I missed jury duty today because there was 8 inches of snow on the ground when I woke up.
I told the no nonsense woman on the phone I couldn’t be a part of the jury because I had explosive diarrhea.
This excuse has always worked for me because:
1.) People just assume you’re telling the truth because that is an embarrassing thing to admit to a stranger
2.) Even if they are skeptical of your story, they are risking you having diarrhea in their establishment
3.) If all else fails, grab some taco bell and Chinese food on the way. Your lie will become the truth
The real reason I couldn’t go is because I couldn’t get my snow chains on my car. I tried for about an hour. I even watched an incredibly unhelpful youtube video.
I guess I am not a man.
I guess I’m a liar.
What will happen when I do have explosive diarrhea? Will I be the boy who cried “Sorry I can’t leave the house, I need to be near a bathroom.”?
I hope I never find out.
Last weekend I had a brief encounter with a cute mid-forties fast food manager.
Still feeling somewhat attractive after the conversation with my mystery woman (possible 3rd wife?), I strolled on over to Ross and bought a reasonably priced, but quite large wrist watch.
A week later, today, I made my way to the food court again with a slight pep in my step.
I superstitiously ordered a KFC Doublicious® sandwich, the same thing I had ordered before. I hoped this would bring me similar results.
I tried to eat the sandwich as slow as possible, giving my mystery woman enough time to reveal herself, sit down, and have a chat. I had planned out exactly what I would say, and how I would look surprised yet not overly desperate when she noticed me eating alone.
There were three false alarms, one of which was a very feminine man, which sullied my hopes further. Depressed, I took the last bite of my sandwich, slowly collected my trash on my tray, and made my way to the trashcan.
While trying to throw away my trash, my new watch got caught on the inside of the trashcan. I couldn’t see exactly what it was caught on, so I opened the trashcan with my other hand to peek inside.
"What are you doing?"
I winced. My food court crush was here. And this is how I court her? Investigating the inside of a trashcan?
"Oh … I … uh … dropped my credit card in here."
I winced again. My credit card? In the trash? Now she will think I’m pathetic AND irresponsible. Why would I put my credit card on my food tray? Why was that my automatic lying answer?
"Well here," she said with a smile and dangling her key ring next to her head. "let me unlock it for you."
I started to panic as she turned the key in the lock. What was I going to do when she realized there was no credit card in there? How would I explain it? I was making my food court crush sift through garbage because I bought a big watch and was too much of a coward to admit it.
I watched in embarrassment as my crush rummaged through fast food trash.
"I’m not seeing a credit card in here…" She said, out of breath. That’s the moment I knew she was a smoker. She couldn’t even handle a bag of trash without getting winded.
"Keep looking. It’s green."
WHAT? Keep looking? Who the hell did I think I was? God? Even he wouldn’t be this careless. I will die alone, I thought. No one would ever love someone who would lie about a credit card in a trashcan with this much detail.
I scuffed the ground with my shoe.
"Well, I guess it’s gone. I’ll just have to call my bank and get another one."
My food court crush quickly stood up, turned around, and touched my shoulder.
She looked into my eyes as if I had lost a close relative.
"We’ll find it." She said.
As she was consoling me, I looked over her shoulder into the open trashcan.
"Oh there it is!" I exclaimed.
I quickly grabbed a piece of old lettuce and stuffed it in my coat.
"Well I guess it’s settled. Thank you so much for your help!"
Averting eye contact I left without saying another word. Maybe I will go back next week and try again.