Quote Unquote - Cream

"We don't want cream on top of manure. We want cream on
top of apple pie."

Trainer in online Project Management workshop.

Health is Wealth - More Silent Evil

Finally!

A work out where I didn't feel like my muscles were made of a combination of pain and jello!

I felt good today! I still sweated and panted and made the odd "Oooooof!" but, in general, I felt OK.

And it was surprising because I very inadvisedly went to a Striptease Dance Class last night.

Like all dance class instructors, ours - let's call her Sexy Lady - demonstrated moves only once or twice, then ran through them with us at a reasonable pace another two times and then put on music with a beat so fast we had to stumble through the steps without feeling the fun of the dance.

Eventually, I think Sexy Lady got the hint that we weren't keeping up and put on songs with a slower BPM and we were able to bump and grind like supersluts.

I learnt fun things like the Kitty Kat - stand with one foot in front of the other, hip distance apart, straight legs and walk your hands down your front leg, bending over as you do, butt out like a watermelon on sale.

Lots of sexy squats, rolling the hips in circles, rolling your back and sticking "the girls" out, as Sexy Lady called them.

I woke up this morning with an aching arse and throbbing thighs. My knees were both scraped from crawling along the floor - good morning Neosporin cream!

So, you understand when I say that I really expected not to survive training tonight. In the car on the way home, I had a solo little brainstorm session of excuses I could use to make Fluffy Bear go on his own.

And then I had a great workout!

How fracked up is that?

I might - might - have actually enjoyed it.

Once we got to the mats at the end, Fluffy Bear was telling Silent Evil about how I was crying in pain after the class last night. When he picked me up, I made little whimpering noises when I got into the car.

"Was it a hard class, Honey?" he asked.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"Those girls seem to be OK," he said, pointing to two pretty young things who were in the class with me emerging from the gym.

"Frack them!"

"Look, Honey," he pointed, "they're jogging home!"

"Run them over! Run them over!"

Silent Evil smiled softly as we told her this story. She looked at me while Fluffy Bear's head was turned while he was stretching.

"You know what we call girls like that?" she asked.

"No, what?"

"Dirty Bitches!"

She's Evil, but it's my kinda evil.....

Stuff Female People Like - No. 8: Pretending to be a Slut

This series is inspired by the blog/book Stuff White People Like.

8. Pretending to be a Slut

Female People don't want to be sluts. It's messy, dangerous and has psychological and physical consequences.

But Female People like to play at being sluts.

The Lingerie Stash

Female People often have substantial lingerie stashes, hidden away in a drawer somewhere, in a suitcase in the attic, in one of their shoeboxes - a big one, from when they bought a pair of boots.

The Female Person may wear the silky stuff under conservative workwear. Or, she may never wear them - that's not the point.

Buying the lingerie is a ceremony of potential. The potential to unleash her Inner Slut.

Sex Toy Parties

The naughty version of a Tupperware party, these events are ribald and hilarious and restricted to Female People only. Pearl strings, little weighted balls, vibrating fake phalluses presented by the party hostess all deliver tillitation and peals of laughter.

Again, the item purchased may or may not be used. Again, it's about the potential to unleash her Inner Slut.

Stripper or Pole Dancing Classes

Jiggling her jugs, wriggling her hips and shaking her booty, the Female Person indulges in an hour of fun and fantasy which has an added bonus of being healthy for her.

Spouses may get a rendition of what's learned in class if they dutifully take out the trash and change that blown lightbulb.
Or perhaps no-one will ever see the fruits of her sweaty labors. Say it with me now... it's about the potential to unleash the Inner Slut.

The key is the fantasy. The possibility of letting loose, indulging, living with total abandon. To let go of Mother, Executive, Friend, Sister, Daughter, Role Model, Confidant and just unleash her Tigress sexuality for all to see.

Hell is other people - Get outta my personal space

Want the button pictured? Get in here.

So you get to the dance class last.

You're late.

We're all in there, standing in nice rows. There's a space at the front (there always is).

So why do you make your own special row by standing in front of me?

And why do you do your dance moves in such a way that you slowly shove me further and further back and to the side until, eventually, when I do the sequence of two steps to the left I end up hitting the Spin bikes?

Why?

Are you a moron?

Are you pathalogically selfish?

Are you devoid of periferal vision?

Are you completely oblivious to anyone around you?

And, just by the way, you dance like an elephant on acid.

Hell is other people.

That's Life - Temporary IQ Lapse

A few years ago, in a land far away, we had an early version of an On-Demand movie system. The films started at certain times, like an hour apart.

I went in and pressed all the buttons to get Donnie Darko, entered our pin and hit the button for the movie.
Except I chose one that had already started.

So we saw Donnie Darko from half way through.

Temporary IQ Lapse.

Fluffy Bear was very patient and understanding about my mistake - probably because I tore a hole in the fabric of space and time screaming my frustration after I called the cable company and they politely told me to shove it.

I thought of this because I heard the sequel is coming out.

I guess I have to go to the video store and find the first one on DVD.

Being a Doggy Mama - Dog is love

I guess having a dog is kindov like having a kid. You relate to other people who also have them, and automatically trade stories.

I had a massage the other day and started by asking the therapist to concentrate on my neck because Puppy Dog had pulled me over a few weeks ago.

So she asked what dog we have and told me that she and her husband had a Golden Retriever Puppy. She already had a lot of naughty puppy stories.

Never mind the housetraining - the little critter had found a box of surgical gloves - I have no idea why they have those at their house - took them out through the doggie door and spread them all over the yard. She said it looked like little beige alien corpses after a civil war.

He'd also got up onto the kitchen counters and carpeted the whole house with paper napkins.

Maybe they helped out with the housetraining accidents...

Ah, Dog is love.

Dog will be dogs - What's in a name?

I can't find it online, but I once saw a Gary Larson cartoon about the names we give dogs vs. the names we give themselves. Which got me thinking about what Puppy Dog would call himself:

• King Chaser, Catcher and Chewer of Tennis Balls


• Lord Barker, Defender of the Den


• Master Marker, Lord of Treetrunks, Bushes and Shrubs


• Duke of Doggy Day Care, of Bouncing Endless Play


• Squire Squirrel Slayer, Detester of Fluffy Tails


• Super Dooper Sniffer Critter Tracker

Please comment and suggest more...

Stuff Female People Like - No. 7: Gay Men

This series is inspired by the blog/book Stuff White People Like.

7. Gay Men

Female People love gay men.
Of course, there are Female People who are homophobic, but I choose to ignore them because, let's face it, no-one should give those idiots any airtime. So... moving on.
Female People love gay men for various reasons.

Gay men are pretty, clean and nice
Female People love skin pampered by good products, hair styled and blow dried, nails freshly manicured, bodies hairless, fit, clean and softly scented.
Yes, I am generalizing. Get over it.
Gay men are well groomed, and female people love it.
Of course, part of it is simply the fake mystique of restricted exposure. By definition, the gay man is only part of a Female Person's life. She sees him when they are out on the town. She does not smell his farts or have to go to the toilet after him or step over the clothes he has left on the floor.
He is the nice, clean man she goes out and has fun with. And - mmmmmm - he smells good.

Gay men dance
Dancing is very important to Female People - see explanation here.
When your hetero hubby refuses to humiliate himself once again with the side to side shuffle, a gay man can be relied upon to accompany you to the dance floor. The trade off the Female Person has to accept, of course, is that the gay man invariably dance better than she does, but it's a small price to pay.

Gay men are fecking hilarious
Perhaps it's because, in overcome huge obstacles to come out and live in a hetero world, they have to learn to laugh at life. Perhaps it's genetic, like some believe of gayness itself. Perhaps it's a cultural thing, a "way we do things" which all gay mean learn as theyenter the social circles of their own kind.
Whatever it is, the gay male sense of humor is legendary. Whole sitcoms have revolved around it, dinner parties are rescued by it, careers are made on it. (If you don't know Stephen Fry, find him on Twitter and enjoy.)
The sense of humor is not just funny, it's bitchy, a heady cocktail of eagle-eyed observation, witty turn of phrase and a surgical precision in cutting to the core.
The best examples are Stewie Griffin from Family Guy, Jack from Will and Grace and Stephen Fry from anything he's been in.
Some gems from Mr Fry:

"An original idea. That can't be too hard. The library must be full of them."
"Christmas to a child is the first terrible proof that to travel hopefully is better than to arrive."
"I don't need you to remind me of my age. I have a bladder to do that for me."
"When you've seen a nude infant doing a backward somersault you know why clothing exists."

Gay men make women feel good
There is a scene - I can't remember which movie or TV show it's in - where three gay men are out with a Female Person who needs some cheering up. They do rock, paper scissors to choose who is going to go up to her and bolster her self-esteem. The loser goes up to the Female Person and tells her how wonderful she looks.
Fake or not - it doesn't matter. The validation from gay men is vital to Female People. They notice when you have your hair cut, when you're wearing a new dress, when you're trying out a new color on your pedicure.
Sadly, these are things the Female Person's hetero hubby often doesn't pick up on, so hanging out with her gay friend is a wonderful self-esteem boost.

The gay man is unavailable
Being unavailable makes the gay man non-threatening. He is the adult version of the teenage pop idol - stimulating but safe because it will never actually turn into sex.
In fact, it's better than the teenage pop idol because you can actually touch the gay man. Stroking" - non-sexual touching - is an important part of happiness. Like dogs, we need petting too. The Female Person can get hugs, hold hands, get shoulder massages from a gay man.
But - and this is crucial - it's not sexual. It can be stimulating, but it never gets near fourth base. The Female Person can go out with the gay friend for dinner and not be worried that she'll have to "pay" with a BJ. She can even get kisses, experience a little quiver but not have to deliver.
It's the perfect combination - stroking and stimulation without any messy penetration.

Every Female Person should have her Gay Boyfriend. It's a heavenly match.

Quote Unquote - Flushing meds

I told Bill the story of Puppy Dog being high while we were on vacation because I gave him a Vicadin by mistake. I told him all about calling the Vet and how Puppy Dog was totally manic and running up and down the hills and how worried I'd been and he said:

"You wasted a Vicadin on the dog?!?!?"

Being a Doggy Mama - Puppy Dog and Uncle Bill

I told Bill the story of Puppy Dog being high while we were on vacation because I gave him a Vicadin by mistake. I told him all about calling the Vet and how Puppy Dog was totally manic and running up and down the hills and how worried I'd been and he said:

"You wasted a Vicadin on the dog?!?!?"

Health is Wealth - Thinning out Fattie Boom Boom

Explanation of Fattie Boom Boom is here.

To see more work by the artist who did this picture, click here.

Back to see Softly Concerned, our Nutritionist. I first posted about her here.

Since my first meeting with her, Fluffy Bear has been to see her, we have filled out three pages of diet diary and I've had an allergy test, learning I am "highly reactive" to eggs. [Read my rant about this here.]

And so, we were back again. We crammed into her improbably small couch (designed to make you realize you're fat?) and she, having disturbingly found lime green Merrells which matched her lime green accented track suit, hauled out our files.

Alert: Digression in progress.

I now own a pair of Merrells, having sworn I'd never buy that sort of thing. I am still valiantly resisting owning anything by North Face or stepping foot into REI. As God is my witness, I will NEVER go camping. The Merrells seem to have wormed their way into my life along with our dog and an SUV. However, my rule is that walking shoes are like SUVs - if they aren't covered in mud, you shouldn't be in them. They are NOT a fashion item. Pristine Merrells with a pristine tracksuit annoys the living shit out of me.

She talked through our diet diaries and we discovered:

• We don't eat enough protein


• Buying that little snack (lemon cake, bran muffin, banana bread) to go with your overpriced coffee is lethal


• When Fluffy Bear is away he eats badly at restaurants - Salmon sushi has a horrifyingly amazing amount of calories


• When Fluffy Bear is away I eat badly at home - four soy lattes, five protein bars and cereal do not, apparently, a healthy diet make


• My eatathon and intense cupcake cravings could be because we are now working out twice a week with Silent Evil

"When you exercise, you burn sugars and carbs first," explained Softly Concerned, "so that's why you've wanted cupcakes. Think about when you are in the hospital for major surgery. They don't wait until you are crying out in pain, because giving you drugs then will take time to get into your system to help you. No. They give you a painkiller every 4 hours. You need to do the same with carbs. Get ahead of the cravings. Have rice pasta, have healthy bread. Make sure there are carbs in your general diet. Don't wait till you find yourself driving out to Dunkin' Donuts."

Damn, no more pints of Chunky Monkey with pregnancy-type cravings as an excuse.

"Now, about the eggs..." she began.

I pulled a pouty face. "I love eggs!" I whined. "But I have to admit, the week I had fried eggs for breakfast on Sunday and two egg salad sandwiches in the week, I felt tired all the time."

"That could be an effect," she said, and went on to tell me that I had to cut out eggs for two weeks and then come and see her. Then she was going to explain a structured way that we would re-introduce them and record what happened.

"Does that mean nothing with eggs in it? No cakes, no pancakes?" I kept whining.

"No, just cut out actual eggs," she soothed.

Alert: Digression in progress

It doesn't sound so bad until you are on vacation and you stop at a diner for breakfast. Have you ever noticed how the menus are all about eggs? I ended up choosing a waffle that was covered in some disgusting sloppy preserved strawberries (I thought they'd be fresh - silly me!) and watched Fluffy Bear scoff corned beef hash with two fried eggs. Torture.

Next, we talked about alternative cereals. Quinoa, Barley, Buckwheat. Softly Concerned had a file with a page on each and a packet showing what they looked like in dry form. Fluffy Bear tried the "takes too long" defense but each page had data including cooking times and we lost that argument right speedily. And so, back to oats for breakfast sometimes, with berries or honey or Agave syrup. After seeing her we went to the deli counter and bought some Tabouleh, which was surprisingly good.

Seeing Softly Concerned is kinda like going to see your mother, resisting all the advice she gives you, going back out into the world and finding she is right about everything and being really annoyed by that fact.

And so....

We need to eat more shellfish rather than red meat.

We need to balance protein and carb during the course of every day.

We need to look up some recipes and get out of the habit of always buying the same shopping and cooking the same things.

Sigh. We've both put on weight so we better make the effort...

Being a Doggy Mama - Oopsie!

We just went on vacation!

It was to a fantastic place with vines and hills and Puppy Dog was allowed to run around off the leash.

He made friends with the hotel dog - she was a lab too - and they swam in the pond and pooped between the trees and ran between the scrub bushes and there were smells and hills and a river and sun and Puppy dog ran and ran and ran and ran and never seemed to get tired.

Then... 

"Why is my Vicadin out here?" Fluffy Bear said.

"What Vicadin?" I asked.

"The Vicadin from my dentist appointment," he said.

"Oooooh shit! I thought that was Puppy Dog's anti-inflammatory medicine! I gave him one!"

Then there was a lot of running around to find my cell phone. 

"He'll be OK with just one dose," the Veterinary Nurse said. "You should try to keep him still because the Vicadin will make him not feel the pain of his leg injury and he might make it worse."

"Um... he's been running around like a manic demon, up and down the hills."

"Yeah, you may wanna try to restrict that. It will take ten to twelve hours to work through his system and he might be a bit.... frisky till then..."

"You mean he's high as a kite," she said.

"Well... yes."

It was probably the best day he'd ever had...

He said She said - Park lark

They drove along the edge of the park.

"Nice camera," she said, noticing a woman emerging from between the trees with two massive Nikon's around her neck.

"Hmm," he said. "A woman comes out of the bushes with two people following her, rearranging their clothes. They've been taking naughy photos!"

"Really?" she squealed, flipping her head 180 degrees Regan-style to peer out the rear window.

"No," he said. "I'm just adding a narrative to life to make life more interesting."

To read more in this series, click here.

Hello from Puppy Dog - All tied up

Hello Friends!

This weekend, we went for a walk in a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig park. There was Mama, Dada, Dogette and Uncle Bill.

We got to a big clearing and I was on my extendable leash. Mama was holding it. I ran around Dada and wound my leash around him.

Mama sometimes gets tired of pulling my leash and making me go back the way I came, so she walked around Dada to try to unwind it.

I thought it was fun so I kept running around Dada.

Mama ran around and I ran around and and Mama ran around and I ran around and Mama ran around and I ran around and Dada stood in the middle and the leash kept winding around his legs and then he started to laugh.

It was a good game!

But Mama wasn't laughing.

She can be a bit uptight sometimes.

Anyway, I had a great time!

Lots of love and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Couch potato - WTF?

We just watched an episode of House, starring the wonderful Hugh Laurie, a Brit.

In the episode a character, Kutner, dies.

The story goes on, the team heals someone, bla bla bla.

The final scene is poignant, portraying Kutner's funeral.

Then the credits rolled.

And then comes this voice that says something like "If you'd like to share your thoughts about Dr Kutner's death, go to our memorial site at http://www.fox.com/kutner/".

Um... HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

He's a character! He isn't real!

I just went to the website. There's a memorial video!!!!

WTF?

Being a Doggy Mama - Arse grass

Fluffy Bear told me a great story today while we walked Puppy Dog.

I knew something good was coming as soon as he opened his mouth because he started speaking in our U-O-me tone.

After many years of marriage we have certain little foibles which pepper our lives, and one of them is a tone of indignation used to describe carrying out a task we both do - like taking out the trash - which, for some reason, we did alone that specific day and happened to be particularly unpleasant. It's a tone that says "I had to do this and it totally sucked and you fecking owe me."

Fluffy Bear had taken Puppy Dog to the park. As he often does when he's out for a walk, Puppy Dog did a poo. This isn't usually an issue - a quick pickup in the plastic bag and head for the nearest trash can.

But Fluffy Bear and Puppy Dog got stuck in a strange check-mate dance.

You see, Puppy Dog had been eating grass. And now it was time for the grass to come out. And it did, except not all the way.

So there was Puppy Dog with a long, poo-encrusted piece of grass hanging from his little pink poo-chute. He could feel something there, so he kept crouching. Fluffy Bear could see the stubborn piece of excrement hanging there and, hand in poo bag, tried to grab it from Puppy Dog's butt. But Puppy Dog doesn't like you looking at him when he poos, let alone touching him. So this is how it went.

• Poo-grass flaps


• Fluffy Bear reaches for it


• Puppy Dog takes two steps forward to avoid the plastic bag-clad hand and crouches again, trying to get the poo out


• Poo-grass flaps


• Fluffy Bear reaches for it


• Puppy Dog takes two steps forward to avoid the plastic bag-clad hand and crouches, again....

As Fluffy Bear told this story, his U-O-me tone was overtaken by the high voice of indignation. The more I laughed, the higher he squeaked.

In front of us, oblivious, Puppy Dog darted back and forth on his extendable leash, sniffing things.

Stuff Female People Like - Feedback

I spoke to my friend Flyboy today, who disagreed with my opinion in a previous post that men display physical strength, financial security and business power because they are trying to attract Female People to carry their seed.

He said it wasn't about breeding.

He said he didn't want kids, and a lot of his friends felt the same.

He said it was about marking.

He then hopped around on one leg, lifting his other leg against the wall, the desk, the chair, each time saying "Mine! Mine! Mine!"

I laughed till my sides hurt.

Stuff Female People Like - No. 6: Dancing

This series is inspired by the blog/book Stuff White People Like.

6. Dancing

Female People like to dance. When they are past the constant embarassment and self-consciousness of teenagedom, and haven't yet reached the arthritic immobility of old age, they dance whenever they can.

The best years are at college/university, when the yoke of the family home has been shed, the personality, entrenched at High School, has been reinvented, deep bonds are formed with other Female People, alcohol is discovered, music takes on iconic associations with memorable events, admiring Male People are prolific and the Female Person is free to dance, dance, dance!

Here dancing is:

• A sexual display to attract Male People


• A fun and bonding activity with other Female People.

It can be one or the other, or both. Sometimes it can look like the first thing but actually be the second.

Back in University we'd dance together and, if someone got broken off from the main herd by a randy young guy, we'd reach over, grab her hand, pull her into the middle of the circle and close ranks. Yes, we were uppity little bitches.

As the years progress and life is more settled, the Female Person maximizes the dancing opportunity at weddings and New Year's Eve parties. Witness the hapless Male Person, often not as fond of dancing as his partner, dragged unwillingly out in public to step-together-step-apart watching his Female Person twirl around him.

Here, dancing is:

• A recapturing of youth


• The product of excessive alcohol consumption.

Some Female People manage to bribe their partners into dance classes - Salsa being the lastest fashion just before we left London - where they can jiggle their hips while their partners are counting silently and sweating profusely.

Here, dancing is:

• Just good fun


• A creative form of exercise


• Quality time spent with her Male Person.

When privacy allows, alone in her living room, the Female Person can put something she loves on her iPod and flail her arms, shake her booty and jiggle her patootie. This phenomenon is ably portrayed by the female characters in Grey's Anatomy.

Here, dancing is:

• Destressing, a release


• Freedom, a catharsis.

And so, you see, dancing is so much more than a co-ordinated (or unco-ordinated) movement of the limbs. It's many things to the Female Person. It's her youth, her freedom, her sexuality, her meditation, her expression of joy.

And so the Female Person, even if it's just in aerobics class, dances on.

Couch Potato - Don't take it to ruin it

A few years ago the BBC made an amazing show called Life on Mars, where Sam Tyler, a present day Police detective, has a car accident and ends up in a coma in 2006, but somehow finds himself working in the local Police Dept back in 1973. He has all his memories of his previous life and doesn't understand what has happened to him. Has he beamed back in time? Is it all in his head?

Through the series, he has to actually be a cop and solve crimes but, at the same time, strange things happen like people talking to him in his 2006 hospital room coming through on his 1973 TV.

The cops in 1973 are sexist bastards, have no computers, beat confessions out of people and don't have to talk to Internal Affairs every time they discharged their guns.

The crotchety Police Chief, Gene Hunt, has some pricesless lines:

"She's as nervous as a very small nun at a penguin shoot"
"faker than a trannys fanny"
"He has more fingers in pies than a leper on a cookery course"
"This case is moving about as fast as a bunch of spastics in a magnet factory"
"Beer O'Clock!"
"Don't move you're surrounded by armed b*****ds"
"The evidence is about as hard as Liberace's d**k staring at a naked woman"
"I'm not a religious man Mr Warren - but isn't there something in the Bible that says, thou shalt not suck off rent boys?"
"Couldn't catch the clap in a French brothel"

It is an excellent series.

In the end, Sam falls in love with a female police woman, starts to enjoy life in 1973. When he finally comes out of his coma and returns to 2006, he finds himself in Police strategy reviews and other modern Police force corporate BS. He misses his friends, his girlfriend, his team in 1973. If you have been on his journey with him, you understand his dilemma. Sam chooses to go back and jumps off a roof. In committing suicide, he returns to this 1973 life.

It's very poignant.

US TV (ABC channel) bought the series.

We started watching it here but didn't like Harvey Keitel as the grouchy old Police Chief. He's too old for the role and the guy who plays the Chief in the series "Life" would have been perfect.

We did like that they seemed to be pretty faithful to the original script except, of course, for placing the series in New York. They also replaced a London bartender, a character who helps Sam Tyler, with a hippie dippie girl who lives in his building, which was a great way to translate a character that would be open-minded enough to understand Sam's dilemma.

We finally missed so many episodes that we stopped watching... until Fluffy Bear's friends told them how they chose to end the series in the US.

We just watched the last episode this evening.

The only thing I can imagine is that, because the series got cancelled, the writing staff sat down, smoked copious amounts of marijuana and brainstormed the most ridiculous ending they could.

The espisode starts with Sam's younger self getting abducted by his father from where he lives with his mother. Sam solves the case, saves his younger self, bla bla bla. Then he comes out of the coma. But he doesn't come back to 2008.

Nope.

Indulge me while I digress. Presumably, the show was called Life on Mars because it was a famous Bowie song in the 70s and because of the words of the chorus:

Sailors Fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man!
Wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?

But I guess the writers' drug-induced brainstorming session took them in a more literal direction.

This is how the series ends:

Sam Tyler wakes up in an astronaut pod and he is on a mission to Mars. He has been asleep for over two years and a computer had him in a simulated dream, which he chose, where he was a cop in 2008. There was a glitch and somehow he ended up a cop in 1973 but with memories of his chosen dream of a life in 2008.

 

WTF?

Time to name and shame.

This episode was written by Scott Rosenberg, who should either flaggelate himself repeatedly while hanging his head in shame or go immediately into rehab without passing Begin and without collecting $200 - whatever will solve his very, very serious problem.

Being a Doggy Mama - Roboto doggo

Yesterday, Fluffy Bear, Bill and I took the dogs for a walk then had lunch.

Many other people were out doing the same thing. As we were walking back to our cars, we saw a couple with a black Labrador puppy.

I guess you know by now that Puppy Dog is a Chocolate Lab. We got him when he was a teenager so we never had the chance to see what he was like when he was all cute and small and warm and cuddly. I often express my regret about this, and Fluffy Bear and Bill have heard me go on about it on various occasions.

I've mentioned Bill before, but to set the scene, there's something you need to know about him. He takes deadpan, straight faced, dry wit to new heights (or lows?). Think Dr Cox from Scrubs, but deathly calm.

"Imagine in the future, when you have nanotech robot dogs," I mused, looking at the black Lab puppy. "There could be a button. You could press it and your dog could morph back into his puppy state, and he'd be all soft and furry and warm and cuddly and you could play with him and squeeze him and carry him around and have him chew your ears and then, when you were sick of him peeing all over the house you could press the button again and - whoosh! - back to being an adult dog, house trained, calmer, curled up in front of the fire."

"I can see you've put a lot of thought into that," sneered Bill.

Fluffy Bear thought it was hilarious.

I still want my nanotech dog.