I am unfortunate enough to work in an office where they allow dogs. YES, I've read the statistics... employees are more relaxed, productivity goes up... blah, blah, blah. And yet? I STILL DON'T LIKE IT. Call me grumpy, but I have the same problem with dogs that I have with any coworker who runs around barking, stares at me constantly while I eat, and poops in my cubicle. Oh, and snaps viciously at my face. Would human resources let my coworkers get away with that? HELL NO. And yet, when the guilty party is a pug by the name of Mr. Rumpkiss, it's suddenly a cause for hilarity rather than a "hostile work environment" lawsuit!
But don't get me wrong! When dogs aren't urinating underneath my desk or rubbing their pink penises on my ankle, I think they're okay. In fact, I'm really great at naming dogs. Here are a few examples if you need one: "Mr. Fisticuffs," "Randolph Manteeth," "Reverend Scraps," "Rowdy!" (always with an exclamation mark), "Renée Zellwagger," "Growly McBarkenfeffer," "Batman," and "Marmaduke Goldstein."
Actually, you can't have that last one. Marmaduke Goldstein was my former dog who (R.I.P.) was the best goddamn dog in the world! That is, if you don't include the explosive diarrhea. But other than that? Perfect! Okay... he made my house smell like a hippie's shoe. Aaaaaand he would occasionally snap at children—but only if they really deserved it! Or kind of deserved it. As for the other people he bit? Well, I didn't know them well enough to make a character judgment. However, if Marmaduke Goldstein bit them, there was a very good chance they were somehow morally deficient.
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that I love dogs (under extremely controlled circumstances) and I love reality competitions (in less than controlled circumstances). For example, this week marks the debut of—and here's the quote you can quote me on—"the most AMAZING reality show ever!"
It's laughably called Groomer Has It (Animal Planet, debuts Sat April 12, 9 pm) and is exactly like Project Runway... except with dog groomers. Another critical difference? While fashion designers are widely regarded as nutbags, dog groomers are fawking certifiable! Hosted by Queer Eye's Jai Rodriguez, 12 pro dog groomers compete to become "Groomer of the Year" and win $50,000 and "a mobile grooming salon." But to get there they have to impress a panel of really weird-looking "dog experts" and, seemingly, suffer no less than three psychotic breakdowns.
In one particularly hilarious moment, a contestant loses a challenge and has a complete marijuana freakout, grabbing his hair and screaming, "I CAN'T STYLE A DOG THAT BIG IN 90 MINUTES!!" Meanwhile, the other contestants are either clawing each other's eyes out, slipping into introspective comas, or in one person's case—literally smelling the dog's ass to check for cleanliness! I'm pretty sure I've never seen Tim Gunn do that.
This is why I intend to devote a season's pass on my TiVo to Groomer Has It. Because if a dog is gonna bite anyone's face off? I'd much rather watch it happen in someone else's office.