Friday, September 30, 2005

How I Love Thee So

This an ode to the fella who's curled up asleep on my bed right now.

He's warm and cuddly. He crawls out from under my blanket and wakes me up in the morning with a kiss. He makes me laugh at his mischevious ways. That's my cute little Jack-Chi (?) Zorro. He is a curious mix of chihuahua and jack russel. His parentage may be questionable. But his affection for people is beyond doubt.

He chews up door stoppers. Chases birds in the garden. Runs mad circuits at breakneck pace around the compound every afternoon. Barks ferociously at the karang guni man. Runs away from barking dogs. Runs up to silent dogs to sniff their butts. Jumps up at me when I come home. Follows anyone who's holding food around. Groans in his sleep when he has a doggie nightmare.

That's Zorro in all his little idiosyncrasies. A creature which I crazily adore.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Passerby at Quidam

Caught the much hyped Quidam by Cirque du Soleil on Sunday, thanks to the entreaties by my more artophile friend XY. It sounded promising enough from her brief summary over the phone--she said it was more than just a circus and there was a sad storyline involved. Stingy me was thus convinced to part with $71 bucks for a seat.

The carnival-like atmosphere of the Cirque du Soleil grounds complete with bright blue and yellow tents seemed to promise a fun evening out. There were real concession stands hawking popcorn, ice-cream, coke, and the like too. All the trappings of a real fun time at the circus. We eventually battled our way to the front of the snack queue to get a box of hard-won popcorn. Then dashed to the main tent just on time.

I'd never been to a Cirque du Soleil show before, or a circus either. But inside wasn't what I imagined a circus to be. It was real dark. There was eerie sounding music playing in the background.

From the review of the show I read in the papers the day before, I knew the storyline was about a little girl who put on a bowler hat given to her by a stranger, then escapes to a fantasy wonderland. This I could figure out at the beginning of the show. What I didn't get was what happened after she was in the fantasy wonderland. All I could tell was there were lots of weird people dancing around in bio-hazard suits, coupled with various acrobatic performances involving hula hoops, silk curtains, trapeze-like things. The little girl's parents appeared in the fantasy world now and then, inexplicably. I totally don't get it. In the end, it was to me just a fairly impressive show of acrobatics. The storyline was totally lost on me.

I suspect I'm a philistine, because all the people who were there with me enjoyed the show immensely, as can be seen from XY's blog. *Sob* Realising you're a philistine can be hard to deal with.

Friday, September 09, 2005

I Give In

We've all been warned by our parents about succumbing to peer pressure when it comes to drugs, smoking, having sex, gambling, and other vices. One thing which never crossed mum and dad's mind would be a warning against succumbing to the peer pressure .... of blogging!

I find myself explaining once too often why I'm not updating my post. Plus every other day, I find that one or more friends or friends of friends or distant acquaintances whom I haven't met in a zillion years have a blog, and are blogging regularly about all the happening things in their lives. So, the conclusion is that if I don't blog = I lack an exciting life = loser. And certainly I do not want anyone to think I'm a loser. So here I am giving in to peer pressure, direct and indirect, by writing this post.

*Here, I take a pause to scratch my head to think up some exciting event to regale my dear readers with. Assuming the dear readers exist.*

Erm, ok. I shall talk about cars.

Mr crumbs was telling me lots about cars in the MRT yesterday. Flipping through a car magazine enthusiastically, here were a few words that cropped up during the conversation (or rather, monologue) Zonda, exhaust pipes, Porsche, ugly, Alfa, beautiful, some sort of gear shifts next to the steering wheel of which I forget the name.

Of course, by now, I can barely remember whether it was about ugly exhaust pipes on the Zonda, beautiful Porches, or gear shifts in an Alfa. That's the thing about cars. Any kind of talk about cars just goes right through my head. I have a car-conversation-absorbtion disability. So do not mention "car" in a sentence if you want me to remember the rest of it.

I quote the words of the wats-his-name-brit-full-of-dry-humour-car-reviewer (name also forgotten due to above-mentioned disability): step on the right pedal and the car goes faster. Step on the middle one and it starts to slow down. Turn the steering wheel and it goes left or right. Press a certain button and music floods the cabin.

Yes, that's all I ask for in a car.

This is the end of my maiden writing attempt on the subject of cars. Thank you, those of you who were patient enough to read till the end.

I'll be back when I once again succumb to peer pressure.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Advancing My Life?

Either this is a new form of marketing, i.e. spamming the comments section of other blogs, or this anonymous commentor badly thinks I need to "advance my life" in the brainy sense after reading my blog and figuring that I'm lacking in that department.

Check out this comment to my last post:

"Reading your blog and I figured you'd be interested in advancing your life a bit, call us at 1-206-339-5106. No tests, books or exams, easiest way to get a Bachelors, Masters, MBA, Doctorate or Ph.D in almost any field.

Totally confidential, open 24 hours a day.

Hope to hear from you soon!"

What the.... ???