Lil B

I am obsessed with nicknames...I have about 40 for my fiance (most of them unflattering), and obviously my little puppy has his share now too. He's been called all variations of Bolshy - Bolsh, the Bolshster, etc - as well as a number of chubby-related names like Chubb, Tub, Piggy (he has the most adorable rolls!) but lately I've noticed that my TV obsession is influencing the naming process, because one day I started calling him Lil B. And it stuck. Now, I often ditch the qualifier altogether and call him B. The heavy influence of Gossip Girl over my life has clearly affected more than my bank balance: my vocabulary is even less coherent that it once was now that I'm down to using one syllable a word, but I do love how B could totally hang on the Upper East with S and (other) B and Lil J. They would love him - in fact, I recall (other) B getting a bulldog pre-not getting into Yale.

I also love how the nickname (Lil) B can make Bolsh seem like a character on The Wire - and not one of the cops. And that's the thing about Bolsh's personality. He could seamlessly go from an UES cotillion to hanging out on street corners. That's why he's the greatest guy ever. He's from a posh background - his dad's a show dog and he's a pure bred - but he isn't the type of guy who'd be affecting a faux posher accent and wearing a crest ring on his pinky. That's not his style. But he's just as happy frolicking around Battersea Park with the pure-bred brats and gossiping about the best obedience teachers as he is playing with the Staffie mixes in the local park. And they all love him, obvs.

B has another nickname that I adore - the Warrior. His neck is too fat for a collar so we got him a harness, and when he runs around in it he looks like a baby bulldog version of William Wallace in Braveheart (see photo for confirmation)...I am obsessed slash hoping they do a dog version soon so B can play the leading role. Until then, he's busy putting a smile on the faces of every South Londoner he encounters.

The Cutest Guy EVER

I have a new obsession in my life. It feels like a crush, because every time I see this guy I am giddy inside and can't stop gushing, but then I know it's love because of how I worry about him and miss him when I can't be around him. I'll be the first to admit that I'm definitely coming on strong: I am obsessed with snuggling him, I tell him he's the "best guy ever," "handsomest guy in the world" and "love of my life" an average of 80 times a day and I kiss his jowly little face every chance I can. But the thing is, he really is the best guy ever and he's so friendly and playful and happy and loving that I can't help feeling this way - even though I am starting to get the hint that he needs a little more space (taking naps in his cage/den instead of next to me on the couch, preferring to rot in silence instead of eagerly following me upstairs). And guess what - just like in human relationships, that only makes me try all the harder and become even more of a creepy stalker.

His name is Bolshy and I'd go so far as to say he's definitely reached local celebrity status (stay tuned for global celeb status: once he reaches full-size, I fully intend to take him to a pet modelling agency and get this guy in show biz - he's got a face and bod the industry would die for. Also, he can earn like 10 times more than I can in an hour. And as my fiance so kindly put it, getting a dog/rodent/child into ads successfully is totally dependent on one factor, namely the insanity of the owner/parent. He assured me I was sufficiently psychotic). Even though pretty much all of the humans in the neighbourhood are in love with his stout body and charming personality already, it's taking a while for some of the dogs to warm up to him (jealousy, obvs). Unfortunately, Bolshy, being a puppy and still learning how to socialise (he's 5 1/2 months old now), doesn't appreciate the nuances of subtle or overt rejection and keeps on coming back for more. For example, if he's trying to play with (slash mount a dog) and they aggressively growl/turn away and ignore him/run for their lives away from him, instead of just backing off and deciding to play with someone else, he'll keep running back to the same dog and trying over and over again (I feel like he would really benefit from a quick read-through of He's Just Not That Into You).

So, in conclusion, my pup is beyond adorbs and wonderful. But if he were in high school, he'd be hanging with the Glee kids before they became cool and had a show made about them.

Return of the Rotter

It's been several months since I last posted, and I wish I could say that in that time I've made some wonderful contributions to humanity. Alas, my time has mainly been spent idly, although I did do a few personal things: I got the most adorable puppy ever (more on him to follow), I moved to a new home (which I am very maturely a co-owner of), I got my UK residency visa which allows me to happily stay in my adopted UK home for over two more years and I got knocked up. It's amazing how much can happen in the pursuit of literally nothing!

It seems like I have quite a bit to write about. I certainly have experienced every emotional response possible in the last few months, so hopefully I will be inspired and Rushdie-esque in my prose. More realistically, this is where I'm at right now: I just consumed about a third of a tin of condensed milk. I wish that I could say I consumed it because I baked some really divine dessert, but that just wouldn't be me (although becoming a pro-chef is def on my to-do list). No, I just sat there and spooned it out of the dirty tin - a past-time I used to embrace in my childhood when spoonfuls of either condensed milk or frosting were my breakfast of champions. I feel pretty grotesque now (note: in childhood, I used to feel amazing after this feast) and rather worried that my sugar intake is too high for an entire nation, let alone me and my bump. But I guess all can be forgiven in the world of pregnancy cravings (and considering clay is a potential alternative, I'm doing pretty well).