Schizo...

Daniel might be right: I may be a little schizo.

I talk to all sorts of animals from dogs and cats to the toad who lives under the fire hose reel door jamb (Mr. Spotty), to the grasshopper/beetle/insect I want out of my room, to my soft toys (Pooky, Dale, Flatass, Spuff, Baby Jag and the yellow teddy bear) to which I apologise when I accidentally sit on them. Then there's this laptop, of which I forbid Daniel from speaking ill because the laptop may hear him and go on a strike and I will then have no laptop to use.

Maybe that's why I've been getting the headaches I've been having recently...

But that's ok, because the gahmen is starting up the schizo initiative to research into schizo youths. Maybe there are a lot more young people like me out there, who talk to flowers and table ornaments and cockroaches I am about to kill.

I recall one such conversation with one juvenile cockroach above my door beside my air conditioner. I told it to come down so that I could kill it because it was too high for me to hit at.

It refused.

So I took a tall stool, but still couldn't reach it. In fact, it even moved up one inch, probably laughing at me and farting in my face although I couldn't smell roach fart. To no avail, rubber bands were deployed and my aiming is terrible (not born a male and never peeed standing up before). Finally, I had the last laugh with my Baygon.

In your face, roach.

Anyway, on another note, today is Monday.

If I go to the 24hrs Gelare joint at the Airport, after midnight tonight, and demand for half-priced waffles, do you think I'll get it? Technically, it's a Tuesday already... But oh well, we know how anal businesspeople get even when you're willing to spend money to boost their multi-million dollar business.

Oh. I'm not supposed to be eating waffles. :(