As the Polygon Turns: Too Punny (Episode 19)

So this morning in my inbasket, I had a "mandatory appointment" email waiting for me. Son of abitch! I thought -- actually I may have said that aloud. Because my coworkers jerked their collective heads my way and looked in askance about what had irritated me now.

"I have urinalysis A-gen!"

"Why's it gotta be his analysis?" Mojo inquired, thumbing towards Big Tony.

Eew, I thought. Eew. I know he was just trying to be funny, but Eew.

Fortunately someone quickly brought up Michael Phelps. Mojo hadn't heard that the Olympian had been photographed sucking on a bong, so I filled him in.

[Quite the little newsey one aren't I?]

Then Tony asked, "wasn't he on Corn Flakes and supposed to be on a Wheaties box next?"

"Yeah," I quipped, "only it's gonna be spelled W-E-E-D-I-E-S!"

Ah, shoot… then we were all no good!

So I went to my mandatory appointment and spent the better part of about an hour reading People magazine with an uncomfortable tension in my bladder. Gotta love it. Some lady didn’t actually have to go and sat in the stall for over 15 minutes trying… sheesh. That was just the first person I was behind – or at least after. Then when I was finally up to verify my data before taking my blessed cup into the sanctum sanctorum (to use a term of my father’s), I was asked to wait for the person who just came out, empty of bladder, full of bravado.

“”Don’t mind me, I will just be over hear dancing next to the trickling waterfall,” I said. They didn’t mind. I did. I did, but I managed. Only once have I lost it, but that is a blog for another day---maybe never.

So I did my thing, peed on command, chatted with the delightful Tech Sergeant, and went on my way; which is to say I left.

When I returned to the office, I overheard my boss asking someone else in cubicle land, “So did they give you a diploma or a graduation certification?”

“No,” I said, “but I didn’t even study.” Oh, he wasn’t talking to me. It didn’t stop me. I was on a roll.

Speaking of rolls – or at least buns. Later on, I met an old woman who is a retired Air Force General and the mother of thirteen. Still married to the father of her 13 children after 57 years, she goes by Twinkles and he goes by Big Bird. It was really sweet – she refers to her husband as “The Finest Fanny in the Force.”

How can you top that? How can you top that?

Shoot, I can't. It took me about a month to come up with this pitifully goofy entry.