Is it a good idea to blog when you're drinking?

Two beers down. Someone in the office in this incredibly "dry" country called Dubai was kind. Should I speak my mind? It's always proven to be a huge mistake in the past! Ginger had a feast of Australian mutton this evening. He's been on cat food and behaved like a starving child when I placed his bowl full of good old red meat in front of him. Anyone who saw him gulping and chomping would have been tempted to report me to the SPCA at once. Which brings me to the horror of what's happening to Dubai dog owners. They've changed the rules again. There's a new list of "dangerous" dogs and if you own one, you absolutely can't have them in an apartment. If you're lucky enough to live in a villa, you can only have one such "dangerous" dog in the house. Pet owners are in a quandry and so am I. Why would they do this? Nobody's been hurt. The only people who are hurting, who've been bitten in the ass by this doggone law are the poor people who reported in to 7 days that they owned two of the "currently" termed "dangerous" dogs and didn't know what the hell they were supposed to do. Separating the dogs or giving one of them up would be cruel, unthinkable, mean and downright nasty for the families and the canines in question. It's positively heartbreaking and unfair. Perhaps I'm blogging when I'm drinking, but this is one issue that I will feel the same way about, sober or otherwise.

I'm positively positive at the moment

Life is looking up. This could well be in direct proportion to an urgent desire to get off my butt and stop whining. Important decisions that have already been made include: Ginger will be given the chance at a good life, that he deserves, he will not be put down. I will focus a little more on being organised. And annoyances at work will stop getting to me this instant. Perhaps I just need to grow up. I've been prescribed anti-depressants and I refuse to take them. Simply because I've got to give myself a chance to get over that mind-numbing fear of defeat before I even take my first steps into battle. Sure, sure, it's easy to go on the medication and then blame it all on my mental state of mind. Allow me to inject myself with a little bit of reality and realise that to date, no steps have been taken to do the things I have to do. As you can see, I'm rambling again. The one and only person I'd really like to meet again in Dubai is a girl called Sunny? Sonny? Never asked how her name is spelt. She was our guide/dune bashing driver on a half day desert safari and a really cool woman in my book. This could have something to do with my zero knowledge of driving a car. Or it could simply mean that I'm starting to admire the people who deserve to be admired. I hope it's the latter.

It's a tough time of life

I need to make a hard decision. I don't know if I should put my cat down or not. He suffered a spinal injury at the start of the year and still has not regained control of his hind legs, and is still incontinent. Other than his legs, he is healthy, loving and has an continually impressive appetite. But he cannot live the life of a normal cat and I work most of the day, so I cannot give him the attention that a half paralyzed cat requires. What is fair? To leave him alive in this condition with a 'not so great' quality of life, or to put him down which amounts to killing him. I just don't know. All I know is that I love him and I am responsible for him. But sometimes I think that just keeping him alive is not really being responsible at all. I'm at my wits end. My life today seems like an endless tragic scene in a continuing drama.

Why? The question is...

There's a certain someone who's constantly asking me questions that he already knows the answer to. He asked me the other day if so-and-so was from Bombay. Now since, Bombayites or Mumbaiites as they are called today, never really have a standard look, dress sense, way of talking or special mark tattooed across their forehead, it's pretty obvious that "annoying question asker" already knew that so-and-so WAS from Bombay. Why he was cross checking this petty, insignificant, little detail with me is beyond my comprehension. To quote a song from Peter Rabbit..."Why does he do it, what is the cause?" It isn't the first time.

One, two, three and four

If one is underconfident, insecure or fearful of looking like an ass, one is often quite upset if another shows himself or herself to be smarter, more knowledgable or simply more sensible in comparison to one's own display of general intelligence...what a lot of ones in there eh? See, it's really a couple of my colleagues who annoy me to tears by waiting for me to say something intelligent, then letting five minutes pass before repeating the same funda in their own words, like they just thought it up, out of the blue. So I said "a couple of" and that may have given you the impression that there are two of them. In fact, it's three. No make that four. It's my blog, I have a right to change my mind. Right?
Ok, people here's the deal. If you don't like me saying something smart, say it yourself, before I do. If you simply act the parrot, I'm not impressed. If anything, I feel incredibly sorry for you. Then there are those folk, who will make it a point to indulge in the exact same activity that I just took a liking to. Yes, they may. But just because I started swimming, don't sign up for a pool membership. And just because I said I want to learn the guitar, don't find a friend who claims he'll teach you to play like Eric Clapton within a week. I like individuals. I'm one myself.