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.

That's Life - Best and Worst times to fart

Sometimes my mind wanders, and I was was thinking today - when is the absolute best and worst time to fart?

The worst:

• When you're sitting on a man's happy stick in the middle of rumpy pumpy
• When you're having a massage
• In a job interview
• In an elevator, unless it's just before you get off
• When you are in a neighboring stall to a colleague you've just said hello to as you walked into the restroom
• During the first dance at your wedding
• In a sauna
• In a long line for the restroom at a concert
• When you're in Downward Facing Dog in a yoga class
• When you are in a one on one meeting with your boss
• At a meeting with your Nutritionist, because you will then have a ten minute conversation about what exactly in your diet is causing flatulence and you will never, ever be allowed to eat pasta ever again

The best:

• When your husband is drunk and gets into bed with that look on his face
• When you are alone in the car
• In a jacuzzi
• In your husband's closet, and then close the door
• When you are walking by yourself with your dog in the park, far away from anyone
• Just after your husband did - he can't complain then, can he?
• When your silly dog is sniffing your butt

I have to stop and open the front door - I swear to God! - Puppy Dog just got inspired and farted.

Hello from Puppy Dog - The Axis of Evil

Hello Friends,

That George Bush is soooo unoriginal. We dogs have known about the Axis of Evil for yeeeeeears.

Let me break it down for you:

• The key player in the Axis is, of course, the Cats. Everyone knows Cats are evil. You just have to take a look at the Claws of Mass Destruction. I have a scratch on my nose which will never go away, and neither will the memory...


• The Squirrels are the second major player. They blatantly ignore the Fluffly Tail Non-Proliferation Treaty and wave those damn fuzzy things all over the place. They say they are just working on clean acorn energy, but we all know what's really going on.


• Third is The Tennis Balls. They must be chased and caught and chewed to death immediately. All of them. They hide in little sleeper cells under the sofa, the bushes, the coffee table. We have to be ever vigilant.


• Then there are the spiders. Everyone knows spiders must be caught and eaten. Their fundamentalist belief that it's ok to climb up the drainpipe and up the bath plug hole is insidious and, before you know it, there are other spider followers. All trace of them must be erased.

The war against these little terrors must be won.

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hell is other people - And they're everywhere

[To buy the button pictured, click here]

Things irritate me.

When they do, I tend to have a dialogue (OK, OK, a monologue) with the people who cause those things. It's only in my head, of course, but it makes me feel better.

Here's what irritated me today:

• The guy who came up to the roundabout at the same time as me, on the opposite side, and turned left instead of going around it, almost hitting me. It's a roundabout, Asshole - the clue is in the name. You go round it anticlockwise and you give way to the left!


• The person in the Escalade who almost stole my parking outside the Fast Food Joint. Hey! Listen, Asshole. And yes, I know you are an asshole because you own an Escalade. That was my parking! I was sitting here, with my indicator on, waiting for that parking space and you saw me doing it. So nice try on taking to get in there but I guess my little car is more agile than your fucking tank. Tell me, Asshole, did the credit check for that car consist of valuing your bling bling? Does it have a special holder in there for your baseball cap? Did they give you a free velveteen tracksuit when you bought it? Huh? Huh?


• The Receptionist at the Chiropractor who asked me if I had any plans for the weekend. It's five o' clock, Honey, and you've been here since 9am. Have you asked everyone that inane question? Did anyone actually give you an interesting reply? I'd ask what you are doing this weekend but, here's the thing - I don't care.


• The male barista at the coffee bar who sat there reading rather than getting up to ask me what I'd like to drink. Get the fuck up and do your job, Numbnuts. Don't fool yourself that you are above all this because your grungy little music career is "about to take off". You're 29 and you're still here so how about you grab some coffee beans and get grinding.

Hell is other people.

Hello from Puppy Dog - Sick little Puppy Dog

Hello Friends

I have been a bit sick this week. It was horrible.

I tried to spread the load so that Mama wouldn't have to clean up one big mess of it. I did some in the kitchen, some on my cushion in the lounge, some in the dining room, some on my bed in her bedroom and some on the carpet. Mama had to go onto 1-800-PetMeds to get more pet stain spray, so I have stimulated the economy!

Mama took me to some horrible place where there was a lady with metal things in her eyebrow and in her tongue. Why doesn't she just wear a collar like me? Anyway, she was very nice to me and was stroking me but then she stuck something up my butt! I tried to tell her I don't swing that way but she ignored me. She said something to Mama about "another reading" and did it again! She was a total bitch - and not in a good way!

Then another lady came in and she also seemed nice at first but then she started sticking her fingers into my tummy. It hurt! Then she took me away from Mama and made me stand still in front of some stupid machine that buzzed at me. She also stuck something really sharp into me. Another total bitch - and not in a good way!

She put me in a crate and then it got a lot better. I got to watch a cat being cut open! It was great! Cats are totally evil! I was happy to see at least one of them get what they deserve.

Mama came to pick me up and I was so happy to be going home. First she talked to a lady behind the counter. When we left she mumbled something about how many pairs of shoes she could have bought with that $500 but I didn't know what she was talking about. She has lots and lots of shoes - why does she have to buy more?

So we went home and I just didn't feel like eating. I was very tired and slept a lot. Last night I decided maybe I could eat a little bit when Mama made toast with peanut butter. I looooove toooooast. Mama calls it Doggie Dope. She says the only thing better than toast with peanut butter is cooked chicken, which she calls Doggie Crack. I don't know why she calls them those silly names. I just know I like them!

Mama took me out for a very short walk today which was a bit sucky because I love to be out and sniff things and pee on other things. If I pee on something, it's mine. That's how it works. I own a lot of territory around my house.

I still feel a bit tired but I ate my dinner tonight and I do feel better. I got my ball today and brought it to Mama to throw for me and she said that's a sign that I am making a full recovery. She didn't throw it for me though. Sometimes Mama is like those other women, a bit of a bitch - and not in a good way.

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog.

Health is Wealth - Coping with Pain at Personal Training

More PAPT (Pain at Personal Training) today. My personal trainer, Silent Evil, was on form, as always.

I have begun to name elements of training to make them bearable.

1. The Balls of Doom. These are balls, like basketballs, which have weights in them, which I have to carry above my head when doing lunges or squats.
2. The Path of Humiliation. This is a clear walkway in the gym which Silent Evil makes me do lunges, squats or jog along, holding weights which cause various degrees of pain. The path goes between the cardio machines, so I can be pitied by an entire row of people who are thinner and fitter than me.
3. The Bar of Whoosh. This is a bar that gets put at about hip height which I need to lean over and do push ups against. The first five are fine but, after that, I start to pant and force air out of my mouth as I push up, with an audible whoooooooooosh.
4. The Boo Boo Ball. When I was a child, I called any scratch or bump or anything that made me sore a boo boo. This ball is a large ball filled with something that's a cross between polystyrene balls and sand. I have to throw it against the wall about 5 feet above my head then catch it and hold it as I go into a squat. It's very boo boo.
5. The Weights of Ache. These are the heavy weights (about 22 pounds) that I have to hold as I walk or jog along The Path of Humiliation.
6. The Pull up and Pant. This is a machine where I have to pull up from a position where my arms are completely outstretched above my head. By the time I'm past the fourth one, I am panting like Puppy Dog after 20 minutes of chasing tennis balls.
7. The Fountain of Phew! Everytime Silent Evil tells me to take a break and get a drink of water, I hobble over to the fountain as slowly as possible with a gigantic sense of relief. Never has a water fountain seemed so fresh, so restful, so beautiful.
8. The Bastard Bubble of Imbalance. This is a bubble of plastic that has been cut in half that you have to stand on and use your core strength to keep your balance. Silent Evil had me put one foot on it, squat, then jump up and over it so the other foot was on it, and squat on the other side. I just couldn't get it right. I kept trying and trying until I put my foot in the wrong place, twisted my ankle and fell flat on my ass. No - wait - it gets better. As I fell, for some unknown reason, I yelled "Damn!" accross the whole gym, thereby ensuring that absolutely everyone looked up and saw me end up in a sweaty, jumbled clump on the floor.
9. The Frozen Clock. From about ten minutes into the training session, I'm watching the clock. The hands don't move. I swear to God Silent Evil has magic powers and she freezes time.
10. The Mat of Happiness. When the mat comes out, we are close to the end and, even though I have to keep working, at least I get to do it lying down. The mat is too short, my hands slip on it when I am doing Downward Facing Dog and it smells of other people's sweat. I don't care. I frickin' love that mat.

We all have our ways of coping with pain...

I am Woman - Chick Flick Crying Trick II

I forgot to tell you that the perfect sequel to the Chick Flick Crying Trick is the Comedette.

That's a word I just made up. It means a comedy film revolving around women.

You know the kind of thing I mean:

• The Witches of Eastwick
• Death Becomes Her
• The Banger Girls

So I am watching The Women, wondering how a director, screenwriter and editor have managed gather the most amazing female actress ingredients and yet cooked up something so very, very bland, when Bette Midler hits the screen.

And there I am, on the TV. The character she's playing in that moment, is me.

Let me set the scene. Whatsername from When Harry Met Sally... Mey Ryan! Yeah. Well, her character's husband has cheated on her and so she is getting a divorce. She isn't dealing with it well so she goes off to some yoga camp thingy. There are four women and a butchish instructor stretching by the side of the lake, next to wooden canoes. And along comes Bette, in full regalia: jangly jewellery, jumbo purse, velveteen tracksuit. 

Instructor: OK everyone, take a deeeeep, cleansing breath. Look around. Respect the power of nature. This is why you have come to the camp. Let it heeeeeal you.

[...bla bla other stuff you don't need to be bored with...] 

Bette Midler: Hold on, I'm coming! Don't start without me! Oh my God! I'm sorry. I'm just not used to getting up at the crack of friggin' dawn (excuse my French). Is this the time you always start? Because I'm pretty sure the lake will still be here at noon.

Instructor (crossing arms): We always canoe at dawn.

Bette (shrugging): I always fake my orgasms. That doesn't make it right.

Oh yeah, that's me.

As I always say when people talk about camping (after I snort with derision) "No room service - no deal."

And yes, I have seen the beauty of mother nature in the morning... Back in my twenties when we used to go clubbing and stay up all night. 

I am Woman - The Chick Flick Crying Trick

Sometimes, I can feel myself starting to get tired.

It's the mornings and evenings when it really hits. I feel heavy in the mornings, and struggle to get out of bed. Going to work seems like a chore even though, once I am there, I enjoy what I do. Once home from work, I don't have the energy to do anything social and I plonk down in front of TV, generally preferring to watch mind-numbing stuff.

Then something happens to really tip me over the edge. A bad incident at work, a misunderstanding with a friend or, as happened today, Puppy Dog being really sick and having to have a barrage of tests at the vet.

And then the crawling headache starts. It's like a demonic octopus-type creature is sitting in the middle of my back and it starts to stretch out its tentacles, sending an ache creeping between my shoulders, pain into my neck and throbbing across my temples. Finally the creature really takes hold, wrapping itself around my forehead in a tight, tight grip. All this comes with soupcon of sensitivity to bright light and a charming little nausea.

I only get these things about 4 or 5 times a year, but I've got better at spotting the signs early on, and taking a sick day. But lying in bed or on the couch watching daytime TV doesn't cut it.

There are five key elements to the cure:

1. Painkillers (obviously)
2. Couch
3. Very long, very hot shower
4. Lots of cups of tea
5. The Chick Flick

The Chick Flick (today it was Nights in Rodanthe) is not there to renew my faith in true love of the bonds of family. It is not there to make me feel empowered as a woman. It isn't even there to give me a chance to perv at the male lead.

It's there to make me cry.

There was a bit of a hitch today when a friend came to check on me in the middle of it, but luckily he arrived before the shower, the faded PJs and food-stained dressing gown, the red nose and bloodshot eyes and the clumps of soggy bits of kitchen roll. (I don't know why, but I never buy boxes of tissues.)

I think I need to have the catharsis of achieving suspension of disbelief and of having a good old wail at the trails and tribulations of others. Because, let's face it, my life is pretty good, and there is nothing in it that would make me actually want to turn on the waterworks. So I let actors, screenwriters and directors show me a situation that does warrant the boo-hoo-hoos, and I go at it.

Now, please note: the Chick Flick for the Crying Trick needs to be chosen carefully. It has to be well acted, and have a decent story. It has to be something I can relate to - where I could see myself in the shoes of the protagonist. And it has to be sad, but not too sad.

Terminally ill child? Too depressing. Gritty documentary about set somewhere hot and sticky? Too messy. Feelgood movie about a handicapped person overcoming adversity? Too corny. Death of a faithful dog? I want to cry, not kill myself. Old Yeller is out. Irritating overplayed-heartstring-tugger starring Tom Hanks? Puh-leeeeeez.

Here are some of the best examples of Chick Flicks for the Crying Trick:

• Terms of Endearment
• Fried Green Tomatoes
• The Notebook
• Beaches
• Thelma and Louise
• Steel Magnolias
• Postcards from the Edge
• Sophie's Choice
• The Hours

And here are some others that aren't chick flicks, but will do the trick:

• Away from Her
• In the Bedroom

Gay flicks that will do the trick:

• Longtime Companion
• Torch Song Trilogy
• Brokeback Mountain

Chick flicks I haven't seen held in reserve:

• Kramer vs. Kramer
• Coalminer's Daughter

I heartily recommend the Chick Flick Crying Trick... I already feel so much better.

That's Life - Credit card fraud

At 23:49 on the eve of the President's Day federal holiday, some schmuck tried to buy specialist engineering software that costs over $600 with my credit card.

Luckily, the company that provides the software found it strange that someone would order two copies of software that you download, and decided to call me to make sure I'd put my order in right.

Strangely, I don't need software that has something to do with installing or designing or doing something or other with windows. Not the Microsoft kind of windows.... real windows.

My husband, Fluffy Bear, said that they probably trying to test my credit card details and my credit limit ($1200 is pretty damn good test) before heading off to Walmart or Costco or the Big Noisy Truck That Comes With Mag Wheels And Its Own Shotgun company.

I called my bank, of course, but, it being a federal holiday, there wasn't anything they could do till the following day. I am sure it's no coincidence that this happened on a day the banks are closed.

Other than call the bank, what can I do?

The Police can't help me. I reported the incident to IC3, the government online fraud site, as well as to the people that provided the email address that the Fraudulent Bastard used. Those people - a big online email provider, emailed me back today and said that the email address used is often some poor hapless goon who has nothing at all to do with the transaction and that I shouldn't bother them again unless I had a Court Order. Makes sense, if you think about it.

And so I have decided I should curse the Fraudulent Bastard.

I know nothing about voodoo or Wicca, but instinct tells me this will be a lot more effective if you all help me out. So I would be eternally grateful if you would read the curse aloud when you read this blog, so that we can all send the energy of justice through the Universe to bring the Fraudulent Bastard down once and for all.

Here we go:

Fraudulent Bastard who used ittybittycrazy's card! May your hair always frizz, whatever the weather. May your cable go out for no reason at random times. May your food taste of sand from the dryest dessert. May alcohol have no effect on you. May stranger's dogs pee on your leg. May your car break down and your tyres go flat. May your ball hairs curl up and grow inward. May your ears be damned by a high pitched ring. May your teeth go black and your tongue be always dry. May you gain weight and never see your penis again. May you prematurely ejaculate whenever aroused. May your nose hair grow and your ear hair flourish. May your butt fart audibly, with no warning, in public. May your legs buckle under you when you're carrying hot coffee. May your toothbrush be infested with vicious bacteria. May your nose always run and your lips be ever chapped. May your underwear chafe and your shoes pinch your toes. May your bowels stop their work and leave you ever constipated. May your mouth utter spontaneous obscenities when your mother in law is present. May your dog's poop be mushy, and your cat's pee smell rank. May your eyesight grow dim and your hearing grow faint. May your breath smell of death and your earwax be ever visible. May your jokes be inappropriate and your conversation boring. May everything you touch turn to shit.

I am Woman - The glass ceiling shimmers brightly still

Today I was in a casual conversation with two male colleagues, one considerably older the other.

Man 1 - let's call him Hottie, because he is - told a story about some ridiculously athletic and energetic vacation activity. I began to tell the story of something related to that when Man 2 - let's call him Old Fart, because he is - interrupted me.

I got so mad I didn't say anything for the rest of the conversation, and just started to watch what was happening.

Hottie made eye contact with me and made reference to me when he spoke. Old Fart did the opposite. After the interruption, he did not glance my way at all for the rest of the ten or so minutes we were together.

Men interrupt women more than the other way round in mixed-sex conversations. Women ask almost three times as many questions in mixed-sex conversations as men. If a man and a women are talking, men talk longer than women.

Think I am spouting a bunch of crap? Sorry ol' chum, there's research to back me up:

http://www.mentalhelp.net/poc/view_doc.php?type=doc&id=286

 

Zimmerman & West (1975) and West & Fenstermaker (1993) investigated mixed-gender conversations and linguistic inequality in gender-specific styles. Thirty-one conversations were taped in public places such as libraries, coffee shops, drug stores and the University of California. The data were composed of eleven mixed-gender conversations, ten male-only and ten female-only conversations.

The findings indicated significant differences between same-gender pairs and mixed-gender pairs regarding the use of overlaps and interruptions.

Overlaps were defined as an act of anticipating the end of a sentence spoken by an interlocutor while articulating it with a topic-related response. An interruption, on the other hand, was considered as a violation of turn-taking rules whereby topical disarticulation is flagrant.

Results showed that all the overlaps were caused by male speakers and that 96% of the interruptions resulted from men interrupting women. Interestingly, men rarely interrupted each other, primarily using interruptions when speaking to women. Women used fewer overlaps with men than with women due to the fact that men tended to perceive overlaps as interruptions: "Male interruptions of women bring less social punishment than female interruptions of men" (Steinem, 1991).

Zimmerman & West (1975) and West & Fenstermaker (1993) observed that in mixed-gender conversations men tended to infringe on women's right to speak. As a result of male interruptions, the same study indicated that women tended to be more silent than men. Silence periods in single-gender pairs averaged 1.35 seconds, while they averaged 3.21 seconds in mixed-gender groups. Interestingly, the illocutionary act of silence was also defined as clearly gender-specific.

Females have been observed to fall silent after male interruptions, indicating their powerlessness, while males primarily used silence preceding minimal responses such as yeah, indicating, according to Zimmerman & West (1975) and West & Fenstermaker (1993), a lack of interest in the interlocutor's topic, denying women the right to control the topic of conversation.

West (1984) has shown that male interruptions apply even when females have a higher social status. Her study was conducted among male and female doctors interacting with patients: "Whereas male physicians (as a group) initiated 67% of all interruptions relative to their patients' 33%, female physicians (as a group) initiated only 32% of interruptions relative to their patients' 68%" (West, 1984, p. 92)

I heard of one writer who theorized that an organization was a collection of conversations. If women are constantly interrupted and subordinated in conversation, what chance do we have within the organization? The Glass Ceiling isn't just salaries and bonuses, it's not making ourselves heard every day, in all those little conversations, discussions, meetings.

Unfortunately for me I did a little side course in Women's Studies led by an ardent feminist back when I was at university, and it opened my eyes to things which, were I still in blissful ignorance, probably wouldn't bother me.

So, not only did I let Old Fart interrupt me, and then fall silent like a willing subordinate, but I knew I was doing it.

WTF?!?!?!?

I am going to go to my room and flagellate myself now.

Being a Doggy Mama - Puppy Dog is sick

Puppy Dog is sick, and I don't know what to do.

I brought him home from Doggy Day Care (you may laugh, but once a week he goes somewhere and runs around for 8 hours and then is complete peaceful bliss that night) and they told me he threw up.

I gave him a dog biscuit in the car and he threw it up.

I had to go and get tortured for an hour by Silent Evil, my personal trainer, so I had to leave him alone.

And when I got home there was vomit next to his bed and by the back door - he's a considerate puppy - he tried to go outside to do it.

Now he wont eat or drink any water.

And the internet really doesn't help in these situations. You start to read some guidance about what to do when your dog vomits and it all seems really helpful and nice until you get to the part where they say "vomiting could also be a sign of a more serious condition".... and then you're fucked if you read any further.

So now I am sitting here wondering which of these will lead to his imminent death:

• Stomach cancer


• Obstruction in the intestine (which is killing the tissue around it)


• Worms


• Parasites


• Poisoning


• Infectious disease


• Hepatitis (leading to liver inflammation)


• Kidney failure


• Pancreatitis (inflammation of the pancreas)


• Inflammatory bowel disease


• Intestinal cancer


• Hiatal hernia (part stomach herniating through the diaphragm)


• Hormonal deficiency


• Gastritis


• Stomach ulcer


• Infection of the uterus

OK we can rule out that last one - Puppy Dog is a boy.

Did I tempt fate by imagining a Death Poem for Puppy Dog?

Am I being punished?

Should I return to my Catholic roots and pray?

Will God even remember me?

If God remembers me, will he listen?

After all, I said some pretty shitty things to Him back in high school before I started ignoring Him altogether. And I was really mean to his envoy, our priest, behind his back. And I sat at the back of the church and didn't listen or sing. And I only went up to get communion for the gulp of wine...

Maybe I should pray, anyway.

Or maybe I should wait till I see the vet tomorrow morning.

It's gonna be a long night.