My Datajack, actually, Wu’s Datajack, shit the bed so my last day at the lake was without internet. (Sorry Jeff) This is yesterday’s post.
I got a series of cryptic emails from Tabby’s relations over the pond today. They left me scratching my head over how two cultures that share a common language can fail to communicate with each other.
To back up, Tabby is an animal hoarder. She has three dogs (down from four) and two cats (also down from four). And she just acquired a female horse that looks like this.
She gives her pets strange names. Her mini pinscher is Mushroom, her hairless Chinese Crested is Werm, her Pugoodle is Pugsly (which, to be fair, I would have named him) and her cats are named Kitty and The Cat. Thank God she doesn’t have kids. That would be a disaster.
She submitted this list of candidates for her lovely mare: Firestone, Devises, Kendall, Sukasana, Arrakis, Marmite, Tea leaves, Sandstorm, Sirrus, Ibis.
I was a little surprised that Glue Stick and Ikea Swedish Meatballs weren’t on the list.
Then I got involved in this bizarre conversation with Tabby’s family via email.
Oh, FYI, Tabby’s a Brit and I can’t understand a word she says. She’ll say to me, “I’ll see you at half six (pronounced “hahf”)” and I’ll have to ask, “Do you mean five thirty or six thirty?” Honestly, to this day I couldn’t tell you.
Okay, here are the emails. The first one came with this picture that confused me because it’s of a man but he is calling him “she”.
Tabby’s Dad: Just remember, she will automatically become “the special one”
Me: Is this a British thing? I’m confused. You must translate for the American. What’s a Mourinho?
Tabby: Matt is seriously disturbed.
Me: Your American friend is seriously confused.
Tabby: Vivienne needs a short explanation on English Football politics. Or I could just ask Matt to explain …
Candy (Tabby’s Sister): Wot the fuck u all on about?
Tabby’s Dad: Matt speaks with forked tongue and is not to be approached
Me: This is really helpful. Thanks.
Tabby’s Dad: Vivienne, in England we have a religion called football, soccer to you. And the uncrowned head manages the best team/club based in London. To name anything after Him is to confer godlike status, I rest my case.
Me: Oh great. That clears things right up.
Beth (Tabby’s other sister): I is like well confused to wot u lot is on about why don’t ya’all speak English innit?!
Candy: True dat!
Tabby: Beth you have been in The Land of the Cock(ney) too long innit.
Me: I still don’t know what the fuck you are talking about. Why am I involved in this thread anyway? And what the hell is a Mourinho? He looks male but you are calling him a she. I AM SO CONFUSED!
I finally got to the bottom of the conversation, NO THANKS TO ANY OF TABBY’S RELATIVES. How did they even get my email anyway? It was about naming her stupid horse Mourinho, I guess.
I think Tabby and I work as friends because even though we walk our dogs every day, we never run out of stuff to talk about because we don’t really know what the other person is saying.
It’s like one of those mail order bride situations where everyone gets along great until they start speaking the same language and the Asian/Russian bride starts demanding some human rights.
I’m thinking of banding together with Tabby’s dogs for a class action lawsuit.
On another note, when my friends ignore my 5am phone call I put on a Savage Love Podcast to listen to on my walk. The one I listened to this morning (#345) started with an
amazcompelling rant about our culture of rape, Facebook, and why men should condemn all rapey, misogonistic, slut-shaming talk. At all times. If they ever want to get laid again.
Of course I’m on board with all this. Of course I’ve had all those thoughts myself. But nobody can rant like Dan Savage. I love him.
Here’s some vacation stuff for my dad (HI DAD!) to look at.
Testiclese gives waterskiing a shot.
He almost gets up …
And down he goes. What a good sport he is.
Jumping off the boat.