Damn Dubya

Before beginning, let's set the record straight. Breakup Babe has officially vanished from the Google blog landscape. There's a link to Molly and Peter now, respectively. All the very breast to you, B.B.

With that out of the way, Damn Dubya. By outsourcing the flu shot vaccine-we all know the punchline- my team members are all coming down with the Hong Kong flu. Typical. With Christmas acoppola weeks away and business booming. So we're short-staffed. And it's all Dubya's fault.

With most of the team in sick bay, I decided to call Susie and beg, er, ask her to work in the a.m.

"Can you work tomorrow, Susie."

"I can't. My uncle died in Breaux Bridge yesterday, and we're on our way there now. Sorry."

"But you were at work tonite for Rowdy Kids Nite."

"I didn't tell you. I wanted to put it out of my mind."

So I tried Excellious.

"Can you work tomorrow?"

"Sorry. My friend's friend died. And we're flying to D.C. in a few minutes. Sorry."

So I called Ayisha.

"We're in a bind, Ayisha. I need you to work Friday."

"Cough. Cough. I wish I could. But I'm-cough, cough-er sick. Hong Kong flu."

"Thanks, anyway."

"All right den."

And Cordelia wanted to get off early today. Seems her auntie has had a stroke and has fluid around her heart. She wanted to visit her auntie in sick bay.

"Is it life-threatening, Cordelia?"

"They don't know."

And Homer is back in jail. His wife beat him up again. Only 25 stitches this time.

And Johnny had to see his probation officer tonite at 6. Or he goes back to jail.

And Luann splashed some bleach in her eye while blowing her nose and coughing. Early symptoms of the dreaded Hong Kong Flu.

And we just heard from Carlos for the first time in 8 days. Seems he had the H.K. flu but is over it now. Ready to go to work.

"Sorry, Carlos. But we thought you quit. And had to replace you."

"I told you I was sick."

"I'm an insensitive asswhole, Carlos. Sorry."


And all the rest of the team are experiencing dizziness, hot flashes, nausea, coughing, sneezing, cold flashes, exhaustion, etc.

And it's all Dubya's fault for outsourcing the jobs. Damn you, Dubya.

Farewell and adieu, v.c.

P.S. I may be coming down with something. Cough, cough. Achoo.