Hello from Puppy Dog - Bad throw, Mama!

Hello Mama's friends!

Today Mama and Dada took me to the small dog park where they throw balls agains the wall for me. It was fun!

But then Mama threw the ball wrong with the flinger and she hit another lady on the top of her head.

Mama told the lady she was very sorry and tried to be nice to the lady's ugly Pug. Then I heard Mama tell Dada that she was really embarrassed because the ball was foamy and covered in my spit, so it was time to go home.

Why was I punished because Mama screwed up?

After all, I jumped up and caught the ball in the air after it bounced off the lady...

And her hair was so bad I think my spit made an improvement - kinda like in that movie There's Something About Mary.

Mama is so unfair!

 Lots of love and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Couch Potato - Watching the Watchmen

While I was growing up, there are two adages that my mother used repeatedly when talking about marriage:

1. Marriage is compromise


2. Marriage n'est pas badinage (Marriage is no joke).

Today, I demonstrated my commitment to No. 1.

We went to see Watchmen.

"You're very quiet," said Fluffy Bear, as we were driving to the car park Exit after the film.

And yes, I was. Because I knew he enjoyed it, and those kinds of movies are important to him.

Here are all the things I wanted to say:

• I am quiet, Honey, because my brain is baked from boredom


• Darling, I can never get those three hours of my life back, you know...


• Do you think the film's editor, when his thousandth request for a cut was denied, quit his job?

Of course, every cloud has a silver lining. I can now tell people, without word of a lie, that I was once in a dark room for three hours and the only thing I found vaguely interesting during that time was a big blue schlong.

9 to 5 - Just 3 things

Life is getting insane, so these are the three questions which, from now on, I am going to ask myself every day:

1. What is the ONE work thing I have to achieve today?


2. What is the ONE personal thing I have to achieve today?


3. What is the ONE treat/fun thing I am going to do for myself today?

And that's it.

Nothing else has to be one.

It's the little things - Barista blessing

The other day I went to get an unncessesarily expensive designer coffee and was chatting away to the Barista.

She was from somewhere in the Asia-Pacific region and we talked about her country's history, how long she'd been in the States, and so on.

As I took my coffee I thanked her, wished her a lovely day, smiled and turned to leave.

She beamed back at me and said:

"God bless you!"

And I was strangely touched by that.

Hell is other people - Happy Clappy

Today was one of those days at work. Every meeting I had was with a cross between The Girls Next Door and a Duracell Bunny .

You walk into their office and they don't just say hello. They screech-sing at you:

"HI!"

That's when you know how it's going to go. Throughout the meeting they will be beaming blinding positive energy at you. Conversation will be peppered with a sprinkling of annoying Americanisms such as "awesome", "kinda" and "totally". And any input will be immediately followed by "You are so right!!!!" no matter what BS you spout at them.

Where the hell do they get the energy? How come they find their everyday job so delightful? Why aren't they tired and run down and bloody well sick of the rain like I am? Is there some secret store of happiness and bounciness that only American citizens have access to?

Sometimes I fantasize about putting on my thickest English accent and seeing if I can get away with something like:

"I think the point you're making is startlingly simultaneously morbidly fascinating and patently puerile, and I think that we should sketch out some action points round it so we can take this forward, align our efforts and ensure ongoing collaboration."

But I haven't got the energy to be bothered to do it.

Health is Wealth - More Silent Evil

This is a Silent Evil update, specially requested by my dear friend, EverywhereEventually.

"Squat like a Sumo and then pull up a weight to my chest?
Are you insane?"
"Flap my arms like a chicken?
Are you insane?"
"Balance on a ball like a Seal?
You ARE insane!"

This was Fluffy Bear's rant after our last training session.

Squats and lunges do seem to be Silent Evil's go-to exercise. They are the ice cream before she hits us with the evil toppings.

The Sumo Squat and pull was side by side, each of us holding a bar attached to different weights. Squat and hold the bar in front of you, then stand and pull it up to your chest. I timed myself so I was in synch with Fluffy Bear, but us panting and groaning in time for all the wrong reasons actually didn't turn out to be that much fun.

The Chicken move involved taking a handle of the machine, one in each hand, stepping forward with the maching behind you and then pulling your arms together in front of your chest, keeping elbows straight. It was like flapping your way through thick mud. As I progressed through my 15 reps, my lips got more pursed and my breathing out got more pronounced. I am sure that, by the 13th rep, the whoosh could have blown up Marilyn Monroe's skirt from half a mile away.

The Seal involved adopting a plank pose with hands either side of one of those big balls they have in the gym for skinny ladies to do their ab exercises on.

Silent Evil has an annoying habit of making an exercise look like a piece of cake. There she'll be, in her T-shirt and jeans, stepping effortlessly up to the ball, feet placed back behind her and lowering into a perfect plank, steady as a rock. She explained how, if you used your core and back muscles, there should be no wobbling on the ball.

Right.

We looked like we were trying to balance during an earthquake.

So she showed us how to do it again. And of course told us that soon we'd be doing push ups on the ball, and demonstrated a few. These are the moments when I look at how short and thin she is, and wonder whether I could take her down.

So off we went again.

"30 seconds..." sing-songed Silent Evil.

Wobble, wobble.

"2o seconds..."

I started vibrating from head to toe like Puppy Dog sitting in front of us when we are eating bacon.

"10 seconds! Come on my little lambs..."

I was so thrown by this last bit that I forgot the pain and suddenly she was saying we could stop.

"Did you say 'little lambs'?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said, grinning.

"Lambs to the bloody slaughter!" I scoffed.

She just smiled that soft smile.

It really does look a little evil...

Hello from Puppy Dog - Skinny Stranger

Hello Mama's friends!

Today, Mama took me to Doggy Day Care. I knew where we were going because I recognized the roads and I was so excited!

I love Doggy Day Care!

I meet all my friends and we bark and jump and run and play all day!

I love Doggy Day Care!

Going there is my special time, just for me. I don't have to not bark at the Postman. I don't have to not jump on people who come in the front door. I don't have to not put my nose in the trash can. It's my Fun Time!

I love Doggy Day Care!

Then I come home and I am really tired so Mama and Dada say that they have peace so it's a win-win for everybody!

So we all love Doggy Day Care!

But today, in the car, Mama kept saying that it was "my first day of school". I didn't know what she was talking about till later. In the middle of my Fun Time, some Skinny Stranger came and took me to a special room. At first I was worried that he had something to do with the Vet and I might get something stuck up my butt again, so I was a bit scared. But then he started training me!

WTF?

I tried to explain to him that (a) this was my Fun Time, (b) I had already been trained and (c) this was my Fun Time!!!!

But he just kept going.

So I told The Skinny Stranger all about the classes Mama and Dada took me to with the horrid lady and her double-castrated dog. I explained how I can already sit after I am told for the fifth time, I can already stay for at least 20 seconds after Mama holds her hand up in front of my face and that I can already heel for 15 whole seconds after I've been given the command! What else do I need?

I mean - come on! - there are college graduates who know less than that these days.

But The Skinny Stranger wasn't listening.

He had a "Training Plan" and report card and a check from Mama and he would not give in.

So I did his stupid class and - finally! - he let me go back to my friends.

They couldn't believe it when I told them about The Skinny Stranger and the special room. But then Coco admitted that he had been taken to the special room too, and Lulu said her mommy had spent a long time talking to the The Skinny Stranger last week.

We discussed organizing a sit in or some other kind of rebellion, but then someone threw a ball and we forgot all about it.

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hell is other people - In Training

Training.

It's draining.

The room seems to get stuffier (read: smell of other people's farts), my brain gets mushier and the neon lights seems to increase the malice of their flicker frequency as the day goes on.

And yet, like the gasping marathon runner, you have to keep going. As soon as the runner loses concentration, he trips and falls. In training, if your mind wanders, you suddenly find that you have no idea what the presenter - let's call him Ben - is talking about and realize you are the only one that can't answer the question he just asked or complete the calculation that has somehow magically appeared on the whiteboard.

The last straw is my own inner policeman, who tells me I can't have anymore coffee.

After that, my tolerance is gone - Poof! - in a puff of smoke.

And so, I start to hate her. I am sure she's a nice person. Hell, she may even be good at her job. But she just doesn't keep up... or shut up.

And so I have to channel my fury by renaming her in my head.

From this day forward, her name is UmBen.

"Um... Ben... did you say that this refers to the manager or the team?"

"Um... Ben... could you please say that sentence again?"

"Um... Ben... are we on point 5 or point 4?"

"Um... Ben... when you say divide by 3, do you mean divide all of it by 3?"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

Hell is other people.

Health is Wealth - Yoga people

Yesterday I went to a Yoga class. This is because I cant attend training sessions with Silent Evil this week and she made me commit to doing exercise before she sees me next time.

There is a hierarchy in yoga classes. It's not so bad in mainstream gyms - the real clique effect is reserved for the specialized yoga studios. I've never been to a yoga retreat but I can only imagine the Yoga Alpha competition there is fierce.

At my gym, it's not so much a clique/hierarchy/Yoga alpha thing as a collection of yoga class stereotypes:

• The Ballerina - this, in our class, was the instructor. A real mastery in yoga is not just the poses themselves, but moving seamlessly and gracefully from one pose to another. The instructor was a small woman, perfect body, lovely long hair and she just flowed from one pose to another making it look not only beautiful, but effortless. This person makes you feel like a hippo having an epileptic fit.
• The Porn Star - there's always one, isn't there? The person who goes "oooooooh" and "mmmmmm" and pants effusively. Go get your camera out and do a Paris Hilton in your own home where I can't hear you, you silly cow!


• The Feelgood Factor - this is that one person in the class who - thank God! - is crappier at yoga than you. Every position that I couldn't hold, by the time I collapsed into Child's pose to rest, I saw she was there already. Every time I lost my footing in a balance pose, I noticed that she had stumbled before me. But this person is no fun when you are stuck in a pose and you have to hold it, every muscle quivering, because the instructor is correcting their stance... again.


• The Chatty Cathies - these are two friends who have come to the yoga class suffer from a shared delusion that they are at a tea party, that their stage whispers are inaudible to others who are standing two feet away from them and that they are so fucking important that it is OK if they are despicably rude.

That's Life - That's what straight friends are for...

After my previous post on breaking up a friend's new relationship before it's even begun, I began to muse on how I would do that to my gay friends...

Picture the scene... there we are at a trendy restaurant, dinner for four, wine opened, hors d'oeuvres in full flight, and I say...

1. So.... tell us about which friends you lost when you came out...


2. Has he shown you his collection of plaid shirts yet?


3. Are you going with him on his annual pilgrimage to Palmyra?


4. His ex told me it was a little difficult at first because of - you know - the banana shape of it, but he said all you have to do is wriggle around a little, and you can get him in eventually...


5. [Sigh loudly] We used to have such nice dinners with his wife and kids back when he was married...


6. I was so relieved when he finally accepted his sexuality. I have no idea why he still goes back to that church who tried to (air quotes) "cure" him...


7. Of course, if you start to stay overnight at his house a lot, he's going to make you get your own Snuggie


8. How did his dog react when she first met you? [No matter what the reply is, say the following...] Oh dear, that is not good. The last one she did that to only lasted 7 weeks...


9. He's told you about his oral rule, right? No? It's very simple... he calls it The Cather Rule. Happy to receive, not his job to give...


10. You know he hasn't changed his house one bit since he moved in six years ago? He hates redecorating!

I know, I know... no cliche left unturned...

That's Life - That's what friends are for...

A friend of mine is introducing us to the person he's started dating recently. It's always a big step when you meet someone who might become a big part of your friend's life. Sure, you're vetting them, but you also have to make sure that you contribute to a good impression of your friend.

So I got to thinking...

What would I say if I wanted to fuck up my friend's budding relationship?

1. Has he shown you his stamp collection yet? You know, he really is quite the philatelist!


2. Are we on for karaoke this week? I hear Bert is back - (to her) Bert is this asshole who thinks he's Elvis reincarnated - but he's no match for us. Honey (to him), have you downloaded the karaoke version of "Wind beneathe my wings" from iTunes yet?


3. Have you met the other wives yet?


4. Has he shown you his collection of vintage children's photographic erotica? It's really fascinating!


5. Oh my God! It's true! You do look just like his dead wife!


6. Have you met Ella and Bella yet? I've gotta say, I was freaked out at first but who knew tarantulas and boa constrictors could be so cute!


7. I am soooo happy to meet you. It's so good that he's found someone who actually cares about him without having to be paid in cash at the end of the evening...


8. So.... a little tip. When he takes you to meet his mother... Xanax!


9. Can I just give you a little tip? I love him, dearly, and I'll always be his friend. I want him to be happy and I can see that you two would make a lovely, lovely couple. Just don't, whatever you do, don't lend him money. He'll ask. It's just a matter of time. Don't do it. Don't.


10. Oh my God, I am so excited that he's finally met someone who shares his interests! I really admire you for being so open-minded.... What do I mean? Oh.... um... Hasn't he asked you to go with him to one of his special parties yet?

That's what friends are for...

Hello from Puppy Dog - 25 Random Things About Me

My Mama did 25 Random Things about her, so I thought it was time I did too. So here they are...

25 Random Things About Me:

1. I can fit three tennis balls in my mouth


2. I am a real Bad Boy - like a hip hop star. I once stayed at an in-home holiday care while we were on vacation and, when we came back, they left a polite note saying they couldn't look after me ever again because I "have too much energy"


3. I like wearing my collar because it's part of who I am


4. I can lick my woo woo


5. I win races against other doggies and get to their balls before they do. Then I keep them, 'cos, like the famous Abba song says... "the winner takes the ball"


6. When I grow up, my parents want me to be Brian


7. I have a tail drawn by Dr Seuss


8. My tongue is twice the size of my mouth - I roll it up to keep it in there


9. Every month, I shed enough to make a Mini-Me


10. I can eat three times my own body weight


11. I love peanut butter on toast


12. No... you don't understand. I looooove peanut butter on toast


13. I believe squirrels are the spawn of satan and must be stopped


14. I believe tennis balls are prey and must be chased, their fur pulled off and then chewed till they split open and die


15. When I get excited and bark in a high voice, my Mama says it's 'cos I got no goolies


16. I like getting up on the bed with Mama and Dada in the mornings after I've had my breakfast


17. The only dog I'll submit to is Dogette... when she and I play I eventually lie on my back with my paws in the air and wriggle, 'cos she's stolen my heart


18. I swim like Michael Phelps


19. I run like Michael Jordan


20. I bitch and moan like Michael Moore


21. I like to lick and nibble my parents' ears


22. I can launch myself directly up into the air, vertically, like the Bionic Man - as long as it is to grab a tennis ball or a squeaky


23. I can hear a squeaky anywhere in a radius of six miles


24. I like to leave muddy footprints all over the house


25. When I stretch, I do Downward Facing Dog better than any Yoga Guru

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hello from Puppy Dog - Naughty Monkey

Mama loves another animal more than me!

It's name is Chunky and it's a monkey!

What should I do?

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hello from Puppy Dog - Off-leash!

Hello Friends!

Today Mama did something naughty. She took me to a big park with lots of trees and, when there was no one around, she let me off the leash.

And I ran.

I sprinted in long straight lines, I lolloped in big circles, I dodged left and right.

And I ran.

There were squirrel tracks to sniff, leaves on the ground which crackled when I ran through them and a soft wind in my face.

And I ran.

My ears were flapping against my head, my tongue was lolling out to the right side, slapping against my cheek and my jaw and my tail was up high, wagging like a flag in a crosswind.

Oh boy, I ran.

Then Mama called me and I had to go back to her and go back on the leash.

Sigh.

But - boy! - it was fun while it lasted.

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Being a Doggy Mama - Dog Park Disaster

Downtown Dog Parks are not just a fenced area where dogs can run around on bark and concrete. They are a place where the dog owners from the area gather and, like a neighborhood bar or corner shop, there is a clique, and the clique has a hierarchy.

There is, of course, the Queen. She is there every day, heads up the volunteers, runs the website. Her acolytes are people who have generally been coming to the park for a long time. They gather in one spot, chatting, smoking, yelling at their dogs if they do anything naughty.

The Queen took a shine to me - perhaps because of my accent - and so I am one of those who stands on the edge of the circle, occasionally contributes to the conversation but generally just listens, quietly. Any hopes of moving inwards towards the center have been crushed by Puppy Dog's behavior, for there is no greater crime than a naughty dog.

And so, to today...

There is another guy in the park throwing balls for his dog with a flinger. I am throwing the ball for Puppy Dog with mine but, apparently, that just isn't good enough. He runs up to the guy and jumps up, taking the ball right out of his flinger. Now, when you are standing innocently, watching your own dog and thinking about where to throw the ball, having 70 pounds of pooch jump up a foot from your nose and attack your flinger can be pretty scary.

So I chastise Puppy Dog, making him sit next to me, quivering, for about two minutes, and keeping him from play. Finally, I tell him he can go, I turn around to find another ball and he runs right up to the guy, around to his front and BAM! steals the ball from his flinger again.

Naturally that means it's time to go home.

Step 1: call Puppy Dog, who runs up to me, but dodges to the left, runs around me and keeps tearing around the park. It takes about four of these drivebys till I can catch him.

Step 2: get him to give up the two balls in his mouth. Grabbing and pulling is a complete waste of time. He goes into some sort of zen state where he makes a sound halfway between a pant and a snore, rhythmically snorting as his jaws clamp down. The only way is to trick him. So I have to get a ball in my flinger, pretend I am going to throw it and then he drops the ones he has.

Step 3: Get the leash attached to his collar so we can leave. Unfortunately, Puppy Dog isn't stupid. I am this far from getting him out of the park. I can see the gate. I can see my car. But I look down, and I don't see my dog. He has slipped out of his collar, grabbed the two balls and he is off.... sprinting around the dog park.

I have long ago caught the attention of the clique, and they are watching with interest. To her credit, the Queen, who is a very nice person, helps me catch and put the collar on Puppy Dog.

Now back to getting him to drop the balls.

I already said he wasn't stupid. He is not going to fall for the same trick again. I wave the ball in my flinger in front of his face, but he hangs onto the balls he has, snorting.

"Coooooome on," I sing. "Wanna chase the ball? You know the rules... drop the one you have. Droooooop the one you have...."

His eyes follow the trajectory of the flinger as I wave it in front of him, hypnotized. His whole body is quivering. But he doesn't let go.

It's a standoff.

Eventually I wave the ball right in front of his nose. It twitches. Once. Twice. He can't resist. He lets the two he has go.

Now I have to get rid of the ball I have, so I fling it away. Now it's a tug of war with Puppy Dog, trying to pull him in one direction - towards the gate - while he tries to pull in the other direction - towards the ball.

I yell my goodbyes to the clique.

And that's when the extent of the humiliation is confirmed.

One of them calls to me as I make it out of the gate...

"Thanks for the entertainment!"

Hello from Puppy Dog - Dog Abuse

Hello Friends,

It's time to tell you the truth.

I'm an abused dog.

Oh sure, Mama and Papa bought me a house with a yard and moved out of their downtown trendy apartment, they bought me an SUV even though they don't want to look like boring suburbanites, I have three beds, I go to doggie day care, I get walked for at least an hour each day and there are people who come and visit and scoop my poop.

Yes, I have all of these things. But it doesn't mean that Mama and Papa aren't mean to me.

Mama and Papa treat me like a toy that's just there for their amusement.

They do!

Why don't you believe me?

Fine. I'll just have to prove it to you.

Things they do: 

• They threaten to cut off my soft ears and make mittens


• They throw two tennis balls into the dining room at once so I don't know which one to chase and I slip and slide on the wooden floor trying to get one, and then the other, and then the other


• They ask me if I wanna go back to the Pound


• After it's snowed, they throw magic white balls for me which disappear when I catch them


• They ask me why I can't talk to them and be sophisticated like Brian from Family Guy


• They tell me my tongue is so big that they are going to dry it out and make a red carpet


• They talk about replacing me with a robotic dog that doesn't poop


• They tell me I have dog's breath. Of course I have dog's breath. I'm a dog.


• They wait till I am sound asleep in front of the TV, then make a loud noise with a squeaky toy so that I can't help but jump up and run around trying to find it


• They accuse me of being a coke addict when I come in from playing in the yard and I have snow on my nose


• They brush me then look at the brush and tell me they are going to form a replacement dog out of my shed hairs


• They laugh at my foo foo and tell me I have lipstick

I thought about writing a letter to the RSPCA, but I don't have opposable thumbs....

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hello from Puppy Dog - Squirrel Hunt 'n Chase

Hello Mama's friends!

Today Mama asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. But when we left the house I realized she had it all wrong. We were on a Squirrel Hunt 'n Chase!

I mean, it's not like I'm obsessed with squirrels or anything, but I'm a hunting dog, and instinct is instinct.

Mama kept tugging on my extendable leash and telling to "Stay close" but when this nose is on the trail, aint nothin' stoppin' it! I guess I must be part Bloodhound because I can put my nose to the ground and follow a scent like nobody's business. It was amazing!Everywhere... squirrellysmellies!

I could smell the little critters but I couldn't see any. I sniffed along the ground and looked up every tree and investigated every yard we passed. Mama kept jerking my extendable leash and yelling "Out! That's not your yard!" but I didn't listen. She just doesn't understand the hunt. They were just out of reach, I could feel it... they were hiding. The squirrellyslobs!

Finally, about twenty minutes into our walk, I saw one!

It was accross the street and it was mocking me, flicking that little fluffy tail like the little squirrellyslut that it was.

I went for it.

And boy, did Mama yelp. She blabbered on about me pulling her arm off. Is it my fault the extendable leash doesn't stretch far enough for squirrellysprint?

Then she went out about how I shouldn't run into the road. Is it my fault the road was between me and squirrellyspoilsport?

Then Mama dragged me back and kept yelping "Leave it! LEAVE IT!" She made me sit down and wait. It was up the tree and it was looking at me and all I could do was stare. It was humiliating! Is it my fault I'm a good hunter and it's a tasty squirrellysnack?

Next time, my Fluffy Nemesis.... next time.

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hello from Puppy Dog - Mama can be strange, sometimes

Hello Friends!

My Mama can be a little bit strange sometimes.

Like when she sings to me. She sings silly made up songs about how Papa is on a plane and coming home safely to us, or about how I'm going to Doggie Day Care tomorrow and she's going to have a very peaceful evening cos I'll be so tired. She isn't exactly Celine Dion or Whitney Houston but, while she sings, she scratches behind my ears or rubs my back, so I go with it. But it is kinda strange...

My Mama was also strange the other day with the car. First Mama drove it to a strange place where there were all these men. The made me get out with my special cushion and we waited while the men rubbed and sprayed the car. Then we got back in and it all smelled different. My cushion was still ok, but the car didn't smell like my moving den anymore. I only sit in the back so I couldn't really investigate what was going on. But I was patient, until I had my chance. Mama and I had been for a long walk in the park and she opened the back door to get my paw wipes. I jumped in to try to find out what those men had done. Mama yelped and yelped at me. What's wrong with a little detective work? I am sure there's Bloodhound in my ancestry somewhere. They make very good P.I.s. So why did Mama yelp? Very strange....

So after we got into the car after the walk, I decided that I would make my moving den smell good again. Which means, of course, smell like me. So I thought I'd paw at my cushion and ball it up and give it a good hump. We were driving in traffic and Mama was mumbling something about what the lady driving behind us must think. What difference does it make what she thinks? This is perfectly natural behavior! Mama is so weird.

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog 

Health is Wealth - Notes on nutrition

As you may have read on here before, this year is my year for getting healthy. Hence engaging Silent Evil, the Personal Trainer, and Softly Concerned, the Nutritionist.

The first meeting with Softly Concerned went well. She takes the slow but steady approach and doesn't bang a big fat health drum in your face, which is encouraging. Then again, she's no pushover.

We started by discussing the medications and supplements I take every day. I'm not sure she was expecting two bags full of powders and pills. 7 daily medications, which I wont go into, and then the supplements:

• Vitamin C powder
• Probiotic
• Multi-vitamin
• Omega 3 oil
• Vitamin D oil
• Fibre powder
• Fruit powder
• Vegetable powder
• Calcium
• For when I know I am going to have a big meal with lots of meat, a digestive enzyme.

The digestive enzyme made her pause.

"I always suggest to clients that they take a plant based enzyme," she said, squinting at the label. "This one has ox bile and porcine - that's pig - extract in it."

"It has what?!?!?!"

Well those pills were introduced to her trash can then and there.

She asked me questions about any digestive issues, my medical history and my family's medical history. She asked about exercise, and I told her about working out with Silent Evil.

"Do you do any stretching?" she asked.

"We do stretching as part of the routine, and I do yoga at home in front of a DVD. I try to get to the gym to do their yoga classes, but it's hard. They tend to schedule them at Housewife Times."

I laughed. She didn't. She took notes.

Then I had to talk through a typical day... what I have for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was amazing, once I had to think back and actually say it out loud, how inconsistent my daily diet is. I wanted to talk about a perfect day, when I'd have cereal for breakfast, a salad for lunch and something nice like fish for dinner, but with the realities of our lives - business travel, work, social life - there just aren't many days like that.

And so I fessed up to those days when I buy a piece of banana bread with a soy latte for breakfast, eat 5 protein bars because I am too busy to go and get food, reheat bolognaise from the freezer without making any vegetables to go with it, get takeout or eat a pint of Chunky Monkey.

She took copious notes at high speed, making no comment. I felt like a child in front of the school Principal.

She said that it was clear from the description of my diet that I eat too many carbs, and that I probably have a tolerance level which, once exceeded, results in some pretty horrible digestive issues. She also said that I should think more about portion sizes.

"What do you cook as one portion of pasta?" she asked.

"75 grams."

"The right portion size for one person is 56 grams."

My eyes widened in horror.

"Yes," she reaffirmed, "it really is. You have to reverse your thinking - more sauce, less pasta."

"I can eat pasta with nothing on it but some chilli oil and grated cheese!"

She said nothing, taking more notes.

"Do you like tofu?" she asked.

I nodded.

"A great way to prepare tofu is to marinade it in the morning and then cook it on a George Forman grill when you get home."

I liked that idea, and smiled. "That sounds great! So far I only really eat fried tofu, but I can see myself cooking that. At least it's not cold and wet and squisy like the tofu they serve at the salad bar."

"Well," she paused... "some people like that kind of tofu. I do."

And she took more notes.

"You said you made bolognese without making salad," she continued. "What I advise clients to do is a veggie selection. Just put out a tray with some baby carrots, olives, cut raw zucchini... even some canned baby corn."

"Oh, riiiight! Then I can just pick at it as I am cooking the bolognese?"

"Yes," she nodded, "and you can even throw whatever is left into your bolognese sauce if you want to."

"Great idea!"

She smiled, and didn't take any notes. I breathed a soft sigh of relief.

"What I also suggest is an Appetizer," she said, "like half a canteloupe."

"Then you are filling up on the fruit before you even have dinner!" I yelped, anxious now to keep her pen away from her pad at any cost.

"Exactly," she replied.

No notes. Success!

We talked a little more about shopping, what products to buy, what we'd do in the next session. And then I was free to come home and order my grill from Amazon, change my shopping list and eat the last of my protein bars and Chunky Monkey.

This is going to be interesting... next time I'm taking a notepad.

Being a Doggy Mama - 10 things I never knew about dogs

I thought I knew dogs. My dad had a dog, my friends had dogs.... but Puppy Dog is the first dog I've actually been responsible for, and I've learnt a thing or two:

1. Dog poop is something you can actually start to pay too damn much attention to


2. Dogs snore


3. Dogs sniff the butts of their humans


4. Dogs like to come and sniff you when you are sitting on the toilet


5. Dogs vomit. A lot


6. Dogs have crazy energy, then sleep, then have crazy energy again


7. Dogs do not need much variety in their diet


8. Dogs know when you are taking them somewhere they like in the car


9. Dogs talk to us. We just can't understand them


10. Dog farts are the most revolting things imaginable. They bring a whole new meaning to the "silent but violent" fart category.