Finn Stiffler...

Just as our life had topped out on the stress-o-meter…We decided to bring a new puppy home. I’m not really sure what we were thinking, but nonetheless we were doing it.

We drove 2 ½ hours to meet our new little bundle of joy. We were so excited to get there and meet him and his parents. We pulled up in the driveway and standing there at the front door was the puppies’ dad. He was a cross between a Boxer and The Hulk. This dog did NOT look like this in pictures. Can dogs be on steroids? Kev and I stopped in our tracks and our jaws dropped. Dear god if our new puppy grows up to be half this size we are screwed. We tried to play it cool and walked up to the front steps, not before being kidney punched and crotch kicked by this gigantic beauty. Don’t get me wrong, this dog was gorgeous and sweet as hell but I’m not so sure I could afford to feed him or survive playtime! 

We went inside the house to meet our pup and were greeted by all these adorable puppies! We met our little one and fell in love instantly. It was love at first site. We have a chat with the family and assure them that we will take good care of him and will send pics and updates. Then the Mama dog came over to us and jumped up on my daughter and gives her a nuzzle and a kiss and then to Kevin and then me. Was she saying ‘please don’t take my baby’? Or was she saying ‘take care of my baby’? Either way my friends, this is where I lose my shit. I went into the famous Joanne ‘funeral cry’. I tried to hide my face, which I couldn’t and then I heard Kevin say ‘Oh love, are you ok’? Oh god, I couldn’t control it and was in a full blown cry. I felt awful for taking this dog’s baby. I pulled it together out of shear embarrassment and thanked them and we head home. My eyes continue to leak all the way home as I watch my daughter cradle this sweet sweet puppy.

We went back and forth on what to call him. Our six year old pup’s name is Ben, so we thought about calling the new puppy Jerry. Get it? Ben & Jerry. We thought it was so clever. Until our teenagers told us it was “cringy”… (*insert heavy eye roll here). We contemplated Riley but he didn’t look like a Riley. My husband and 16 year old son wanted to call him Stiffler, which was a hard NO from me as that would make me, Stiffler’s Mom. For those of you that have seen the movie American Pie, you may find the humor in that. For those who haven’t, please don’t google ‘Stiffler’ on your work computer. You will be flagged by the IT department and find yourselves unemployed. In the end, we settled on Finn. 

Our creator was very wise in deciding to make these little assholes so cute. Without that, they wouldn’t live past the first few months of their lives. He went from the angelic bundle of sweetness to lunatic fringe overnight. Between 24/7 pee clean up and the chewing of anything he can get his teeth on, it’s a full time job. Playing with him is like wrestling with Edward scissor hands. His teeth are like little razor blades. He pierced my husband’s ear this morning without his consent. His pillow had so much blood on it that it looked like he had been shot. He was also single-handedly responsible for me exposing myself to the neighbors. I took the dogs out for a pee first thing in the morning and wrapped my housecoat around me securely, or so I thought, and stepped into my backyard. It didn't take much. His teeth snagged the corner of my housecoat and like a Chippendale dancer and their tear-away pants, it was off me in a flash. "Sorry about that Harold" or whatever your name is looking at me from across the backyard. Imagine that, he didn't even have to buy me dinner first. #humiliated

His first family told us that he was a Boxer Collie Mix but I am positive there is a Basset Hound somewhere in the blood line. Guaranteed our neighbors think someone is being tortured in our house. I tried having a shower this morning and like you’d do with a new baby, you bring them into the bathroom with you so that you can keep an eye on them. It was eventful to say the least. ‘ChewBARKA got up on the side of the tub and started to knock over each bottle balancing on the side of my tub. Now close your eyes and imagine this scene…I’ve just put conditioner in my hair and now the bottom of the tub is a slick danger zone. As the first bottle connects with my baby toe I am howling as loud as this little devil. I dodge the other bottles falling on me as the tub became an indoor slip and slide. I turn the shower off and whip the curtain open like I’m Jack from the SHINING. I was spent. I had been awake for 15 minutes and I was already done for the day. 

I wrestled my bra out of his teeth, got dressed and made it out of the house alive.

“Not today SATAN”…

Chubby Is The New Black...

Today was the day…I reached out to my personal trainer, Craig.  We’ve been “on a break”…for a while. For a really long time...Like 6 dress sizes long time. 

We set up a time to meet and I head over to his gym on my lunch hour. I leave work and start the drive over. I’m sick to my stomach. I get winded scrubbing the toilet, how am I going to work out!? I know deep down that I am screwed and may even take my very last breath in the next 30 minutes.

I walk into the gym and head to the changing room. I start to get undressed and fold my clothes in a nice neat pile when my apple watch starts vibrating. I glance down thinking I’m getting a phone call. Nope, it’s my watch asking me if I had finished my workout!? Ok, no no no, All I did was take off my pants for god sakes!! I quickly look around for a window I can crawl out of and envision how to come up with a plan on how I will just block Craig on my phone and move to another city where he can't find me.

Instead, I slowly open the door and decide to just do it. I’m at my heaviest weight and need to get my shit together. So, out I go!

Craig is smiling at me as I walk out. Why is he smiling? He’s one of those sickos that loves to see his client’s writhering on the ground heaving in a pool of sweat. Keep in mind, they are heaving while using their full 6-pack stomachs! Jerks… Maybe if I stopped breaking up with him I would have had mine by now too.

Craig explains to me how we are going to take it easy. I feel myself relax and I breathe a sigh of relief. Which I shouldn’t have because he then points to that metal contraption machine that you see all the football players pushing across the field while grunting like enraged gorillas! Ya…THAT one! But “don’t worry Jo”…just 8 times across the room. What happened to the honeymoon period when you get back together? I’m literally dying. I’m 4 minutes into the workout and I have an Oprah
‘Ah Ha’ moment. I want to be Fat! I’m suddenly ok with it. I can make “Chubby the new Black”. Muffin tops honestly have such a bad rap.

Needless to say, I continue. We walk over to what looks like a treadmill with big red leaning pads. I get up on the machine and ask the obvious questions…Where do those go on me and where do my boobs go? Craig responds “just squeeze your boobs together and wedge them in between the red pads”. Ummm….what!? Can this get any worse? Seriously!?  I ask him to look away, this isn’t the Playboy Channel.
I finish this and move on to the other torture chambers. The workout comes to an end and I am spent. I say goodbye and hightail it out of there. I get to my car and can’t get the door open. I wrestle with the key and the door and then realize it’s not my car. It’s not even the right color!!! I'm delirious. I find my car and get in and turn the air conditioning on full blast to try and dry my hair.  

As I listen to the whir of the fan and start to catch my breath, I feel proud. Maybe I don’t have to block him or move away to hide from him. Maybe I can finally get my bod back! I’m going to focus on being more positive and have a better outlook on training…right after I down 2-3 Tylenols with my Cabernet Sauvignon tonight.

"2 to 3 glasses of wine per day, reduces your risk of giving a shit"