Random My Ass

No, that's not a new sex-term I made up, although the possibilities are essentially endless: "Yeah, RANDOM my ass, bitch!" But no, I'm referring to the expression Middle Eastern people use when they go through the security checkpoint at the airport...



Well, now I feel just as persecuted as them, except I'm white so I'll feel fine in a few hours. But it turns out the Department of Justice has selected me for a "random" drug test tomorrow morning at 6:45AM. Hmmmm... why does this seem peculiar? Could it be my less than exemplary work habits? My constant napping on the job? My mood swings, anger, depression, and general hatred towards all of my coworkers? Perhaps it's because I'm a young, mid-20's male who MUST be smoking marijuana cigarettes or snorting the devil's dandruff. Hogwash, I say! In point of fact, I haven't touched an illegal substance in years. Provided my man-dumplings aren't illegal in the District of Columbia.

I find it interesting that of all 60 employees here at my office, I am the one selected for this "random" drug test. Don't get me wrong, I welcome the opportunity. For these instances, I drink a gallon of water, overfill the cup, and then soak the walls in my stream of justice. Take that, you filthy DOJ narcs!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to inject some human growth hormone, Deca-durabolin, Winstrol, EPO, and maybe a multivitamin for good measure. The only substance they're going to find in me is PCA - Pure Concentrated Awesomeness. This, of course, will shatter the test tube.