Now That's a Crusty Meat-tah-ball-la!
My boss (Meatball) finally took a day off this week for a much-needed trip to her physician.
Seems her big, red, spreading (for the past two weeks) rash on her arms and hands had finally reached the point of getting "crusty."
I will not detail how many times I heard her spew the words "crusty" and "raaaaaaash" on the phone this week, because just one time would have been too many.
As she continues to challenge my "gross out factor" each and every day, I grow increasingly more confident that Joe Rogan and I are destined to meet ... on the set of Fear Factor, where I will prove that fear is not a factor in my life by consuming horse testicles or some bullshit.
That actually sounds more enjoyable than staring that rash down each day.