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

Myth busters! (part 2)

The other people who seem to think that you have limitless financial resources the instant you are married are those lovely Timeshare folk.

I am one of those fools who has limitless faith in competitions. I enter everything. On the internet, on products, on TV. If you don't enter, you'll never win (well apparantly either way you'll never win, but never mind that).

So I recently entered a competition to win a cruise. I guess I should have become suspicious while filling in the income details of both my spouse and I. But I am not a "ye of little faith" and so when, on my birthday in fact, I received a phone call telling me that I had won a great prize.

I had to go to the waterfront to get it and it would be either a plasma screen TV, an overseas trip, a couple of grand cash, or a free week long local holiday.

STOKED!!

Sure in the over-the-phone fine print they mentioned that we'd need to listen to a presentation, but the lady on the phone was so nice and so happy for me and so sure I would win big (the overseas trip, no less). How could I not be filled with anticipation?

So there we went, into the dark recesses of the Leisurenet offices. Our first clue was the fact that instead of couches in the reception area, they had old aeroplane seats.

We were soon met by... let me call him Jon. You know that annoying little dweeb in Dirty Dancing? The nephew of the hotel owner who always wants to dance with Baby? Imagine him combined with Jon Arbuckle of Garfield fame. Add a greasy, slicked back pony tail (I kid you not) and a billowing PLEATED shirt and we have Jon, our timeshare assistant. (Of course he would never admit that it is timeshare. Sorry, it is a shared ownership company in which you, the client, are master of your own asset).

Well Jon was the quintessential timeshare salesman. I really had to stifle the laughs when he used phrases like "But wait!! That's not all..." (no, really)

The whole situation was so special. First thing we noticed was that couples were matched to consultants of the same general age and race...more "approachable" I guess.

When Jon led us around the office and showed us this very impressive poster which was not only colour printed but laminated as well, and asked us for the umpteenth frikken time "What do you like about what I've just shown you" I snapped. I had to tell him (albeit quite politely) that what I didn't like was that there were several obvious spelling errors on his poster which is not very impressive.

He hastily assured me that he knew all about them and (of course) it was the printing company's error (so hard to find good printers who don't change your grammer and stuff it up these days).

Jon had many endearing little ploys, and the space on this site is not enough to detail them all but I cannot resist sharing 3 of them with you.

1) In an attempt to relate to us as newly weds, Jon told us of his own upcoming nuptuals and of how excited he was that he could use one of the listed resorts for his honeymoon...his choice of resort? A cave! I kid you not. Not even a real cave, a fake stone cave so he can experience the whole cave man vibe! She sure is a lucky gal....

2) Jon took us through EVERY SINGLE resort in the whole fake-crocodile leather bound file - more than a hundred (and every last one of them very very dingy looking indeed). On every page he would try entice us with some or other personal experience or success story... my personal favourite was when Jon got to a resort near Hole in the Wall at the Wild Coast. He told us all about this guy who he convinced that he could go feed the dolphins right in the Hole in the Wall bay and of how the guy returned, delighted, with these photos to give to Jon of him feeding the dolphins. I have spent many holidays in that area and I guess Jon's client must be a really lucky guy coz the chances of dolphins swimming through that hollowed out rock is..well...slim. That's not to say that I doubt jonny's word...

3) "If that was you in that photo, Stefan, what would you be drinking?"......"If that was you on that beach, Carolyn, what colour would your bikini be?" Oh please

After nearly two hours Jonny handn't lost a bit of steam. He was so ready to go through the gajillions of cruise options (the other half of the mammoth file) and I couldn't take it anymore. I flashed him a dazzling smile and told him he needn't bother, my husband is terribly seasick and we would never go on a cruise.

Finally at the end of a loooooooooooooong day's listening and politeness Jon said that we could "invest in our holidays" for a mere R38 000 upfront and R2000 a year (give or take). That would give us a week at a nice local resort annually.

Thanks, Jon, but...uh we'll pass.

The truly terrifying bit was that all around us people were merrily signing up. I wanted to run around the room shouting "stop! It's not too late! Don't do it!" But instead we asked Jon about the prize.

Suffice it to say Jonny was a lot less friendly after we had convinced him (which took some doing) that we were not in fact interested in paying a small fortune for a week in a dump. First he called over his superior who said "well lets see if we can do something special for you. Tongue tip out, he used his oversized calculator to fiddle a bit and made us another offer with a look of "WOW, you guys are getting a deal now!" Still no. Sorry.

Out we filed to the reception where we got to write down 5 digits (oh the beauty of it). We spun a dirty little lotto type thing filled with ping pong balls. If we got all 5 digits IN ORDER (!!!!!) we would have won the overseas trip. Now I'm no mathematician but I'm guessing the chances of selecting the 5 correct digits in order must be something like 1 to the power of never.

So off we walked with our free local holiday. Awesome prize - it's free, but you have to pay like R400 to register the vouchers, plus an additional R200 per person per day for house cleaning etc plus buy meals. What a deal.

I'd like to take this opportunity to really thank over-the-phone lady who confidently wished me all the best for winning the big prize and telling me she was on my side. "The axe may forget, but the tree never does"
(Shona proverb more or less meaning: I'll get you!)

Myth busters! (part 1)

In my 4 brief months of marriage I have discovered that the instant you are married, certain assumptions are attached to you and the hub.

The one I want to discuss today is that married people are wealthy. I have to say that I get a true kick out of this one. Suddenly you are eligible for all kinds of things. Most notably credit purchases and loans. (the sharks!!)

I went in to find out about homeloans the other day and was all prepared with our salary slips etc etc. The guy positively oozed. "You guys are so fortunate!" "Very few people earn what you earn at your age" "Renting is money down the drain" "I can pretty much guarantee your homeloan right now with that kind of income" and on and on.

When I told my man the amount the guy had guaranteed he was as shocked as I was. Maybe we are actually quite wealthy! Perhaps we are in the fortunate part of the population that are more than merely comfortable. Heck, the guy as good as said WE'RE RICH! The world is our oyster! There's no mountain to high! No valley to low (etc etc).

Well a couple of cloud walking days later I received the formal faxed statement of our homeloan eligibility. It began as follows..."I must start with an apology, when I read your salary slip I thought it was monthly income. I now realise it was annual income".

ouch

Sick and sordid plots

On the topic of reverse psychology and jinxing.....

I just need a mini-vent quickly.

Have you ever noticed that on those riddle emails (that people insist on sending at like 4.45 knowing that you can't possibly leave until you've solved it) they always make sure that you know full well, before you even attempt the riddle, that if you are smart you would crack it in less than 3 minutes.

Why! Why must they do that? No, they can't just give you the riddle and BELOW the riddle, after you've had a chance to solve it, mention the fact.

Instead, they have to scare you witless: If you DON'T get this in 3 minutes you are stoopid. Naturally that strikes terror into the heart of any self respecting person PARTICULARLY one who is already trying to overcome the gnawing terror of DMWness and the inevitable bulge!

By definition someone who is scared witless is temporarily robbed of their intelligence and hence will OBVIOUSLY take longer than the allocated 3 minutes to solve the aforementioned offending riddle.

DMWness and the inevitable bulge

There is something which, I am warned, goes hand in hand with DMWness. This supposed inevitability is that post-wedding women gain weight. I would like to emphatically dispute this. For one thing there is a distinct difference between fat and voluptous. For another, it is winter in the Cape, hence much rain, hence much tumble dryer, hence clothes SHRINK. Thirdly, it is a circular argument of sorts... if people insist on predicting you will gain weight, subconciously you surrender and oblige. So if newly married women do gain weight it may have more to do with
all their cursed married friends nodding knowingly (complete with rueful smile) and saying "it happens to all of us dear." (aka "YOU'RE ONE OF US NOW! muh ha ha" - evil laugh)

Now of course it should be noted that the reverse is not true. The reverse is in fact a sick and sordid plot to plunge you ever deeper and faster into DMW-bulginess. What am I on about you ask? I am on about the fact that from the moment you get engaged everyone from other ladies (this time sporting knowing smiles) to your dressmaker to... well... everyone telling you how the weight is just going to fly off you between now and the "big day". WHAT A CROCK. Any sensible person knows that actually saying that to someone completely jinxes whatever weight loss they may have experienced.

"rage, rage against the dying of the light"

Ok, so I guess I should admit that I have in fact walked down the aisle before. I am, you see, a newly wed. But as any newly wed woman will admit, one of our greatest fears is that we have been tragicly transformed from young, ravishing singleton, to our brief moment in the lime light as beautiful blushing bride, to dowdy married woman.

Dowdy married women have practical hairdos (worse than that; they use the term "hairdo"!!) They have a tendency to discuss the merits of cleaning products with anyone who cares to listen. They get excited about things like new curtains and being up to date with the wash cycle. No one wants to be dowdy married woman. Some DMW may argue that the regression is inevitable... As for me, I will take the advice of Dylan Thomas and "rage, rage, against the dying of the light" and refuse "to go gentle into that good night".

In protest of DMWness, I have refused to cut my hair. (Except two weekends ago when I was suffering a particularly venomous form of that-time-of-the-month-induced meloncholy. I was inspired by Susannah - Julia Ormond - in Legends of the Fall, just minus the flowing dress and the pretty dressing table. I sat staring meaningfully at my reflection in the mirror, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, grabbed my hair and cut it. Sure it was a little melodramatic, but it was immensely satisfying. Unlike our friend Susannah, I wasn't about to top myself and hence I maintained the good sense to refrain from doing any real damage. In fact I only cut off about 5cm and even worked in some very nice looking layers.)

In addition I really do make a real effort to hide my excitement about the innovative cleaning products on the market... (I won't mention the great dishwashing sponge I found which clips to a handle so that you don't even need to wet your hands and, wait for it... the handle holds dishwashing liquid which it dispenses as you use it.... I WON'T! I WON'T)

In my defence; the wash cycle is weeks behind (clothing pyramids look quite artistic on the spare room carpet) and I find curtains far from thrilling.

More on the things which qualify you as a DMW coming soon.............