I Hate Mondays

I used to hate Garfield, and when I say hate I mean HATE as only a 4th grade girl can hate. Which is a lot. Or alot, one word, because 4th graders can't really spell but fuckin'-A can they hate.I must have been a fairly astute 9 year old because I found Jon to be a pervy pencil neck. I did not like Odie. But what really got me was Garfield and how he hated Mondays. I would spend ten minutes staring at a cartoon of Garfield in his cat box with the sheet pulled over his head, reading and re-reading the caption: I Hate Mondays. Why? Why Garfield do you hate Mondays? And why am I supposed to find that funny? (In related news: I had some book, I don't even remember which one, and I had dog-eared a page because there was a sentence that read: "Her mom doted on her." I would take out this book every night and stare at that sentence because I thought surely it was a typo. Her mom dotted on her? But that didn't make sense either. So in hindsight perhaps I was a little obsessive when it came to things I did not understand, my 9 year old self-esteem so intact that the errors of the world compelled me to, to... I don't know. To stand in my room and stare at them. Which is kind of why I'm a walking symbol of what is wrong with this country, but that is for another post, one which probably won't include videos of city councilmen farting.)

I still hate Garfield, only now I hate him because I realize that all these years he was right, fat cranky puss with the sheet pulled over his head. Mondays suck. Unless of course you have slowly leaned back into unemployment as have I and now see Mondays as an extension of please pass the platter of government cheese, and pardon me but might you have a cracker? No? Am I the only one? Anyhoo, for the handful of you that might actually still have a job I give you this: 3 Things to Cheer You Up On This Monday After a 3 Day Weekend:
This guy. This photo. This makes me laugh and when I say laugh I mean to say it makes me fall on my knees grateful that this is not me. Thankyouthankyouthankyougodorwhoeveriloveyouandiwillbeagoodgirlforeveramen. So this is for you, people at work. Be grateful that you have very little chance of this happening to you today unless of course your job title just so happens to be Chief Jogger in Black Dolphin Shorts and you stopped at IHOP this morning for a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Frooty. In which case I suggest you clench and keep running, run like the wind! Oh, and p.s., don't come to me looking for a wet wipe, my daughter is potty trained and I don't know you.

And then there's this:

As the pretentious hacks at my old job used to say, how brill is that? Slices of peanut butter! Gives whole new meaning to a fruit roll up! The web site boasts that it "makes peanut butter easier to eat." Which is awesome because it was just so difficult before, what with the jar and the spoon, and the jar. And the spoon. As one enthusiastic customer commented: "Great. Because I hardly ever indulge because it's so hard to eat. I mean, like my hand gets stuck in the jar. And then I can't get it out. And I can't open the door to my house because I have a pb jar on my hand. And I'm stuck in the house for weeks. Thank god for this product." Happy Monday!

But wait! There's more. This. This makes me sublimely happy, like TGIM happy.

So there. Sure, the 3 day weekend is over and it's back to the grind, no real holidays until Labor Day and yet here I sit in my bathrobe watering my ferns and eating blueberry toaster waffles, one eye on DJ Lance Rock and the Super Music Friends Show. Sure you could be bitter and jealous and hate me more than just a little bit, but why? Why when I give you diarrhea and slices of peanut butter and city councilmen farting? Why when the State of California is handing out IOU's and my unemployment check might bounce, The Terminator is my governor and the cheese is pimento? Spicy pimento at that? Fuck it. I hate Mondays, too. But not you. I love you. I dote on you.

xoxo,

S