meeting michael

Yesterday, I talked to Michael. Michael isn't really called Michael but I call him that because he looks like Michael Jackson, the pre-creepy days. Remember Thriller?

Anyway, I don't know if Michael likes being called Michael but I told him that he has to be Michael because he looks like a Michael (Jackson) and I have to call him that forever and ever so he has to live with it forever and ever or until he finds a way to avoid me for good. It's kind of like when you pick up a stray cat by the roadside, thought it was cute so then you decide to make it your pet and then ding dong! You say, I think I'm gonna call you Michael. And it becomes Michael.

Only thing is that I never had a pet called Michael and Michael isn't going to be my pet because Michael is Michael and Michael is a friend. But I told Michael that one day, when I get a tapir for a pet, I'm going to call it George.

Oh, and guess what? Michael's into tapirs too. He said he has this whole collection of tapir photos he took at the Malacca Zoo. I'm impressed. Hardly anybody cares about tapirs and they're really cool animals. Waaaayyyy cooler than say, a koala. 'Cos all a koala does is just sleep.

And Michael knows more about tapirs than I do. He knows how to differentiate a male tapir and a female tapir.

So I feel happy.

Maybe Michael will try to avoid me from now on ('cos it's most likely that I totally freaked him out with my tapir talk) but it's good to know that there are other people who care about tapirs.

I hope Michael will talk to me about tapirs again sometime...

Love, M (in her six-and-a-half-year old mode).