#582 After Fright Night… I now have regrets.
Sunday 1st November, 2009
I am sure that it has not escaped your attentions that this weekend is Halloween. My outfit for fancy dress was a bight, shiny PVC costume as would befit Britney and pals. After living it up on Fright Night, I now have certain regrets. Not least as my Facebook status showed that I was ill all week and now there are way too many pictures showing me having a reckless time that seem to refute my level sickness.
Do you know of some way I can keep the scares away from Facebook, still have a job come Monday and gain some sympathy.
From Scary Man via email.
First, I would request you keep your PVC attire to yourself. Not least as the vision/s of your heaving your ‘sick’ self into and out of said outfit are making me feel quite queasy. I only hope that you had on hand a suitable bevvy of helpers and lots of talc.
Once in the 1980s I attended a costume party where an over-enthusiastic guest came in a full diving suit. Complete with breathing apparatus. In less than 30mins he had d/rowned in enough vodka to hold Russia’s economy in good sway for the next 6months. In doing so, he became so dehydrated that the local first aiders and various cutting appliances were called for. Thankfully this was pre-Facebook, so his story is only the stuff of party legend and I can’t show you any pictures. Your’s, however, is a different accountability.
Let us say for arguments sake that you were indeed ‘ill’ during the week, but, by your candor, I suspect certainly not at Death’s door. I would recommend that in the future you do not seek to inform work as to your sickness status via Facebook. This is bound to come and bite you on the parts not covered in PVC in the future.
Come Monday morning I would seek to 1. avoid the subject and/or 2. deflect all attentions from your actions. For example, on entry to the workplace one could recount, ‘oh, yes hahaha! me in PVC how amusing I am in an ironic way. But did you see what Ms Cheryl Cole was wearing on XFactor? Shocking!…’ Then at once you seem culturally in the know, intelligently reflexive on your party attire (oh the irony) and perhaps more ill than people gave you credit – having spent time watching said tv trash. In short, you were sick, you recovered long enough for an ironic pitch at pop princesses, then had a relapse that culminated in a state of cultural bad taste in response to an allergic reaction to PVC. Or talc. Or both.
There an alibi, disclosure and sympathy all in one.Tweet