Weekend Eve: “Kiss My Ass,” Never Sounded So Good

Guys and Gals, the week is almost over and we have officially arrived to the sweet symphony of Thursday, better known as WEEKEND EVE!  Yesterday you reaped the benefits of Hump Day, now is the time to start fixing your lips to tell all your haters, bosses and bill collectors to, “Kiss my ass!”  You’ve dealt with pissy attitudes, impossible demands and the screeching cry of your alarm clock all for this one day to say, “Tomorrow is “Fuq ‘em Friday and the weekend is history in the making!”

Sure, you have one more day to slave over paperwork in an office that doesn’t appreciate you.  You have another day to practice your road rage as you sit in traffic.  You even have one more day to pull some old wrinkled garment out of the dirty clothes hamper because you were too lazy or too trifling to do laundry.  But this day – this grand ole Thursday is the one day out of the week where the butterflies in your stomach are from pure genuine excitement and not from the booze of last evening, after having dealt with the agony of Monday thru Wednesday.

This is your day to close one final project and sweep all the rest under the carpet until next Monday, where all the bullshytters, complainers and back stabbers line up to piss you off all over again.  The best part of this day however, is that you couldn’t give a shyt less because you know in your heart and soul that doing anything responsible on Fridays goes against everything you believe in and stand for.  So although you may have a disturbingly shytty job as an armpit sniffer or a soda pop taste tester who has been plagued with eternal pimples from a heavy ingestion of sugar, you know that Friday, Saturday and Sunday holds nothing but mischief, mayhem and an illegal count of alcohol consumption.  This is what you’ve worked all week for!

To the mean old cafeteria lady who works in the school with adolescent demons that point and snicker at her hair net; to the little old lady who’s forced to play bingo with a bunch of old bitties that can’t watch anything on TV except ‘The Price is Right’; and to the office geek who’s greatest talent is to get beat up in the parking lot every day at the sound of the 5 o’clock whistle; it’s time to pull yourself up by the boot straps and get a little crazy!

Dear Ms. Lunch Lady, remind those bad ass kids that Hansel and Gretel was cooked in the witch’s oven for being naughty little bastards.

Dear Old Grandma, tell your senior citizen stick-in-the-muds to stick their dentures where the sun doesn’t shine!

…and Dear Little Office Geek, your best bet is to hop on the internet and find some bored schmuck to terrorize in a chat room because your ass is getting whooped for a reason, so you’d better not take any chances going out in public.

To all others – young, old, working or not, grab your best pals [or anyone gullible enough to pay your way] and paint the town red!  For in four more days, you will remember what it’s like to live in hell on Earth in a bottomless pit called Monday.

Get off your ass and plan your celebration on this here weekend eve.  C’mon. Make Hottywood proud.


Quote of the week:    “Weekends don’t count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless.”



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