What's Your Excuse?

Well? What's your excuse?

Me? You're never gonna believe this, the ghost of Margaret Thatcher gave me a hickey.

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This is going to sound crazy, but the entire Roman Empire pulled me over in a stolen cop car and demanded fellatio.

I am never going to be able to eat Caesar salad again.

My go-to excuse, for years, has been "the sun was in my eyes, my shoe was untied, and I stepped on a cow"

Came from a drug induced laugh fest.

So, I was minding my own business, and, Boom!, a Hasidic Jew spin-kicked me in the collarbone.