How to torture your Dog – a.k.a. Shameless Pandering to those who love dressing up their dogs as Yoda.

It’s been a while since I felt the need to Google upside down dogs or smiling llama’s, but I had some time on my hand while listening to Podcasts and I did not want to deprive you of all these wonderful images of these poor tortured dogs.

If you’re actually looking for tips on how to make your dog pant awkwardly and secretly hate you forever, maybe go find a hobby because surely there are better things to do than dress up your most loyal friend like an awkward idiot.

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No Place Like Home… —

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They say there is no place like home… but what if you have no clue as to where home is?

It used to be quite simple for me. Home was where my dog was, but due to time, the universe and me all being complete and utter assholes my buddy is no longer with me. She passed away last November, and after that it felt like I could never go home again. (since I’m not really down with suicide and I don’t really think I’m cut out for a quest like Orpheus was)  I had and still have no idea where home is anymore, or even what it is. With my buddy gone, I didn’t want to talk to my friends anymore, I ignored my family, and for the first few days after she died I cared not to get dressed, fed or showered.

From the moment my mom called to tell me she wasn’t there anymore, the flood gates opened. I spend days crying, staying in bed, having Vodka for breakfast and Gin for Lunch. All I could do was shed my tears and watch Community. It wasn’t until the umpteenth day of gut wrenching pain that I finally managed to kick myself out of the house to the coffee shop to do some writing; but instead of putting words on paper I sat behind my computer and wept. The “cool” kids in the coffee shop quietly drifted away as they saw me pour small bottles of Whiskey and Malibu in my coffee and wipe my nose on my sleeve. Clearly there are some car wrecks people don’t care to stare at; one of them is me drinking and crying covered in snot and tears.

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Happy Animals – Happy Sunday

Happy fucking Animals

I took a poll and 100% of the recipients said looking at pictures of happy animals made them feel warm and fuzzy. So since it is snowing like a motherfucker out here, and apparently it feels like it’s minus 24 degrees Celsius in Amsterdam… I figured we could all do with a little warm and fuzzy.

(also, I’m busy today, so I don’t have time to make you feel good about yourself by talking about my pathetic life. ;)

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I finally figured out what I want to do with my life — and became a Panda Philantropist. (You’re welcome)

You're welcome, Pandas.

You’re welcome, Pandas.

There is a certain kind of melancholy that creeps into your soul when you spend too much time in hospitals and surrounded by sick people.

The colour scheme of hospitals and doctors’ offices is something that just doesn’t make sense on any kind of level. It is cold and clinical, with hints of inappropriate attempts at homeliness. I don’t know who designs hospital rooms for a living, but it must be someone with serious schizophrenic tendencies.

Hospitals are not a place of healing, they are a place of dying where they occasionally manage to successfully re-enact parts of Frankenstein and save a life. And this is strangely enough not something I like to be confronted with all that much. (I know, I’m weird that way) The doctors use language that is designed to feel cold and detached from what’s actually going on. They speak their metaphores, euphemisms and meoisis in calm and soothing voices, taking as the edge off the message whole at the same time telling you absolutely nothing at all. Because in the end, it’s you that gets to make all the tough calls.

I would pay a lot of imaginary money to a doctor that just says things like they are. “Hey mate, you’re going to die. Which is going be tough, but you’re an asshole anyways, and better me than you I guess. But while you’re still alive I shall do my best to sedate all common sense out of you, so the end won’t seem so bad or scary.” or “Well, just so you know… the spider children that have been bred under your skin are going to come out of their eggs and crawl to your heart at a slow but agonizing pace. We will be here every step of the way, but to be honest, there is pretty much fuck all we can do.”

How great would that be?!

Ok. perhaps not. Perhaps sometimes a white lie is better than the truth, at least in life and dead cases. But in my case, where it’s probably not life and dead, -just me having “ordinary” blinding headaches and “casual” small seizures- I just wonder how many ways, shapes and forms they can come up with to tell me I have to be patient and they don’t know anything yet. Because in case you haven’t met me, I’m not the most patient person to begin with. Also, now that I’m writing this I realize that whomever decided on the double meaning to the word patient, had one hell of a sense if irony.

Judging by the pace they are going at, I assume I’m not in any immediate danger of brain damage. I sneakily suspect that I’m fine and they are making me sick by giving me medication just so they can study my awesome brain some bit more. (it’s not delusional when it’s true). But sitting in their fucking depressing waiting rooms, some times it’s hard to not wonder what it would be like if they told you you’re going to die. What would you do, if you knew your time was limited and there was only so much left you can do.

And while contemplating this morbid notion, I realized something truly fundamental and life-altering:

All I really want out of this life is to hug a Panda bear.
Simple as that.

I see myself as a person that has all these goals and things she would like to see and do before she dies. But when I truly think about it, I will die a fucking happy camper if I can just hug a panda bear. There will be no regrets, no complaining. I will have fulfilled my life’s goal.

It looks like the most comfortable, soothing thing in the world. This big, fluffy bear that will put it’s giant paws around you and breathe in your neck. And you just sit there for a few minutes, hugging the goddamn shit out of the bear. If I don’t die from happiness on the spot, I think I would be very tranquil after that. (chances are I will die in the next week after that, being bloody murdered by one of you, fed up with my never ending story about my awesome panda bear hug)

And after our hug we will slide down the slide together and we will have ten thousand kinds of fun. Jokingly I will try to eat a piece of bamboo, but my teeth are totally not made to do that… And we will roll around on the floor, laughing our panda laughs because it is so funny. And I will offer them my Vodka in exchange, but the Pandas will all be like: No dude, we don’t drink. And then I will probably get bored and leave. But not before we all come together in a group (because I will be the Jane Goodall of Pandas at this point except it only takes me an hour because I don’t fancy crapping in a bucket for a year or so and Pandas know I am awesome) and hug our massive panda bear group hug. And we will all be better human beings than before. Except the Pandas, because they are already the best thing on the planet.

I’m willing to overlook the fact that these vegetarian bears probably smell like shit and and that hugging me is probably not their life’s goal- and that it in fact probably annoys the fucking hell out of them…. I won’t care, I will just keep hugging Ling Ling and Yao because let’s face it… this is about me.

Since I have realised how much I want to hug a Panda, I don’t care about my life goals anymore. I don’t care if I ever road trip across the US of A or if I ever ride the trans-siberian railway or if I travel Mongolia on horseback. Do not give a fuck. I hope I finish my novel and screenplay, but if I don’t. Don’t care all that much. I hope I get a cocktail named after me and get married and divorced, but if it never happens. So fucking what?

All I think about is how I just really want to hug a panda bear- everything else has become completely and utterly inconsequential.

Because what can be greater than putting your life and all your sorrows in the hands of this giant happy bear and just sitting there, finally at one with the universe??

I honestly do not know.

Look at that. (If you can think of something that’s better, don’t tell me because I’ll assume you’re a psychopath for not thinking that hugging Panda’s is the greatest goal a human being can ever hope to achieve. )

 

PS.

Also, even though I had zero money this month (or ever), I decided to drink 2 cups of coffee less so I could adopt a fucking Panda. And since none of you gave me anything for my birthday this year (thanks for that), I think you should do the same. Because if Panda’s die before I do, I shall be very upset with you all and I shall haunt you all from beyond the grave.

(How will I do that when I don’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife, you ask?? Well, right now I have a lot of spare time on my hands, and while I could spend that time writing and doing other useful thing such as organizing my sock drawer and googling all the dreadful diseases I potentially have…. I’d rather spend all of that time writing you angry emails that will automatically be send to you at predetermined time after my sad departure, just so all y’all know better than to ignore my birthday wishes)

So be smart and cool, adopt a fucking Panda Bear please. Dickheads.

(UK) https://support.wwf.org.uk/adopt-a-panda

(NL) http://www.wnf.nl/nl/shop_fun/adopteer_een_dier/index.cfm?act=adoptie.dier&dier=77

(US) http://gifts.worldwildlife.org/gift-center/gifts/Species-Adoptions/Panda.aspx?sc=AWY1302WC92

Pandas — Better than Crack

Because I can’t be bothered to actually write something, here’s a bunch of pictures of Pandas that will make you go “awww” for your trouble.

PandaI want a baby Pandapandaso many pandasPanda.

And what’s better than pictures of Pandas?? GIFs of Pandas, of course!

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And What’s better than GIFs of Pandas. World peace! Yay.

But since you can’t have that… here’s a fucking awesome YouTube movie.

Kay Bye!

Oh FYI. The other day I met this old couple and they told me they had gone to China and met a Panda. And I was all like “Oh, that’s so cool!” But in my mind, they are dead now. Lesson of this tale. If you ever meet a fucking Panda. Fucking keep it to yourself!

Chipmunk Relapse

I’m sorry. I failed again.

I promised myself this was going to be the last time. I swore it on that most important thing in the world – myself. I crossed my heart and softly uttered these words: “I’m not going to give in to my own weakness anymore. I’m done. And this time I mean it.”

But then I saw this guy and I knew I had failed. I knew no was not an option. And it’s only going to be this one last time. For old times sake. And I’m not doing this for me, really. I’m doing this for you. For us.

Because you don’t want to miss this. You don’t want to be that douche sitting walking into your office on Monday facing the dead eyed crowd around the water cooler discussing this blog (I know it is your last vestige of hope) and you do not know what they are talking about it.

So, for you. I give you the most heart-meltingly cute Chipmunk at 400 frames per second.

Told ya. Melts your heart.

Introducing — My New Ape Assistant

The day before Christmas I realized I really could do with an assistant, as a result I had a rather one-sided conversation with myself on Twitter debating how to get one. (You probably already read this on Twitter, but if you haven’t… Why not?!)

Paying for one is, as always (sorry Anna, I love you but I can’t afford you), out of the question. So then what… Kids were certainly not an option either… And then it hit me. What is cuter and smarter and stronger than kids and looks really good dressed up and dragged about town in a Dior Bag.

Yes, a Bonobo Chimpanzee of course.

Now all I have to do is find myself a baby Chimpanzee in a suit and a Dior Bag

And today as I was reading up on some of my favourite Blogs, PZ Meyers introduced me to this guy… And I realized I had found him. We are a match made in heaven.

First of all, this guy carries a backpack. What’s funnier than an Ape carrying a backpack?? I tell you what is: Nothing!! Well, OK.. A monkey wearing a hat, a vest and glasses, I’ll give you that one. But an Ape carrying a backpack comes in at a close second.
Besides, this means he can drag my stuff around. Big plus in my books.

Secondly, not only can he light a fire… He can cook. So after a hard day I can just sit back and have my assistant throw some dinner together.

He won't mind. He loves the fire.

If they can teach him how to make fires and cook and drink from a bottle (something I still have trouble with sometimes) I sure as hell can teach him how to use a computer. They are already letting Orangutans draw on iPads in some zoos. I think this guy would have no problem answering my phone and emailing my work around. In fact, with some extra time I could probably teach him to write these blogs for me and no one would know the difference. (Like I said before: for all you know I am in fact 100 apes banging on a keyboard)

And think how convenient this guy will be come the apocalypse. I can’t make a fire out in the open. I’d burn everything down. And getting wood is such a hassle, isn’t it?!
Enter my Ape-assistant (I’m not yet sure whether to call him ‘Rupert’ or ‘Edgar’…). He’ll do it. He loves it.  (Edgar… His name is Edgar)
Besides, do you have any idea how dangerous free-roaming monkeys can be?? I’ll have this smart killing machine over any rabid dog any day. He can hunt for me, cook for me, protect me and keep me warm at night. I can just enjoy my last days leisurely sitting back, enjoying the well-catered ride.

I’m hiring him -Edgar- today… And we’ll be the stuff of legends.

Me and my pyromaniac monkey.

(Yes, I know it is an Ape… But I like my obscure Beatles references (and my less obscure Robbie Williams references now I think about it… I’d rather not think about it, though))

Sunday Surprise — Shake

If there is one thing people flock to this blog for, it’s not to read about my adventures in London; but to see awesome pictures of fluffy pets and killer tigers.And I would be stupid to take that away from you. I see now that we’re made for each other.
I am incredibly lazy, and you are so easily entertained.

So here’s ‘Shake‘ -portraits of dogs shaking off water – by Carli Davidson.

Have a great Sunday!