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See? Didn't I tell you that would happen? March, 2010 Born this month:
You develop a weird sort of green fungus on your elbows. Occasionally, in the presence of certain kinds of cheese, you hear a loud humming sound. On really bad days, everything you lirez turns into Francais, right before your yeux. Whoa, those are ominous symptoms! Get thee to a docteur! Rapidement!
You work hard with a psychotherapist to get a handle on your many issues. His advice is unconventional, to say the least, but you employ all of his methods, even though it drives away many of your current "friends." Later, you show up at his office early and unannounced. He's sitting on his desk naked, sucking his big toe and talking to himself like one of the Teletubbies. Uh-oh.
You land the job of your dreams. As the elevator doors close as you leave the final acceptance interview, you crank up your iPod, close your eyes, throw back your head and do some serious Elvis-like celebratory pelvis thrusting. You open your eyes to see the CEO, who hit the door button just in time, watching you act like a complete idiot. Hey, just tell your friends it was that "last to show, first to go" thing.
You decide to try something adventurous and join a single's dinner club. Everyone you meet is a total goob and you contract a serious case of botulism from the Ranch dressing. Face it. Even trying to date sucks.
The boss insists that everyone attend a lame Team Building weekend in the mountains. You're sure it's going to be an endless series of stupid and embarrassing games followed by long communal meals in which he lathers on and on about his spoiled, yappy Terriers. You feign grave illness and spend the weekend drinking with your real friends. On Monday, you find out that the boss has decided to become a Buddhist monk and divvied up the entire $23 million company equally to everyone who attended the event.
While visiting your folks, you discover a collection of Super-8 movies in the attic that proves that your parents were indeed kidnapped by dwarf beings from the planet Yeeeba-11 and replaced with extremely lifelike robotic mannequins as part of a sinister plan. Of course, you pretty much suspected that all along, so no big deal.
You get a lateral promotion to HR, where you are forced to deal with constantly whining idiots and the myriad problems they bring upon themselves through a combination of gross ignorance and utter incompetence. Good thing you have a strong background in IT support. You'll do just fine.
There is someone at work who sits very close to you and is driving you crazy. All day long he hums in a very nasal, soft falsetto voice, the theme from Gilligan's Island, occasionally pausing abruptly and mid-phrase - for more than a minute - in a way you are convinced is designed to specifically annoy you. I recommend the 5-iron.
Your teenage son informs you he's decided to have a sex change operation and then join the Marines - as a woman. It's just going to be a really long year.
You feel that you are being distracted by too much information at work and you need to clear your mind to focus on a project that has become extremely difficult. You feign deafness and do it so convincingly that you ignore your co-worker's screams and walk straight into an empty, open elevator shaft, through which you fall two floors and break most of the bones in your body. Man, you should get an Oscar!
You have a minor freakout after finding a more hairs than usual in your brush. You visit the doctor who has some reassuring news (you'll most likely have a full head of hair for the rest of your life) and some not-so-reassuring news (you probably have a few months to live, at best).
You spend thousands of dollars to hire a lawyer and petition the court to change your race to Crustacean and your name to ClawDude. You are denied. Human named Wally will just have to do for now. |
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