melted candy.

this is literally the third candy cane, that has lured me into its den with its sweet sugar and seductive cavities. but i or rather, we are going to let it pass.

it is rather heart-wrenching. i cannot really see what could possibly lay beyond this that could be anymore delicious than this house built of chocolate fudge. blinded, i have to keep my eyes on Him and trust that He gives us nothing but the best. in this, i find the little bit of comfort that keeps me from dwelling further into disappointment.

i am hoping that tomorrow will be a little more like a day in 1987. give me a break from the adult world that trudges forward, leaving me behind all the time. i am tired of catching up with that accelerating packed bullet train.

it would be nice to take a walk in the gentle breeze of 1987, and breathe.

monsters in my pocket.

when my pets take ill, they amplify their squeaks four notches up to get their obnoxious ways, get greedier than real farm pigs, and irritate the hell out of me by staying awake till the wee hours. it is nearing 2 a.m now and they are a thousand hundred miles from slumberland. the lights are out, my eyes see a portrait of black, but my firmly shut ears fail to sift out all that munching, chewing, squeaking, purring, whining, and strolling around their little rosy garden. and you think they will love me for sharing the comfort of air-conditioning with them? no.

but bugger, i am too attached. i cannot find rest if they are not next to me. they are my pretty nightlights. i love them, muacks.

anyway, it is rather fun to feed them their medications. for once, i get to be the big bad wolf, and no one gets to call me evil. sniggers. grins. laughs.

on a wackier note, a trip to the vet changes life, in an odd theatre sense. my other half was thrown into a role-playing frenzy earlier. he is the suave surgeon who operates on his patients (read: pigs) with complex mini syringes, watch the sexy droplets of occupational perspiration forming on his forehead; while i am the girlie white nurse who fills the syringes with the yellow-colored magic potions, and wipes the surgeon's forehead gently in poetic fashion. flashback to reality, he is no surgeon and i am no nurse. we are just two idiots who love terrorising their pets. payback time, this is fun.

well, life is interesting. even i am amused as i watch my life roll in the brown muddy swamps.

adventures of the fat cat.

my crazy fat cat came home from a secret mission trip, with marry brown and my favorite label from the other land! i am happily choked on pretty clothes and deliciously junked fried chicken.

nine bucks pound-shedder.

to humor myself, i made a typical i-know-it-will-sleep-in-my-shelf purchase: a skipping rope.

still, i am somewhat hoping it will be a good investment.

9 bucks to shed some pounds, watcha think?