Cryptic speech, cookie heart, small rant

A year ago, I would have been swearing and devoting my life on the spur of the moment to the extermination of them. But despite (or perhaps due to) their grating manner of expressing themselves in manner of melodrama, I find that it is perhaps annoyances like these that inject flavour into the casserole of life (what sort of flavour, I really don't know).

Perhaps I'll grow to become of tolerant of them. Or even behave like them. Shudder. I don't want to end every freaking sentence that that I type with a 'ya?' in some attempt to make it sound less offensive than it already is. Or break into frantic babble eg. "omigawd, girl, I haven see you in like, 7 minutes!" before they start hugging. Or start up some sort of Reverse Soup Kitchen where the poorer, older one has to treat a meal at an overly hyped up eatery. As if pricier = yummier (although in most cases, pricier = another conned teenager, another penny(s) earned, muhaha).

But most of the time they're lovable anyway.

However, the thing that will never be lovable would be to give up a pet for the sake of interior design. (And in my context, pretty bad interior design involving beech Ikea furniture. I mean, I'd never thought they could produce such a gaudy design for a cupboard door, cringe.) Because just like how Imelda Marcos has her shoes, my family has our books. The only safe walls that haven't been covered with hoards of shelving are the kitchen and toilets. And the area above where the chinchillas stay too. So you know, yada yada, the usual crap that people give when they think they're all too big and human-y and sentient to allow room in their lives for cute furry things that give you unconditional love (after feeding them with raisins and apples.)

And my sister and I have finally finished watching Tim Burton's Edward Scissorhands after several interruptions to have dinner, wash the dishes and fix my dad's videocam woes (technology hasn't been kind to the older folk). The movie was so so good! We kinda cried at the end because snow is so evocative and romantic, etc. etc. But I never cry during movies. Anyway, I really do love Tim Burton's films, because they ain't cheesy and overtly reeking of Christmas and Festive Joy.

Sometimes I feel as if I'm born in the wrong decade.