Cow-orkers II: Groundhog Day

"REC!" she screams as I walk in the door more hangover than usual.
"Hhnnnngrfmm?"
"What is German word for Alpeeeen MarMOAD?"

Ripa's shrill voice rips through the fog and interrupts my only functioning thought process, that being to continue placing one foot in front of the other until I get to the coffay machine.

"Why the hell are you asking me what an Alpine marmot's called in German?"
"Because you are the A-mair-ican here. You have to know."

What the hell does being American have to do with knowing the German name of some rodent? A rodent, I might add, which is native to Europe.

"Why the fffu... Why don't you just look it up yourself on LEO?"

Treating that question as rhetorical, she carried on. "I theenk it is Murmeltier."
"A Murmeltier is a 'groundhog', just like in the film. Go look it up at LEO."
"Then tell me what is Alpeen MarMOAD!" she hollered over the cubicles, ignoring my suggestion again.

Clickity-click. Three fucking keystrokes later and I'm on the dictionary site.

Well how about that? German only has one word for marmots, groundhogs and woodchucks. "It's called an Alpin Murmeltier," I yell back, still jonesing for my morning fix: a liter of coffay.
"I told you it was Murmeltier! Why are you don't leesten to me?"

I close the LEO tab and bang my head on my desk some more. It's much less painful.