JUST IN, IMPORTANT

OK, SO I LIED.
THIS IS A GOOD BRIGHTEN UP YOUR DAY POST


>The Garbage Disposal?
>
>Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my
>excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
>
>On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the
>truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had
>sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next
>day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on
>the top of my head.
>
>The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to
>adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
>
>Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my
>wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. "Honey! The garbage disposal is
>dead again. Please come reset it."
>
>"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower pitter-patter
>and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
>
>"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
>
>There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a
>second."
>
>So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping that my silent outraged
>nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as
>extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under
>the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
>
>It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.
>
>No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.
>
>It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she
>spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and
>stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I
>was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged
>them with her needle-like claws.
>
>I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly
>rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging
>from my masculine region. Wild animals are sometimes faced with a fight or
>flight syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option.
>
>I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the
>sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact
>knocked me out cold.
>
>When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Now there are not
>many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen
>floor buck naked in front of a group of "been-here, done-that" paramedics.
>
>Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all
>snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to
>suppress their hysterical laughter.... ... and not succeeding.
>
>Somehow I lived through it all.
>
>A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues
>tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept silent,
>claiming it was too painful to talk about. Which it was.
>
>"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
>
>If they only knew!
>