I don’t give a sh*t if it’s Friday. I’m not gonna walk around smiling like a damn fool because apparently my life is so awful 5 days out of the week that nearing the completion of this walk across hot coals while sucking on tacks makes me so happy that I turn into everyone’s best pal. My entire existence is not based directly on the idea that I can only truly enjoy 28% of my life, yet spend 72% miserable trying to get to that one f-ing day….Friday.
You know what I say to the people who think like that? Good luck. You know who I am? I’m the guy who pisses you off sometimes. I’m the guy who smiles at you on MONDAY morning at 7A and that makes you mad. ‘What’s his problem you mumble under your breath?” Yet when you smile at me on Friday at 4PM and I look at you like you’ve suddenly turned into Richard F***ing Simmons when you’ve been a zombie all week I come across as an asshole. Well look at you, Clayton, you sure do have it all figured out. Today is the big day. No work tomorrow, no work Sunday. All your dreams will be coming true this time. Clay, my friend, here’s your big moment to shine. Break that smile out and tell everyone your big plans. “Oh, Linda, I can’t wait to hear the family’s plans for Saturday and Sunday, sounds just terrific!” Give me a break. So you go around and tell everyone to “Have a great weekend”. I have other plans. I’d rather say, “How about you go to the zoo and get your teeth knocked out by a monkey.” Guess what, at least you’d have a great story to tell me on Monday and an even harder time telling it, considering you got your damn teeth kicked in by a monkey.
Now chances are, although I don’t know a ton about monkey fighting (especially when a human is involved), but the monkey probably uses his hands or monkey fists to knock the teeth out and not the feet, but who am I to sit here and explain to someone else how their teeth got knocked out, it’s their ‘crazy weekend’ story. Instead, without fail, I am left every Monday morning hoping to see just one damn co-worker of mine walking around with a big mouth full of gauze and monkey fist marks on their cheek. I would walk right up to them, knowing exactly what happened and I would look at them with the anger and hatred for rabid monkeys that I now apparently have and I would just nod and say, “F*cking monkeys.” Then that man or woman, I have no sexist beliefs on the probability that a monkey would be more or less likely to kick a man or woman’s teeth in over the others. SO, then that person would gauze-mumble to me “I hate Mondays.”
Now, of course, I would assume he or she said “I hate monkeys”, which would be the natural inclination here. But it also proves my point that a man or woman that has so recently lost all of their natural ability to eat or chew food anymore has not only come back to work the next day but also has the incredible sense of humor and perspective to say they hate Mondays, well that person would logically become my new best friend, but only after the subsequent surgeries and denture fitting, I’m not wasting my time trying to talk to a toothless asshole who can’t take a beating from a monkey, BUT, I respect him (or her) for it and that’s the point. I’ll keep hoping for my Monday morning monkey story, but my guess is that it aint coming anytime soon.