Found this to be pretty funny:
Early in my Wall Street career I had my blessing of fire with Tequila at a firm sponsored party. I thought I was the life of the party, apparently most thought otherwise. Sunup came rather quickly the next morning and I was in no shape to commute let alone perform to expected standards. I opted out of work that morning with a stomach bug that fooled no one.
The first realtors showed up at my house around 10 that morning walking around the outside of my house taking pictures and measurements. When questioned they said they had been contacted by the owners wife that I was being transferred to Chicago and we were interested in in a quick sale. They left rather annoyed after being told it must be some mistake.
Different realtors showed up every half hour until 1 pm. Same story and same annoyance when told to go away.
Then the pizzas started coming--four different deliveries until about 3 pm. I had the cash to cover the first two but stopped answering the door for fear it would never end.
Calling the office begging for mercy was a big mistake; it only added fuel to the fire. Hearing the laughter on the other side of the phone made me sicker than I already was.
When the first florist arrived wishing me Happy Anniversary I had had about enough, but then the roses came with birthday wishes for my wife followed by a nice dining room centerpiece.
Four o'clock couldn't come quick enough, market closed, fun over, right? One would think.
The flatbed tow truck backing up my driveway to take my car was the toughest to talk my way out of. This rather large burly man was in no mood to be part of a joke so I swore that it had to be some neighbor with some sort of grudge. He was not a happy man.
I was the first one in the office the next morning, and I never, ever took a hangover day again for the rest of my career.