#3a. - Tuesday

LOL, I'm writing about Tuesday needing to die on a Tuesday. ROFLMBFGAO,I (Rolling on the floor laughing my big fat gaping asshole off, idiot)!!!!!

I hate Tuesdays. Hate them like a Jewish family that forgot to rub lamb's blood over their door on the night of the tenth plague hates plagues. Hate them like a gay Muslim hates getting stoned to death. Hate them like Oprah hates dieting.

Iranian fugitive

Sure, you probably think Monday is the worst day of the week, but you also probably think Two and a Half Men is funny. I know your type. You wake up Monday morning, you drink some coffee, you complain to your wife that your weekend is over. Then you go to work, quickly glance at your email, and then spend the first two hours talking to your co-workers in the break room about how their weekends were, how their kids are, and whether they caught the Eagles game, which they didn't, because the Eagles had a bye week and you were too busy being whipped by your wife to even know that.

Then, somewhere between 11am an your early lunch at 11:20am, you respond to the emails, groaning all along that you have to do work because you want to be in bed, even though if you weren't at work, you'd be rushing your son Timmy to the hospital because he has a 103 fever and just threw up on the new carpet, which your wife did not have any time to clean. For those of you not in the United States, Liberia, or Burma, I have no idea how many Celsium 103 Fahenheit converts to. But I digress.

*1st world countries
*3rd world countries

At 11:20, you go to lunch with Tony, the only guy at work you can truly tolerate, even though your wife slept with him before you married her. You talk about preparations for some big meeting on Thursday, but mostly you just discuss random nonsense.


At about seven minutes after 1pm, you stroll back into your office and for the first time, actually commence work. You know your boss doesn't expect you to do much; it is Monday after all. Hell, he's actually leaving at 2:00pm to go golfing with an old buddy from his MBA program and discuss the upcoming merger, so as long you look busy until then, you could probably sneak out when his assistant sneaks out at 4:00pm.

But Tuesday is different. Tuesday's the middle of the week. Tuesday is the middle of the week and still four days from the weekend.


You get in at 8:30 and your boss berates you for leaving early. He had returned at 4:15pm because the greens at the local club were unplayable, at which point you remember that Timmy had been in the hospital. Your boss feels bad for berating you and invites you to come with him golfing on Friday, but that's only because his old buddy from the MBA program had left and he has no other friends.

And Neither Do You

You go get a cup of coffee from the break room, but you don't stay. You remember that you hate those people. They're nice to talk to once a week, but that's it. You spoke to them yesterday and that's enough until next Monday. Plus, you have to finish your report by 3:00pm and finish your presentation for the big meeting on Thursday. Worst of all, your wife is now sick too and you have to take a late lunch hour so that you can pick the kids up from school since your other son, Alex, isn't allowed to take the bus because he punched a kid for being Canadian the other day.

Canadian

You work your ass off, finishing the report and picking up your children at school, but you don't have a chance to meet with Tony to prepare for the meeting. So you agree to buy him dinner so you can discuss the presentation, then realize that you left your wallet at the school when you picked up your kids.

You never get your wallet back.

So the next time you think that Tuesday is better than Monday, just pull that twig out of your ass and smell the coffee you don't have time to drink. Monday is the Cayman Islands to Tuesday's Canada. It's a day on the beach with titties flying everywhere.

Not sure why I'm surprised that I was actually able to find a picture of flying titties, but I am

Tuesday on the other hand is like trusting a Kennedy to fly a plane or drive a car or ski down a slope or travel through Dallas in a convertible, just good old fashioned suicide.