News from Shakes Manor

One of my favorite pastimes is annoying Iain. (This is fortuitous, given that one of his favorite pastimes is annoying me; it's why our relationship works, you see—so much in common.) And one of the easiest ways to annoy him, and hence amuse myself, is to tune the telly to a station broadcasting something likely to agitate him, in the hopes of eliciting a response not dissimilar to the infamous (and totally hilarious) Regis Philbin Rant.

So, last night, I'm flipping around, and I'm pretty sure I've hit the jackpot when I find a new Dana Carvey stand-up special, but it turns out he's so unfunny that it overshoots Irritating altogether and just lands in Contemptible. Onward…

I try a couple of other things, but nothing seems to be clicking. Even a losing Cubs score just manages to make him wince. Then I turned to NBC, on which was airing "America's Got Talent," the dreadful "Gong Show"-wannbe that has all the entertainment of a high school talent show with none of the promise. I was hoping there might be a tragically obnoxious act that would pique Iain's ire, but it merely took a shot of the judges' table to set him off on one.

Specifically, this guy:


Iain: What the fook? Is that The Hoff?

Liss: [laughing] Uh huh.

Iain: The Hoff?! Oon a Tschoosday?! I canny handle the Hoff oon a Tschoosday! Oon a Soonday moorning, maybe. Tooking into me coornflakes, half asleep—then I can handle the Hoff. Boot noot noow. Noot with fooll consciousness. Noot oon a fooking Tschoosday!

Liss: HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Iain: Toorn it the fook ooff! Fooking Hoff oon a fooking Tschoosday. Christ's sake, Liss!

He's so waking up to find this on the bathroom mirror one day.

And it's so gonna be a Tuesday.