The Big Ass Update

Since there is a lull in kitten rescuing, video gaming, video game reviewing, comic book reading, not-so-short-story-writing, jobs, viral infections and middle east wars, I figured, “Heck, I’ll write something!”

House Is Officially Decontanimated Of All Cuteness

Pathos is gone.

A French couple showed up on Monday (She is an artist, he is formerly a sales rep for Ubisoft, who hardcore gamers may recognize as the company that made the moderately successful Rayman franchise. They have been in Singapore 6 months) and in a complete twist of cultural irony, we surrendered (The kitten that is) to them. I’m still convinced that if I spoke in a German accent they would have given us whatever we wanted without a fight AND offered a tour of the Eiffel tower, but apparently I’m being uncharitable when I say such things.

They took MY-… sorry, THE kitten.

I kind of miss her. She was sweet and cute and incredibly clumsy, although, in a bid to perhaps turn me off at the last minute, she contracted a case of diarrhea and made sure we knew about it by attempting to show us all over the rug. Urgh. That was not particularly endearing.

What WAS endearing however, was the fact that Zero is now back to his old self. In a telling moment, he threw himself on the rug (The clean part) turned himself over, and promptly began to purr when I petted him, something he hadn’t done all week as he ran in terror from the ferocious kitten that took his couch, took his pillow, took his litter box and took his owners hostage. Zero is now pleased to see the liberation of these assets and commented that the ousting of hostile forces was an inevitability and that he expected to see victory with little resistance. Zero is now at Camp Sofa, convening with his puffy toy on future strategies regarding the administration of these newly liberated territories.

You Looked Better In Your Picture

Which is the first thing I thought last night when we saw another cat somewhere out in the north east, an area called “Senkang.”

Out o’ curiosity, the girlfriend and I noticed a pretty sleek and beautiful looking cat on the same adoption website that Pathos was stuck on, and we decided to go down and see “Chynna”, to see if whether or not we might not want to adopt her ourselves. We have both decided that a kitten is a bit much and a more independent, “I don’t give a rat’s ass” attitude like Zero’s (Minus the supreme cowardice) would be cool to have.

Chynna turned out to be a little too independent.

However uncharitable this is, the first thing I thought when I saw her was, “You’re FAT.” She looked much sleeker in her picture, but I now realize this had largely to do with her holding her breath and wearing a black collar ’cause that’s slimming. The obesity I was willing to forgive. The Fuckin’ Attitude I was not. Zero’s yellow, YELLOW soul is pretty forgiveable, because there’s no hostility involved, just an endearing morbid terror of anything that… well, okay, just ANYTHING. This Chynna cat however had a major “regal” attitude. That’s the only way I can describe it. She will “tolerate” petting, just so. She will tolerate company, just so. She will tolerate scratching, just so. Any deviation from the way she wants these things is met not with a hiss but with a surprisingly annoyed and curt “meow” that brings to mind some Old Money Boston Hag looking down at her black maid and saying, “Your inherent stupidity will be forgiven. ONCE.”

A pleasant surprise was the OTHER cat there. One we had written off ’cause she was, to borrow the old Canadian slang, “Fugly.” Those of you that DON’T know what that is, take “Fucking” and “Ugly” and you begin to see the word origins for yourself. This cat was named “Min Min,” and looked somewhat better than her picture.

Somewhat.

The attitude however, is what makes her pretty neat. She’s pretty dog-like, what with the turning on her back to offer her belly for scratching and, to me anyway, with my broken tailed cat, she has a HUGE FUCKING TAIL that sweeps casually back and forth with the blissful ease of a cat that has never seen a rocking chair. She’s sleek but the picture failed to convey just how big she was. Not fat, all her limbs are in proportion, she’s just BIG.

And still ugly.

Sigh…

Our latest suspicion has turned to a cat that we refer to as Friendly Cat. She seems to share Zero’s apathy towards manhandling, minus the Pantophobia (From Merry Christmas Charlie Brown, Pantophobia being “The fear of everything!”) she hangs out by some fixed benches and tables near one of the HDB apartment complexes and seems to be very territorial, though her territory is SMALL. Just those benches. She’s laid back, very cute, pleasantly plump, nice coloration, and just doesn’t seem to care about being man-handled at all. She passed my “Head Grip” test with flying colors. I automatically like cats that allow me to envelop their entire face in the grip of my hand, and she is one of them. On a whim, I tried picking her up last night, and got a tired sort of “Oh whatever” meow from her, like an old wife that is humoring her husband’s begging for sexual favors. The girlfriend is obsessed with bringing her home. I myself wonder how easy going she’d be once she’s removed from her little kingdom.

And we may have found Pathos’ sibling.

Yup, at the EXACT same construction site. Walking back from Friendly Cat, we heard a mewing, and I thought I was having Pathos flashbacks since it sounded just like her. Further investigation revealed a teeny kitten, Pathos’ size, but a much more common brown tabby color. The general shape of the body and the eyes however, are dead ringers for Pathos, so I’m pretty sure this is another member of her abandoned litter, but its MUCH more frightened than Pathos was. I’ve never been hissed at by a kitten before, but it happened last night, so this kitten, having been out longer, must have been kicked around quite a bit already. It’s already got a kink in its tail.

Of course, now the debate is “Should we do anything about it?” but having since just restored Zero to normal psychological functioning, and since this one seems to be a lot harder to coax out, we might just let nature take its course. I dunno… it looks sufficiently mean or paranoid enough that it might survive. Pathos mewed “HELP ME!” This one mews “FUCK. OFF.”

Who Wants To Be A Hundredaire?!?

I’m the big winner!

At least for the week, anyway. More jobs trickle in with little checks to keep me from the brink of total starvation, though it should be enough to keep things going at least until June when, hopefully, the pay as an editor for Playworks begins. In the meantime, cigarettes are now becoming an increasingly precious commodity to be hoarded with all the enthusiasm of a Jewish family in 1940 Berlin, and Mass Rapid Transit (For Edmontonians out there, somehow, “lerting it” always sounds less geeky than “merting it…” but that’s just me…) has once again become a favorite reading place. Ah the joys of poverty…

The Placard Reads: Will Work For Dignity

Well, okay, that’s an outright lie.

A discreet e-mail to the Lonely Planet people at the urging of well intentioned friends (Thanks, Ching…) has revealed that Lonely Planet has pushed back their pre-production schedule to May 1st, and so no decisions will be forthcoming after all for at least another week or two. I have, however, recently done a radio commercial wherein I did a 30 second voice over for a perfomance of fusion North/South Indian music with Western influences called “SCHRADAAAAAA!” (Pronounced “Shra-dah”) I w
rite it like that ’cause they wanted someone excited and so when I arrived, I jokingly did my combination Wrestling Announcer/Demolition Derby announcer (“Four musicians enter. ONE SITAR PLAYER LEAVES. A no holds barred, knock down, drag out concert to end all concerts where the music and the players are bloody awesome…”) and was stunned beyond all reason when I was enthusiastically told that that was EXACTLY what they wanted in terms of delivery:

He comes from North India and decimates all opposition with the lethal stylings of his Tabla drums!

She is the Punjabi dervish known to kill with a single strum of her deadly Sitar!

THEY MEET FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY AT THE ESPLANADE TO OVERWHELM THE CROWD WITH KILLER MUSIC THAT WILL SLAY YOU! A CONCERT SO DEADLY THAT AN IRON CAGE WILL BE ERECTED TO PROTECT THE AUDIENCE FROM THE AURAL BLOODSHED THAT AWAITS, SCHRADA WILL SHRED YOU…

Or something like that.

Would you believe I actually DO this stuff???

Also, I keep forgetting to invoice Nadya for the giant squid proposal. She’s all ready to pay up the money (Ah… attractive women owing me money… there is some justice in this world. Then again, I did whore myself. Agh…) I just never get around to making up the invoice and mailing it to her ultra boho-incredibly stylish address at chic expat neighborhood Holland Village.

ATTENTION ALL STALKERS:

FOR THE FIRST 5 CUSTOMERS WHO ARRIVE AT THE PURCHASING COUNTER, WE ARE HAPPY TO INFORM YOU THAT A 50% DISCOUNT WILL BE OFFERED ON THE HOME ADDRESS OF ASIAN CELEBRITY NADYA HOW-DO-YA’-SPELL-HER-NAME. BE THE FIRST IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD TO CAMP IN HERS. THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING S-MART!

On a totally unrelated note, they have now found a squid bigger than “Giant” size and are calling it colossal! I WANT ONE!

Kool Komix @ @omix

I got another set of comics from the boys at @omix comix. Three actual comic books as opposed to all the trade paperbacks they heaped on me last time. I wasn’t terribly impressed with 411, the Marvel “pro-human” peace initiative, ’cause it really just gave the writers a chance to exercise their Pulitzer Prize Nomination fantasies and write something that felt too self-consciously literary, as opposed to actually playing off the strengths of a comic book. On the other hand, there was Blood + Water, which is a really smart, SMART vampire mini-series that I have nothing but good things to say about. if you ever get the chance, check the book out, though I’m waiting for it to be compiled as a trade paperback. It’s been a long time since I experienced the pain of wanting to know what happens next on a good monthly series. BW reminds me why I usually wait for it all to be bundled…

All’s Quiet On The Video Front

There’s really only the tedium of Final Fantasy X and the ongoing, slow, turgid march towards omnipotence. Clocking in at over 160 hours of game time and over the biggest hump, it’s gradually going downhill now…

Got interested in what Bungie (The guys that make Halo) have been up to and so did some researching and cross-referencing with their old Mac FPS game Marathon. There is a wealth of information and story here worthy of a Sci-Fi novel, and I was pretty amazed at how deep it runs, like a very well thought out conspiracy of Illuminati caliber. Now I’m all excited about whatever is going to happen in Halo 2. The story sucked me right in for the first Halo…

Also trying to see if I can swing some game time with Enter The Matrix as the Playworks folks are hosting the X-Box launch of it in tandem with Eidos over at Funan Center in May, second tech-capital of Singapore next to the mightier and grungier Sim Lim. Hopefully the status as a contributing editor will allow me to abuse privileges like no one’s business and find out if the Brothers Wachowski really are as big gaming geeks as they claim…

But You Write Too, Right?

Well, that’s the theory…

There’s been much written in terms of reviews for games and comics, but little on the fiction side since the deadline came, went and the story was turned down. I’m going to go back to it again and add in some stuff. I’m not sure how much to give away, but in the broadest possible terms, someone gets beaten to within an inch of their lives, someone else gets shot, and someone gets their viewpoint seriously expanded. Sue me, I write big…

The War

George, listen to me. You SUCK.

It’s bad enough that you’re giving all the Freudians a reason to start charging higher therapy prices with your out of control Oedipal complex (Hear me now and believe me later; waging a bigger war than your daddy will not make mommy love you more or enlarge the size of your penis, only your doctors can do that for you) but if you’re going to start storming through desert nations that have acted as cradles of civilization, at least have decency to protect all those priceless artifacts that you didn’t reduce to component molecules with your precision bombing. I mean really, how rude…

SARS

There is some crazed, Chinese National who is illegally staying Singapore. She exhibited symptoms of SARS and was quarantined at the Center for Disease Control. Of course, this means she escaped immediately, and since her favorite haunt seems to be OUR PARTICULAR NEIGHBORHOOD, there’s been speculation about whether or not she’s just happily vectoring away in our neck of the woods, spreading the viral joy to all within coughing range. Brilliant. Bloody, bloody brilliant…

The way I see it, we’ve got Death, War and Pestilence riding high, so where the hell is Famine? Is she taking the day off, or have people just decided she’s out of fashion and sent her off to a detox clinic in Beverly Hills to talk about how she’s a victim of her siblings and that’s why she doesn’t eat? Is she afraid of her horse since it threw her that one time in Africa? Hey, FAMINE, EARN YOUR PAY CHECK…

It’s My Fault Inc.

Lately it has come to my attention that there is an extremely lucrative and profitable area of the market that has, until now, gone largely ignored and unexploited. That area is Scapegoats.

I don’t know why I never saw this before. But it seems to me that there is a market out there that can be mercilessly exploited because human nature, in all its adorability, never wants to own up to its own fuck ups, and has a desperate need to push the bad karma on someone else to keep the Victim Fiction going. I foresee an agency that operates off the pimp/hooker/escort service business model:

IMF: Good afternoon, It’s My Fault.

Client: Yes, I need a scapegoat this evening.

IMF: Excellent choice sir, have you used our service before?

C: No, this is my first time.

IMF: Then perhaps you should answer some questions ahead of time so that we can better cater our service to you. Would you prefer a male or a female scapegoat?

C: Male.

IMF: Would that be an articulate male, or a strong silent type?

C: Talkative. Very. Oh and contrite and guilty, I want VERY guilt-stricken.

IMF: I see. Any preferences for appearances? Stylish or fashion crime victim?

C: More of an… an artsey type, I guess. Someone that pretends to be substantial.

IMF: Yes, I think I can see where this is headed. Will this be for a single or multiple blame scenario?

C: Um… multiple. I’ve been saving up my issues.

IMF: Thank you sir. I think we have just the man for you. Will this be cash or credit card?

C: Is C.O.D acceptable?

IMF: Yes, it is, but should you decide to cancel your appointment less than a half-hour before commencement, there will be a penalty fee.

C: I understand, that’s fine. Would 9:00 pm tonight be all right?

IMF: You’re in luck sir, we had a cancellation at the White House, so I think our man will be available for you. Thank you for using It’s My Fault. Have a cathartic evening.

[Later, at roughly 9:00 pm...]

C: [Answering the door] Er… come in.

Me: Hey. [Looks around, lets out low whistle of appreciation] Niiiiiice place.

C: Thanks. I have to give it up in three months. Want a drink?

Me: Yeah, thanks, gin and tonic will be fine. Why do you have to give it up?

C: [Pauses as ice tinkles into glass, the only sound in the deadly silence. He comes over and hands the glass] It’s part of the divorce settlement.

Me: Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.

C: WELL YOU SHOULD BE, SHOULDN’T YOU?!? AFTER ALL, YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME, YOU TRAITOROUS FUCK…

Me: [Getting into IMF Mode] God, you’re right… I’m sorry, I… I just couldn’t help it. I was just so jealous of you. I… I wanted to hurt you somehow.

C: I KNEW IT! FUCK I KNEW IT! ALL THOSE PRETTY WORDS, ALL THAT SO CALLED “SUBSTANCE”, ALL THAT TALK ABOUT HOW YOU UNDERSTOOD HER BETTER THAN I DID… WHO CAN LIKE “BEACHES” ANYWAY?!? IT’S A DUMB MOVIE! THIS WASN’T ABOUT HER AT ALL, WAS IT?!? THIS WAS ALL ABOUT GETTING TO ME!!

Me: Yes! Yes, I admit it! I didn’t even love her! I could never love her the way you could love someone, but I felt so small and weak compared to you that I had to do something… I was so jealous of you… It was all I could do… And even though she didn’t deserve your love, you gave it, and I knew I couldn’t exploit your weaknesses, you don’t have any, so… so…

C: You little manipulative prick… You exploited her.

Me: YEEEEEEEEES!! Yes, it’s true! All of it!

C: AND THE JOB TOO?!? YOU GOT ME FIRED?!? I’VE NEVER BEEN AN INCOMPETENT OR NEGLIGENT EXECUTIVE, THAT WAS YOU TOO, WASN’T IT?!?

Me: Yes! It was! I… I forged the documents, I started the rumor mill, I worked up the others against you!

C: YOU SET THAT SECRETARY UP TO SEDUCE ME IN THE COPY ROOM, DIDN’T YOU?!?

Me: Oh God, you know about that too… I told her-

C: Him.

Me: [Blinking rapidly] It was a HE?

C: [Nods]

Me: [Shrugging]… YEEEEEEES!! I TOLD HIM TO MAKE YOU LOOK AS BAD AS POSSIBLE! I WANTED TO HURT YOU FOR BEING SO MUCH MORE SUCCESSFUL THAN ME! [Gets on knees and heaves shoulders up and down] I TOLD HIM ABOUT YOUR FONDNESS FOR SLIM-

C: Fat.

Me: -WHATEVER! BODIES, AND HOW IT WOULD DESTROY YOUR REPUTATION IN THE OFFICE AND FINALLY BRING YOU THE RUIN THAT YOU NEVER DESERVED BUT THAT I WANTED BECAUSE I WAS PETTY AND JEALOUS! IT’S TRUE, ALL OF IT! IT WAS ME, ME, MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! OH GOD I’M SORRY!

C: [Rolling up sleeves] And now I’m going to kick your sorry ass… for ruining everythi-

Me: [Standing up and getting brusque and buisness-like] Hold it.

C: [Blinking] Huh?

Me: While physical violence is included in our list of services, there’s an extra charge, depending on the severity. What would you be looking at in court for something like this?

C: Um… Assault and Battery?

Me: Hm… That’ll be an extra $2,000.

C: I don’t have the cash on me.

Me: [Whipping out electronic wireless credit card reader] Do you have Visa or Mastercard?

C: [Pulls out Visa]

Me: [Scans and confirms] Right. Where were we? Oh yeah, NOOOOOO!!! PLEAAAAAAAAAASE!!!

C: This is sweet SWEET justice you little shit…

Me: Aigh! Argh! Oh! The pain! The pain I deserve for doing this! The- HEY! WHAT THE FUCK??!!

C: What?

Me: This is “It’s My Fault”, not “It’s My Ass”. You want that, call a gay escort service.

C: Sorry. Got a little carried away.

Me: Try not to do it in my pants, okay? I’m professional for God’s sake. CHRIST…

C: Sorry. Anyway.

Me: Right. ARGH! OH HOW I DESERVE THIS! IT’S MY FAULT! IT’S ALL MY FAUUUUUUULT…

Random Interesting Fact Of The Day

Plutonium 242 has a half life of approximately 37, 600 years. This means that if we were to build the great wall of China out of the stuff, the Earth would have a big green, night glo snake crawling across it visible to the aliens that come to the moon after George W. Bush has bombed everything into annihilation.