cat more popular than me

What you see here is my stupid-ass cat on the front page of myspace. 'How?', you ask. How, indeed. I like to blame Roger. That's actually just a blanket statement, but I thought it was as good a place to start as any, plus I can twist shit around to make it applicable anyway (see how I do this later). I can also blame Nina, even though she’s in London. And I can blame the - at last count - 55,775 people who clicked on the link to the video of my cat attacking plastic bags and chasing a sock.

Y'see Nina and I, we trade cat stories. We titter over the Bengal breed like two women possessed (assuming said possession pertains mostly to growing old alone with only a knee-deep menagerie of cats as company). A while back I made a little video on the ninj jumping around and I sent it to her. She liked it. She asked for another one. This is where Roger comes in.

I'm hanging around at work waiting ZAEONS of years for him to finish something so after doing as much work as mentally possible (wink) I cut together another ninja vid. I 'borrow' some of the Bang Gang Cum & Sweat podcast – probably illegally – and upload the result to his myspace page and abraca-fucking-dabra the next day the ninj has had more hits than I've had… hot teas. People are commenting and emo kids are messaging him and other dogs and cats and even rats are asking to add him as a friend. Hyay-zoos, it’s a crazy, crazy time we live in.

What really comes to the fore, however, is how awash with trolls the intarwebs are (prepositions at the end of sentences starting to hurt…argh). I know puberty's hard, but Jesus on a jetski, at least these whippersnappers have the net to hide behind. When I was adolescing we just had to insult complete strangers the old-fashioned way - by public slander, written insults on toilet walls or complete ostracisation from the social circle. Anyway, the 400 or whatever comments divide into three distinct groups:

1) "AWWWWWW he's sooooo cute, I <3 kitties!!"
2) "GAY!" and;
3) "Get a life."

‘Gay’ is so blah it doesn’t even blip on my radar, but ‘Get a life?’ Ahem. Seventeen-year-old virgins typing from their mum's basement telling me to get a life? Why, because they wasted 55 seconds of precious masturbatory time watching my cat chase a sock (which is, btw, their only prospective sexual partner for the forseeable future)? Oh, the ironing.

Anyway. That's ninj's 15 minutes of dubious fame, bottom line being that he amassed more friends in 24 hours than I’ve managed to in months – and I’m real!*

Other exciting things that have happened of late: Roget SHAVED OFF HIS BEARD!!!!! A bad-haircut-related incident, this was front page news a week ago, but some stubble has grown back now, so I’ve stopped making a big deal out of it. Oh no, I didn’t take it well at all, so let’s gloss over it and move right along to…

A quick round-up of events:

- the mustang got driven through a flash flood and now has a flooded engine (or a blown gasket or sand in its vagina or something) and a puncture in the back tyre.
- Australia’s crushing football defeat has resulted in the loss of several brazillion braincells via consolatory inebriants and late nights. So, so many late nights.
- we booked some talent to star in some of our Dallus vids and two turned out to be ladyboys. Something we only realised after all the Thai nationals in the office told us. No matter what you think, you just. Can’t. Tell.
- I went for a casting for Ponds China. Me? As a skin module for Ponds CHINA? Unless they’ve started a product line involving Spakfilla and someone else’s face I do not expect a callback.
- Dom came to BKK and visited me for four whole hours. I took him to buy his 100 or so valiums then he had to go [sad face]
- Aarron, JT and Ben Morris arrived. We watched some football but then they went off to Koh Pangnagnangn (sp? Anyone? Bueller?) but they’ll be back for more frivolity next week.

And so will I. Happy new financial year. I’ll be celebrating by staying in and filming [Mrs Slocombe voice] mah pussy slide aall over mah floor. Actually, I’ll be burning the candle, but you knew that already (hear that, you 17 year-old virgins! Candle burning! Premature death through heart disease and liver damage!! HAH!!)

* 99 per cent, anyway.

bx



((Forgot to ask wonderboy – what did you think of Poseidon?))

ninja mania

Well, it happened. I've finally gone completely fucking bonkers. The addition of the Chairman (that's Ninja to you, you scurvy dogs), the subsequent loss of proper sleep and most of the skin off my forearms (I originally wrote "off my hands" but that made it sound like I've been doing something violent and un-Biblical with myself for a prolonged period of time, which I haven't been, why do you ask? you some kind of pervert??), a huge impending work deadline and the continuing alcohol-related breakdown of all my internal organs - it all spells one thing: batshit craziness.

Case in point - I made my cat a MySpace page. Not only did I make him a MySpace page, I communicate with 'him' over MySpace, leaving messages on 'his' page and doing ones from 'him' on mine. You can probably deduce, through the subtle use of inverted commas there that 'he' is really me. That is, I'm writing messages to myself and pretending they're from my cat and writing them to me and pretending I'm him when I write them. Next I'm going to start dressing as a Brazil nut and scalping people on the subway.

But ninja's a good boy. And by 'a good boy' I mean 'perilously close to being a fur stole'. He destroys everything. He gets in everything. He's like some kind of bendy, warping, jumping, darting, shredding alien thing. He actually never sleeps - he's like a shark, he just circles the apartment at night, resting one eye at a time and taking bites out of things. Oh, he's got toys, plenty of toys. He's got your traditional mouse on a string (elasticised), balls with bells in, toilet rolls, tissues, hair elastics, bottle tops, electrical cords, my socks, the couchthe curtains and anything else not protected by razor wire and Nazis. You think he'd run out of steam at some point, but no. No end to the steam.

It has occured to me that he might be trying to punish me for getting his face stuck in his collar the other day. I put his new collar on him - a leather and metal studded job (oh, snap!), fastened it down to the first hole and waited to see how he'd handle it. I was expecting a fuss because, well, the ninja's resting position is fuss, but he seemed to take it OK. He bit the mouse on a string's head, fell backwards off the couch, mewled in the direction of the fridge a few times then disappeared into the other room - all normal.

Five minutes later I notice a flurry in the corner of my eye and the cat has his lower jaw stuck UNDER the collar! He's clawing away at his own mouth and squirming and panicking and there's blood and fur and I'm rushing over and trying to hold him still with one hand and undo the collar with the other and trying not to laugh because he has his MOUTH STUCK IN HIS COLLAR and trying not to bleed to death because he's rabbit-kicking my wrists with his back legs and skin is coming off. I managed to undo it pretty quickly, but I suspect that though the wounds have healed, the deep psychological scarring will always remain. Even worse, I proved to be a worse mum than Britney Spears. What's going to happen if I have a baby?? Will it make it to puberty or will I accidentally throw it off the balcony one day?

Anyway, here's his MySpace page if you want to leave him a message/witness my slide off the deep end.
http://www.myspace.com/ninjafuzzface
And here's another picture, because nothing else has happened apart from the soccer and thinking about talking about the soccer any more just makes me feel tired.



Next week: The benefits of elasticised collars.