Hello boss? I can’t come to work today…
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 on 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.
Constipation has made me a walking time bomb.
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 have a rare case of 48-hour projectile leprosy, but I know we have that deadline to meet…
I am stuck in the blood pressure machine down at the Food Giant.
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
My stigmata’s acting up.
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 step other 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 Environmental Protection Agency 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.
I refuse to travel to my job in the District until there is a commuter tax. I insist on paying my fair share.
I’ve used up all my sick days…so I’m calling in dead.
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