Desmond and the Tea-time Smoothie.

It's been so warm the past few days and in the sweltering heat, I've made a new friend that just won't leave me alone. Yes, the still, hot air is sticking to me like a plague. I can feel it on my skin, and in my face, and in my room.

I'm not happy--not happy at all. And I can't even summon my latent-violent tendencies to beat the hot air to a pulp. That would be like chasing the wind, which is really pointless.

I want to have smoothie-tea-time with a polar bear in his living room. Now.

Desmond and the Lemonade.

We don't make lemons out of lemonade.

Desmond and the Supermoon.

Tonight the moon supposedly upsizes and becomes a Supermoon. Well, I just scrambled down to sneak a peak, and I can't say we've got our money's worth. But it certainly is insanely bright. I wish my teeth were that white.

Happy Supermoon Day! :)

Desmond & St Paddy's 11'.

I miss Ireland so much, and what better day than St Paddy's to blog it, right?
Happy St Patrick's Day All! And even though I wish I could be there in Ireland today, I'm just thankful that I ever got to go at all.

Thanks, God. You really are the best.

Desmond and the Inability to Post a Cat Picture.

Between the puppy-eyed look of a dog and the haughty arrogance of a Queen Mother Cat who hasn't got time or need for you, we'd almost always pick the dog. At least I would. And I boil it down to my preference for affectionate creatures. Who doesn't love someone or something that loves them back? And with those puppy-dog eyes? Oh how my heart melts!

And then the infinitely adorable canine licks up my melted-heart-puddle, because to him everything about me is worth loving. No wonder I love dogs. No wonder I love dogs.

Cats, on the other hand, are pretty much holier-than-thou. They don't care about you. If your heart was a puddle, they'd splash around in it--not out of disrespect, but complete ignorance. Cats don't really hate you. They simply nothing you.

Then I realised that the shocking truth is: I don't really hate cats either! Honestly, I think I only say I hate cats because sometimes the things or people I love don't love me back, and rejection is a bitter pill. A bitter, bitter pill. Bitterness always looks for something to blame. And what better to blame than the Almighty Cat that goes largely unfazed no matter your feelings towards it?

I think cats should be sympathised with. People hate them because it's cathartic to release your bottled up frustration (especially the ones that come with rejection). And since cats don't return the abuse, it's like a win-win for us.

Cats are the stress-balls of society and hating them is like squeezing that stress-ball. It feels good and right, and so much better than counting to ten. But knowing now that I've been taking advantage of the feline-nonchalance, I feel terribly about it. Terribly enough that I might be changing my mind about the Queen Mother.

(Yet even after the entire guilt-ridden entry about not loving cats more, this individual still cannot bring himself to post a picture of a cat, opting instead for an infinitely adorable canine. Yes, he is such a cad.)