Benjamin Kissell
"They call 'gay' an epidemic."
"Dumbass, bad fashion's an epidemic; gay is clearly fabulous."
"Bad fashion? You only wish you could pull off these gay-jamas."
My head aches. My body quivers. I have a fever. I see dots before my eyes.
I am definitely unwell.
I have, what is in colloquial terms is called, the "I Don't Want To Fucking Be At Work"s.
Admittedly, my body aches because I'm generally hunched over at the computer all-day either at work or writing and editing ... and yes my head hurts - but, when doesn't it? Writer's block often is a physical throb in my forehead.
I'm not sure I so much have a fever as a 'I hafta watch this Project Runway marathon with this pint of Rocky Road' fever [and if you're anything like me, when the mood strikes, it's like a sucker-punch]. The spots before my eyes are sequins shining on my Bob Mackie-designed Cher Barbie doll on the upper-left bookshelf.
I almost never miss work; I've worked while *not* high on pain medication post-foot surgery, I've been at the desk smiling through the nausea of food poisoning and I've been known to stand and schmooze folks with a fever which may fell a moose. That being said, this bitch wants off today.
And inspiration strikes! I? Shall ... call in gay.
Of course, how does one do this?
I can see it now:
........................................................................
>Ring Ring<
"Hey, it's Benjamin. *cough cough* Sorry, can't work for you right now - I just had a flare-up of sodomy and need for dancing to Madonna."
"You what?"
"I'm calling in gay."
"Oh, okay. See you tomorrow?
"Yeah, unless I have a remission and find myself in bed eating double-fudge chunk ice cream while playing Ethel Merman records and lip-syncing to Gypsy before chugging cocktails and shaking my money-maker at a gay bar named 'Scruff'."
Cut to my bosses chatting in the back office, both are 'good ole boys' ...
"Benjamin called; couldn't come in today - called in gay."
"I didn't know you could do that."
"Me either. But it's legit: While we were on the phone I heard an outbreak of Madonna and Britney Spears in the background. And a bunch of voices cheering - I think there were guys doing body-shots off of a naked Bolivian stripper."
"Dude, you could hear the stripper was Bolivian?"
.............................................................................
Maybe I have a vivid imagination ... either way, I think I'll just call in sick. *sniffle*
"That's 'take 2, drop it like it's hot, shake your money maker to some Madonna
and call your AA Sponsor in the morning', okay?"
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