DISPATCHER: Emergency Intellectual Services, what is the nature of your emergency?
OSKAR: I just said “badder!”
DISPATCHER: I’m sorry, sir, you said what?
OSKAR: ”Badder!” I said “badder!” Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.
DISPATCHER: Are you currently doing any baking, sir?
OSKAR: No, not “batter.” I’m not making a fucking cake!
DISPATCHER: Just calm down, sir. Tell me what happened.
OSKAR: My girlfriend. I was talking to my girlfriend about how she was going to work later than she normally does.
DISPATCHER: Yes?
OSKAR: I was concerned about there being more traffic than normal. She usually goes to work early enough to miss rush hour, and I thought she might hit more traffic, leaving later like that.
DISPATCHER: You were trying to warn her?
OSKAR: Yes! Yes, and I said “I think the later traffic might be BADDER!” *sob*
DISPATCHER: Calm down sir. Did you realize your mistake at the time?
OSKAR: Jesus, yes. I tried to stop myself, and I even tried to stick a “worse” in there, but it was too late.
DISPATCHER: Did your girlfriend tease you, or make fun of you in any fashion?
OSKAR: Of course she did. And I deserved it.
DISPATCHER: You certainly did, sir. But it’s a good thing?
OSKAR: What?
DISPATCHER: Just tell her to keep mocking you. Your deep, abiding sense of shame should keep you from ever doing it again.
OSKAR: Really?
DISPATCHER: Yes sir. All you need is to be sufficiently humiliated. I’d suggest telling other people, so that they can make fun of you too.
OSKAR: You mean… you mean, I’m going to be okay?
DISPATCHER: I believe so, sir.
OSKAR: Oh, thank you. Thank you so much!
DISPATCHER: Just doing my job sir.
OSKAR: Still. Thank you.
DISPATCHER: Have a good day sir.
OSKAR: I will. You too. Thanks again.
DISPATCHER: No problem, sir.
*click*

DISPATCHER: ”Badder.” What an asshole.
*click*

Okay, I must admit to something. I am a grown man who, until yesterday, did not know that that the Pottery Barn does not in fact sell pottery. They are a furniture store. For upscale yuppies. Who knew? Everyone but me, apparently.

This begs a simple question. Why in the name of sweet, satisfying coffee ice cream would you name a store Pottery Barn, and then not sell crockery, or earthenware, or ceramics of some sort? It’s like naming a store “Denim Shack,” and then stocking the shelves with gardening tools or exotic fish.

Then again, Old Navy doesn’t sell used battleships. *sigh*