In these days of economic recession and surging unemployment, the average Joe or Belinda might say, “I’m just happy to have a job. Why do anything to f@#k things up?” And to that we say, shame on you. This is the Red Sox we’re talking about. A veritable feast of national past time goodness at sun-kissed Fenway Park after months of baseball famine. Are you just gonna sit in your office, taking orders from someone who wouldn’t be qualified to deliver GRIT back in the day, while all sorts of magic takes place just a quick jaunt down Storrow Drive? Me neither. So listen up, as we offer another installment of our award-winning tips for shirking your responsibilities and immersing yourself in magic waters. Shirtless James Earl Jones optional.

The Get-Me-My-Medication: This one requires a pal. An accomplice, if you will. Head into your boss’s office with said accomplice in tow, explaining how you’ve just finished the Kazinsky report, and have several interesting findings to relate. Then grip your chest, drop to the ground, and start flailing your free arm at your underling, wheezing something like, “My pills… where are my pills?” That’s your buddy’s cue to say, “They’re out in your car. Come on, we don’t have time to lose.” Have he or she drag you out of the boss’s office, from where you will both exit the building, hit the parking lot, and beat it toward 93 at 110 per. Drop anchor at the nearest tavern, and instruct the bartender to keep ‘em coming until you start seeing the ghost of Henry Kissinger.

The Voyage to Finance: One of the little known facts of the business world is that at most companies, the finance department doesn’t even exist. It’s just a mythical place that people want to avoid at all costs. That’s your “in.” Stroll into your boss’ office with an empty manilla folder, explaining how you’ve got to have something signed off by McCormack in Finance. Head nonchalantly down the hall, out to your car, and off to someplace where you can watch the game. Return four hours later with ketchup smeared on your shirt, and tell your boss you had to kill the whole bloody lot of them, but you managed to get the paperwork signed.

The Switcheroo: Hang out by the office candy machines until you see that guy in the union suit with the two-wheeler who comes in to fill them up. Tell him how it’s career day at your kid’s school and you certainly don’t want today’s youth knowing about your impossibly lame-ass vocation, so you’d like to swap outfits with him and show up at school with a case of Three Musketeers, thus winning over the crowd. Get into his suit, pull the cap down over your eyes, and walk out of the building with purpose. Like you’re supposed to be getting into the truck and delivering candy. Then, haul ass to Fenway, double park on Lansdowne and, again employing the two-wheeler, tell Franco at the gate that you’ve got to get this shipment of Necco Wafers to the front office. Once inside, spike Javier Lopez’ Gatorade with sleeping pills, then rotate through the various SRO areas (our personal favorite: Theo’s private suite). After the game, return to the office to find the Candyman finalizing the O’Donnelly deal that somehow eluded you all winter.

Oh and for those of you stuck at the office, game thread’s in the comments.