Why a dog would bite it's owner - the udder reasons

I'm an animal lover... animal cruelty is just not cool. The experiments pictured below cross a certain line. Why would I show you such things? Because you have a RIGHT TO KNOW. For the sake of animals everywhere, lets stand together on these issues.

WARNING: The pictures below may offend sensitive viewers

Pictures first is Supadog. While yes, at least he doesn't have that awful curl of Clark's, he could use a little melanin! Sweet Powder!

I guess if you've got superdog you'll need to also have spiderdog

Next I'd like to introduce the definitive reason why radiation isn't cool....

But wait, that's not all.

Can you see how embarrassed he looks?

This next one is probably the worst. Oh the humilation of Yodadog

Now of course, we'd never ever dream of being so cruel to our own pets. Ok, at least not without a very good reason. There is a very good reason for Zorro Zac pictured below. The permanent marker eye mask lasted a hell of a lot longer than the black plastic cape!

Before you get all iffy on me, we also had to dress up! (As a cartoon hero who shared the first letter of your name). Yup, I am cow... that's me with my own clark kent (complete with la curl)

Upsetting the apple cart

A friend sent me this and I thought it was worth sharing:

Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right person to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now Men.... Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the hell out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with :0)

The greatest cover up of all time...

...Guys totally get girls.
(And you thought I'd be talking about the fake moon landing!)

You get all these emails about what women really mean when they say "they're fine" and all these books into understanding women. And of course the FAQ "What do women want?"

It's such a load.

Guys can't be that dumb and still breathe.

I have studied guys for many years. (my darling brother telling the women to return to the kitchen in the comments of the previous blog was, as you can imagine, a great speciman to learn from)

While some of them may not look so bright, I can assure you that they are! BRIGHT AND SNEAKY! Plus they are far more complex than we women are. Sorry ladies.

Here it is boys: no more excuses...

What women want (as if you didn't already know!!!)

• We want to know where we stand with you and we want that to be some place resembling a pedestal.
• We want you to accept us as we are while inspiring us to more.
• We want adventure.
• We want you to be capable but never controlling. You gamble with your sick leave when you patronise us :)
• We want you to see us as capable but not merely "one of the guys".
• We hate toilet humour. It's never ever going to go down well with us. (conversely we love flowers... they'll always go down well with us)
• And as a certain anonymous commenter commented, we want you to be men so that we can be ladies.

Ok there it is. The whole world knows it now. No more pleading ignorance!!!

Why, blissfully ignorant fellow ladies, would guys plead ignorance on such a topic?
Simple really. So they can sadistically torture us.

Case in point:
You ask your man "Do I look fat in this?"
Instead of the expected (or at least hoped for) "No, you look ravishing!"
You get "I love you no matter how you look"

Do you see the sneakiness? He's said he loves you! How can you be cross with him, and yet he has left enough doubt that you want to use sweeteners in your tea (BLEGH!)

See, we've been brought up to believe that we women are the manipulative gender. Sadly it's all the other way round. It's men. Since conscription went out the window (at least in SA) and most of them are too old for rugby, WE are the only bit of combat that they have.

And ladies, let me tell you: this is guerilla war fare.

What's hot and what snot :o)

Married women; I'm still anticipating some more comments on what makes marriage delicious

But for my single friends.....

What is it that makes a guy hot? What makes a guy attractive to us? I was asked this by a friend of mine a little while ago... he wanted to know what would make him more attractive to women.

Fear not, single ladies of the world: I recognised this for what it was: A door into the netherworld of clueless guys. An opportunity to improve life for millions of people across the globe. A chance to do the impossible: make non hot guys hot and give the clueless gender a inkling into the inner workings of women.

This was my answer to him:

What makes a guy attractive is not his body, his face, his tan, his voice (although these all help a lot!) A guy can have all these things and still not be attractive to us. (Think of that woosie Orlando Bloom!) What makes a guy truly attractive is the ability for him to get off his (preferably toit) ass and take some initiative.

Next time you're at a braai take note: the guys who stoke the fire are ussually the ones who stoke our hearts. Nothing less appealling than a guy who sits and lets everything be done for him! The guy who ensures our glasses are topped and our meat (ok, ok, in my case siff fake soya sausages) are done to perfection is always going to be the one we want.

That is it. Simple as that.

Why? Doesn't that go against Modern Feminism? ABSOLUTELY! (I am quite fond of my bra thank you very much!)

The answer lies in our carnal natures... at the core I don't believe we want the metrosexual who takes longer in front of the mirror than we do. We want rugged. We want capable. We even want (perish the thought) protective.

So if there are any guys reading this: the answer to the ultimate question is not "42" as the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy would have you believe. It is simply that Women want MEN. Real men. The type who aren't too chicken to take the lead, the type who will take our heavy shopping bags without us having to ask. The type who give us the window seat on the plane.

I read a great article over the weekend on how Masculinity (note - NOT chauvinism) is coming back to America. A great example of this is Superman. The movie is HUGE on the box office and if it weren't for that MURDEROUS curl on his forehead Clark Kent would be a great example of what women want (and not just because he can fly!) See clark is humble enough. Not all loud and gareth cliffish. But he is also hardcore and not scared to get on and do the thing.

Ladies... I'd be interested to hear what you think: In your opinion what's hot and what snot???

Pink, it's my new obsession. Pink it's not even a question

Is this pink giving anyone else a headache?
Don't know how much longer I can take it!

Damage control...

Perhaps I need to do a bit of damage control for the frightened singles out there (aka Loesil and Mullet).

Like I mentioned before, first year of marriage is like the first year of varsity:
It's totally new, you're ussually short of cash, you have a room mate, you meet a bunch of new people who are in a similar situation, it's challenging (!), it's late nights filled with new experiences (...), and your clothes probably shrink a bit. First year syndrome and all that.

BUT!!! It is awesome and 100% worth it.

You have romantic candlelit dinners (Meal at Fishmonger: R150, Meal at Moyo: R340, Husband who can cook: Priceless!)

You save hundreds on the electric bill (no need for electric blankets and heaters, and certainly no need for television)

You do your bit for the environment by saving water... (and bubble bath) No sense in bathing alone!

And because this is a family viewing channel I will not expand on the comment about late nights...

Perhaps some of the married ladies out there can help me out here and let us know your best things about marriage.

(I already know what Lee is going to say: accepting a challenge for a game of strip poker AFTER the husband has stripped to his sleep shorts and you have layered yourself in winter warms...I love the way your mind works!)

Pimp my blog

So you may (or may not) have noticed that I have pimped my blog Paris Hilton style. I say you may not have because changes, new posts, comments, etc take about 3 years to show, so I don't know if it has worked or not yet.

If it has worked I will be sporting a pink blog. This is in honour of the latest development on my bridesmaiding agenda... (nearly forgot that I was a b2b!)

I spoke to the B2b (you'll notice that she gets a capital B...the bride deserves some status!) the other day and she described to me her thoughts on my dress (that's right, the one that I get specially made, that I walk UP THE AISLE in, etc)

She's thinking pinkish purple, just over the knees or mid-calf and netting underneath to make it poof.

Have any of you ever seen me in pink? occasionally (about twice in my life thus far) I have purchased pink stuff. Occassionally (about four times in my life) I have worn something pink out in public (beanies, scarfs - or is it scarves? - and undies don't count). So if I'm going to wear something pinkish I need to start getting comfortable with the idea. Hence my pink (hopefully) blog.

Have any of you noticed the adverts they put on this thing? I think they change every time you view it (at least something gets updated regularly!) but the one I saw today was offering help on battling to get pregnant! Clearly the selectors of ads are not quite getting it. More likely they, like the rest of humanity, are trying to torment me!

The other kind of bulge

ok, so there remains a myth which I have managed to refrain from mentioning. But days of refrainationess (?) are over. Here it is: the misguided and unfathomable myth that the moment you have that rock on your finger, you'll want a kid.

Everyone asks "So when will it be?" I have only to experience a hint of flu-provoked nausea and my friends (admittedly mostly my unwed friends who seem to be super conscious of what it is that married people "DO") exclaim with unbridled delight "do you think it may be morning sickness?"

One dear old duck whom I'd never met got hold of me at church recently, and, gesturing to my not-as-flat-as-it-once-was-before-I-got-married stummy asked "so how's the little one". I swallowed (hard!), smiled understandingly, and pointed to my friend accross the room, who is pregnant, explaining that she must have me mistaken for her. The woman looked at me oddly, said not a word, and hurried off. Our eyes haven't met since.

The second the lady had left a friend, who happened to have been one of my bridesmaids launched straight into damage control mode. It was as if security had been breached, like in an X Men movie when they have to freeze all the non-mutants to fix up a mess, or like in Monsters Inc when the swat teams suddenly pop through all the vents in the ceiling, hanging from ropes and dressed in black. Ok, perhaps not quite. This particular swat team member is more likely to be dressed in pastel pink, but that's a whole nother entry. She grabbed me by the shoulders. Stared deep into my flooded eyeballs and began repeating "she only got you mistaken for someone else, you are not fat" (listen to sound of my voice,..your eyes are getting heeeavvvyyyy......)

This is one on the ball bridesmaid!

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the fascination with my single friends about the fact that I actually could fall pregnant at any time. What these kind hearted or simply curious (they are weirdly intrigued at what sort of child the combination of my genes with stef's could produce..not sure why!) friends don't realise is that their continual reminder of the fact leaves one thought lingering in my mind practically at all times "I actually could fall pregnant at any time".

Eek!

no, make that double eek!

This constant threat to my status quo has resulted in many many dreams in which I discover I am pregnant and in my dream I am horrified. Isn't that the most terrible thing? (Also quite terrible is that when I wake up in the morning the tummy is still there!!)

Don't misunderstand me; I really love kids. And stef has to physically prevent me from getting lost among the kiddies section in woolworths (those little all-in-one outfits with the ears on the hood - SO IRRESISTABLE) I'm just loving time along with my husband (at long long long last) and I'm not quite ready for it to come to an end.

Anyway, the good news to this story is that yesterday I was talking to 2 friends who are pregnant and got so excited about it. Later I was at friends and watching their daughter; in a minitiature spider man suit and bunny slippers clutching her imaginary baby dinosaurs in her minute little hands and my heart melted a little more. Last night I had my first official pregnancy dream (of several thousand, I'm sure) in which I found out I was pregnant and I was delighted.....I was less delighted about the fact that in the dream I also needed to have my appendix and wisdom teeth out, but hey, baby steps! ;0)

So no, I'm a good few years short of being ready to deal with diapers... (actually, I'm a lifetime short of that... hope stef's got a strong stomach for that sort of thing!!) But I do know that one day I want to have a few little anklebiters of my own.

To all my loyal readers...

(ok, ok, yes, I've always wanted to say that!)

Is anybody out there? Somebody? Anybody??

Apologies if there is anybody out there. I all but gave up on my blog due to a lack of responses. But I finally realised today (not the sharpest pencil in the box) that I had a wrong setting which was not allowing you guys to leave comments.

I have fixed it at last.

(wink wink, hint, hint, nudge, nudge, footsie, footsie, skop-onner-die-tafel, skop-onner-die-tafel)

AKA: this is a hint for you to please leave comments