Dear (please circle one) Friend/Aspiring date/Creepnasty/Frenemy,
I am unable to go out with you tonight/tomorrow night/Friday/Saturday because:
- My hair is doing something weird.
- I’d have to put on pants.
- I’ve only eaten popcorn today.
- I went on a spirit journey.
- I cut my arm open on the medicine cabinet.
- I was hit by a bottle.
- I’m going to play fetch with a junkyard dog.
- I’m sewing plush squids.
- I have a paper crane emergency.
- Too much coffee.
- Erika’s dogs will start running a prostitution ring out of the guest room if I leave.
- My hands seem like they’re on the wrong wrists.
- I have the hiccups.
- I’m having emotions.
- My whole LIFE hurts.
- I’m thinking about colours.
- I’m reading Wikipedia.
- Star Trek is on.
They may sound made up, but these are all real circumstances that have prohibited me from leaving the house in the past. Love means never having to say your sorry? Pfft. Love means accepting “I scraped three layers of skin off my shins with a pumice stone in the shower” as a legitimate excuse for not going out.