Thursday, May 14, 2009

Sick Days, Biscotti and Porn

I was going to try and call in sick today because I was up too late reading comic books and crying a little making sweet, sweet love to the woman of my dreams, and no "of my dreams" does not mean "pretend" because she is totally real and if you don't believe me than I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers, and then, once I'm done quoting a movie at you I'll shift my eyes one way and when you look I'll run away in the other direction, and I'll probably call you a name for good measure. Like maybe "Fucker." or "assclown". I'm sorry it had to come to that. 

That's what she said.

So I look all over Blogger for the phone number I had to call in sick with, and I totally got my "I'm not even a little sick but rather faking it so I don't put you in the awkward position of calling me a liar even though I totally am" cough ready, but I couldn't find the listing anywhere and then I thought maybe that was an unlisted number and then I got angry because who the Eff makes a fucking Call-In number unlisted? Like what if I got hit by a bus? How would my relatives, assuming they noticed / heard / cared call Blogger and tell them I wasn't able to write today (*cough*). 

That's like the self-fulfilling prophecy, and okay maybe I don't know what that means but I like the idea of prophecies because they are like God's version of superpowers,  and "self" means me, and "fulfilling" means you give women orgasms, which is totally possible in real life I'm told, so "Self-fulfilling Prophecy" means I have the super-ability to give out orgasms, and that is probably completely true. 

I just looked up "self-fulfilling prophecy" and it doesn't mean that at all. 

Stupid language.

Not having the number to call-off listed is, self-defeating because Hey! Guess what? I'm not coming in anyway(s). I'll just tell the boss that the phone company came and burned down my house for non-payment and that's why I didn't call and that works on two levels because even if he doesn't believe the arson part he'll be all "They probably just shut his phone off." because I have that air about me and also one of handsome swagger.

Then I remembered I don't even know who my boss is, and that we've never met, so I would like it if someone from Blogger HR would contact me. Also, I'm still waiting for my first paycheck and I need to know what kind of medical I have because this paper-cut from The Green Lantern #220 the origami vibrator I folded last night looks infected. And while I'm waiting to hear back I think I'll enjoy a delicious latte and a biscotti, which is Spanish for Stale Nut Cookie apparently, and Hey! If I worked in porn that would be a great porn name. They'd be all "Give it to me, Stale Nut Cookie!" and then I'd be all "Cut! Larry! I need five! The wings came unglued!". And maybe you want to know where the wings were, but like I said I'm not coming into work today. (*cough*)

18 comments:

Kat said...

No sick day for you.

Signed,
Imaginary Blogger Boss

Carolyn...Online said...

I think you should fashion a superhero cape out of old beach towels and put a big "O" on the back so the world will know of your super powers.

Char said...

yep....stale nut cookie is an excellent porn name.

miss. chief said...

oh, kurt-san prease teach me the art of vibrator origami

Mona Lott said...

Dude, ya gotta use the right paper for that. I could have just mailed you the origami bajingo. Yes, for you, the platinum.

Brandy Rose said...

"Stale Nut Cookie"!! Genius!

Lisa Brandos said...

love the name. Isn't your wife a little more concerned about your need to fold her a vibrator. I mean there are plenty of giveaways for this kind of thing.

By the way, you got another award... come n get it!

Soda and Candy said...

I always used to send texts whenever I couldn't be arsed doing the sickie voice.

Mandy's Kidding said...

Stale Nut Cookie sounds like a swing band.

Mandy's Kidding said...

When I first tried to post that comment it read: "You cannot be processed. Please try again."

Then I thought that was really prophetic, so I read it again, and realized it actually said: "Your comment could not be processed" which was so not as cool as the first.

Janine said...

Hey. I thought we got 5 "mental health days" a year?

Damn verbal offers. You're right - they don't put anything in writing around here.

Wow, that was awkward said...

You can't even call in sick right cuz here you are with a blog today. This will likely go in your review.

Cynthia said...

Yes, I want to know where the wings are. No I don't. Yes I do. But not really. Whisper it to me and I'll give you a disgusted look. And possibly slap you. But then wink and give a sly thumb's up when no one else is looking.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

Kurt, you are the wind* beneath my origami vibrator wings.

Did you ever know that you're my hobo?

You are.

*fart

Kurt said...

@Kat: Sic Semper Tyrannis!

@Carolyn: Or I could just sit around and scratch myself and hope for the best.

@Char: My other porn name is "Please turn it off" judging by the audience responses.

@miss.chief: With great power comes great responsibility. Get it? Like orgasms?

@Mona: That bajingo is rumored to smell like Oreos and nail polish.

@Brandy: I think more porn names should have the word "stale" in them

@Lisa: Hahaha. You used the "w" word. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

@Soda: Texts are too much like the Jetsons for me.

@Mandy: You will never be a canned lunch meat.
Not to me anyway(s).

@Janine: We shook on it too. Or rather I shook. Stupid 10 lattes.

@Wow: I never know what to write down for goals. How would you use "strangle sex" in a personal statement?

@Cynthia: I would start to tell you but then get too nervous and start shuffling back and forth and then I'd fall into a bush probably.

@SMU, Kid: (*slow clap building to roaring ovation*) That comment had Bette Midler AND farting. Maybe the prettiest thing ever written.

Michelle said...

You are funny!

I miss you!

Brian said...

In certain South American countries you can trade blogger comments for beads and trinkets, which can then be used as trade booty with Native American Indians for vast spances of land, which would then make you a millionaire many times over. Except you need a time machine to be able to go back to the 1500s and shit.

Vic said...

I called in sick today in my head.

I doesn't matter, because Blogger still doesn't know I work for them. I just come in and sit at the closest empty desk. I also eat stuff out of the Blogger refrigerator.

It's pretty good work if you can get it.