An Archive of Email Forwards - Ouija Cat '98-'01

Excuses For Calling in Sick

From the Sunday, April 14, 1994 edition of the "Washington Post." A 
contest was held in which readers were asked to come up with excuses to 
miss a day of work:

If it is all the same to you, I won't be coming in to work.  The voices 
told me to clean all the guns today.

When I got up this morning, I took two Ex-Lax in addition to my Prozac.  
I can't get off the john, but I feel good about it.

I set half the clocks in my house ahead an hour and the other half back 
an hour Saturday and spent 18 hours in some kind of space-time continuum 
loop, reliving Sunday (right up until the explosion).  I was able to 
exit the loop only by reversing the polarity of the power source exactly 
e*log(pi) clocks in the house while simultaneously rapping my dog on the 
snout with a rolled up Times. Accordingly, I will be in late, or early.

I can't come in to work today because I'll be stalking my previous 
boss, who fired me for not showing up for work.  Okay?

Yes, I seem to have contracted some attention-deficit disorder and, 
hey, how about them Skins, huh?  So, I won't be able to, yes, could I 
help you?  No, no, I'll be sticking with Sprint, but thank you for 
calling.

The dog ate my car keys.  We're going to hitchhike to the vet.

I prefer to remain an enigma.

My mother-in-law has come back as one of the Undead and we must track 
her to her coffin to drive a stake through her heart and give her 
eternal peace. One day should do it.

I am converting my calendar from Julian to Gregorian.

I am extremely sensitive to a rise in the interest rates.

I refuse to travel to my job in the District until there is a commuter 
tax.  I insist on paying my fair share.

I'm feeling a little disgruntled this morning.  You think I should come 
in?

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