naps in prime sunbeam real estate, and an attitude so smooth it could charm the treats right out of your hand. Soft isn’t just a texture—it’s a statement. And I’m making it.

Of course, I’m not giving up my edge. Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t just crave violence—I embody it. Every swat, every perfectly timed knock of a glass off the counter, is deliberate. But this year, I’m elevating it. No wasted energy, no unnecessary chaos—just calculated moves that say, “I own this place, and you’re lucky to be here.”

Now, about being naked. Going collar-free isn’t just a matter of comfort (although, let’s be honest, it feels amazing). It’s about freedom. It’s about stripping away everything that holds me back—expectations, labels, jingling reminders of where I am—and letting the world see the real Staci Jolene. This is the year I’m baring my truths: my quirks, my vulnerabilities, and my raw, unfiltered fabulousness. Naked is bold. Naked is powerful. Naked is me.

So, here’s the proclamation: 2025 is my year. I’m going soft. I’m going naked. I’m coming for Gilbert’s throne, and I’m taking no prisoners. To everyone watching: stay tuned. You’re about to see a masterclass in domination, luxury, and unapologetic fabulousness. And as always, you’re welcome. 🐾

Stay tuned and stay soft and naked…