BAH!

Okay Ms Quirk has been lazy.
(what's new?)

Anyway, I was at the company dinner and dance last Saturday.
Man, it was such a bore. To think that everyone was so hyped up and in frenzied excitement two weeks before the event. Dishes were served retardedly, stage performances became eye-sore and I still could not believe that gal was crowned as BEST DRESSED FEMALE for the night. My bitches would have fallen off their chairs while closing their eyes in grief. Waitasec before you start to diss my criticisms. I did not say I should be the Star. For heaven's sake, I could be termed as the WORST INAPPROPRIATELY DRESSED BIATCH of the night. Every clits were covered with glitzy, flattering gowns and shawls, stiff hairdos and nippon paint on their faces. My, they looked wonderful. That's because they dun look like themselves. As for me, besides that woman with schoolgirl pony-tails and 80s denim outfit, I invited scornful stares and amused looks by ALL. Maybe I was imagining it. But my two-inch white slippers were a dead giveaway.
My hair was made by yours truly, in a panicky rush due to the amount of time spent on sticking double-sided tapes on my shirt and bra.
In the end I was feeling rather smug of my image before it was crushed to powder in the ballroom.

Of course I had to smile as widely as possible and tell my colleagues that I dun freckin' care how I look.

God might have pitied me. After the disastrous dinner, we went to a pub that was packed with hungry wolves. I had my dances, downed my drinks, emptied my fags and it really took my mind off my jestery clothes till one of the stickers revealed itself to the public.
But that was nothing. Nothing compared to the huge ballroom with fancy ladies and men with blazers. Bah.

So, what a night. I hardly saw my colleagues. I guess I wouldn't have recognize them anyway. I was in the picture with someone whom I NEVER KNEW. But it's not a shocker, I was a convenient pillar of comparison for the ladies.

Haiya, enough of deprecations.

There's a kitten. His name is Stitch. He bites. Oh yes he does. For pure maniacal fun.
He only hunts for human flesh and whining is his best do.
Remember a song? It befits my feelings to this fella to the ultimate high.
"When Love And Hate Collides"
I slapped him. Yet I stroke his fur with affection, before my hand got bitten of course.

So now this unusal 'family' at 8E Taman PP has a newcomer.
His fangs are as fatal as JAWS. But we adore him to bits.

Two cats, two birds and a pair of starry-eyed lovers.