It seems to me there is just enough crazy bound and gagged under the daytime hours of Friday. When that five o’clock whistle finally blows the beast, now unbridled, roars to the surface and goes bat shit crazy. Party music seems to appear from nowhere and dancing Go-Go girls drop down from some mythical disco Valhalla.
In honor of that gurgling and swirling Friday undercurrent I’ve decided that today’s blog will consist of mostly rambling gibberish and complete utter bull plop.
Why is time Irish? “O’clock”. I’ve often wondered about that. It’s like;
“Meet Mr. O’Malley, Mr. O’Hanlon, Mr. O’Hagan and Mr. O’clock. Yes, we will have a drink. But not too much for Mr. O’clock, he’s got an early morning.”
I mean most of the best clocks were made by the Swiss right, so why is time Irish? Weird.
I’m not sure what I should do tonight. I wish I had a cuddle buddy to while away the evening hours on the couch with watching TV and smoking. I will likely wind up at the local bar, drinking my face off and going home alone and ever more depressed about my uncuddled life. I suppose I could do something different, meet some beautiful Star Trek nerd, somewhere….
Friday is a partier though. She’s just out to have a good time and mess you up for the whole weekend. She’s always hiking up her skirt and tempting you to Lambada with her, to the death.
Of course she never puts her drink down. I've seen Friday on roller coasters, sipping calmly on her Pina Colada, and then screaming about how she freaking loves roller coasters and boy bands.
She makes you love her and when you wake up in the morning, she’s always gone.
Friday requires a good lunch though. She needs burritos, or giant salads, or pasta with lots of bread. She might have a energy drink or a Gatorade to keep her spirits up. She usually gets an early start with Thursday, but that’s a different story. She’s at work but not working. She’s just wondering about what kind of crazy mischief she can get into tonight.
Friday never wants to hurt anybody as far as I can tell. Just break a few hearts and maybe wound a little pride is all she is capable of. She sure likes to tear the night a new one though. She’ll rip right into it, screaming her brains out about who said what when she said what she said about who she said it to. It’s amazing.
So get Friday a drink but don’t let her suck you into her crazy. She wants you to get super crazy with her so Saturday doesn't get any real attention. She’s very jealous. Be delicate with her because she’ll turn on you in an instant and become a roid rage jock ready to wipe the floor with you and then dance with your remaining intestines like a hula-hoop.
Speaking of intestines, I think I might need a few chili dogs. Friday commands it.