Bovine Hotline
(June 29, 2004)

The day after the federal election, Ham is expecting me to write a political insight story about the direction of Canada's future, the political landscape of a new Canada.  However with the deadline for the Bovine Hotline contest ending at the end of the month, I find it much more appropriate to tell the story of how I became the voice of the Bovine Hotline.  Trust me, it's much more interesting than any political story.

I had never been square dancing until Ham invited me as his safety net.  Natalie had been in town for the past 3 months shooting the western epic movie "The Gun with no Holster".  The movie's wrap party was going to be held at a country western bar complete with a cast square dance.  Ham was going to know a few of the people at the party but he knew from past wrap party experiences that he might be left alone in the corner of the room rather quickly and for a rather long time while Natalie schmoozed.  It wasn't her fault, as the star she is responsible for making everyone feel welcomed, and as the star, everyone wanted to talk to her.

Ham invited me along as his safety net meaning, if he ended up by himself, he would have at least me to talk to.  I'd never been to a wrap party before (or even a square dance) so I came along.

The bar was called "Toronto Tex" and is located on King Street West near Spadina Avenue where all those trendy bars are found.  You know the ones with the original brick walls, neon signs, cigar lounge areas.  Toronto Tex was no different.  There were no cowboys, no tobacco stained floor boards, no XXX whiskey for sale.  Not even a real cactus (insurance reasons).  It was a trendy bar made up to look like a western bar.  Although I must admit other than the above complaints, the folks were real friendly like, and the chow was good.

Ham and I sat in the corner table making fun of people, the moment Natalie left us to talk to the cast and crew.  As the night carried on, we became sillier and sillier to the point that we were having fun.

"Okay everyone!  It's time for the square dance.  Find your partners!"

Ham and I walked to the dance floor.  Natalie cut through the waves of dance requests until she found Ham.  I yanked some guy off his chair and dragged him out to the dance floor.

"Now dosey-doe and promenade back home!"

Upon this lyric (or call as they say) I gave a big old "Yee-ha!" as I promenaded back home.   For the reminder of the square dance I rotated between "Yee-ha!" to "You go cowgirl!".  At the end of the dance, Natalie had to go back to schmoozing so Ham and I went back to our corner table making fun of people.

"Oh my, Ham.  Look at that guy.  Where did he come from?"
"Which one?"
"The guy in the far corner under the High Noon poster."
"Cool, look at that cowboy hat!"
"Look at those boots!"
"Look at that neck tie!"
"Look how he is coming over to us!"

The only cowboy (who had magically appeared) in Toronto Tex was walking towards us.

"Is he coming for us?"
"We're alone in a corner.  Who else is he coming after?"
"He didn't hear us making fun of him, did he?"
"No way.  He couldn't have."

The cowboy stood expressionless and speechless in front of our table, cornering us with his piercing stare.  He was an elderly gentleman, probably in his early sixties but he had a demeanour about him that made you think he could kill you six times in a heartbeat.  I'm not much for being intimidated so I blurted out:

"Mister, either say something or go mosey back to your corner."  I gave him my best gunslinger stare.

The man belted out a happy laugh, pulled up a chair, turning it backwards, and sat on it looking at us.

"Well missy, I knew from your square dancing that you were what I was looking for."

I looked at Ham.  He gave me the same puzzled look back to me.

"The name is Tex Weston.  I own this here saloon."
"I wouldn't call this here establishment a saloon mister - I'd call it a yuppie bar."
"You might be right missy."
"My name is Suzy TooToo not missy.  Suzy TooToo of the East York Plains and this here is my compadre Ham."
"of the Cabbagetown Territory." Ham finished my sentence.

The man laughed again.

"I knew you were the one Miss TooToo."
"The one for what?"  Please don't say my soul mate, I thought to myself.
"Why, for my bovine hotline."

Oh no, not another nut.  Why always the crazies with me?  Why?

"What?"
"You've heard of the bovine hotline right?"
"No." we said simultaneously.
"I have to fire my marketing guy.  It's a sweepstakes for the Stewart Dairy Company.  You call the 1-800 number and you could win a prize."
"Oh right I've heard of that - the picture on the milk carton of the cow talking on the phone."
"Oh yeah." I said.
"Well, my great grand pappy was Maximillan Stewart, founder of Stewart Dairy Co.  I'm in charge now and I need you, Suzy TooToo for the voice for my bovine hotline."
"I'm not good at impersonating cows."

He laughed again.

Come with me and I'll show you the set-up.  It's in the back.  This yuppie bar acts as my headquarters as well.  

"Let's giddy-up all."

First we found Natalie to let her know where were going, just in case Tex really was a lunatic.  We went out the back door into a big fancy room with lots of authentic cowboy memorabilia.  This was Toronto Tex's office and it was really nice.  Behind his desk was another door but this door had a sticker of a cow talking on a cell phone stuck to it.

We walked through the doorway into another room but this one was smaller than Tex's office.  At the front of the office was a computer desk and telemarketing equipment.  At the back of the office were two cows (one brown, one white) tied up.  Straw was everywhere.

"Moooo!"  "Mooooo!"

"Hush darlings.  Suzy this is the bovine hotline headquarters.  I want you to meet Coco (the brown one) and Princess (the white one).  Coco and Princess, this is Suzy.  She'll be milking you."

"What?"
"You'll be milking them."
"I thought I was going to be the voice of the hotline, not some milk maid."
"Well you are both, I guess.  See, a caller rings in, you answer the phone, do the little catchy song, then try to milk a cow.  If the cow drops one drop it's one prize, two drops is two prizes, you get the idea."

"And no drops?"
"No prize.  It's easy."
"I don't know.  I've never milked a cow before."
"I'll show you."

"How is this legal?  I mean you can't keep 2 cows in here 24-7.  Cows needs fresh air, cows need sleep." Ham, always the journalist, asked.

"Yes, I have 6 cows who work 8 hour shifts.  I've got a barn set up in the alley and I take them over to the park to graze."

"How does the city let you do this?  I mean there has to be laws against this."

"There are but you'd be surprised how focused the city is on balancing the budget, even if it means accepting a generous donation to overlook some ancient bylaws."

"Why two cows at a time?" I asked.
"The brown one is for people who buy chocolate milk and the white one is for people who bought white milk."
"The brown cow produces chocolate milk?"

"It sure does."  He reached over and tugged on the cow's utter.  Brown liquid popped out into a glass.  He gave the glass to me and I drank it.  It was chocolate milk.

"Wow!"
"How is this possible?  Chocolate milk is not produced by brown cows."  Ham stated.
"I have a farmer friend in the genetics business.  It's revolutionary but that's another story."

"So what do you say Suzy?"
"How much are you going to pay me?"
"Well it's 8 hour shifts at minimum wage..."
"No thank..."
"with a lifetime supply of Stewart's Chocolate Milk."
"Really?"
"Really."
"You've got yourself a deal partner."

And this is how I became the voice of the Bovine Hotline.