So I get to work late (again) this morning and I’m plodding up the stairs, just barely operating on the four hours of sleep I got last night and repeating to myself coffeecoffeecoffeecoffeeeeeee just trying to make it to my desk without passing out from the lack of sleep and lack of caffeine and, well, just LACK, in general, and praying-wishing-hoping that I don’t see anyone I know and have to make small talk because I swear to god, I really don’t have it in me right now, I JUST DON’T.

Which of course means that the next door I pass by will fly open and The Most Annoying Woman in the World will walk through it, and be THRILLED to see me and want to hear all about how I’ve been and what I’ve been up to and how that adorable little boy of mine is and did I ever get those TPS reports done for Mr. So-and-So because she knew I was working on them and he was looking for them and we wouldn’t want to let Mr. So-and-So down, now, would we?

And that’s exactly what happens.

Karma is SUCH an asshole.

So I stand there in the stairwell, trapped like a rat in a cage, one foot hopefully poised on the next step, as if I’m EVER going to escape this Fate Worse Than Death, wishing desperately for (a) caffeine, (2) a fire drill, (iii) a large boulder to drop from the sky and squish this woman into oblivion, or (D) a large boulder to drop from the sky and squish ME into oblivion — but I get none of these wishes as she continues to drone on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

I nod my head and say things like “Yeah” and “Oh, sure” and “You bet,” with my foot still precariously perched on that next step, shifting my weight constantly, thinking pleasepleaseplease, until FINALLY she runs out of stupid pointless time-vampire shit to say and MERCIFULLY frees me from my invisible rat-cage. As I sprint up the stairs as fast as I can (which isn’t very fast, given that I’m sleep-and-caffeine-deprived and my spirit is now broken) she adds behind me — “T.G.I.F!!”

Finally I get to my desk and pour some coffee down my throat and really, the day MIGHT have been salvaged except now all I can think about is that stupid T.G.I.F. Might as well just kiss the rest of the day goodbye, because obsessing about T.G.I.F. is now the only thing on the agenda.

I just don’t get it. WHY do people say that? I mean, for starters, is it SO hard to say “Thank God It’s Friday?” We really need an acronym for that? It’s one thing when you’re typing an email or whatever, but in real life do you walk around saying things like “LMAO” and “FML” and “BTW”?

I really hope not.

But that’s kind of beside the point anyway. The REAL point is this:


And I don’t appreciate anyone telling me that I should, either. The Most Annoying Woman in the World and all of her T.G.I.F. cohorts need to mind their own beeswax and stop tossing out the random useless suggestions.

I’m not thanking ANYONE that today is Friday, because Friday is just another day that I have to spend stuck at the office for 8 hours, performing random, futile, mind-numbing tasks and watching my life click away on the computer clock. Surrounded by people who say shit like “T.G.I.F.”

WHY should I be so glad that it’s Friday? Who cares? Is there some kind of Friday party going on in a back office that I’m unaware of? Are they giving out Friday bonuses? Are there drugs involved? Booze? Red pills? Blue pills? Something? Anything?

Now SATURDAY – THERE’S a day to be grateful for. That’s a day I can really get my head around. No work, sleep late, still one more day left in the weekend so you don’t have to start dreading Monday just yet…

Friday can suck it. And so can those TPS reports.

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