I guess transparency is my new inactivity shield. You know, like if you call in sick and they ask for details you say, “I have no control over my bowels” or something way more graphic?
It gets the point across and reduces follow-up questions.
So last week it was NYC and big buildings, this week it’s a convo that has led me to replay this god-awful song by Tracy Chapman even though it has no relevance to my particular situation. I just got tired of Mariah and the Cranberries and Sirius suggested this over lunch. So here I sit addicted to the manly sirens of Tracy.
Give me two days and I’ll be funny again.
I mean, I got hit on in an orange sweater last night after blowing my nose in a work out towel. That’s almost on the same caliber as getting a honk when you’re throwing up mid-run. Stories are coming.
I promise. Two more days of “DA BAD MAN, DA BAD MAN PUNTED BAX-TERRRRRRR!” and I’ll be back to training for the world-record for raisin speed eating and making sweet music videos with my main man Boy Toy Brad, who as many of you are unaware, now has his own Twitter account and will soon occupy BoyToyBrad.com. Yes. Time. Too much of it. Me.
Back to raisins, I just looked at the jar and the ingredients are: Raisins. How do you get that job? Tell me now.
Note: I didn’t activate comments on this post because it’s more of an “I’m out to lunch” space filler than anything else. Feel free to share “comments” by email: workinonaramp@gmail.com or on Twitter: @workinonaramp if you like.