From the Sunday, April 14, 1994 edition of the "Washington Post".  A contest 
was held in which readers were asked to come up with excuses to miss a day 
of work.



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 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.

My stigmata's acting up.

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.  Okay?

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 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.

My wife makes more money than I do, so I have to stay at home with our sick son

I refuse to travel to my job in the District until there is a commuter tax.  I
insist on paying my fair share.

I'm feeling a little disgruntled this morning.  You think I should come in?

I can't come in because the deadline is Monday and so far I only have seven
different fun things to do with a barrel of snot.