Limbs Sold Separately

MAD Academy. What does it stand for? To be honest, I’ve blocked the memory. So I might as well give it a new title. MAD, as far as I’m concerned, stands for “Manipulation And Deceit”.

Is that too harsh? How about Money Addicted Douche-lords? Some people have been asking me, “Lulu, what’s the deal with this MAD Academy for 3D Artists thing?” I don’t want to rant too much on any negative topic, but I will make an exception here. The reason I’m writing about my experiences with MAD is because I want to help others avoid educational scam traps. Simple.

MAD Academy was an institution that operated for years and recently closed up. It called itself a school for 3D artists and animators, and worked with specific 3D software called 3DS Max. It seemed like a credible organisation. It helped that their marketing team were brilliant. The scam masters themselves (they actually preferred not to be called “teachers” which was interesting, now that I come to think of it..) were, at first, extremely friendly, encouraging, and really knew how to excite you about your future as a promising 3D artist. They convinced you that you wouldn’t need any help other than their own to find a job. According to them, they had “contacts all around the world”. In actual fact, they were pretty isolated from any respectable institution. I later found out, few knew who MAD was. However, given their rather convincing front, at the time, nobody suspected the company was fraudulent.

I shoud have known something funny was up, when the main “teacher” showed this daily behavioural pattern:

• He would “teach” us for an hour — also known as reading straight out of a 3DS Max manual (one that could be bought online for about $40.)
• After which he would proceed to “work on his own 3D projects” — also known as looking up porn for the rest of the day…
• But would first insist that if anyone needed any assistance with their work, all they had to do was “ask” him — also known as try to locate him for half an hour, only to find him tucked away in a dark corner somewhere, glaring at his laptop screen, with a suspicious and unsettling smile.
• To be clear, by anyone they were actually referring to the most proficient 3DS Max users and not the rookies who were there to learn. This ensured there would be minimal teaching, and probably more porn-watching to be tended to throughout the day.
• The MAD “professors” offered meagre help and were barely around, in general. No, I lie. They were around plenty during life drawing classes. Yep, they hung around like flies on sheep. I believe one of the models complained about feeling stalked.

Before this great adventure started, MAD seemed the ideal and sensible choice for a digital artist, who was only experienced in 2D art, to want to extend their skill set to 3D art. So I went ahead and paid their ridiculously large bill, eager and excited to learn. Just like everybody else. Students even travelled from interstate to do this course. A lot of students. Alas, it wasn’t long before we learned that behind the fake smiles and false promises, there was something really wrong. MAD Academy wasn’t a school for 3D artists. It wasn’t even nationally accredited. it was just a corrupt little Hell furnace, full of unprofessional nerds who taught us next to nothing about actual 3D art but plenty about how scam operations work.

Some interstate students paid rent to a certain “professor” who allowed them to stay in his large house for the duration of the course. Students had little choice but to take his offer because there were few Adelaide rental properties, at the time, that would allow a lease for the short course duration of only a few months. So, it seemed the sensible choice to take the “professor’s” offer. Well, what do you think happened? The “professor” never returned their bond money. Not to mention, only a few people have actually received their final certificate of completion — despite the fact that EVERYBODY finished the course with flying colours. Students have had to beg and hassle MAD for their certificate, but all they got were more empty promises, like, “It’s in the mail.” Which, it never was.

As if it wasn’t enough that MAD had scammed thousands of dollars off these people — be it through fees or not returning certain students’ bond money — they didn’t even give people their certificates. So all in all, it was for nothing. Try to contact these people now? Impossible. They’ve crawled back into the hole from whence they came.

My use of  3DS Max (the 3D program itself) has suffered as a result. Many of my colleagues are in the same boat, and have now chosen career paths totally unrelated to 3D. In the future, I hope to pick it up again. It took a lot of guts for me to *self teach* myself to use 3DS MAX, after the whole MAD ordeal of not getting the assistance I paid for and being a victim of scam. A lot of students haven’t even been able to look at the program because all the bad memories it brings. Through some miracle, I temporarily made myself believe it was all about the art, and not some dodgy company. So I made some art I was proud to display!

So, dear internet people, if you’re thinking about taking on a course, and you’re looking at big dollars, be wary and be sure you know what you’re getting into:

• Make sure the academic institution of your choice is indeed accredited. Don’t be afraid to ask lots of questions. If the answers (or lack of answers) don’t sit well with you, maybe it’s time to get some outside help.

• NEVER pay anything in full, even if they offer you a discount (and they will!) Some of the students were lucky to only have paid a couple of grand, before they realised what was happening. Others, unfortunately, have parted with $14,000, most likely forever. Scam companies are probably not quite as common now as they used to be, but it pays to do your research.

• Of course, don’t be paranoid. Not all people are ass-hats. Just be cautious. Do your research.

I though Hanna-Barbera’s Top Cat was a great representation of the MAD “professors”. He even screwed his own friends! What a scoundrel!

Click the image below to see the the glowing review MAD will receive from me. They may see it, assuming they still have access to their account, and haven’t skipped the country with thousands of our dollars. They probably spent it on frivolous crap like big screen TVS. ▼

Unfortunately the review form didn't come with any less than 1 star. Even -1 star would've sufficed.

I’ve invented a character that’s influenced by a couple of things. She’s sort of the nostalgic love child of Sierra’s Leisure Suit Larry and Lucasfilm Games’ Maniac Mansion. Recently I also read a book called Down These Mean Streets by Piri Thomas, in which the characters were never quite right. This one, I call Clementine. She lost an eye as a result of client abuse. Doesn’t help that she entertains the likes of men who sink to the lowest of lows. Think of muscle-bound addicts dressed in leather, emotionally dead middle-aged businessmen, and the occasional morally corrupt martyr with a screw loose and point to prove. Moral degradation runs rampant in this story, much like Thomas’ memoir, but has enough video game persona to pull itself out of the depths of human depravity and back into a quirky representation.

Click HERE to increase image size

Inspired by my two loves: autumn and whimsy.

Hi folks! It’s been a while since my last post. I could bring out the ol’ excuses: I’m busy; I’m sick; my mouse-hand hurts; my cat demands all my time and attention; my horoscope says I’m a loser; my power has been cut! But the truth is far lamer: working up the motivation to write posts hasn’t been high on my priority list lately. I may get a little more excited about it in the future when I have an audience to write for. Better yet, to get paid for writing would give me the sort of enthusiasm I can best describe as sparks exploding from my rack, Katy Perry style! One day!

So the truth this… instead of writing, lately, I’ve been doing a lot of what you see on the left.

Moving on, this post is about a handsome vintage two-wheeled wonder named Phoenix! Twenty-or-so years into the past, I had a brand new bicycle stolen from me by an unscrupulous thief. I lived in a pretty shady Melbourne suburb, and said thief (thieves in this case) were a couple of nice, old Bulgarian women, who were sweet enough to surprise their grandson with a shiny new (albeit stolen) ride. Oh it was a happy Christmas that year! For Bulgaria.

The worst part about being a small child and having my bike taken from my arms by two grown-ass women is the part where I lied to my dad and said I lost it to cover up for the fact that I felt silly. My dad worked long, hard hours to afford it. I guess I felt a sense of guilt that he’d worked for nothing. I might have been able to bring attention to the fact that the bike was stolen, if it were not for the casual manner under which the crime was done. It left me shocked and confused because I was under the impression that adults were trustworthy creatures. I learned early that wasn’t the case.

I loved that bike, even though I only had it for technically a few days. I loved it for its sentimental symbology. It was the first bike I ever rode, and dad was the one to teach me; a wonderful bonding experience between a father and child. Needless to say, the family income couldn’t cater for a new bike any time soon, so it was years before I’d be riding again like all the other kids. That bike was a brilliant blue BMX, made in 1980.

And now comes the happy part! Recently I was given a bike which is, incidentally, a blue BMX made in 1980! Despite the fact that my childhood BMX was rather large for my size and this one is rather perfect for my size now, it is not the same bike, though it is perfect. The story behind it is quite interesting. My husband’s friend had the bike lying around in his workshop, collecting dust. Upon seeing it, my lips smiled and I immediately forgot my manners as I picked it up and proceeded to shoot out the workshop and onto the dark, wet streets, with my husband running behind me, announcing that I’m “not wearing a helmet; it’s raining and not a good day for riding!”

Everyday is a good day for riding, my dear!

It would be a while before I attempted to impress people with my complicated moves, but for the moment I was simply enjoying the little things in life: that freeing feeling, knowing I’d not ridden in so long, and now here I was atop a blue BMX just like the one from my childhood! Luck was on my side this time, as it turned out the owner recently posted that he wanted someone to take it off his hands: “a blue BMX mongoose replica; a small bike, intended for a small human”, as he described it. I ended up being the small human.

A lot of people don’t believe in coincidences. I beg to differ. Coincidences happen everyday, we just have trained ourselves away from seeing them. My personal coincidence looks like a blue BMX with very Rainbow-Brite-esque detailing (So 80s! Perfect.) It’s interesting enough that it doesn’t require any pimping; I wouldn’t want to take away from its vintage allure.

Not being big on naming objects, I thought I’d make an exception here. First of all, let me make it perfectly clear that I did not name the bike after a celebrity. I decided that would be crass and unoriginal.. But if I were to be crass and unoriginal, I’d name it after Joaquin Phoenix. Pun so absolutely intended. Alas, there are other ways of getting attention, such as wearing an offensive t-shirt or a helmet on my ass.

I actually gave the naming process quite a bit of thought. Why was I so eager to name this bike? It was not a baby or a pet. It was an object. That’s when it struck me. I wasn’t naming a bike, I was naming the connection I had with it, which I felt, was a blessed one. I’m a great believer that there are no coincidences. And all coincidences are good coincidences.

So to wrap up, I decided to name the bike given the circumstances under which I found it. In Greek mythology, the Phoenix is a symbol of rebirth, immortality and renewal. Very fitting, don’t you think? Not to mention it practically flies.

The guy who gave it to me, joked that It would be out of order for him to prevent such a rightful union. I agree. I will thoroughly enjoy riding the Phoenix while the breeze blows through my hair as I enjoy more of nature, and continue not destroying the earth with pollution — which is a bonus!

I believe we are surrounded by blessed coincidences everyday. Can you think of a time when something good happened, and you knew at the back of your mind “this was meant to be”?

Christmas is a time when Christians and non-Christians celebrate Christ by emptying their wallets in the name of world economy.

A lot of Christmas gifts are unwanted, and will never see the light of day in the gift-receiver’s house. In my case, I seem to get an awful lot of porcelain figurines from relatives. The story goes like this: One Christmas, my aunt gave my mother a porcelain figurine. I politely said that I liked it. The word was like. Due to expressing my interest in this item, it was concluded that I must, therefore, love it. Naturally, word went around (as it does in the Romanian community) that Lulu loves porcelain figurines. For the past five Christmases, I’ve been overwhelmed by the amount of porcelain figurines I’ve received.

Here’s a brief segment on traditional, over-forty, Romanian-woman mentality. (They’re not all the same, but I do know a lot of them.) To understand their ways, is to understand my dilemma. These women mean well. They mean very well. But they tend to go the slightest bit overboard when you express interest in an item they show you. This apparent “interest” they define by your nodding in approval or simply glancing in the item’s general direction. Once that door has been opened, it will never close again. Expect to receive that item, at some stage, probably more than once, because apparently you love it.

Technically the only fail-proof way to make an enthusiastic Romanian woman understand you don’t like their Christmas gift is to say, “this present is shit”, throw it to the ground, spit on it, then burn down the Christmas tree as a final statement, in case they thought you were being funny. But then you wouldn’t get any Romanian cake, and really, what’s the point of Christmas?

That’s my story, now let’s focus on yours. What to say when someone gives you a gift you hate? This greatly depends on your culture as well as relationship with the person from whom you’re receiving the gift. Below is a good list to follow, but don’t blame me if it doesn’t work for you. I don’t claim to be the queen of etiquette and I don’t have a psychology degree, but I’ve written from personal experience and that’s my gift to you, this Christmas.

Partner: If your spouse gives you something that suggests, to you, they clearly don’t know a thing about you and are downright insensitive, just forgive the poor bastard. Try not to resort to insults, as people only tend to remember the name-calling, and not what the actual issue was about. Understand that they didn’t buy you a gift knowing you’d hate it, and it’ doesn’t represent how they feel about you. I’m sure you’ve wracked your brains trying to find the perfect gift for someone you love only to witness the blatant disappointment across their face. Communicating your feelings tends to work too. Start with, “I feel that…” instead of “You prick!”, and you’ll probably come to some general resolve.

Family: For whatever reason, parents like to give you basic essentials well into your adult years, as if you never quite got the hang of buying socks. But that’s ok, because it saves you having to buy them yourself. Thank them, and give them socks in return; they’ll love it. In my experience, sibling gift exchange can rarely go wrong and gifts from the heart are the best. When my brother was little he drew me a picture of our family. Mum looked like a popcorn, dad’s head looked like a sausage, my brother was miniature size and I looked like a smaller-version popcorn. I still have that picture.

Non-immediate Family: I find the best way to deal with unwanted gifts from non-immediate family is to respond with gracious humour. When I was a child, I bought my cousin, who has no interest in cartoons, a size XL, Looney Tunes Tassie Devil t-shirt. I did this for three years in a row, thinking she loved them. Finally, she joked, “Oh good, another oversized t-shirt with a cartoon character on it. One more and I’ll have enough to make a tent.” We both burst into giggles, and that was the end of the useless t-shirt saga. Fifteen years later, the t-shirts still don’t fit her.

Friend: Start with acknowledging the item’s existence: “Oh look… it’s a vibrating timer!” Continue by using an adjective to describe the item: “It’s so big/colourful/wonderfully unique!” Continue to point out obvious features while observing it from every possible angle with that frozen smile on your face. This will buy you at least a few seconds to think of something more convincing to say. FYI a vibrating timer is for timing. What you do with it is your business.

Acquaintance: If someone you don’t know that well gives you a generic gift out of politeness or social expectation, does it really deserve that much thought? If you dislike it, just smile, thank them, and proceed to pass on the lavender candle and matching journal to someone you don’t like, so they can write down all their deepest, darkest secrets by scented candleligh

Enemy: I’ve seen this happen before. People who despise each other will exchange gifts. Usually it’s something tacky that’s been recycled a few times (above gift), something that hints there’s a problem with the person (deodorant), something that clearly insults the person (unflattering photo of them placed inside a beautiful frame), or something they’ve done bad things to (use your imagination). In this case it’s appropriate to adopt the less-than-gracious gift etiquette of a toddler.

Generally, if you and the gift-giver have a good rapport, and they’re not overly sensitive, it pays to be honest from the beginning; per chance you receive another teal scarf to add to your collection. It’s far too late for me to straighten out my gift issue with my over-enthusiastic aunt. I might as well continue beating that dead horse forever because actually addressing the issue is far less productive. If I spoke to my aunt about my absolute disinterest in porcelain figurines, it may go something like this:

Me: So, porcelain figurines. They don’t inspire me all that much.
Aunt: What?? I’ve been buying them for you for years! Why didn’t you say something sooner? You have ruined Christmas!!

But will more likely go something like this…

Me: So, porcelain figurines. They don’t inspire me all that much.
Aunt: Did you say porcelain figurines?  That reminds me, I should enter you in a draw for a lifetime supply of Frog up Tree and Old Woman Carrying Basket. I’ll also sign you up for their newsletter. You like to read don’t you?!?

As it turns out, the question of what to do about bad gifts does not have a mathematical answer because people’s feelings are involved, and you can never win when it comes to people’s feelings. The best way to handle it, in my opinion, is to not expect the world’s best gift. When you don’t expect anything, you won’t get disappointed. And please don’t take it too personally; it’s just stuff, really. Concentrate on the good parts of Christmas, like getting inappropriately drunk. (Please refer to my Eggnog recipe for a kickstart.)

And now I leave you with the uncomfortable, sentimental Christmas message you’ve been so patiently waiting for. Christmas is a time to be closer to family, and smooth out any rough patches that may have occurred during the year. Gifts aside, make room in your hearts for open communication with loved ones. In the meantime, I’ll make room in my drawer for another porcelain figurine. Here’s hoping for Old Woman Carrying Basket. What a fox!

THE GOONIES

Mikey: It’s their time! Up there! Down here, it’s our time. It’s our time down here!

Mikey tries to convince his friends to not give up when the going gets tough. The grass is not necessarily greener on the other side.

THE NEVERENDING STORY

Rockbiter: They look like big, good, strong hands. Don’t they?

The Rockbiter is heartbroken, because his mighty strength was not enough to save his best friends from the incredible force of nature that is The Nothing. No matter how powerful we think we are, ultimately we have no control in keeping the ones we love.

THE LABYRINTH

Jareth (Goblin King): I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.

Such an emotionally manipulative comment requires big balls!

ROMEO + JULIET (1969)

Juliet: My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Juliet falls in love with Romeo before finding out he is a Montague. We never plan to fall in love; it is completely out of our control. Yet no matter how much love anguishes us, we don’t want to give it up.

MILO AND OTIS

Milo: Look what the blizzard blew in! You look hungry; how about some fish?
Otis: Okay, but not for me; for my puppies.
Milo: You have puppies? Me, too!
Otis: You have *what?*
Milo: I mean, uh, uh… kittens.

It’s true. Women always get in the way of good friendship. And what’s worse is it was meant to be. Procreation and such.

Qui-whatta, you ask?? Quinoa is a type of grain, silly. Before you think of horse food, let me clear things up. QUINOA IS NOT FUCKING HORSE FOOD! And if it were, it would be dee-lee-cious and rather nu-tree-cious. Simply, it’s for humans. It might also interest you to know that during Incan times, quinoa was a sacred food which was highly sought after and only nobles were allowed to eat it. Not people like you or me, but nobles. It is a complete protein source (which is unusual for plant-foods) and is rich in iron, fibre and magnesium. So if you’re pale, constipated and can’t move… eat this shit, it’s good for you. Because this grain is so special, NASA is considering it for long-duration space flights. What’s good for NASA is good for YOU. Here’s a basic vegan quinoa recipe that can be made in under 25mins.

This is what you will need:

• 1 cooking device with a lid
• 1 mouth
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 small onion
• 2 cloves garlic
• 2½ tsp Mexican seasoning (if you’re using weak seasoning, use more)
• 400ml tomato purée
• 1½ cup mixed vegetables of choice
• 1 cup Royal Quinoa (the beaded kind)
• 1½ cups water
• Salt and sugar to taste

This is what you do:

• Wash quinoa in a sifter until water runs clear, set aside
• Pour oil in small but deep saucepan, start heating
• Sauté onion
• Add garlic and stir for a few seconds (don’t burn the garlic or it will taste bitter)
• Add water, followed by quinoa, bring to boil then turn down to a simmer
• When most of the liquid becomes absorbed and the germ turns opaque, splitting from the seed and resembling little curls, stir in the seasoning
• Add vegetables and tomato pure
• Simmer till no longer liquid
• Stir in salt and sugar
• Set aside and allow to cool
• Don’t burn your tongue
• Eat

Some extra Quinoa facts:

• Quinoa can be bought from health food stores. If you live in Australia, head over to Woolies.
• Quinoa has enough protein to replace a protein shake, which is good cos that stuff tastes like chalk.
• Quinoa is a great meal for students because it’s cheap and good for hangovers.
• Who cares how it’s pronounced?

Last week I thought to myself, “wow hot weather is finally here! I should really hit the gym.” Enthusiastically, I put on my shorts, Sonic t-shirt and gym shoes — but then – SpongeBob SquarePants came on. It was the irresistibly cute episode where SpongeBob is dissatisfied with his weak, girly arms, and feels inferior to beefcake, Larry the Lobster. After pushing himself at the gym and achieving precisely nothing, SpongeBob gives up and resorts to fake muscles to fool people into believing he’s gone from weedy to buff in a matter of days. Personally, I think steroids would’ve been more convincing, but can you really imagine little ol’ SpongeBob roid-raging? He’d probably bite that poor starfish’s head right off. (I talk about SpongeBob like I know him personally and that’s not at all weird). SpongeBob’s attempts to deceive are finally foiled, as he learns the truth never stays hidden for long. His ball-breaker friend, Sandy, the underwater squirrel, is adamant in convincing him to accept himself for the weedy loser that he is, else he make the situation worse by trying to think independently.

It may have occurred to me that I’d spent my entire gym-hour watching cartoons. But I was much too enthralled by Nickelodeon’s well-thought-out moral of the story, as would be the thousands of children whose televisions raise them while their parents are spending time on Facebook.

Fast-forward to 2am, and I found myself curled on the floor, cuddling a bag of Doritos. I was woken by the show Two of a Kind. It was Mary-Kate Olsen’s voice that disturbed by slumber. Or was it Ashley Olsen’s? I couldn’t tell them apart. Before they had issues coming out the patootie, the Olsen Twins looked exactly the same (as identical twins do) and couldn’t yet be distinguished by eating disorders and bad bleach jobs. I found it interesting that the Olsen voices had succeeded in waking me, but SpongeBob’s irritating laugh did not.

Not everyone is as easily seduced by cartoons, thereby forgetting where they are in the world when they’re supposed to be walking out the door and heading to the gym. Though you would’ve, at some point, felt that familiar demotivation where you’d rather just be a slob for the evening. As it’s an issue of concern for people, I’ve generously constructed some tips to get your arse into gear. Before you read on, allow me to put on my Sergeant Lulu uniform and deliver some seriously bad attitude. So listen up, if you know what’s good for you, you pathetic little good-for-nothing piss-worm!!! How am I doing so far?

Tips for smashing it at the gym:

Get pissed off, ya dickhead! What really gets your goat? World hunger? Stupid politicians? That woman from the Designer Direct ad? Being called a dickhead? Concentrate on it. Make your rage work for you. Recycle that negativity into something that drives you insane with energy. It doesn’t matter that it’s bad energy, because you’re expressing it by punishing the treadmill. Just make sure you chill out afterwards with a nice, refreshing protein shake. Nobody likes a negative Nancy. Nobody likes bad sayings, either, so I apologise for that.

Toughen up, damn you! A lot of people avoid the gym because they’re not in the mood to sweat. You know what I’m not in the mood for? Your lame excuses!! (I could get used to this Sergeant Lulu thing.)

“But I don’t have trendy gym clothes!” The objective is to make yourself look good naked, so what you wear is of no consequence. Besides, nobody cares what you’re wearing, except for others who are equally concerned with gym fashion. Never have I looked at someone wearing designer gym clothing and thought, “wow, Nike, they’re hardcore!” Similarly I’ve never looked at a really toned person and thought, “that’s the most incredible body I’ve ever seen, but the old, torn t-shirt brings them down to a nine.” Here’s how you know you’re wearing gym clothes for trend instead of comfort: Would you wear a Hot Tuna t-shirt from Big W if you knew it achieved the same results as a designer top? You’re at the gym to work out, not too look fashionable, and if you can keep your eye on the goal, instead of getting distracted by things of no significant value, you’ll reach it faster. Besides, dressing like crap and not caring what people think can be a totally freeing feeling! On a sidenote, does anyone actually remember those horrible Hot Tuna t-shirts? They were all the rage back in Primary School. No one ever was a Hot Tuna, though. They were an Average Tuna, at best.

Music: What music makes you feel most energised? Make a playlist with music that you love and feel powerful listening to. My all time power-song is “Push It” by Static-X. Listening to it turns me into the Energizer Bunny.

Lust motivates: The new-age philosophy is “do it for yourself”. I’m down with that. However, let me paint a picture for you. For the sake of argument, everyone in the world has disappeared, except for you. Can you really be bothered exercising and keeping a good figure when there’s no one around to appreciate it? If you answer “yes”, then you’re either a liar, or you’re that outrageously self-absorbed narcissist Karl Lagerfeld. The guy has his face printed on t-shirts and sells them for ridiculous prices. What an a-hole. My point is nothing motivates people to exercise more than knowing they’re going to look good for someone other than the person staring back at them in the mirror. So think of that person, and go hard. Well, not too hard, if you know what I’m saying? Wink. (I’m sorry, that wasn’t comfortable for anybody.) Also, before you start on me with the whole “going to the gym isn’t just for looking hot but for being healthy” thing. Let me make it perfectly clear that I’m a firm believer of being healthy. But the kind of healthiness I believe in is a lifestyle choice that can be maintained until you’re old and grey and your tits have sagged so low they’re collecting dust off the floor. In summary, exercise needs to be realistic as well as manageable so that it can continue forever. The kinds of people who say they go hard at the gym to maintain good health are apologists for their vanity. There’s nothing wrong with being vain, as it’s normal to want to look good. Just don’t excuse it, because the fact of the matter is that people were able to keep fit and healthy long before the cult of gyms existed. And the point of my point which is a completely lost point at this point, is to give yourself permission to feel motivated by lust. Even if it’s an unhealthy lust for someone who isn’t completely real — like Edward Cullen, Santa Claus, or people from dating websites — at least the outcome is a hot body, so you can’t say it was all for nothing.

Eat and drink: Make sure you’re not dehydrated or starving before a work out. Seems like common sense, but I have been guilty of forgetting to eat and the outcome is almost always demotivating. Usually there’s less energy, a disappointing workout, and a less-than-gracious roll off the treadmill.

Bring in your bat-shit crazy friend: We all have an insane friend who is fun to be around but you can only handle in small doses. Give them a Buddy Pass and see how you go working out with a crazy person. All the better to energise you with!

Go hard or go home: This one should be pretty obvious, but I can’t tell you the number of times I see this sight: Trendy twenty-something year old woman — who has spent more time applying makeup than sitting on the exercise bike– is barely breaking a sweat while gossiping loudly with her friend and sipping her latte. Someone explain to me how the gym is a place to socialise? You can’t go to your local café ? I don’t want to hear where Janey and Jerry are going on their honeymoon or what kinds of foods you can have with mustard. I just want to concentrate on moving my booty while watching cheesy hip hop videos, yo! I must admit that, people dilly-dallying at the gym, while using up all the equipment to achieve a lot of nothing, is my pet peeve. What’s the point, really? If you’re going to get ready for the gym, drive to the gym, pay for the gym, and do the gym thing… don’t do it half-arsed.

Imagine you’re a Super Saiyan: Oh, you don’t watch Dragon Ball Z? Forget I said anything.

Repeat after me: “I am awesome. Fuck, look at my arse. My arse is made of steel! I can’t believe how fast I’m going. I am an unstoppable running machine with an arse of steel.” Just don’t say it out loud. Well, you can if you want. In fact, go for gold.

Be inspired: Remember that seventy-year-old man who got on the news for swimming across the English Channel? Think of him while you’re at home, in your underwear, eating nachos.

Upcoming event: There’s nothing like an upcoming event to motivate you into hitting the gym. For instance, Halloween is a time for haunting good fun and costumes that show a generous amount of leg.

When in doubt, roar like Godzilla: I’m not quite sure why it works, but it does.

Challenge yourself: Beat your own personal best, and increase it slightly each time. It’s a massive motivation boost. Just don’t go too hard too fast, as you may wear yourself out right away or injure yourself.

While you’re on the couch trying to decide if you can be bothered going to the gym, a little angel and devil will appear on your shoulder. The angel will be holding some weights and a protein bar, while the devil is holding a cheeseburger and beer. The choice is yours, so what will it be? Feel free to learn from my mistakes. I’m ok with handing out my silly stories as free samples of advice for how not to do things. For instance, today we’ve learned that falling asleep watching SpongeBob SquarePants, when you’re supposed to go to the gym, is very demotivational. But the cuddling of Doritos really takes the cake.

Mmmm, cake!