This Is Not A Pipe

The company I work for is international. We have a lot of different cultures represented in our workplace, and almost everyone speaks at least two or three languages, if not more. This can be incredibly useful and incredibly embarrassing as I found out to my consternation on a dress down day a couple of years ago. I had just bought some new tshirts from Threadless and I was excited to test them out on my work colleagues. On this particular day, I had innocently chosen a green tshirt with a green pipe on it (the kind from Mario games) which had a fireflower coming out of the top. Underneath it said "ceci n'est pas une pipe" (translated: "this is not a pipe"). I considered this the height of cool. Who wouldn't want a shirt that managed to be both a video game reference and an art reference all in one? After all, many of us have experienced the feeling of exasperation when your little on-screen Mario jumps onto one of these, only to be destroyed instantly by something vicious coming out of it with no warning whatsoever. My geekery knows no bounds.

So when I met my French friend for lunch that day, I expected him to congratulate me on my excellent choice of apparel. I did not expect him to glance at my tshirt, double-take and then start laughing hysterically.

Me: Is it that funny? Really?

Him: No, it's just....I don't know how to tell you this.

Me: Oh god, what?

Him: Well, it's slang. Translated literally it means "this is not a blowjob".

Me: Are you telling me that I've been walking around all day, at work, wearing something that has a sex joke on it?! In a language people around here can read?

Him: Um...Yes.

Me: Oh. Crapmaster.

This leads me, in a very roundabout way, to something that was brought to my attention the other day. I have referred to myself throughout this blog as Otternator, or occasionally as an actual otter (complete with bright, shiny eyes, magnificently Biebered pelt and a varied range of expressions) and no one had really questioned it much so it never occurred to me that I should have taken the time to explain myself a little. 45 posts, people. I am rather embarrassed. I do apologise.

Really, the story is quite simple. An ex and I had a running joke that she looked like a gangling, runty pony (yes, I said runty) and so it naturally followed that we tried to decide which animal I looked/acted most like. The otter is small. It can sometimes look rather sweet and cuddly, but it will in all likelihood bite your motherflipping hand off if given half a chance. The otter enjoys rolling about on the ground, romping with other otters (which I think you'll agree, is otterly delightful - the pun potential with this animal is truly amazing) and eating fish. It has moments like this:

Wendy watched the sunset in a deep, philosophical silence. 

Screw him. He could have the kids. She'd take the Kawasaki.

(photo via Drew Avery at http://www.flickr.com/photos/33590535@N06/5584342791/)

But it also has moments like this.

              "Ma! MA! Derek won't let me watch America's Next Top Model! MA! MAAAAA!"

 (photo via Yasaiman at http://www.flickr.com/photos/yasaiman/5511399875/)

In short, I am really quite ottery. I look innocent when I'm not, I'll fight you for some meat and I move much better in water than I do on land. Thus it was decided, and I have enjoyed otter-related products/jokes/stories and so forth ever since.