Flunk Day

Most of my Flunk Day memories are at the bottom of a Kwik-Stop squeeze bottle, along with my sobriety; memory and vodka don?t mix well (nor, for that matter, does blue Kool-Aid mix well with vodka ? just a friendly little piece of advice from a former Flunker).

Nonetheless, over fifteen years later, I still vividly remember the rude wake-up, the instant perma-grin, the rush to mix a drink, meet with friends, head to South Street and start the day. Flunk Day is Christmas, birthday and St. Patrick?s Day all rolled into one fabulous 16-24 hour random day each year.

The worst thing about Flunk Day ? in fact, the only bad thing about Flunk Day, unless you?re one of those people who have the alcoholic version of Foot-in-Mouth disease ? is that I only had four years to truly celebrate it. After that, my days belonged to someone else and usually, that someone else frowns upon open containers in the office.

So, I am left with dwindling memories of hazy events as I sit here in my nice clothes and wish that the email had arrived fifteen minutes earlier.

I could use a day off. I could use an opportunity to flunk. And God knows, I could really use a drink!

H1N1

I got a memo from work today, a general email sent to every employee. If we call in sick, one of the Public Health Nurses will call us and our absence will be monitored to determine if we are sick with H1N1.

I am officially OVER this pandemic.

This will make a great movie someday, though.