Labor pains

Hope everyone’s Labor Day weekend was delightful. Mine was kicked off by a festive work picnic on a lake Friday afternoon. There was boating, fishing, volleyball, basketball and delicious catered meats. Only problem is that I got such a bad sunburn, my face is now peeling and I officially look like a freak. “What? What are you staring at? Haven’t you ever seen a freak before?” I’m planning to scream that at random people while out on my lunch hour today – even people who aren’t looking at me, just to see what they do. Now I know how “The Fly” felt. I think being “The Fly” would be about the worst thing ever - having your bodyparts peel off and get all slimy. However, being Jeff Goldblum would rule. That guy owns. I’ll call that a push.

Yeah, being fair-skinned is not cool. Call it the German-Irish curse. Well, on second thought, I guess the German-Irish curse would be if I uncontrollably drank too much, started fights, ran out of potatoes and frantically waived my hand while screaming about insolence and world domination. And that's just not me - I have plenty of potatoes.

The great contradiction of Labor Day is that you feel like you should be doing something, but then, you feel you owe to those who lobbied for this holiday not to. You know? It’s like, I want to volunteer at the local recycling facility, but I feel compelled to watch a “Queer Eye” marathon on Bravo. That reminds me, I don’t have nearly enough gold trim or sweater vests in my wardrobe. (Yeah, I think this is what the union bosses had in mind.)

In unrelated news, I just won 10 tickets to the Comedy Sportz show for the second time in two months, just by dropping my business card into a bowl. Wow, the Baby Jesus must really love me.