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06.16.2004 - 5:30 p.m.


Surfing the IMDB recently produced some interesting results: the good, the bad, and the downright ugly (Keanu "Couldn't Act His Way Out of a Paper Bag Even If It Were a Wet Flimsy-Ass Bag With Holes In It" Reeves as Constantine? Gag me with a lawnmower, and, like, turn it on). And color me a sick fucker, but I can't wait for this.


There's four of us at Workplace who bring in our dogs on a fairly regular basis, which can sometimes make for a hectic environment. You take one dog, and you add another dog - all I can say is, the result is not two dogs. Their inherent dogginess is compounded somehow, so you have a small thundering bison-herd of canines, plunging through offices and rooting around madly with their wet, wet snouts.

The dogs are thus: Dog, who I may have mentioned here once or twice?; Bella, a behemothic Swissie; Simon, a shy chocolate Lab; and Indiana, my office-mate's aging Heinz 57.

I've been trying to get a photo of all of them in the office at once, because really, our company website is just dying for something like that, but so far only Dog and Bella have been captured together.

Come on! A dog wearing sunglasses! It's sheer comedy gold, I tell you!

Now, as I mentioned, Indiana is an older dog. He's sweet and gentle, but occasionally has some...ah...issues with his digestion. However, far be it from me to banish him for his innocent anal trumpet-blasts, it's nothing a strategically placed Illuminations candle can't take care of.

Well, today my coworker Molly and I went shopping after lunch, and I picked up some silly star-shaped gummy sticker things that I planned to put on my office window.

You'll need this factoid: there is a couch in front of the window that the dogs typically snooze on.

When we got back, Molly affixed one of the gummy things to the window. "Pretty anticlimactic," she said, referring to the fact that I had hemmed and hawed over whether to pick the stars, or the circles, or the fish, or the flower stickers. I took in the solitary blue star twinkling in the afternoon sunlight, then my gaze fell to the couch.

"Um," I said, "Molly? Did you step in dog crap?" For there it was, a healthy smear of aromatic brown, right where I thought she may have stepped on the couch. She stared in horror, then started to turn over her shoe - and that's when we (for there were four of us in the office at the time) collectively spotted the patch of feces on her denim-clad knee.

I'm not sure what YOU would do if you realized your coworker had knelt in dogshit, but I can assure you I immediately leapt to action. If "doubling over and shrieking like a hyena" can loosely be described as "action".

Poor elderly Indiana had had himself a little accident there on the couch, and Molly had unwittingly discovered it.

My office-mate, the dog's owner, was the only one not paralyzed with mirth. Even Molly was howling, and it got even worse when, as she stood there, a little clump of smeared turd came unstuck from her pantsleg and fell to the floor. I laughed so hard it's a wonder I didn't, you know, contribute to the number of accidents in the office.

So, office dogs. They're a source for constant entertainment. Even if sometimes it means you have to borrow someone's pants for the day.

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19 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

yay, diaryland