Farook from Accounting brought his French Poodles into the office today.
Yup…
He walked in with the three of them, tied them to his chair and started “working.”
Apparently he fired his dog sitter. Something about a missing Pepsi from his fridge.
Within seconds the dogs started barking. They only stopped barking to pee on the carpet. Or hump each other.
By now, Typhoid Mildred had formed an angry mob. They went off in search of my boss, Clark.
Next, Carlita Paonessa showed up at Farook’s cube.
She said “I’m allergic to dogs, Farook.”
Before Farook could reply, the dogs broke free and attacked Carlita. They started by mauling her groin.
I know this because I heard her crash to the floor and start screaming “Ow! They’re mauling my groin! Ow! Ow! Jesus Christ! My groin! My groin!”
A crowd quickly formed. Everyone was horrified. Everyone agreed something had to be done. But all everyone did was stare.
Farook started screaming “No! Bad doggies! Stop! Niña, Down! Pinta, heel! Santa Maria, don’t! No! Bad doggies! Stop! Stop! Stop!”
But Farook’s bad doggies weren’t stopping.
Clark arrived. He pulled them off Carlita’s groin and ordered Farook to take his dogs home. “Now!!!”
I have to say, at that moment, Clark radiated authority.
But then he undermined it all when he asked Carlita if he could tend to her wounds.
As if things weren’t litigious enough.
Good thing they weren’t Dobermans!
😀
Oh yeah. A VERY good thing!
LMAO! That’s hilarious, I’d probably just stand there and stare too. Obviously those dogs have character. Hope they can maintain that character when she takes them and farook to court. I’d love to see what they’d do to the judge!
Hey sensico,
I’m told that French Poodles have no respect for authority figures. So they’d likely want to give the judge a thorough groin mauling as well.
😉
Being French, they’d probably set up a blockade of trucks outside the court room, before burning an effigy of Carlita’s groinal region, whilst chanting anti-British slogans.
The fact that Carlita isn’t British doesn’t particularly matter.
“an effigy of Carlita’s groinal region”
Your painting with words, NobblySan!
The image of a burning effigy of Carlita’s groinal region is now firmly plastered into my head.
Ever seen the film (sorry…’movie’) ‘East is East’?
If you have, you’ll know the sort of thing I mean.
Yes, I have seen it. I’m a fan of Om Puri. The guy is in everything. Think I saw him in my sister’s wedding video.
🙂
But how do we know that it’s not an effigy of said region onto your head?
dave
😉
I hadn’t thought about that, Dave.
Excuse me while I ruminate aloud… Oh, and please forgive me in advance if this makes no sense. I know not where I am going with this…
Hmmm, if Carlita was a religion, and I went to the church of Carlita… That would make me a Carlitaite…? So then her groin would be my Carlita-head? To burn the Carlita-head in effigy (as opposed to burning it in Ipswich) would be sacrilege (aka: Carlitalege)?
So, in conclusion, to wear the Carlita-head groin effigy would be Carlitalege and that means I’d wind up in Carlitahell…?
Thoughts?
Carlitahell
I thought she was anyway?
dave
Hah!
Good point.
I believe it was Sartre who said “Hell is Carlita.”
I think it was, anyway…
The funny thing about this story is — and I say this as someone who loves dogs and even had them growing up (although, somehow, over time, I’ve grown quite allergic to them) — the number of times I’ve had this kind of experience with oblivious dog owners is crazy. When your Marmaduke-sized dog jumps up on me, don’t just go, “Awww…he likes you!” When your sniffy dog starts sniffing my parts, don’t just tepidly say, “Oh, Creampuff!” and then continue talking — just as the dog CONTINUES SNIFFING. In short, my heart goes out to that lady!
It’s true. For some reason I had this image reading your comment…
INT. HOUSE — DAY
Bob sits on couch, Ted enters with two beers.
TED: Here you go Bob.
BOB: Thanks, Ted.
They take a sip on their beers. Bob barks like a dog.
TED: Bob…did you just bark?
BOB: Hmmm? Oh yeah.
Bob barks again.
TED: Just checking…
BOB: Ted.
TED: Yeah?
BOB: Have I ever bent over and smelled your ass?
TED: Excuse me?
BOB: I realize it may sound a bit strange but on my way home tonight I was on the bus and I looked out the window and there were these two dogs smelling each others asses, and I thought…now that’s friendship, that’s really something…don’t you think?
TED: Bob, they’re dogs…
BOB: I know that, it’s just that they had known each other for maybe two minutes. Now I’ve known you all my life and it occurred to me that I’ve never bent over and smelled your ass. It depressed me for some reason. Pass the chips.
TED: Are you okay Bob?
BOB: I don’t know, I’m mixed up. We’re too damn formal…not just you and me, but everybody. I can’t remember the last time I was out and saw a woman I was interested in and just walked up to her and stuck my nose between her legs. Dogs do that Ted, dogs know, they just know. They don’t have any hang ups.
TED: Look Bob, you’re missing a very important point here. They’re dogs. The reason they do those things is because they don’t know any better. I mean, they crap on your lawn for God’s sake.
Bob smiles oddly. Ted looks worried.
TED: Tell me you didn’t…
BOB: Last night… I just walked over to the neighbour’s house and pinched a loaf under his maple tree. And you know, it felt good, it felt natural.
TED: You need a vacation.
BOB: I need fleas, I need to chase cats and pee on fire hydrants.
TED: Look, Bob, everyone wants to be free sometimes. We all want to give up our responsibilities but we’ve evolved from that type of behaviour.
BOB: You’re right. Now we tell people we hate that we like them, we lie, cheat and steal from each other. We’re so emotionally crippled we can’t keep a relationship together let alone carry on a simple straight forward conversation. We’re a repressed, depressed, neurotic and angst filled society that doesn’t have the sense to get in touch with it’s own instincts. Now let me smell your ass and let me smell it now!!!
Ted smacks him with a newspaper.
TED: Sit!
Bob whimpers slightly and then drinks his beer.
TED: Good boy.
Wow, Alan, you have too much time on your hands.
We had a gay couple who lived next door who had three poodles named—Charles, Nelson, and Riley.
I am going to start using groin mauling in my tags from now on.
😛
Hahahaha…
Let me know about the quality of readers that gets you.
I guess it couldn’t be any worse than the motley crew of groin maulers that already hang out over there.
Oh, those depraved and lascivious groin maulers…
You are one warped puppy, Alan.
Very kind of you to say so.
😉
😉
ROFLMAO! The dogs’ names are just the icing on the cake! Reminds me of a woman I worked with who had dogs named Bibi, Cici and Deedee. She was planning to add a Fifi!
Hahaha! Add a Gigi and a Mimi and the circle is complete!
😉
If you work from home you get to bring your dog to work every day.
Makes me wonder if you could train it to correlate paper work and fill out Fed Ex forms.
He could have an issue with handling the paperwork but I bet he would be good on the speak-er phone.
😀
Most of the folks here have problem handling their paperwork and dealing with the phones…
Your dog looking for a job?
Oh gawsh…
I know…
Why don’t they have a ‘Bring your Cats to work’ Day?
Imagine what fun crazy Cat Lady would have…?
Or ‘Bring Your Mongoose to Work’ Day?
Why do dogs get such special treatment?
Why, Alan, why????!!
I shall do my best to answer your questions, my friend.
Why no “Bring Your Cats to Work Day”? There are some who would say that cats are smarter than dogs; ergo a cat would never allow itself to be dragged into an office.
This whole “who’s smarter – a cat or a dog?” question is a thorny issue that has been debated between cat people and dog people for centuries… All I know is that the only way most people can get a cat to go with them anywhere is by putting it in one of those cat carriers.
As for the mongoose, well, I don’t see a problem here. Especially if your office has a major snake infestation. I can only surmise that most office buildings are snake-free… Either that or mongooses continue to be discriminated against.
So I guess the best answer I can give you as to “why do dogs get special treatment?” is – they’re not cats or mongooses.
Hope this clears things up. I just reread what I wrote and it strikes me as a mish-mash of poorly constructed thoughts, but then again after having watched three French Poodles attack a co-worker, I am, understandably, a little dithery today.
Is it mongooses or mongeese? Just wondering… For the purists. Or is it puristses…ses?
🙂
According to the sage know-it-alls at Wikipedia…
Mongoose (plural: mongooses or, rarely, mongeese)
I have to say that I’m relieved that “mongooses” can be used. Such a funny sounding word.
As for the purists vs. puristses debate… Well, that’s a contentious issue ( a real barrel of mongooses, one might say) that I’d prefer to stay away from.
Hope you understand, Marissa. I think it’s for the best.
I believe it’s purista. From the Latin puristu, meaning “wage slave with a superiority complexe.”
In addition to manning the local java joint, you may also find the purista behind the counter of your local record shop or perhaps giving you a rundown on today’s specials.
Most purista are actually undiscovered actors/singers/songwriters/novellists/anonymous bloggers.
That’s great!
And thank you for finally sorting that out.
A semi-interesting side note: Puristas are also rampant alcoholics.
The bitter irony (bitter irony is a huge part of the life of a purista, I might add) is they can’t afford to drink.
One of the Grocery Ranch’s then-subsidiaries had a Bring your dog to work day back when we were still working in The Palace–a four story building with a four story atrium so the noise went everywhere instead of being contained on their half floor. It was a total circus.
Sounds like it wasn’t a howling success…
P.S. Sorry about the terrible pun… But really, are there any other kinds?
😉
Well, a few things were hopefully learned today. Farook knows not to bring his dogs to work. He perhaps also learned that a stolen soda is a small price to pay for a quality dog sitter. And Carlita now knows that her underwear is an ill advised storage space for ham slices.
Riot!
Hers is a cautionary tail…
(Okay, that’s two incredibly groan (groin?) inducing puns in a row… The bad news is everything comes in threes. The good news is that means there’s only one more pun left to come… Wait… Is knowing there’s another pun coming good news? Tune in tomorrow to the “Pun and the Restless”)
Okay, thank God that’s over.
Please note I refrained from the old “God spelt backwards saw…”
Even better would by the dyslexic atheist who didn’t believe in dog.
I didn’t think atheists believed in dyslexia.
No, it’s scientologists that don’t believe in dyslexia. Dyslexics don’t believe in Atheists. But that’s only because they hate reading that word.
So dyslexics believe in atheist scientologists, and atheist scientologists believe in dyslexics, and atheist dyslexics believe in scientologists.
Got it. Thanks for clearing that up.
😉
I’ve got to quit drinking before noon. They typos are getting out of hand.
😉
Woman (seductively to man): No alcohol for me, please. I find that alcohol dulls the senses and I prefer to revel in them.
Man: Not me! (he chugs on a bottle of gin)
Everyone knows real women drink whiskey.
The irony?
I have a t-shirt that says as much.
My former boss, the truly evil Mr. Boss had a weimaraner puppy. He was idiot enough to take the dog to a client’s office to show it off.
Moments after they arrived the puppy went ballistic and bit the office equivalent of Typhoid Millie on her, shall we say, posterior region?
There was some brief frantic talk about a lawsuit, but the weimaraner sent a very nice flower arrangement and an extremely apologetic card explaining his abysmal manners.
And it all ended happily ever after. Sort of.
Apparently Hallmark™ makes a card for just occasions…
“An Apology by a Weimaraner”
Sorry I bit your gluteus maximus
I’m a Weimaraner dog, it’s what I do
If I’d know it’d have caused such a big fuss
I’d have held off on biting and chewing on you
But, come on, I’m a dog who was bred for the hunt
I take down boar, bears, and deer, it’s one of my powers
It just comes naturally, it wasn’t a stunt
Please accept my apology and a dozen nice flowers
A poet as well, eh?
dave
Yes, and a rather terrible one.
😛
Hallmark™ rejected my “An Apology by a Weimaraner”
They said the meter was disgraceful and my greeting card sentiment far worse.
Just going out on a limb here. Why would someone allergic to dogs go over to someone’s cube to tell them she was allergic.
Have your heard about the phone, email, twitter, texting, sexting, or the ever popular yell over 5 cubicles. All would have been better for her and she wouldn’t be in a state where Clark was mauling her groin after the dogs.
Ah, good point, bearman…
I guess going over provided her the opportunity to scowl. You just can’t convey a truly sour scowl through technology. Sometimes hands-on is the only solution.
Too bad it backfired on her…
😉
So the Clark and Carlita rumours may be true after all. What was Carlitas reaction to Clarks offer?
Appalled and abject disgust.
But that may have more to do with the fact that Clark was responsible for canceling her re-branding of the Hamish Industries web project.
So, the conversation I had at work this morning ended with “The submissive one smells the other’s butt.” At that point, we mutually decided we’d better end the conversation.
I have to admit I said those words.
Fortunately, we were discussing my recent dog whispering experience, but somehow, those words didn’t smell right in the office.
“those words didn’t smell right in the office”
That’s great.
Probably not where you work. But at Hamish Industries…
😉
What’s particularly surprising to me is the discovery that it’s the submissive one that does the butt smelling. It makes sense when I think about it (hoo boy) but for some reason, I always thought it was the dominate one who did the initial butt sniffing (again, hoo boy).
Clearly, I’ve been living in a fool’s paradise.
Either that or I’m locked into some kind of weird and twisted form of denial.
It’s probably best I keep it that way…
So much for good story telling after a glass of wine.
It IS the dominant one who smells the other’s butt, which is, of course, a much odder statement to hear on the fly.
OK, I’m back.
Normally, the dominant one does the sniffing, BUT (OK, OK) if you are trying to stop aggression, you force the dominant one to submit to the submissive one’s smelling, forcing the dom into the sub position.
I’ve got to stop writing about this. It’s unseemly.
But highly entertaining!!!
Many thanks for the dog butt sniffing clarification.
It’s nice to know I wasn’t in dog butt sniffing denial, but had a firm grasp (as it were) on the ins and outs of dog butt sniffing.
I didn’t know that aggressive dog butt sniffing could be controlled by forcing the dominant butt sniffer into a submissive butt sniffee pose. But now I do. And it’s a piece of information that I know I’ll never forget.
😉
In my world, the submissive one always smells the other’s butt first, period
It’s the same in the blog commenting world as well. You force others to leave a comment first and then maybe comment back if your interested. That way you establish dominance.
A similar behavioral ecology exists for blogrolls as well.
So you can see, even us bloggers are deciding about the sexual fitness of other bloggers. Leave a comment and maybe I’ll smell your butt. PV’s right, its pretty unseemly.
A very intriguing analogy, Gark K. And I do believe I see what you’re getting at…
Fine. You can smell my butt first…
😉
I’m not sure I agree with you, Gark. I am dominant in same sex situations, but not with the opposite, yet I hate being one of the add-on commenters. I prefer to get the ball rolling, so to speak. So…well. I’m not really sure what I was trying to say there.
But there’s this – It’s the dominant one who sniffs first because it makes the submissive one feel objectified. I mean, she’s more than just her smell, right? Doesn’t she have a mind and interests and dreams like any bitch?
Just think of the humiliation of having to stand still for a butt sniffing! It’s all too much. I feel dirty. I’m going to go drag my butt across the grass now.
I prefer dragging my butt across the carpet. Less buggy.
I’m a tree hugger. And a grassy ass dragger. What can I say?
I think that sums it up nicely.
Ah. The dominant one does the sniffing.
That explains all those lobbyists sniffing around Washington D.C.
*rimshot*
I’ll be here all week, weather permitting…
(Rimshot is mainly there for Al’s ungodly love of puns. And anal references.)
It works on so many levels!!!
We’re still paying you with alcohol, right?
(Another ‘Al’ huh? …Interesting… More on that later…)
Yeah, still receiving my weekly “paycheck.” Although I may be asking for a raise from Wood Grain to Non-Blinding.
My liver is starting to feel inflamed and I’m pretty sure something pretty important is ruptured.
As for Al… maybe it’s just projection. From now on, it’s Mr. Coholic.
I’m okay with moving you up to the quality Non-Blinding booze, but for some reason I can hear the voice of a crabby old man who might be outraged….
“Non-Blinding??? You goddamned teenager. In my day, we drank Wood Grain and we were grateful for the splinters it left in our livers. And we used those liver splinters to build our houses. And we built out houses while suffering from the Wood Grain DTs! But you young people today drink fancy “cocktails” with names like “cosmopolitan” and “fuzzy navel.” In my day Cosmopolitan was a magazine young men spilled their shame into and fuzzy navels were what you contracted from prostitutes…”
Awesome!
Ow. My sides.
From laughing that is.
And possibly the alcohol.
This entire thread has been very enlightening. Your pictures of people look like dogs, and your picture of the dog looks like a person. Since I now know so much about canine sniffing habits, I would guess that maybe the Bob and Ted that live in your head need to talk to Ms. Villars. She may be able to help all three of you figure out who’s dominate and who’s submissive.
Clark offered to tend to Carlita’s wounds. See what a nice guy he really is? It’s a good thing Mike wasn’t around. Oh that’s right, he was in the bathroom crying and missed the whole thing didn’t he?
Hey clairecollins,
Yes, if it were a sitcom it would be titled “The Submissive Antics of Citizen Canine”
I suspect Ms. Villars has left the building for a while. But fortunately, she left a goldmine of valuable information which I will happily sort through. Given the newspaper striking of Ted, I believe he may be the dominant butt sniffing human.
Clark is the very model of a modern major executive.
As for Mike. He was multi-tasking in the bathroom: Crying and committing an El Grande Dumpo.
Yes, that is some seriously disturbing Photoshopping there. Creepy.
Speaking of seriously disturbing…
http://barelyknittogether.com/2009/05/06/and-now-a-word-from-our-sponsors/
Thanks for the props. It’s good to be weird.
“The Submissive Antics of Citizen Canine” could also be a porn film.
Or a porn sitcom!
Hey, we’re brainstorming here!
He’s half human/half dog – and all porn star.
It’s 22 fun filled minutes of ribald hilarity.
He lives in the suburbs with his widowed dad… Who’s an ex gymnast, an alcoholic, and a food stamp collector.
They have a neighbour. I’m thinking he’s wacky…
And the neighbor’s name is Jason?
It could even be rabid hilarity.
Dad’s a widow because mom was a real bitch.
Yes! Jason! And he walks on all fours. And is always smoking cigars and humping everyone’s legs.
“Rabid Hilarity” We have a tagline!
I like the real bitch idea. Let’s include her. She’s not dead… She’s… A ghost. Okay yeah, she’s dead, but she’s still in the picture. She’s always interrupting things and telling people what to do. You know, a total bitch.
And she’s married to a psychic. A psychic with a clubfoot. Who’s a sex addict.
AND… he’s always chasing tail (not necessarily his own)
AND… in every episode there’s plenty of butt sniffing and rotating turns at being dominate and submissive
Beautiful. I’m seeing it. The jokes will write themselves. So we don’t need to hire writers. That’s good. Their nothing but pains in the asses anyway.
Each episode is based on a Kama Sutra
position, so we have no shortage of episode ideas.
Oh! And there’s a talking cat. His name is Max. Max, the pussy. And he’s gay. No bi. No tri and bi and straight and celibate. He’s complicated. But funny.
And Citizen Canine really hates him. Great! We have conflict, we have comedy lift off…
Citizen Canine likes it “ruff”.
And he chases the cat so he can taste… hmm I think I’ll stop there. It writes itself.
You’re complicated but funny. I may start calling you Max.
And rabid porn hilarity ensues!
Now all we need is a catchy theme song…
Citizen Canine – he’s the man
He’s also a dog
He’s doing what he can
He’s never forlorn
And always starring in porn
He lives with his dad
Who’s a loveable boozer
He’s friend with Jason
Who’s a leg humping loser
Plus there’s Max the cat
And a bitchy ghost
Citizen Canine
It’s the show with the most!
Oh. Fox will be first in line to pick this gem up.
Probably Wednesday nights, following Who Wants to Marry a Rich SOB? and leading into sexy newcomer Full Frontal Lobotomy.
Ah, the coveted Wednesday time slot.
Once the time slot to other quality Fox shows like When Drunk Toddlers Attack, So You Think Can Act White Trash and World’s Worst Sex Accidents.
All of those shows were filmed at my house, I’ll have you know. Except the Rich SOB one, dammit.
You know the drunk toddlers?
Can you get me their autographs? Or some of their spit up?
I’ll tell you what – you can come and take them for the day. Whatever you end up with is between you and dog.
You’re such a hoot!
Now see, if a dog DIDN’T want to go anywhere near a woman’s groin, (and is actually moonwalking AWAY from it) that could signal a problem. A canary in a coal mine, if you will. Perhaps, potential boyfriends could see it as an indication that all is not well in Box Land. Just sayin’.
A very astute observation, Marissa.
“Box Land” huh?
Sounds like a female genital anatomy fun park. I’m trying to imagine the rides…
The Vulva Coaster. The Uterus Wheel. The Log Clitoris. Bumper Vaginas.
You forget ‘The Fun Hole.’
Hahahaha!
Thanks!
I’m sure there’s a joke about how “fundamentaljelly puts the fun in the fun hole.”
But I’m staying away from that!
Y’all crazy!! LMAO!
You’re an inspiration, Marissa!
First the pom poms, then the flounce, and now Box Land.
😀
Shocking and disgraceful!
ooooh…. I just clicked on that scary photo of Millicent Bodsworth. I think she’d find most things shocking and disgraceful
Ms. Bodsworth’s mortal enemy is fundamentaljelly!
She really has it in for the poor guy…
😉
(But she’s a kitten compared to CK)
At the very least, not with a barge pole rather than a todger…
dave
He he he…
Always good to learn new things: Today it was what “todger” meant.
😀
Haha. Oh the comedy. Question – were the dogs Catholic? I think I would have been more horrified had Carlita started enjoying the mauling of her groin. 🙂
Hey Chris… I was hoping to avoid the whole ‘dog spelt backward’ dealio… But, for you, okay… Here we go…
Traditionally, French Poodles have been predominantly Roman Catholic with a small Reformed (Calvinist) minority.
I am told that Farook’s attacking French Poodles were atheists… Still, I believe Carlita would have been justifiably horrified by the mauling of her groin (by French Poodles) whether they were atheist, Catholic, or even Latter-Day Poodle for that matter.
Let it up to me to break up the fun, but did you, (or anyone else) give Farook shit for naming FRENCH poodles after SPANISH ships? That’s utter nonsense.
Agreed! It’s an outrage! It’s into the ship’s galley for him. We’ll chain him up, stick an oar in his hand and let the ship’s taskmaster put the whip in. Farook and his oar can steer this mighty vessel called Hamish Industries into the rocks – killing us all! Ha, ha, ha! That’ll show him. And us! And when he gets undead, he’ll know better. And then next time he’ll give his French Poodles proper French names. like, Huey Dewey and Louie.
I was thinking Honore, Serge and Benoit but yours work too. I think you’re just angry that Clark beat you to the punch on tending to Carlita’s precious groin. Nothing builds sexual tension quite like ice packs and Neosporin.
😀
Very nice, RR!
Poor Carlita and all this talk of her groin. In this thread it’s been mocked, burnt in effigy, and anthropomorphized. After all that, I think she’d appreciate it being referred to as a “precious groin.”
Ice packs and Neosporin jokes aside. 😉
LOSTL! I love puppies!
Mum says we’re not allowed animals either because shes allergic and that they keep sniffing her crotch. She says that whenever a dog sniffs your private area, satan gets another soul to go to firey depths of hell.
Poor Carlita!
Bob
Bob,
Thank goodness you’re here.
Another pearl of wisdom from your delightful mum. She can always be relied upon to find the appropriate Satanic image. God bless her.
Hopefully one day she’ll found the swarthy man of her dreams.
I hope so too, alan.
But until then, im the man of her dreams! but im really here! LOSTL!
And im much more talkative than a pet doggie is and I wont send people to hell if i sniff their crotch!
Bob
Bob,
Thank goodness you’re here.
Until the swarthy man of her dreams arrives, I guess it is up to you. But a charismatic ladies man like you has a busy social life — and it sadly can’t always include your mum.
Maybe until the right fellow arrives for her, you could consider getting her a parrot, or some sort of talking bird.
Perhaps you could teach the bird to say LOSTL! That way you’d always be at home in spirit whilst out carousing with the femme fatales.
A thought. Take care Bob. Wear sensible shoes.
I believe it was Pamela Villars who said on another blog that she felt unable comment. Too much competition, too much funny.
Funny, that.
Tootles!
-BKT
There’s something about Carlita’s groin that always attracts bad attention.
Very true Mike,
One might even say that it’s bad to the bone…
Another reader, ROTFLMAO!
My God, Alan, you are a wonderful (and consistent) writer! Get out of that office and head for Hollywood, now! The world needs more comedy, and you are the guy who can provide the scripts!
Thanks SO much for the laugh dejour!
Sally P 🙂
PS: Today’s replies rocked too!
I’m blushing, Sally P
Thank you very much for the kind words. Have a great weekend and a Happy Mother’s Day!
I’m not sure if someone else has already mentioned this but…..
Do dog kennel workers have a bring your dog to work day?
Or Vietnamese cooks?
That could be awkward…
Hmmm, I’ll have to do a little research, jesusbudda… I had heard of the legendary “Legendary Vietnamese Dog Catchers Bring Your Dog to Work Day” but because it was legendary, and used the word “legendary” in its title, I assumed it was the legendary stuff of legends… 😉
With all this butt sniffing and crotch mauling, did anyone else notice that Alantru is an anagram of anal rut?
Okay, maybe it’s just me…
😀
That is fabulously great.
Well played indeed.
If I was a game show host, right at this moment I’d be shouting out “You win A BRAND NEW CAR!!!”
Too rich…
I’m cracking up and can’t even think now.
🙂
Your work here is done.
😉
I will never be able to look at you the same.
Understandably.
That nickname is the kind of one that could stick.
Funny enough, I’ve been having all kinds of nickname adventures with the gang here at Hamish.
wht hapned to teh dogs n?
Hi Izzygod,
Thanks for dropping by.
Niña, Pinta and Santa Maria went on to discover America and then starred in the inevitable sequel…Groin Land II
i think Fox should make a teevee show with all of the hilarious commenters here and you Alan would be the Em Cee. 60 , oh after commercials 28 minutes of jocularity and snark. Snark in hi-def, priceless!
🙂
Cheers Russellingalong!
I have suddenly become very fond of the expression “snark in hi-def” and plan to try and use it (and variations on it) in my tags and on a daily basis in conversations.
He has a sitter.
For his dogs.
On a daily basis.
My god.
I know. And then he fires the sitter over a Pepsi.
What a guy.
#1. I love what you’ve done to your dog’s eyes and mouth. Beautiful.
#2. Sorry I haven’t visited.
#3. WTF!? Farook needs to get a grip. Those dogs remind me of my dad’s old dogs. Pinto and Bean.
#4. If you have 30,000 comments this weekend, I am unsubscribing to the comments. FYI.
#5. Hi!
#1. Thank you, jessica o! Not sure that the cat therapist, Dr. Carole Wilbourn would approve.
#2. Wonderful as always, to see you.
#3. Totally. I think he’s starting to seriously lose it. (Pinto and Bean were groin maulers too…?)
#4. 😉 If I have 30,000 comments this weekend it will be because 29, 975 of them are from me.
#5. Hi! To you too. And Happy Mother’s Day!
(P.S. That baby picture is a riot!)
http://jessicaosrant.wordpress.com/2009/05/01/potd-that-i-stole/
[…] Bring Your Dog To Work Day? […]
LOL. That’s a bad day at work. I wonder if the fired babysitter took the soda to ice down her groin. Maybe she had the same experience.
Can’t blame em for trying… both Clark and Farook.
😀
😀