Three-Day Weekend
Going back to work after a three-day weekend sucks worse than watching your parents get run over by a Mack truck full of babies on fire while a group of serial killer clowns laugh and give you food poisoning (they're rubbing your face with undercooked chicken while they laugh, obviously). I mean, I've done nothing since Thursday afternoon... like, for real... and now they expect me to just jump back into the stinky corporate waters like it ain't no thang? That's how people pull hamstrings and blow out rotater cuffs!!!
No, wait, I'm thinking of improperly warmed-up Major League pitchers. Sorry about that.
But still, the same principle applies... being a sedentary lump for an extended period of time and then changing courses all willy-nilly and working on invoices and answering phones and sitting in all-staff meetings... that shit ain't good for the body OR the mind. So, in an effort to combat any sort of potential mental or physical breakdown, I've decided to sit here at my desk and stare blankly at a spreadsheet (while listening to the entire "Purple Rain" album) until 1pm or until the booze from this weekend is finally processed by my liver and out of my bloodstream, whichever comes first. Then and ONLY then will I attempt to do any of this "work" nonsense about which everyone around here seems so keen. I appreciate your support.
So... anyway... vacations, huh? Pretty nice. Didn't do a whole lot with my time, as I mentioned, though I *did* do a heroic amount of drinking. And not the fun, social drinking at parties or bars with groups of friends, either. Nope, it was mostly the scary, at-home, drinking in the dark on the couch while playing video games and avoiding the outside world because it's all shiny and frightening and there's big metal boxes that zip around all crazy and run you over when you pass out in a crosswalk because it just... looked... so... comfortable... See, part of the problem was that we found this speed pourer thingy in a kitchen drawer and, besides delivering my $8.99-a-bottle whiskey into a glass just THAT much faster, it magically stopped pouring after it had dispensed exactly 1.5 ounces of drunken goodness. It poured a perfect shot, automatically!!! Needless to say, I was fascinated by this. I still have no idea how it works (magic), but after doing some extensive quality control, I can say that it performs it's task admirably on a consistent basis, even when the glass is eschewed in favor of pouring directly into the mouth while standing in my boxers on a Saturday morning. I also drank a lot of beer.
HOWEVER!!! I lied to you! We did get out of the house a little bit. We caught a showing of Wanted, even though I've previously stated on this very blog that I'm "just so sick of [those] sort of movies." It was totally retarded, but entertainingly so. Any movie that features a car somersaulting over another car so one guy can shoot another through their respective open sunroofs... well... hats off, mouth agog, pants slowly darkening with amazed urine, etc.
AND!!! I went on a man-date with a handsome Midwesterner. He took me to the theater! As I'm sure you could deduce from clicking on the link, the show we saw was called Life in a Marital Institution and, though short and a monologue, it WAS extremely free-of-charge. Also quite funny. And the performer... James Braly... looked like a nerdy Richard Gere, which I found oddly endearing. All in all, it was nice man-date, though I should be quick to point out for the sake of both our girlfriends that NOTHING HAPPENED!!! I told you, I don't KNOW how I lost my underwear, but I'm sure it involved a series of events that had little to do with several after-show drinks at The Cock.
So... what else... well, some other stuff happened too, I guess, but really, who cares? Fireworks, other people, some food, poor-quality sleep, lots of bitching about the humidity, Six Feet Under, and baseball on TV. That, plus everything else I mentioned, was my three-day weekend. Now you know. You lucky motherfucker.
No, wait, I'm thinking of improperly warmed-up Major League pitchers. Sorry about that.
But still, the same principle applies... being a sedentary lump for an extended period of time and then changing courses all willy-nilly and working on invoices and answering phones and sitting in all-staff meetings... that shit ain't good for the body OR the mind. So, in an effort to combat any sort of potential mental or physical breakdown, I've decided to sit here at my desk and stare blankly at a spreadsheet (while listening to the entire "Purple Rain" album) until 1pm or until the booze from this weekend is finally processed by my liver and out of my bloodstream, whichever comes first. Then and ONLY then will I attempt to do any of this "work" nonsense about which everyone around here seems so keen. I appreciate your support.
So... anyway... vacations, huh? Pretty nice. Didn't do a whole lot with my time, as I mentioned, though I *did* do a heroic amount of drinking. And not the fun, social drinking at parties or bars with groups of friends, either. Nope, it was mostly the scary, at-home, drinking in the dark on the couch while playing video games and avoiding the outside world because it's all shiny and frightening and there's big metal boxes that zip around all crazy and run you over when you pass out in a crosswalk because it just... looked... so... comfortable... See, part of the problem was that we found this speed pourer thingy in a kitchen drawer and, besides delivering my $8.99-a-bottle whiskey into a glass just THAT much faster, it magically stopped pouring after it had dispensed exactly 1.5 ounces of drunken goodness. It poured a perfect shot, automatically!!! Needless to say, I was fascinated by this. I still have no idea how it works (magic), but after doing some extensive quality control, I can say that it performs it's task admirably on a consistent basis, even when the glass is eschewed in favor of pouring directly into the mouth while standing in my boxers on a Saturday morning. I also drank a lot of beer.
HOWEVER!!! I lied to you! We did get out of the house a little bit. We caught a showing of Wanted, even though I've previously stated on this very blog that I'm "just so sick of [those] sort of movies." It was totally retarded, but entertainingly so. Any movie that features a car somersaulting over another car so one guy can shoot another through their respective open sunroofs... well... hats off, mouth agog, pants slowly darkening with amazed urine, etc.
AND!!! I went on a man-date with a handsome Midwesterner. He took me to the theater! As I'm sure you could deduce from clicking on the link, the show we saw was called Life in a Marital Institution and, though short and a monologue, it WAS extremely free-of-charge. Also quite funny. And the performer... James Braly... looked like a nerdy Richard Gere, which I found oddly endearing. All in all, it was nice man-date, though I should be quick to point out for the sake of both our girlfriends that NOTHING HAPPENED!!! I told you, I don't KNOW how I lost my underwear, but I'm sure it involved a series of events that had little to do with several after-show drinks at The Cock.
So... what else... well, some other stuff happened too, I guess, but really, who cares? Fireworks, other people, some food, poor-quality sleep, lots of bitching about the humidity, Six Feet Under, and baseball on TV. That, plus everything else I mentioned, was my three-day weekend. Now you know. You lucky motherfucker.
posted by Clinton at 8:45 AM
3 Comments:
Wow, you're having more "man dates" than I am. Jerk!
Sorry I'm such a STUD MUFFIN!!!
I agree that going back to work after a three-day weekend is horrible, though the babies on fire and scary clowns sounds worse, but I don't think it would be so bad if we always had three-day weekends. That way, we would be used to it. And, we would only be working four days a week, which is really awesome.
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