How do you educate a Hedgepog? I was playing with Pog this morning and letting it roam all over my jean-clad thigh and guess what? It left a smudge of green poo in its wake. Ewww... short of yelling at the thing, there's no way I could smack it because that would be more pain for me than for the prickly critter so I hurriedly dumped it back in its home, rushed to the loo to wipe the poo off and then rushed off to work.
But before I left, I gave instructions to my mom to get the hamster ball Melisa lent me cleaned up so Pog could have a walk around the house. Its home is, while spacious, is a dull enclosure with four transparent plastic walls. Everytime we take it out, it will sniff at everything and want to roam all over the place. Keeping an eye on it all the time is tedious. The cat's up and about and we don't want poo all over the space. The hamster ball is a protective way for it to go about and since it's big enough, we don't have to worry about looking into every little nook and cranny for the little guy - if we ever lose sight of it.
I used to have a hedgehog soft toy when I was a tot. My mom thinks Pog looks just as the toy did. I think Pog is lovely. I love its little snout and I love its little legs. It has two beady black eyes that glisten and a soft underbelly. I love Pog. Pog's going to live to be fifty. Now, it's only three-months old and eating dry cat food like nobody's business.
The only regret I have is that I can't take Pog with me to bed. It's too prickly.
Monday, May 4, 2009
pog and me: part 1
what keeps me sane
These days, a sense of stability has come over me.
Stable? Me? Now that's a word you'd hardly think of associating with me. Ever. Despite my lack of expression - on my face, in my voice, my gestures and the lacking of empathy - inside has always been of a different story, with emotions of a volatile kind.
It must be because of his presence in my life, my new friend whom you will start hearing of a bit more often from now on.
I don't know what makes me feel this way. Is it his mellowness that is rubbing off on me? Could it be his relaxed nature that puts me at ease?
He makes me feel very ordinary yet very special. With him, I am me and so much more. I am not just a friend or a comrade from a rival company. He praises me for my intellect and laughs at my absurdities. He puts up with me in so many ways that it amazes me and scares me as to how patient and obliging he can be.
He laughs at me with me, and I laugh with him at him. Every day we are full of laughs and smiles, and he told me that he likes it whenever he sees me grinning back at him like a mad person from the inside of my car during the times I come to pick him up for dinner near his place.
To him, I am not just a girl, childish and full of weird humour. I am also a woman, beautiful and sexy and desired. And I like that. I like the fact that I can be this and that with him instead of this or that, which was and still is the case with so many others.
But I am scared. Still. Of the unknowns and the yet-to-be-felt pain. I've been hurt enough, I think. I've been lied to enough, I think. I am scared that I cannot measure up to become the person he idealises. And I worry that my grand plan of presenting him with a pair of socks as a token of our friendship will fall flat on its face.
Many, many things scare me.
He is good to allay me of my fears (although the way he does it in his strange joking way irks me to no end sometimes). He is good to me. He is good to everyone. I wish he will be more good to me. I wish he will continue to be good to me.
Recently, I have a desire to make him happy and being a naturally happy person, I worry that I cannot make him happier than anyone, anything and any place could. So I had to ask because I don't know how I can make him happier.
And he said that I need only be there and that would be enough for him.
What? Not socks?
Could a girl be any happier?
Sunday, May 3, 2009
bored prose
I'm waiting for the time to pass,
and I'm waiting for my Thai dinner.
I'm meeting with a secret someone,
and things just couldn't get better.
because i'm having pms
Simply put, I don't like it when you're with her because she doesn't like me and I don't like her anymore.
miow
I'm a happy girl today!
Because:
1. Pog the hedgehog is at home.
2. I have candy to chew on.
3. I have new books to read.
4. I bought cute new lingerie.
5. I was kissed last night.
Friday, May 1, 2009
stupid answers for stupid people
I overheard in the grapevine the other day that there are people questioning why there are people interested in me.
Why, it doesn't seem possible when she's just a homely looking thing, was the general consensus. In addition to other things like: I have no pride in dressing (jeans and tees, anyone?) and my strange, off-putting humour.
At least I don't have an ass with the breadth of an ocean.
Or syphilis.
So. I'm this homely looking thing.
I lack the elegance of Daphne Iking and the exotic looks of Deborah Priya Henry. Nor the height of Chelsia Ng and the larger-than-life personality of Nell Ng. I don't have the talents of Aishah Sinclair nor the sensuality of Fasha Sandha.
It would seem that I am a retrograde in every aspect of being a woman.
Am I that vile a creature?
sore no na wa...
His name is...
I am going to Ikea today to buy myself a nice, new, comfy swivel chair. I am going to buy lunch for my family because I haven't had lunch with them - outside - for a long time. I am going to Ikano then to find myself a new hedgehog friend.
I'm going to call him Pog. Short for Hedgepog. But I think my mom will corrupt that and give him a Japanese name instead.
I wonder if I can find Pog today? I wonder if I can take Pog with me to bed. I hope Pog won't poo so much.