Presumably You Are Persuing A Sexy Horse.

I have a job.  It’s alright, it provides monies and frustrations in almost equal measure, and while it isn’t exactly brimming with what any talented, dreaming, hopeful, even remotely capable lifeform would call career potential, it does at least offer some entertainment.  There is an issue with leg wear, inherent gender bias and discrimination that allows me to pick and prod to my hearts content, whilst also ensuring I am technically right.  Ideal.  As well as this there are my colleagues/workmates/employment based friends, whatever you want to call them, as long as it isn’t Team, because we do not have a van, have never entered a competitive sporting event and because Team is a label administered by employers in an attempt to make you feel like you are an essential part of a group, working for each other, relying on the commitment and dedication of those you interact with on a daily basis.  When really you work for a big, faceless logo, and frankly, not staying an extra hour or so to get whatever done doesn’t bother anyone but the logo.  It certainly isn’t letting anyone with a face down.  They don’t care.

Anyway, on the subject of people with what I work, I have recently been engaged in a Bieber Battle with one of them.  He tweeted what I assume and hope was a tongue in cheek comment about toe tapping along to the latest tween adored dross.  I retaliated pithilly by threatening to kill him or something.  The next day I arrived at work and, on opening my email, discovered he had sent me a lovely big picture of the stupid faced, talent vacuum.  I sent one back with a target Microsoft-Painted over afore mentioned stupid face.  And so on.

Not fully understanding the length – and work time consuming manner – I was prepared to go to in my responses, this naive man subsequently sent me the lyrics to that well loved, all time classic ‘Baby’, performed much like a well trained if somewhat emotionless and soon to be put down circus monkey, by Justin Bieber.  Well, obviously I was appalled.  Not only had I sat and read them, wasting entire minutes of my life, but the email was made up of letters that I was unable to use for a long time afterwards due to the relation they at the time had, to that little Disneys-satanic-offspring testicle face.  It was suggested to me that he is harmless, like a ‘Mouskateer on an amphetamin cocktail’.  All I could say was that I hoped it would cause his heart or brain to explode.  Or both.  Preferably both.  So, after my blood tears had stopped flowing and I found myself able to utilise the same language used to perpetrate such sound crimes, I set about a humorous and email chain ending response.

I think this is the official copy from Paramount. Seems kind.

It is attached, along with the brief introduction my dear colleague included for the benefit of another, no doubt painfully bored workmate.  It is not big (other than in length), it is not especially clever, it may not even bring a smile to your face, but it did put an end to the Bieber based correspondance.  And, looking at him, you can pretty much see that he’s the type to bother livestock.

 

From:Mark Lawrence

To:Luke Brown

Cc:Robert Melville

Date:10/04/2012 11:38

Subject:Fw: Inspiration

Luke,

Please see below. The mistake I made was sending Justin Bieber Lyrics to Bob. His response is detailed in bold.

Like poking a lion with a stick, I’m not sure why I was surprised when he bit my head off:

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Dear Mr Bieber,

We have studied the lyrics of your song and believe them to be a continuation of the bullying and general intimidation of your former partner and our client Winnie T. Horse. Our experts have analysed the words within the song and if needed will use them as evidence against you in a court of law. Or barn. Please see the following break down of said lyrics and, following this, kindly piss off.

Oh whoa
Oh whoa
Oh whoa

Presumably you are dating/persuing a sexy horse, and wish her to slow down or stop.

You know you love me, I know you care
Just shout whenever, and I’ll be there
You want my love, you want my heart
And we will never ever ever be apart

You know she cares but are apparently unaware of her love. Possibly the nosebag is hiding her true feelings from you. I would like your heart. I would keep it on a plate in the fridge.

Are we an item? Girl quit playing
We’re just friends, what are you saying
Say there’s another and look right in my eyes
My first love broke my heart for the first time
And I was like

Yes Justin, you are an item, like a cup or a cactus or a toilet brush, and shall be sold as such. What is this girl playing? Connect 4 perhaps, or Hungry, Hungry Hippos. If you addressed her by name rather than gender, perhaps she would be more responsive. However, as she is a horse, I doubt it.

It is! It is him! Run Winnie, he's wilfully ignoring legally enforced minimum distances!

Baby, baby, baby ooh
Like baby, baby, baby no
Like baby, baby, baby ooh
I thought you’d always be mine (mine)She is like a baby? So she is a foal, or calf, or whatever a baby horse is. You need to seek help Justin, this is wrong. I have alerted the American Veterinary Society.

Baby, baby, baby ooh
Like baby, baby, baby no
Like baby, baby, baby ooh
I thought you’d always be mine (mine)                                                                                                                                                                                      

It appears you were wrong. It is pointless to bolt the stable door once she has left. Unless you have other horses you wish to keep entombed. On the subject of imprisoning animals I have successfully used your music to subdue lions and tigers which were attempting to eat and/or maul passers by. On hearing the catchy teen pop stylings that you vomit forth, they immediately stopped and apologised, offering financial recompense for their action. Which is unlike lions and tigers. They are currently doing time in a maximum security animal prison, something they insist is preferable to hearing your music again. Including the sodomy.

For you, I would have done whatever
And I just can’t believe we ain’t together
And I wanna play it cool, ’cause I’m losin’ you
I’ll buy you anything, I’ll buy you any ring
‘Cause I’m in pieces, baby fix me
And just shake me till you wake me from this bad dream
I’m going down, down, down
And I just can’t believe my first love won’t be around

I think it a tad shallow to assume a horses heart can be won through purchasing trinkets for her saddle or bridle. You need to pay more attention to the little things. The way the sun catches her mane, the way her mouth wobbles when she neighs, the clip clop of her hooves. You cannot buy a horses love. Wait, you could buy a large number of sugar cubes. This would probably work.

And I’m like
Baby, baby, baby ooh
Like baby, baby, baby no
Like baby, baby, baby ooh
I thought you’d always be mine (mine)

See above. This repetition is likely to anger the horse, which could lead to a potentially dangerous stampede. You selfish, uncaring shit.

Baby, baby, baby ooh

Like baby, baby, baby no
Like baby, baby, baby ooh
I thought you’d always be mine (mine)

Again, if I were a horse this would be grating on me right about now. You say you want to play it cool, but this is bordering on stalking, something which although not illegal in relation to horses, is frowned upon in equestrian circles.

Yeah yeah yeah yeah
I’m sixteen and I thought that you’d be mine
I used to tweet you and text you and call you
And hit you on Facebook all the time
But but but but now you’re gone
So far long that I can’t even find you
You know that feeling when you leave your love
And it’s right behind you
Can’t believe that you did me wrong
We were on iChat all night long
Listening to our favorite song
She was wrong
I am gone
I thought I loved her
Never put no one above her
Yes she was my lover
But now on to another like

Well there’s your problem. Hooves are not best designed for typing or using mobile devices. Also Facebook related violence is unacceptable and frankly I can see why she left you. I expect she’s galloping down a beach in slow motion or some such, all the happier for escaping your repetitive internet cruelty. And that right behind her isn’t love, it’s manure.

Baby, baby, baby ooh
Like baby, baby, baby no
Like baby, baby, baby ooh
I thought you’d always be mine (mine)

Baby, baby, baby oh
Like baby, baby, baby no
Like baby, baby, baby ooh
I thought you’d always be mine (mine)

I’m gone (yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah)
All I’m gone (yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah)
Now I’m all gone (yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah)
Now I’m all gone (gone, gone, gone)
I’m gone

For christs sake shut up. This is irritating beyond belief. As her horse lawyers, we have been informed of your incessant pestering and legal action has been instigated. Why not peruse the farm for more suitable partners. Perhaps a pig or a sheep, maybe a chicken. These animals are of a more suitable size. Please do not contact myself or my client again.

Thank you.

It's me or the horse Justin. What! - Wow, I really thought you'd choose me.