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January 2007
My apologies to my editor and my readers (all three of you) for the tardiness of my column this month. It seems our monthly meeting of Procrastinators Anonymous ran extra late since no one got around to making the motion to adjourn, and once we did, we kept waiting for someone else to second it. After all that, we just kind of tabled the discussion until the next meeting, if someone will go ahead and schedule it.
In the spirit of the month, I offer my fellow late submitters my list of sure-fire excuses for not sending in our columns on time.
- When the Union at work voted to go on strike, my computer announced it was going to support its brothers and sisters in the Bargaining Unit and refused to work. It took me a while to hire a replacement computer to do the job, and even longer to find one that didn't break down when called "Scab" by the picketers.
- My puppy ate my keyboard. Go ahead and doubt; she ate her food dish today. Not just the food in it; the dish. I got home from work to find she'd crunched it into dozens of little tiny pieces. Memo: Increase her portions. I don't like the way she's been looking at me lately, and we still haven't found the cat.
- Rich, sweet holiday goodies. The voices in my head keep telling me to eat more candy and pie and cookies and milkshakes and my blood sugar could keep a thousand hyperactive ferrets going for a month so it's really hard to sit still and pay attention to what I'm writing and what's that? Oh, shiny!
- New toys, doggone it! I wanna play with my new toys! I don't wanna sit at the computer and write my column!
- My time has been devoted to getting everything set up to transfer $10,200,000 (ten point two million dollars U.S.) to my bank account from the bank account of a deceased Toilet Paper tycoon in Nigeria, which must be swiftly laundered to avoid being seized by the corrupt government officials, one of whom contacted me with this deal. Just as soon as my 30% (a sum of $3,060,000 [three million, sixty thousand dollars U.S.]) becomes available, I'll have all the time in the world to write.
- I had to choose between my Collector Times deadline and my Weekly World News Deadline. The Weekly World News pays better, and they don't expect my writing to make any sense. Watch for my upcoming column, "BIGFOOT'S EX-WIFE SAYS: IT ISN'T TRUE WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT BIG FEET!"
- Bigfoot beat me up for trying to tell his ex-wife's side of the story. He stepped on my hands, and they are just now healed enough that I can type. Whatever else they might say about big feet, I know one thing for certain: they hurt when they step on you.
- I was kidnapped by the Pod and forced to take a vacation. Believe me, Eva can be VERY persuasive when she wants to be.
- The Lord did appear to me in the clouds, and sent me on a quest to find the Holy Grail. Verily, traveling the width and breadth of this land taketh much time when thou art skipping in time to thine squire clopping coconut shells together.
And the # 1 excuse for sending in a column late: Semi-heimers. It's kind of like Alzheimers, but not quite as thorough. Like when you remember you entered the store to buy a candy bar, but forget to take the wrapper off before you eat it. I remembered to sit down at the computer, but I forgot what I was going to write.
Say . . . have we met?
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