01.24.2002 - The Company You Keep

If I were a mysogynistic white rapper right now, my name would be Phlegminem.

You know. Because of all the mucous in my airways. Yeah.

I wish I had syphilis instead of chest congestion because I could have at least blamed that opener on dementia. Alas, I don't get any of the cool side effects. I just get to cough so often it sounds like I'm trying to start a VW Beetle engine in my esophagus. This is not a good recipe for fun times at work.

In what was most likely a subconscious effort to add some excitement to my day, rather than setting my alarm a few minutes earlier as I had intended, I accidentally shut it off. When I woke up this morning, I thought it odd that I regained consciousness before my alarm rang but after the sun came out. I nearly went back to sleep, but for some reason, I peeked at the clock. My eyes popped out of my head in much the same way Bugs Bunny's do when he sees a foxy female bunny when I saw that the clock read five past eight.

The first words that came out of my mouth this morning were "NO FUCKING WAY."

What followed was a blur of bathing, throwing on random clothing and stunt driving that somehow got me to work fresh and dressed before nine o'clock. I figured that if I drove fast enough, time would reverse and I wouldn't be so late to work. It kind of worked out.

It didn't really matter though, because I didn't have a single applicant to interview. I probably could have missed the whole day without anyone noticing. These are the benefits of working alone.

Those benefits are soon to dry up, however, as I'll be getting an actual manager on February fourth. If you want to fulfill a fantasy and get it on in an office, your time is running out. Let me know if you're interested and I'll schedule you an appointment.

During my lunch break, I had to take care of a little parking ticket I got a while ago. I had an eighty dollar fine because I didn't have a registration tag on my license plate. When I initially tried to attach it, it wouldn't stick. Since I could negate the fine by showing proof that I had fixed the problem, I got some Krazy Glue and set to attaching my sticker.

Now, because I'm a complete moron, I neglected to put anything on my hands before I whipped out the glue. They aren't screwing around whey they say "bonds instantly." First, I got my hand stuck to the license plate. Once I finally pryed my fingers from there, my fingers themselves got stuck together. After much hot water and an intimate session with a scouring pad, I got enough glue off of my hands to get to the police department to take care of this business.

I barely hung on for the rest of the day, coughing and wheezing in an empty office for hours on end. When five o'clock rolled around I dragged my drooping body to the car and went on home.

After sitting in a Tussin induced stupor for a good two hours, I started feeling mildly better and realized I hadn't eaten a single thing all day. Thankfully, the lovely Julia agreed to join me for dinner. She's officially in the running for nicest person of the year for volunteering to spend time with me when I'm whiny and contageous.

We got some Chinese takeout and came back to my place. None of us have actually eaten a meal the dinner table in as long as I can remember, and as I hadn't planned on coming back to my home to eat, it took roughly seven years to clear enough junk away to see an inch of the table's actual surface. It was worth the effort to have a nice meal with actual conversation though.

We spent some time after dinner watching Casablanca while I coughed repeatedly and excused myself way too many times to go wash my hands. While we watched Conan O'Brien afterwards, Jackson came home with a friend, and I finally got to meet the infamous Rachel. Because I have to work early tomorrow and my Tussin buzz was wearing thin, I had to call it a night around one thirty. As much as I hate being a party pooper, my body just couldn't take being awake anymore. I should be thankful that I accidentally got that extra two hours of sleep this morning.

I'll probably be tired, sick and hating life tomorrow morning, but if I had to lose sleep, I'm glad I had good company to keep me awake.

If only I could work out a deal to have good health and good company I'd be happier than Rush Limbaugh on free wing day at Popeye's.

-- Jeffy