Everyone looks forward to the weekend after a long, grueling week of schmoozing with a bunch of coworkers at the workhouse (usually against one’s own personal will) for five days, forty hours and two and a half hours worth of fifteen minute breaks. But no matter how much everyone psyches themselves up for an abbreviated two-day weekend, the weekend is almost always two days minus thirty hours. Most working class citizens spend more time in a company staff meeting.

Never the less, even though the weekend is over by the time we complete a single blink of an eye, there’s no denying that the time away from the office is dedicated to excessive drinking, inhuman amounts of grease and sugar consumption, and unforgettable sex with strangers that are picked up behind an oversized trash dumpster of any Pizza Hut restaurant chain.

Oh, wait. Is that what weekends are for or any day that ends in the letter “Y”?  Same thing.

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Quote of the Week:  “There aren’t enough days in a weekend.”