TRANNYQUIL

jumping

Taking Nyquil at 4pm in the afternoon solves as many problems as it creates, and those problems (runny nose, sinus pressure, headache, depression, inappropriate outbursts of pointing followed by even more inappropriate outbursts of laugher) need to be addressed irrespective of ‘HOURS LEFT IN THE WORKDAY.’

The laughter is easy to explain. I emceed an event the other day, using APPROPRIATE WORKPLACE HUMOR, and ever since, I have had a secret admirer SECRETLY drop jokes from sort of JOKE-THEMED DESK CALENDAR into my mailbox. As of yet, none smell of perfume, or diesel fuel, either of which might help me whittle down the list of possible inamoratas. Were it not for a few recent expenditures, perhaps I could hire the services of an internal investigator, because all I need is money to buy me love.

When I’m going through this state (TRANS-NYQUIL), I often become almost completely useless to those who need me, preferring to spend my time instead dwelling on recent events that bothered me in some manner or another. A speaker, for example, who upon stumbling on his own words uses the ‘I MUST HAVE DYSLEXIA HAHAHA’ fall-back phrase, which always bothers me to no end, because so many people still laugh at it, and I look so forward to the day when the dyslexic person in the audience stands up with what little bit of dignity remains untarnished and replies, “Perhaps you mean, ‘YOU MUST HAVE VERBAL DYSPRAXIA.’”

I would enjoy immensely the silence that followed.

This sounds judgmental, and it is, but I should point out that I have already petitioned for punishment in the next life. I would like to burn in hell for a little while (NOT VERY LONG), so that I might arrive in Heaven refreshed and appreciative. Like cooking with whiskey. You boil off the alcohol and what remains is evocative. I would like to smell ever so slightly of my horrid deeds.