Yeah that's not what I was looking for at all..

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.15am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Poster

Hi
I opened the screen door yesterday and my cat got out and has been missing since then so I was wondering if you are not to busy you could make a poster for me. It has to be A4 and I will photocopy it and put it around my suburb this afternoon.

This is the only photo of her I have she answers to the name Missy and is black and white and about 8 months old. missing on Harper street and my phone number.
Thanks Shan.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.26am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,

That is shocking news. Luckily I was sitting down when I read your email and not half way up a ladder or tree. How are you holding up? I am surprised you managed to attend work at all what with thinking about Missy out there cold, frightened and alone... possibly lying on the side of the road, her back legs squashed by a vehicle, calling out "Shannon, where are you?"

Although I have two clients expecting completed work this afternoon, I will, of course, drop everything and do whatever it takes to facilitate the speedy return of Missy.

Regards, David.

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.37am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Poster

yeah ok thanks. I know you dont like cats but I am really worried about mine. I have to leave at 1pm today.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.17am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,

I never said I don't like cats. Once, having been invited to a party, I went clothes shopping beforehand and bought a pair of expensive G-Star boots. They were two sizes too small but I wanted them so badly I figured I could just wear them without socks and cut my toenails very short. As the party was only a few blocks from my place, I decided to walk. After the first block, I lost all feeling in my feet. Arriving at the party, I stumbled into a guy named Steven, spilling Malibu & coke onto his white Wham 'Choose Life' t-shirt, and he punched me. An hour or so after the incident, Steven sat down in a chair already occupied by a cat. The surprised cat clawed and snarled causing Steven to leap out of the chair, slip on a rug and strike his forehead onto the corner of a speaker; resulting in a two inch open gash. In its shock, the cat also defecated, leaving Steven with a wet brown stain down the back of his beige cargo pants. I liked that cat.

Attached poster as requested.

Regards, David.

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.24am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

yeah thats not what I was looking for at all. it looks like a movie and how come the photo of Missy is so small?

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.28am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,

It's a design thing. The cat is lost in the negative space.

Regards, David.

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.33am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Thats just stupid. Can you do it properly please? I am extremely emotional over this and was up all night in tears. you seem to think it is funny. Can you make the photo bigger please and fix the text and do it in colour please. Thanks.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.46am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,

Having worked with designers for a few years now, I would have assumed you understood, despite our vague suggestions otherwise, we do not welcome constructive criticism. I don't come downstairs and tell you how to send text messages, log onto Facebook and look out of the window. I am willing to overlook this faux pas due to you no doubt being preoccupied with thoughts of Missy attempting to make her way home across busy intersections or being trapped in a drain as it slowly fills with water. I spent three days down a well once but that was just for fun.

I have amended and attached the poster as per your instructions.

Regards, David.

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.59am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

This is worse than the other one. can you make it so it shows the whole photo of Missy and delete the stupid text that says missing missy off it? I just want it to say lost.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.14am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

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From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.21am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

yeah can you do the poster or not? I just want a photo and the word lost and the telephone number and when and where she was lost and her name. Not like a movie poster or anything stupid. I have to leave early today. If it was your cat I would help you. Thanks.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.32am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Awww

Dear Shannon,

I don't have a cat. I once agreed to look after a friend's cat for a week but after he dropped it off at my apartment and explained the concept of kitty litter, I kept the cat in a closed cardboard box in the shed and forgot about it. If I wanted to feed something and clean faeces, I wouldn't have put my mother in that home after her stroke. A week later, when my friend came to collect his cat, I pretended that I was not home and mailed the box to him. Apparently I failed to put enough stamps on the package and he had to collect it from the post office and pay eighteen dollars. He still goes on about that sometimes, people need to learn to let go.

I have attached the amended version of your poster as per your detailed instructions.

Regards, David.

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.47am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Awww

Thats not my cat. where did you get that picture from? That cat is orange. I gave you a photo of my cat.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.58am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Awww

I know, but that one is cute. As Missy has quite possibly met any one of several violent ends, it is possible you might get a better cat out of this. If anybody calls and says "I haven't seen your orange cat but I did find a black and white one with its hind legs run over by a car, do you want it?" you can politely decline and save yourself a costly veterinarian bill.

I knew someone who had a basset hound that had its hind legs removed after an accident and it had to walk around with one of those little buggies with wheels. If it had been my dog I would have asked for all its legs to be removed and replaced with wheels and had a remote control installed. I could charge neighbourhood kids for rides and enter it in races. If I did the same with a horse I could drive it to work. I would call it Steven.

Regards, David.

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.07pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Please just use the photo I gave you.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.22pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.34pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

I didnt say there was a reward. I dont have $2000 dollars. What did you even put that there for? Apart from that it is perfect can you please remove the reward bit. Thanks Shan.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.42pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.51pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Can you just please take the reward bit off altogether? I have to leave in ten minutes and I still have to make photocopies of it.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.56pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 1.03pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Fine. That will have to do.

A Story From Back Then

So I thought you might all benefit from a small story from back in the days, when I used to date a Chinese boy, and how that affected my entire perspective on life and... the Asian culture.

Asian culture at its finest!

Of course, I am not going to waste an entire blog entry on juicy info on how I landed a completely self-absorbed Chinese arrogant, but rather reveal a small piece of the agonizing scenarios I was forced through being with him.

One would automatically assume that if you travel 10 hours by plane to the Eastern hemisphere of the globe and you come to visit your future in-laws, that you would be somewhat relieved of the insane amount of pressure placed upon your dainty shoulders as you set foot inside the car ready for you at the airport. You would think that after 4 months of being absent in your beloved's life, that you would be greeted with hugs and kisses.

I was.

But then quickly escorted to the center of town where we were supposed to meet the dreaded in-laws.

In-laws in most European countries mean your beloved's parents. But in China, in-laws mean the entire goddamned family.

For the most part I would be thrilled to meet native Chinese people and show them the wonders of Europe, such as napkins and proper dining etiquette, but seeing as I had spent the last 18 hours of my life boarding planes and trying my hardest to avoid airplane food - I was looking like a drowned and beaten up bag of kittens and could hardly think of anything else but eating food.

And here were the people, dying to meet me and become impressed with the glory and beauty that my Chinese fiancé had promised them.

In-laws' hopes of the future bride

So after the many hand-shakes that they were all so proud to show they had practiced, we got to sit down in a private suite at a fancy hotel, with a giant turn-table at the center of the table. Within seconds the table was piled up with food of any size and shapes.

Being as hungry as I was, eating barely cooked chicken feet and fish eyes was a battle easily won. Hunger over sanity.

So imagine what they eat for breakfast

It soon dawned on me, that when I was busy gobling down the rice that I figured would be the best thing to fill my empty stomach with (safer than the fried doggy, right?), that I had become the center of everyone's attention. The men were busy raising tiny beer glasses at me while the women were all whispering to each other, their eyes easily trimming off my clothes and skin.

And then, when I decided it was safe for me to offer them all a polite and somewhat awkward smile (probably with seaweed stuck between my lovely front teeth), hell broke loose.

The women would fight over which one was allowed to turn the table and hereby offer me the nearest available dish to me.

I politely refused. (Insert an inevitable Disney gasp of distress sound)

To be honest, I had eaten my share of the food within the first 10 minutes, only to realize that the custom in this region of China, was to spend the next 4 hours eating food.

So I did...

'Damn you, ever-so-dilating-stomach!'

Needless to say, the dinner party was a disaster. I had a hard time understanding the few sentences in broken English thrown at me and the endless ramblings in Chinese, that, obviously, all concerned me. And I was feeling sick to my stomach from eating so much food.

And to top it off, I have been told afterwards, that some of the aunties there considered me somewhat a pig for eating so much food.

Well you offered it to me with a cultural gun pointed at my brain, so what did you expect woman?!

Sitting in the car with only my actual in-laws in the back-seat, I was ready to vomit as we drove through the heavy polluted fumes that surrounded the city. Even at night time.

I was exhausted to the point where I couldn't care less about the stain on my shirt that I was so incredibly embarrassed about at the dinner party. Nor did I care if I did disappoint a few of the uncles for not thinking Mao was the greatest man ever. Or the aunties for not already being pregnant with five healthy Chinese communist leaders..

Oh well. At least we would be going home and enjoy a quiet evening, right?

Wrong.

We took an immediate trip south of the city, to the country side where we would hook up with some even more distant relatives that were apparently also excited to see me.

I will spare the details of the long drive there and just let you know that I actually slept a good long 4 hours in the car before we got there.

If you have ever had the stereotypical image of a village in the country side where people practically live in small huts surrounded by overly harvested farms and had goats inside their cottages - you were right about this one.

They slept on a fucking slab of rock!

And so did I.

Until the return of the dreaded Chinese dinner.

The long haul from Denmark to Fuzhou in Northern China, the lack of hydration to my body and the insane amount of acids stuffed into my belly within a couple of hours would naturally strike my body like lighting does a silly, lonesome cow on the top of a hill.

Needless to say, the cow died.

Along with my pride as I had to escape the rock I was sleeping on, stumble over a few goats and crash into a wall that wasn't quite the door I was looking for - until I made it outside in complete darkness and pouring rain. At least out here no one could wake up from the horrible moaning of my digestive system.

I was only wearing a thin pajamas and wielding a tiny flashlight as I sauntered down the small steps leading to a, by now, very muddy trail that led to the back of the garden.

You are quite correct in your assumption. There was no bathroom. There was a corner of the garden where they would usually have a big hole and squat over this to do their business.

A luxury only the richest farmers can afford

Now imagine that a 'bathroom' like this is in a cold, insanely dark and very rainy garden and you will picture the horror painted on my face and the glee of my bowels.

So as I squatted there over the mud-hole to do my business, I could suddenly no longer feel the rain soaking my pajamas. I looked up only to find the not-so-easily-disturbed-grandma who had decided to come to my rescue after hearing me crash with the goats in the house and she was holding an umbrella over my head.

How convenient. Thanks grandma.

I tried to fend her off as I was finding it all rather embarrassing, but she was insistent on helping me to the extent of holding my pants.

Once I had convinced her that everything was alright, we walked back inside the house where she was so nice to offer me to sleep there on the floor with her. I tried my best to motion to my sleeping fiancé there on the rock bed looking irresistible in my current state of mind, but she grabbed my arm and dragged me into submission.

And there I was..

Somewhere approximately 300 km from Fuzhou in Fujian province, in a tiny cottage that would probably be swimming in mud by the time of morning, surrounded by smelly goats and snoring Chinese farmers and with grandma's arm neatly tucked over my waist with her hand strangely resting on my left boob.

And the last thought that occurred to me before I fell asleep was: God I'm hungry..