Is there any better follow up to a Friday post about the sanctity of life than a Monday post about your elaborate plans to get away with murder?

I think not.

And whose demise are we fantasizing about today?

Well, in honor of the return of the work week, it seems only fitting to share with you my scheme to off my boss.

Here’s how it’s going to it would hypothetically go down…
(allegedly)

I’ve learned recently that my boss is allergic to a certain medication. After doing a little research on the issue, it seems this allergy is potentially fatal. Of course, the fatal nature is directly related to how long he would go untreated - which makes things a little tricky.

As luck would have it, this medication is very easy to obtain. In some cases, it’s even free. Although if you’re going to get it for free, you have to be willing to get a prescription from a doctor. Prescription = paper trail = much too messy for My Fool Proof Plan.

Thank God for Mexico. You can get your hands on just about anything in Mexico. And while it’s not free, it’s not uncommon to have a small bottle of Tequila thrown in with the antibio…uh… common medication.

Once I figured out the supply and demand issue, I had to turn my attention to the biggest obstacle: the allergic reaction, if treated in time, is unlikely to kill him and more likely to really piss him off. He’s no good to me pissed off.

And then it came to me, like a beautiful epiphany. The clouds parted, angels sang, and I knew exactly how to avoid the intervention of life saving measures.

He needs to ingest the Penici- medication at night.

Thankfully, my boss suffers from sleep apnea so it is completely believable that he would stop breathing in his sleep. But more importantly, his wife has grown very accustomed to his erratic breathing and restless sleep. It is highly unlikely she would wake up to the sounds of him gasping for air as his throat was swelling shut!

Especially… and here is the real genius of the plan… if he was sleeping in the next room.

Ah, you see, there are many nights when the boss and his wife sleep in separate bedrooms. If one of them is sick, or if one has trouble sleeping for some reason, they will kiss good night and go off to separate bedrooms to as to ensure that at least one of them gets a good night’s sleep. (oh this is brilliant! brilliant!)

And there are numerous ways to ensure that the boss is sleeping in the guest bedroom on The Night When It All Goes Would Hypothetically Go Down. (allegedly) The easiest would be to pet his dog and hug him or something, since he refuses to acknowledge that he is allergic to his own dog but invariably stuffs up with too much exposure to dog hair.

Of course, I could also email his wife some photoshopped pictures of him naked and tell her he sent them too me. Bet that’d get him in the overflow bed pretty quickly too.

Oh! Yes! Yes that is it EXACTLY! It’s all come together PERFECTLY now…

Adam and his wife get in a little squabble about his perceived bad husbandry. To console himself and ease his stress, he consumes a double bacon cheeseburger, large milkshake, fries with mayo, and two cans of Diet Coke…. all laced with *ahem* an extra ingredient. After comforting himself with food (that his friend so generously offered to bring over to him), he sulks off to bed in the spare room…

The attack is long and agonizing, and he wonders why no one is coming to help. His last thought is a vague memory of a conversation he had recently had with an employee about….

And do you know who they’ll investigate??

NOT the kind friend who consoled him and stood by him when his wife clearly overreacted. Oh no.

The PISSED OFF spouse who was sleeping just FEET away and strangely DIDN’T HEAR A THING!

Ah yes, it’s genius. Masterful even. Possibly tops the Nicotine In The Contacts Plan.

Really, if there is an award for such a thing - I should win it. Don’t you think?

I mean, you know, allegedly.

(psst… call me a fucking pig… bastard.)

Scene: 5:30 pm, my office

“I got another sale! I got another sale! YAY!”

“Yeah, um, that’s great. Before you wrap that up though… could you please go put your clothes back on before my wife gets home?”

And so ends The First Official Naked Thursday.

How, you may ask, did my new boss manage to get me stripped down? It was a devious plan, really. A long, complicated, devious plan that really begins the night before…

My husband and I were scouring the Internet Wednesday night, researching cars and ratings and blahblahblahblahzzzzzzz….. Adam lives for this shit. I have actually heard him refer to Consumer Reports as Mah Bible. I get overwhelmed and bored and weepy when trying to research shit I know nothing about. So, naturally, I coerced him into helping.

By the end of the night we’d made a short list of cars that simply MUST be reviewed. Adam’s list consisted of Toyotas and Acuras and a few grandpa cars. The next afternoon I skipped out on work for a few hours to go check the list out in person. Before I left, I remember Adam saying “make SURE you sit in the Toyota. For a while. Drive it. For as long as you can stand it”… which I thought was odd.

ANYway - we head to the car lot (hubby and I, he got off work early somehow) and narrow down our list of five vehicles I’m willing to test drive. Suddenly, my phone rings, and it’s Adam, reminding me once again to “just drive the Toyota, you’ll LOVE IT!”

Fine, fine. I agree to drive the Toyota first. It was nice. Pretty. Seemed comfortable. I started the car, cranked up the air, and Jared and I headed down the road.

Holy. Fuck. I think I remember something about a transmission that slipped and a serious pull to the right, but I can’t be sure because about 2 minutes into the test drive my brain turned to mush. Pureed grey matter, I’m telling you. This son of a bitching Toyota had NO FUCKING AIR!!!!!!!!!!! None. It blew HOT fucking air at you!!

So, in 94 fucking degree weather, I drove in a BLACK ON BLACK TOYOTA with NO FUCKING AIR!!!!

3 minutes into the ride my husband was wheezing “please, please, get back to the lot… you have to… get me out… let me out…” as he helplessly groped at the windows and door.

We pulled into the lot and oozed out of the car. My jeans (yeah, JEANS!!!) were soaked. My husband’s shirt was drenched in sweat. The back of my t-shirt was noticeably darker than the front of my shirt - and not in some sexy two-toned stylish way. Seriously - nasty. So nasty, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Anyhoo, we continue test driving, blah blah blah blah blah. About an hour and a half later I head back to the office, kiss my husband good bye, and settle back into work. Only… well… I just don’t feel right.

I tried to get comfortable and concentrate on the work at hand. But… well… honestly… I felt like I’d pissed my pants. Still! Damn near two fucking hours later. I felt my pants and realized they were still soaking fucking wet. Of course, this is something that must be shared. So, naturally, I jumped up out of my chair and ran to Adam’s desk.

“Feel me! Oh my god you HAVE to feel me!”

“What?” I saw a fleeting look of Oh My God I Didn’t Expect It To Be This Easy flash across his face, before it was quickly replaced by a forced look of bewilderment.

“Feel. Me. Seriously, give me your hand. Right HERE!” at which point I planted his hand on the denim on my inner thigh (which is NOT the same as making him grope my crotch. Really. It’s not. Not at all.)

He reeled back in horror and grabbed for the hand sanitizer he keeps on his desk, “what the hell?!?! Did you wet your pants and make me FEEL it!!!??” (at this point I think I actually heard the sounds of a fantasy dying in his head)

“No! No! It’s SWEAT! Isn’t that DISGUSTING?!?!”

“Um, yes, actually, it is. Thank you though for sharing.”

I laughed and went back to work. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The combination of insane sweat and a horrified germophobe makes me giggle.

About two minutes later Adam kindly offered to put my clothes in the dryer because “surely that is uncomfortable sitting there like that.”

And that, my friends, is the long, drawn out, horribly told story of how Naked Thursday was born.

I really need to start posting at night again.