Funny Business: Can’t Stand Up
Why Can’t You Come Into Work 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. OK?
I am stuck in the blood pressure machine down at Shoppers Drug Mart.
Yes, I seem to have contracted some sort of 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.
Constipation has made me a walking time bomb.
I just found out that I was switched at birth. Legally, I shouldn’t come to work knowing my employee records may now contain false information.
The psychiatrist said it was an excellent session. He even gave me this jaw restraint so I won’t bite things when I am startled.
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 can’t come to work today because the EPA has determined that my house is completely surrounded by wetlands and I have to arrange for helicopter transportation.
I am converting my calendar from Julian to Gregorian.
I am extremely sensitive to a rise in the interest rates.
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Want to hear about that new do-it-yourself orthodontist? ... Brace yourself.
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So Drunk He Can’t Stand Up ...
A man has been drinking at a pub all night. When he stands up to leave, he falls flat on his face. He tries to stand one more time, but to no avail. Again, he falls flat on his face. He figures he’ll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up. Once outside, he stands up and, sure enough, he falls flat on his face. The Irishman decides to crawl the four blocks to his home.
When he arrives at the door, he stands up and falls flat on his face. He crawls through the door into his bedroom. When he reaches his bed, he tries one more time to stand up. This time, he manages to pull himself upright but he quickly falls right into bed. He is sound asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
He awakens the next morning to his wife standing over him, shouting, “So, you’ve been out drinking again!”
“Why do you say that?” he asks innocently.
“The pub called. You left your wheelchair there again.”