Sunday, July 12, 2009

What Have I Become?

There have been many great battles throughout history: Alien vs. Predator, the people vs. Larry Flint, and Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus.  But none of these has been fought with the focussed intensity of Ellen vs. Her Leash.  

Like a drooling, eye-rolling, jumping Princess Leia trying to free herself of the chains that bind her to Jabba the Hutt, Ellen will invariably decide about halfway through a walk that she doesn't like wearing the leash, and while she's at it, she might as well try and bite your arm.

Basically, she transforms from this:

To this:

Image modified from one here

Needless to say, this cannot continue unabated until she is a big strong dog.  So I called a dog-whispering-type man who will come around next week and, for $110 allegedly cure her of this bad habit in one hour.

This all sounds great, but I realised with some shame what is happening here: MY DOG HAS A THERAPIST.  This puts me firmly in the league of "people who I thought were big fat wankers and I was never in a million years going to become one of them and I was always going to be cool and so were all my friends and oh how we'd laugh at those yuppie idiots for ever."  

But I've realised the dog thing is only the aglet of my shoelace of shame.  The more I think about it, the further I have fallen from my unwashed and carefree days in Carlton sharehouses, and the closer I have inexorably slunk to my suburban nest of low-fat spreads and high- definition viewings of Grand Designs with a glass of Pinot Grigio.  If I'd stopped to think, these might have been some of the things that have marked my fall:

  • My last shopping list was created on my iPod Touch.
  • That list included balsamic vinegar.
  • I go to the farmers' market.  In a Prius.  And I buy organic leeks there.
  • I use Aesop cleansers.  Once upon a time I thought Imperial Leather was a bit too fancy for every day.
  • I enjoy chips and gravy for their culinary kitsch value, not just for the gravy.
  • I no longer wear pyjama pants to the video shop.  Even if they could pass for pants.
  • I yell at the TV because I am outraged at pornographic music videos, not just because I am drunk.
Good grief.  There's no hope.


  1. "I enjoy chips and gravy for their culinary kitsch value, not just for the gravy."

    And the chips!!

    What are you supposed to do with balsamic vinegar? I've no idea, yet I still manage to have some.

  2. Still being drunk during Saturday morning Video Hits is pretty rock'n'roll. Even if it is on Pinot Grigio.


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