She Called In Sick to a Bar She Didn’t Work At
A true story about loyalty, hangovers, and unhealthy relationships—with alcohol.
It’s the 20th anniversary of my writing the following joke, and the 19.95th anniversary of discovering audiences did not care for it:
I gave blood yesterday.
Not out of the goodness of my heart.
I just can’t afford an AIDS test.
A true story from 2003:
I found out that last night a friend of mine called in sick to a bar.
And no, it’s not a bar where she works.
That is a sign that you need an intervention, if you have to call in sick to your bar or else they’ll miss you. I spell that “D-R-I-N-K-I-N-G-P-R-O-B-L-E-M.”
When you call in sick to a bar, you’ve already called in drunk at work.
You know what I’m talking about - it’s nine in the morning, you come in from a hard night of drinking, and you’re like, “I can go into work okay.” Then you stand up and the room goes FOOOM! spinning around your head.
So you call your boss - “i am so dru-er-sick this morning. I don’t know I just woke up with a headache. Cough.” And yes, you say the word “COUGH.”
When you call in sick to a bar, that is a serious relationship you have with the bar.
That’s the kind of bar where you feel guilty for going to another bar, like you just got caught cheating.
“I heard you were at McSwiggan’s last night.”
“No, no I swear.”
“Then why does your shirt smell like cheap bourbon?”
“Okay maybe one drink with the guys, but that’s it I swear. They have dirty men’s rooms.”
“It’s like I don’t know you anymore!“
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