“Actually, I’ve been here for over 20 minutes, big guy — I was just out chillin’ in the van waiting for the end of the live version of ‘Freebird’.”
“I keep forgetting which side of the International Date Line you’re on.”
“We’re *open* on Tuesdays?!?”
“It took this long to get the ol’ blood alcohol level down to the legal driving limit.”
“I had to take extra time this morning to wrestle with overwhelming aggressive impulses by reassuring myself that nothing would happen today that would push me over the edge.”
“My proctologist got stuck.”
“It was Senator Kennedy’s turn to drive today, so I’ve spent the last hour swimming.”
“I’m late because I was on the phone trying to get *your* lousy shipping department to send the company’s office supplies directly to the winner of my eBay auction.”
“Hey, time becomes meaningless when you’re as strung out on crystal meth as I am.”
“Sorry, Sir. I overslept and dreamt I had a dead-end job, a windowless office and a humorless baboon for a boss.”
“Heidi Klum refused to untie me.”
“On the second Tuesday of the month, the Campho-Phenique man comes by to fill the drum for my home supply of industrial-strength anti-canker sore gel.”
“I’m sorry, boss, but I had to stop to get you — uh — this box of ten donuts.”
“It took me a little longer than normal to hide my disdain this morning… Sir.”
“My dog ate my presentation, sir. And by ‘my dog’ I mean your wife, and by ‘ate my presentation’ I mean ‘was boinking me’.”