Mr Moo » weightloss

Three things: The Suppression of Meat

Mr Moo — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 11:27:10 +0000

So, some article claims eating less meat is un-Islamic. Here is the truth about the historical impact of the flesh of other creatures.

Three things: Suhoor

Mr Moo — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 06:54:34 +0000

The alertness level at suhoor time is a randomized variable. [Image link]. Thank you Mrs Moo for feeding me.

Lessons in How to Lose Weight No. 3.

Mr Moo — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 15:34:20 +0000

This week, we shall burn some calories at the new ‘local’ IKEA. Firstly, take note of the principle that with the greatest of preparation, sometimes the best laid plans are sent awry. In keeping with this principle, do as much research as one can on the internet about the new IKEA that has opened in Coventry, and ensure all the directions, opening times and traffic hotspots have been thoroughly researched beforehand. Then, with ones other half and progeny in tow, drive the twenty minutes to Coventry.

There, as one sees the convenient signs pointing you to the nice place, one realises that most of Coventry, Birmingham, the East Midlands and Warwickshire have all decided that today is the day that they want to join you at IKEA. You will find blue-coated men (and one woman, there for gender equality purposes) who will wave you on as your traffic line progresses slowly.*

On entering the car park, a stern gentleman will inform you clearly that unless you spend £30, you will have to pay for parking. You feel from the tone of his voice that the purchase of goods is compulsory. The consequential raising of ones blood pressure is merely the start of you calories being burned. Enjoy.

On parking ones car one has to take a lift to the shopping levels. This means going to level six. However, this is not the shopping level but the cafe level. Some goods are displayed here nominally, to show that if one is inclined one can obtain goods on this floor, but this is not a sincere effort.

Ones family is then herded across to the sixth floor to the OTHER lift, that will take you down to the fifth floor where one can begin shopping in earnest. On questioning why one can’t go down the lift that just came up, one is shooed away. IKEA in their wisdom, have decided that the initial lift only travels between the car park and the top floor. They pay a man to stop you travelling down in the lift you just stepped out of. That’s right; a people-herd (rather like a shepherd, but without a canine) will herd you to the other lift across the floor. This futile walk should continue ones calorie burning.

On descending to the fifth floor, one cannot find goods that total thirty pounds as the goods are not needed. One uses ones maths degree to calculate the cost-benefit analysis of purchasing useless items versus paying for parking. Ordinarily paying for parking is taken as a given, but now this false choice has presented itself one finds oneself making guilt-laden but useless calculations to save pennies, having listened to a documentary the previous morning about Bolivians who live on less than two dollars a day.**

One will then find ones spouse and firstborn having exhausted any transactional opportunities, and one makes the decision to travel home, with a small amount of purchases. Ones spouse will then say, let us flee from this maze-like den of misfortune, and then we go to the checkout which is on the third floor. After paying money for our goods, ones spouse will say, I have to return this item from the IKEA in Wednesbury and one looks around for the customer service desk, upon which it is revealed lo! The customer service desk is on the FOURTH floor.

One then spends further calories thinking about money, and how a chap, or chapess, or groups of chaps and chapesses got together to organise with IKEA into a customer friendly environment, upon which, other chaps and chapesses came along and said… what is this nonsense… make them aimlessly walk between floors and further still, make the lifts just big enough to squeeze in but small enough to be painful. Heaven forefend we should have a simple retail experience for our customers. One realises they should all be sent to Coventry, in all senses of the phrase.

With customer returns being on a different floor, one will then make a decision that we shall not be customers who return. One will have to share the cramped lifts down to the car park, one realises that in sharing this lift, the prams with delicate babies inside are compacted next to eager but gullible homebuilders who have precariously piled pointy objects on unstable trolleys. One keeps a vigilant eye on the LYFT cutlery set with knives exposed as it rests on a RAMBERG mattress dangling above ones firstborn.

Like the Hajjis who have been promised much but the experience fails to deliver, the pilgrimage is worth doing once, if only to tell your descendents how circumambulated the floors of IKEA, gratefully kissed the blackened exit sign, was put through great hardship, survived the queues and people stampedes and lost a few pounds in the process.

Notes:
*This waving is intended to show you the right direction to travel, and to put a human face to the abject misery of traffic, but in reality is a sadistic entertainment given as a reward to those employees who have worked hard. Yes Tim Berners-Street, as IKEA employee of the month you can laugh at drivers on a Saturday morning and as an extra prize you can wear our branded coat.**Which would mean those Bolivians could park in IKEA for 45 minutes.

Lessons in How to Lose Weight No. 2.

Mr Moo — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 22:15:55 +0000

When you have bought the rather large suburban house and your firstborn is five months old, proceed full speed with your house renovation plan. In the space of three days, arrange for a plasterer to come and replaster your living room now that the electrician has knocked holes in the wall in the name of Health & Safety.
The night before (and not sooner, heaven forbid you should be prepared) confirm with the nice plasterererer man that it is you who is supplying the materials. The night before, shift a lot of furniture. On the morning, go the to nearest Wickes to get multifinish, bonding and board beads. Drag the 70 kilos to your car. The three metre board beads will be too big, so have them transversing your car and sticking out of the front passenger seat window, like perverted lance. Drive home in fear.
As it will only be 8am, you don’t expect the plasterer to come in, but he does. Hover around to make sure thing are going well, get into work late.
On returning home realise that you have to strip the wallpaper on the ceiling. Puzzle for a few moments as to why there is wallpaper on the ceiling. As it is late evening, and you have your industrial strength steam wallpaper stripper, you feel all is under control.
When you reach halfway through the lounge ceiling, you will notice that the front, older half of the ceiling has lining paper, then paint, then adhesive then wallpaper. Realise that whoever employed Previous Palaeolithic Plasterer who put in the ‘old’ décor should be shot. Start removing the wallpaper at 7. Ask your wife to lend a hand.
At 1.45 am your wife, who has been staying up nights looking after baby, cannot do it anymore so you stay on steaming the godforsaken paint-paper-paste off the ceiling. Your arms will now ache, and at 3.30, having had lots of boiling water dripped on your arm, you will now having finished taking off all the wallpaper. The room is ready for nice plasterererer man.

The above may not be suitable for all.

Lessons in How to Lose Weight No. 1.

Mr Moo — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 22:13:16 +0000

Why not, on a Saturday afternoon, get two of your sisters to move into a flat on the first floor, then, being the only brother, you will volunteer to help them move. On getting the fantastic industrial crates you have since the Great Fire of 2002, you load them up and drive them to the new flat, but the parking valet says no, you have to park outside, and thus, you have to take the 4 heavy crates three aesthetically pleasing but impractical wicker chests and a computer base unit and CRT monitor across the courtyard, into the lift and across into the flat. All by yourself. In small but strenuous stages to ensure nothing is stolen. While Japanese people dressed in fur and what looks like bubble wrap laugh at you from the fourth floor.

The above may not be suitable for all.