It's okay. I've moved on. Barry has been replaced by a flock of sheep, and all is well in my kingdom. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a particularly comely ewe to shear... ::
Where were we? I was going about my business in a benign and innocent fashion. You were busy convincing Barry that he's secretly a homosexual. And involving me in your depraved schemes is a new low. I'm both shocked and appalled.
Actually, it's the rum that helps me sleep at night. Coincidentally, it's also the rum that enables me to tolerate your relentless badgering without suffering some kind of psychotic episode.
Any conversation with me will inevitably involve you being insulted. You should know that by now, you venomous witch. (Oh look, I did it again...) And if your allegedly flawless ESP weren't so rickety, you WOULD know it. Hypocrite. (And yes, pedant, I do know that me calling you a hypocrite is... hypocritical.)
My supervisor thinks the sun shines out of my ass, so the exact nature of the excuse is largely irrelevant. She's a middle-aged woman, so it's all about looking innocent and smiling a lot.
I'm sorry to hear you're sick, Lurk. I didn't go to work yesterday because I was "deathly ill". I suggest you do the same. (Though, unlike me, you don't have to lie about it.)