A space-alien of my very own

The other day, I discovered this little fella sitting on my desk. Mister Choochoo's been shopping again :D

For those of you who don't know what this is, it's an Adipose. They're made out of  human fat. In the Dr Who television series, that is. This one is some sort of silicone and is ment to function as a stress ball. On the show, the Adipose is born when people take an made-in-space diet pill which contains 'the spark of life,' and before they know it, their body fat bounces off their bodies in the form of oh so cute and huggable Adiposes.

The downside is that the weight-conscious human dies, but you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. besides, these little guys are much cuter than the people they bounced out of, so there...

I've never had faith in diet pills and I'm sure as hell not taking any after having seen THAT episode. However, since starting a new and healthy lifestyle, quite a bit of weight did come off and so seeing the Adipose sitting on my desk was a tiny bit disconcerting at first. You can say it functioned as more of a stress-creating ball. But I'm over that now and we're buds.

Oh, the horror!

I might have mentioned it already, but I am a tiny little bit of a bookworm. I just finished reading ’77 shadow street’ where the whole story took place inside a luxury apartment building where unspeakable violence happened every 38 years.

And then I realized that my body is a bit like that.

I still have all my wisdom teeth. For some reason, I’m a proud of that. I mean 38% of humanity doesn’t develop wisdom teeth at all. And then there’s just a mess of people who do develop them, but have to have them removed. So getting to keep them all is a little bit like joining a nice(ish) club. A club where the members chew their food with heightened efficiency. It’s certainly harder than it is getting into the college I went to, I’ll tell you that.

¾ of said teeth are perfectly well behaved. The fourth one is the problem… The lower left tooth… Every three years or so, it tries moving. After a few days, it gives up and goes back to sleep, like a good little tooth, but it is pretty annoying while it’s going on.

The other day, Tooth decided to wiggle around in its seat for a bit. Every time it does that, I think that maybe it’s time to leave the ol’ club, but before I can get around to making an appointment with a dentist, the tooth goes back to sleep again. I guess there are bigger problems in the world, or something.

 I would also like to do something about my monthly gift subscription to bleeding uncontrollably. I suppose that won't happen either. 

Poor Ol' Pooch

Ever since this blog started, about a million years ago, Pooch has been my loyal sidekick. My furry, not terribly bright, acts-before-she-thinks-and-often-doesn't-think-afterwards-either, perpetual baby. She likes to bounce and sing. At the same time. She knocks things over in very creative displays of speed and poor coordination. Usually right after she's been outside for a poo. Nothing makes Pooch more bouncy and accident-prone than a good poo.

But although she is the silliest baby in the world, she is also going on 12. In her waking moments she is as lively and daft as when she was young, but she's far less enthusiastic about getting out of bed before noon, and GOOD GRIEF does she snore... She's got a bit of an old lady turkey neck going on. When the postman knocks, she doesn't always hear. Her eyes are more grey than they used to be.

A little while back, we noticed she had a bad limp on her front leg. Remember that? Later we spotted that same limp again. Unsure what to make of it, we called the vet. He figured that it might just be a pulled muscle, but advised us to give her a pain killer. If that helped, it would indicate early stages of rheumatism.

The pill helped.

I wish Pooch came with a rewind button on her. I could start her over again. Not all the way back to puppyhood, as I value my sanity. But a few years would be nice. Although I expect we'll get a couple more good years out of her yet.