Friday

It has been quite an ordeal getting to this point. My plane landed at 3am this morning. This older gentleman spilled a twelve year old scotch on my white cotton socks, claiming “he didn’t even see me.” I bumped into not one, but two glass doors—the second time with witnesses. And to add the cream on top, I was sixteen minutes late clocking in at the office. But I feel good as hell!

Despite these vein-laden Ruby-red eyes and the arthritic spasms in my lower back and the unmistakeable sound of bone dust shuffling between the fibers of my muscle around my overworked knee, oh and scotch socks, I feel like I could fight Heracles wearing the skin of the Namean Lion, in hand to hand combat. I feel like I could potentially race Hermès barefoot. I feel like I could carry IO, the Greek ass cow, up to the top of mount Olympus and set its fat ass on Hera’s dinner plate! Today is the day we make some moves!

It’s a good day! My supervisor went to hell for an extended weekend. My three least favorite coworkers had gout flare-ups, from not social distancing, so they aren’t here. And someone forgot that it was Larry’s birthday, so I don’t have to sit through another corny ass birthday song or a round of cake that taste like a scratch-and-sniff crayon, extra toxic flavor. This Friday is the damn best!

And now I can’t help but look forward to the weekend! Today was so stupidly enjoyable, it has to have some runoff pollution flowing into my Saturday. Everything is awesome. Most things are cool. And nothing is terrible. Lets keep up the good work, mother fuckers!

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