So THAT's What A Lack Of Oxygen Will Do...

Literally, Drunk Off His Ass:

LAKE JACKSON, Texas - A woman has been indicted on negligent homicide charges for allegedly giving her husband a sherry enema that killed him.

Michael Warner, 58, died last May after the enema caused his blood-alcohol level to rise to .47 percent.

"That's extremely high," Detective Lt. Robert Turner said. "You're either going to be in the hospital or the funeral home with that much alcohol."

(yeah, or at a KICK ASS mitzvah. Dude, who's next for the butt bong?)

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True story from my workplace:

• Manager1 asks me to get data on a survey I handed off over a year ago to a teammate. CC'ed on the email were Manager2 and Ex-Manager.
• Ex-Manager replies by telling Mgr's 1 & 2 that I no longer handle the survey.
• I reply by telling Mgr's 1 & 2 and Ex-Mgr that I no longer handle the survey, but also call the Poor Bastard who does to notify him of an impending 'tard storm. PB says "oh, thanks for calling..." then it gets more and more uncomfortable as I try to get off the phone while hearing him breathe, his mind fixated on his monitor, his hand not yet putting down the phone. I told him "I'll be supporting, but you're the man with the knowledge. I figured I'd let you know ahead of time what's going on here." He replies with "(exhale)....... (exhale)...... Okay, thanks." He wasn't really even there, not even when I blew a butt trumpet solo into the phone. Pay attention, I'm seriously NOT "whistling Dixie" over here.
• For those of you drinking at work: At that moment, all parties have been notified that I'm not the person to be taking lead on the project. I have the next-to-least information on the survey, next to the guy who likes taking surveys and just under the guy who demands that I call him "Bobbly Nannering," who doesn't even work the f*ck for this company.
• An hour later, Mgr 2 gets his henchman to call me about the survey, regardless of the fact I have no input, information, interest, or influence regarding said survey. Henchman could have been calling to tell me why he prefers women's panties to men's boxers, for all I care, but I'm glad he didn't do that because I have a vivid imagination.
• Mgr 1 disappears. Must have been a sale at Linens & Shit.
• Ex-Mgr calls to tell me "good luck. You've got a 'tard storm on its way." She's speakin' my language.
• PoorBastard, Henchman, and MuffinTop (me... what?), are "invited" to a conference call tomorrow morning at 9am. Tomorrow's my 31st birthday. I was going to work from home, which would entail logging on and then doing as many pushups, situps, and lunges as I can until the guy from JetCityPizza shows up with my pie and ice cream, because I ain't taking no call on my birthday, CrapNozzle, I just ain't.
• Then I wrote this.

My new boss has a degree in psychology, and is very intelligent. On the flip side, I wonder if he's running an experiment to see how many licks it takes to get to the center of my TootsiePop, which is not a gay reference, as much as it is filled with an expletive-laced poem unleashed during a forthcoming 9a-motherflapping-m conference call DICKEYES!

FAWK!

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