Why I Am Not A Fan of Domestic Cats

Once during lunch time, I was scrolling through my Twitter's timeline and some random people I followed tweeted this:

"The saddest part about Malaysia is all the stray animals :'(" (I am still confused with that particular emoticon, is that a tear drop or snot on the smiley's face?)

My instant reaction was, "Really? You really think that the saddest part of Malaysia is the homeless cats and dogs, when there are kids living on the streets, exposed to all sorts of unimaginable danger, like being forced into prostitution or being sold to human trafficking syndicate? It is sad, but it's definitely not the saddest; be careful next time with the use of superlative, aight?"

And lo and behold, as I looked up from my phone, I was met with death stares by 4 pairs of eyes. I didn't realise that I has just opened the Pandora box. I was bombarded by all sorts of pro-feline arguments afterwards at which point I had tuned myself out (because it felt like they were talking in an exclusive language of which only feline lovers can understand; I mean how do you get your brain to understand the logic of a homeless cat being sadder than a homeless kid?) and mentally created the list of 'Why I Am Not A Fan Of Domestic Cats':

1) Cats are so vain and such attention-seekers. They like to be Instagram-ed, that's why they do the shit they do, because they know their human companion is just around the corner with handphone ready in hand to snap their latest, cutest pose. Please, we have our fellow Selfie-ers on Instagram for that; unlike cats, the Selfie-ers do not pretend to not care of the camera pointed their way. From the expression on their face, to the angle of capture, to the direction of the natural lighting, we know that everything is intentional; we know that the picture we are looking at, the final product, is at least their third attempt, and we respect that, respect all the effort that goes into it.

2) Cats drain up mobile internet quota. Have you ever waited forever for your Instagram to load on your phone only to find out that the first page has five consecutive photos of the same freaking cat within a time frame of 10-mitues doing some stupid thing involving a plastic bag, a basket, a plush toy, a door and a box? Non-feline-fans, I feel you.


3) Cat lovers can be very fanatic in their affection towards these hairy little creatures with the kind of enthusiasm, surpassed only by the ultra-devoted Bieber's fans. Calm down, people. There's enough cats in the world for each and single one of you cat lovers, perhaps even 20 or more

4) Because big cats are way more awesome, they roar, like a BAWS, not purr, like Bieber.

Oh man, I know I am so going to be chastised for this. If the friends at my workplace ever found this blog, I might have to start having lunch alone everyday.

What WAS The Paradox Anyway?

So I have made (yet another) a vow to resume my senseless ranting here, in this little space tucked in the virtual corner of nobody-gives-a-shit, in hopes to retain my writing-sanity. We'll see how long this one lasts.

Writing too much of the same boring thing at work is starting to get to me, so I figure a place to unload all this streaming diarrhoea of words which are work-unrelated and totally self-indulgent would be cleansing, sort of like a mind detox.

Thank God the internet connection is back in this household. It's no Unifi (thanks to the management for not getting the cable installed into the building before the tenants started to come in), but it'll do. For now.

However as I am writing this sort-of a comeback post, there's two things that leave a slightly unsettling feeling in my stomach:

#1 What in the hell's name is a girl's paradox?

#2 I'm too lazy to create a new blog despite #1.

#1 is bothering me because what was the paradox anyway? What, am I a female trapped in a male's body? Which raises the doubt if I actually had really grasped the concept of a paradox after all at the time I came up with the name or was I just trying to be a try-hard, kind of like hipsters who like to quote lines from indie films that no one actually gets?

Which brings me to problem #2 which is not a problem but an internal obstacle that can or may be crossed with a little wee bit more willpower than what I possess now. But that can be justified by 'selective laziness' (which is the good kind of lazy, yes there's also the bad one; only those who are truly efficient be it in time management and/or energy conservation are familiar with this concept), is what I choose to call it.

I recalled something that a friend of mine told me some time last week. He asked me how come I appear to be so happy everyday?

What?

I beg to differ. I am not. I am the dark, cynical Max in '2 Broke Girls', not the chirpy, optimistic blonde Caroline (despite what my husband maintains; he thinks I am more like Caroline than Max, pffft). I am the erratic Julia Robert in My Best Friend's Wedding, not the miss-sunshine Cameron Diaz.

Life's just way funnier (read: less depressing) when seen through the eyes of a cynic.

P.S: I still can't come up with the paradox.

P.S.S: Who am I kidding, I am definitely more of a Caroline than Max. There.