It’s about time!

Feburary 12, 1999

Some of you may remember an incident involving a giant ball of string, a pink toy hippo, and a seventh-storey window. (For those of you who don’t remember this incident, see the archive, June 14th, 1996.) What I failed to mention at the time was that this was an exercise in the preservation of sanity. It may be easier to believe that I was doing this because I had lost my sanity, but no, the truth is much more complicated. Almost everyone has had the experience of being caught in Friday Afternoon At The Office Slowtime, a bizarre spatio-temporal phenomenon which causes time around us to slow dramatically while we continue to move at exactly the same speed. This probably has something to do with the fact that all offices now have microwave ovens. In the old days, a standard TV dinner would take about half an hour to warm up. Now, with microwave ovens, a TV dinner only takes three minutes. But if you’ve ever been hungry and watching your food go around and around, you know that a strange thing happens. Time becomes distorted and elongated so that, regardless of what all the clocks say, it still takes half an hour for your food to warm up. (Then, of course, for reasons not even brilliant theoretical physicists will attempt to explain, the apple cobbler is boiling hot while the corn niblets are still embedded in a solid block of ice. Anyway, I was going to share with you some other creative ways for getting through the long dark Friday drag, but I seem to have run out of time.

Enjoy this week’s offerings.

A Priest wanted to raise money for his church, and seeing that there was a fortune in horse racing, he decided to purchase a horse and enter it into a race. However, at the local auction, the going price for horses was so steep that the priest ended up buying a donkey. The priest figured that since he had the donkey anyway, he would go ahead and enter it into the races. Much to his surprise, the donkey came in third.

The next day the local sports section of the paper carried the headline "PRIEST’S ASS SHOWS". The priest was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the races again the following day. This time the donkey won! The next day the local paper read "PRIEST’S ASS OUT IN FRONT". The bishop was so upset with this publicity that he told the priest not to enter the donkey in another race. The headline that day read "BISHOP SCRATCHES PRIEST’S ASS". This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the priest to get rid of the animal at once. Not surprisingly, the headlines reported "RACING PRIEST LOSES HIS ASS". The bishop was horrified, but figured that was the end of the matter. Unfortunately, the priest disposed of the donkey by giving it to the nearby convent. So, the local paper was able to report "NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN". The bishop fainted! He informed the nun that she would have to dispose of the donkey immediately. She found a farmer who was willing to buy the animal for $10. The next day the headlines stated "NUN PEDDLES ASS FOR TEN BUCKS".

They buried the bishop that afternoon, and on the day following the funeral, the headlines read "TOO MUCH ASS RESPONSIBLE FOR BISHOP’S DEATH."

The Mr. Right Rejection Letter Form

Dear [____rejectee’s name here_____],

I regret to inform you that you have been eliminated from further contention as Mr. Right. As you are probably aware, the competition was exceedingly tough and dozens of well-qualified candidates such as yourself also failed to make the final cut. I will, however, keep your name on file should an opening become available. So that you may find better success in your future romantic endeavors, please allow me to offer the following reason(s) you were disqualified from the competition:

[Check all those that apply]

___ Your breasts are bigger than mine.

___ Your last name is objectionable. I can’t imagine taking it, hyphenating it, or subjecting my children to it.

___ The fact that our finest dining experience to date has been at McDonald’s reveals a thriftiness that I find unappealing.

___ Your inadvertent admission that you "buy condoms by the truckload" indicates that you may be interested in me for something other than my personality.

___ You failed the 20 Question Rule, i.e., I asked you 20 questions about yourself before you asked me one.

___ Your legs are skinnier than mine. If you can FIT into my pants, then you can’t GET into my pants.

___ Your "Putting on a few, aren’t you babe?" comment, given the 9-months pregnant size of your beer gut, was inappropriate.

___ You failed the credit check.

___ I find your inability to fix my car extraordinarily unappealing.

___ The fact that your apartment has been condemned reveals an inherent slovenliness that I fear is unbreakable.

___ The phrase "My Mother" has popped up far too often in conversation.

___ You still live with your parents.

___ You mention your ex-girlfriend’s name more than you mention mine.

___ Three words: Size does matter.


[Your name here]

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