The other day I found out that I was taller than I thought I was.
One *whole* centimetre taller. I am officially over 1.5m now... Quick, sign me up for basketball - immediately, if not sooner! Basketball teams need at least one short person... those giant people need armrests, don't they?
That 1cm means a lot to me.. it takes me 1cm further away from ever being classified a midget (140cms, btw) or a dwarf (147cms (cripes.. that was a close one)). Hmmm, something to look forward to when I get old and start shrinking.
Sadly, this additional 1cm does not make other people any shorter. I know kids who, at 13, are taller then me (bastards). Granted, I think I stopped growing around that age, so I don't know why I am continually surprised by young kids towering over me.
Oooh!! With this extra 1cm, I wonder what grown-up rides I can get onto now!! *claps excitedly*
Monday, September 7, 2009
Basically, I would like to live the life of my cat, Ruski. I mean, I am *pretty sure* I could handle sleeping whenever I wanted (all day), having the house to myself most of the time, and (if I had an owner like me) food pretty much whenever I liked.
That's right, I am jealous of my cat.
There would no dusting, vacuuming, or washing to get done... In fact, the hardest thing I'd have to do as Ruski is to try and *not* cough up a furball on the carpet (or alternatively, try *to* cough up a furball on the carpet when the right mince meat isn't hand delivered and separated into pieces in my bowl).
I mean, is this not the life? Lying in the sun:
Passed out on a comfy bed:
Eating ice-cream cake from a bowl:
Sure, I spoil him. But he is my baby. A big one. (He isn't fat, just big-boned.)