There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Barnaby Baretta Quincy, MD

Becky asks:

how DARE you insult the genius that is Vernon Kay. if you cleaned your ears out or actually LISTENED you might understand him. he is a king in this country! out of interest was your "Hit Me Baby One More Time" the same as ours?

Ah, dear, sweet, naive Becky... I can't find my sources at the moment (too lazy to continue looking, truth be told), but I am not the only American d-lander to find the lovely Mr. Kay difficult to understand. I DO listen. I strain to understand so much that I break capillaries and have strained a sphincter or two. It's the vowels, Beck. The vowels. I'm not saying he's wrong to speak that way, I'm just saying that it's not an accent that most Americans are familiar with (PREPOSITION ALERT!!!) Also, he shouts. And his hair is from 1976. I KNOW he's a king there -- that's where I know him from (PREPOSITION ALERT!!!) But we wouldn't (or at least, I hope it's prevented by the Geneva Convention and some Amnesty International policies) send Ryan Seacrest to you, because he's just so cheezyAmericanVelveetaCorndogCracker that you wouldn't "get" him or his appeal, which is really sort of anti-appeal. (If we ever send Ryan Seacrest to do a TV show over there, move to Greenland immediately. You may be safe there.) Vernon Kay has that too, only it's the ToadInTheHoleSpottedDick sort of Englishness that we just don't get. It's not because we're stupid (mostly). It's like back in the day, before the advent of the 24-hour cartoon networks (what would be a good name for that sort of thing?), when each city or region had their own Saturday morning cartoon show host that was a long-standing local tradition but just wasn't good and looked absolutely tarded to anyone from out of town. That's what Vernon Kay is. In all likelihood, someone from rural Mississippi would be unintelligible to you. If we ever let people leave rural Mississippi to go to England, that is, but we don't. It's the law.

Loopy recommends:

So here's what you do...when the vanilla sets to the appropriate consistency, mix with the chocolate. Or just dump the shit in a blender with some Kahlua and have yourself a tasty mudslide...

I can't even begin to tell you how right you were. I'm salivating at the mere memory of that delicious concoction. Go out NOW and get yourself one of these puppies. If I were smart, I would figure out a way to hook an exercycle to a hand-crank ice cream maker and pay some poor kid to burn calories while I threw cigarette butts at him and waited for the creamy deliciousness.

So, Lazy CoNonWorker: I have the patience and time to explain the complicated situation today. Quite some time ago, Mrs. LaZBoy asked if she could "borrow" some work time from my department so Mr. LaZBoy could help her with a project she's in charge of (PREPOSITION ALERT!!!). She was granted that permission at the time. The project required travel to a neighboring state, which, COINCIDENTALLY, is where the extended LaZFamily is headquartered. So plans were made for the Mr., Mrs., mom in law, new baby, and teen-age kids to go up there together for a week. Some work on the project would be accomplished, but the big reason was the chance to show off the new baby and spend time with the extended LaZFamily. Two weeks ago, BigCheese decided to rescind that permission for him to assist, her rationale being that if he is capable of working (which he claims he isn't), he should be working in his own department. He didn't tell his wife of this rescinding of the permission. Her boss did. Two days before he was to leave. She called him (at home, of course) and told him that if he was going to be treated so disrespectfully by EduMart, he should just resign. (Hysterical laughter ensued on my part.) This conversation happened on a Friday. On Monday, he sent an email to BigCheese telling her that he'd changed his meds, was feeling better, was at home, but would be in on Wednesday after he "settled down."

I, of course, using my crime-solving psychic abilities, know that he went to the neighboring state with his family anyway. He may (or may not) fly back early to come to work, but he's not in town now. I have called his home phone a LOT (from work, sillies -- I want his caller ID to have a billion missed calls from EduMart) and he has never answered. I know, I sound like I'm insane stalker woman now, but you just tire of being treated like an idiot, ya know?

The most ironic thing about what I just wrote is that I really am a very dedicated, hard worker and I always get my stuff done on time. Imagine how much I could do if I didn't have to solve all of these damn crimes all the time.

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