The Raven was at the office early today, hopping from foot to foot and waiting for the sales girls to open the door.
The Raven loves Mondays. All those good ideas over the weekend, all that fresh energy, just looking for an outlet. :bouncy: :bouncy: :bouncy:
Fridays are good too. Big piles of lovely exciting things to try and finish, always makes him late. Friday The Raven was in the office until 10:30 pm
Wednesdays are always the problem. The week seems to extend back into the far mists of time, and forward into an infinite future. You mean I’m only halfway through? I have to do it all again? By Wednesday afternoon The Raven is pecking his feathers out.
Friday afternoon an hour or so before you leave the office is the absolute pinnacle of a working week. It is filled with the optimism and promise of a full weekend off and usually invites to some boozer somewhere.
Saturday, on the other hand, is a dreary day, particularly as the light fades in the late afternoon. Half of your weekend is finished and it’s pretty much all back to work mode from there. Sunday may as well be a work day, especially if you should find it necessary to iron anything.
Monday is confirmation of the misery you’ve anticipated for the past day and a half days. Tuesday, however, is a bland meaningless day. Nothing happens on Tuesday, which is why you’ll probably die on a Tuesday. it’s that sort of day. Wednesday is a silly day that some zealous optimists get worked up about after crossing lunch time. I think they’re stupid. You may occasionally get caught up in their zeal though, and go out and party prematurely, in which case the rest of your working week is going to be like trying to climb Mt Everest with no oxygen or legs. Thursday is a sneaky little fucker of a day. You usually wake up optimistically thinking its only the next day and you can sleep in, then you remember what a deceptive cunt of a day it is.
[quote=“Huang Guang Chen”]Friday afternoon an hour or so before you leave the office is the absolute pinnacle of a working week. It is filled with the optimism and promise of a full weekend off and usually invites to some boozer somewhere.
Saturday, on the other hand, is a dreary day, particularly as the light fades in the late afternoon. Half of your weekend is finished and it’s pretty much all back to work mode from there. Sunday may as well be a work day, especially if you should find it necessary to iron anything.
Monday is confirmation of the misery you’ve anticipated for the past day and a half days. Tuesday, however, is a bland meaningless day. Nothing happens on Tuesday, which is why you’ll probably die on a Tuesday. it’s that sort of day. Wednesday is a silly day that some zealous optimists get worked up about after crossing lunch time. I think they’re stupid. You may occasionally get caught up in their zeal though, and go out and party prematurely, in which case the rest of your working week is going to be like trying to climb Mt Everest with no oxygen or legs. Thursday is a sneaky little fucker of a day. You usually wake up optimistically thinking its only the next day and you can sleep in, then you remember what a deceptive cunt of a day it is.
HG[/quote]
So true…so true…
Since my favorite fish fry has a sign that says “Free Beer Tomorrow” My favorite day is tomorrow as there is always free beer
So ultimatlely, we’re willimg our days away for a hit at two joyful hours on a Friday afternoon before leaving the office?
You do know your average fuzzy wuzzy nig nog spent just an average of 2 hours a day to see all their needs met? They call this progress? We’ve been screwed!
Bloody hell, almas, please excuse me. Is that for real? I’m thankful for the way you pardon my occasonal self indulgence, I sometimes forget that there are good sorts like yourself that really do know thngs like this.
Yet I am sure for desert aborigines two hours max for food, 15 hours for social guff, which means we need a computer to try and understand their system of relationships. In effect, life doesn’t get any better, just more complicated.
Yep, from what I’ve seen in remote areas back in 89 and 90 whilst I was living out my explorer fantasies (And to keep this on topic, I’ll just add that I’m talking about places where folks didn’t have pots so they couldn’t boil chickens). But like I said, the women work hard, and the little ones do a fair few chores around the house.
And although the men had pretty easy days the poor heathen bastards didn’t have any beer.
So ultimatlely, we’re willimg our days away for a hit at two joyful hours on a Friday afternoon before leaving the office?
You do know your average fuzzy wuzzy nig nog spent just an average of 2 hours a day to see all their needs met? They call this progress? We’ve been screwed!
Well not until you put me on the spot, but dammit now yes I do. I’m sharpening my spear and actively seeking a good forager. She doesn’t have to be a breeder, but maybe in lean years that could help.
The energy direction is key. I try to make sure others have a bad Tuesday, not me. I deflect your arseish tard-flow with my vibe-wings of steel. Kerpow.
