So you're probably wondering why this website is called "potatopisser".

A few years ago an old family friend was staying at a hotel nearby because his housing situation was iffy. It was a little skeevy from what I heard, but everyone in this story is broke as hell so it was good enough, I guess. Anyway. This 6ft and then some man is sitting out by the pool when the tiniest little kitten flies out of the bushes and collapses at his feet. With no mama or any siblings to be found, he picked her up in one hand, dubbed her (believing her to be a boy at the time) Lucifer, and called my dad. My mother has rescued cats for decades- she worked with various rescues and while I was growing up we lived in a pretty rough urban area that was FLOODED with strays. She's an animal person to a degree few others can claim and many more would probably not want to be considered. So when she heard over the phone that there was a loose kitten to be cared for, she was ON IT. I was working weekends at the local Giant at the time and couldn't go with them, so imagine my suprise when I get home to find my bedroom host to the devil herself, in the form a jam-jar-sized baby kitten. The first night was awful- between the other animals my family had and the being tiny and squishable, she had to stay in a dog crate set up with some essentials for kitty-living. She didn't like that, though- her gluttony for electrical wires demanded that she be free, and she made that clear nearly the enitre night via her tiny vocal cords. I'll be the first to admit that I thought about trying to find her a new home (a new kitten was a lot to take care of and after getting about 2 hours of sleep I was not feeling particularly hospitable to the Potatopisser)- but it only took a couple of days and nights for us both to become furiously attached to the other. Fast forward a few years later and the two of us had become inseparable- she slept on my pillow every night, and woke me up every morning by crawling all over me. She was (and still is!) an ANGEL. Some day when this cat goes, I'm throwing myself on her funeral pyre. She does have one bad habit though: because Luci isn't fixed, she sometimes pees on things when she gets in the mood. Usually this isn't too hard to deal with, but one fateful day my mother decided to rearrange the entire kitchen (she does this, at random, when something is stressing her out. This usually stresses her out more). For whatever reason she decided that all of the potatoes belonged on the floor in a plastic grocery bag. Plastic grocery bags, when left on the floor, are among Luci's favorite things to pee on. A few days after the leaving of the potatoes on the floor, my mother, father, and I are all standing in the kitchen chatting about nothing, when this little beast saunters her way into the kitchen, aims straight for the plastic bag, gives it a little sniff, whips her whole chubby ass around and perfectly arcs her piss right into that bag of potatoes while we all watch in horror. Later that night, I told my friend the story of the potato-pissing. From that night on he started calling her "little potato pisser" any time he saw her. TLDR; I named this website after my cat, who got a silly nickname for peeing on some potatoes. God bless.