Excuses, excuses

Lately, we've been enjoying some exceptionally warm, pleasant days here in Atlanta. The kind of days that make you want to play hooky. In the interest of public service (because I do live to serve), here are some handy excuses for missing work:




All excuses should be preceded by the phrase "What had happened was..."






Mom's in jail again.



The dog got into the Viagra and humped all my tires flat.



I'm having an existential crisis.



My apartment building is surrounded by rabid pigeons.



I fell out of bed and sprained my pyramidalis.



There's a plague of toads in my shower.



How can I work when there's so much suffering in Indochina?



I have the 24-hour Ebola virus.



I'm out of my anti-psychotic pills.

Tiny elves have hidden my shoes and car keys.



I've almost figured out the equation for silly string theory.



The house plants are all sick.



I've been abducted by llamas.

I'm on a Twinkie binge. I may require rehab.



This is not the employee you are looking for.



I'm in training for the International Hand Jive Championships (for the glory of our company).



Wait, what year is this?



My hovercraft is in the shop.



I'm trying to remember the names of all seven brides and brothers.





And of course, the ever popular - I'm bleeding from the eyes.


Have a nice day off.