Monday is the first day of the week to me, I know officially it’s Sunday, but for me it’s Monday. Anything is possible when the sun rises on Monday morning. What will the next seven days bring? Love? Magic? New Friends? Death? Tragedy? Finding new food trucks? Sweat rash? BBQ invite? Who knows? But, starting off on the right foot Monday will get the stone rolling down Mt. Good Week. Look out mountain goats!
Tuesday is the second day of the week for me. A day to make up for Monday’s mistakes or to keep the momentum going. Getting invited to a BBQ on Tuesday is great, but if I don’t get invited to any Tuesday, I don’t freak, I just get out there more and start asking people what they are doing on the weekend. I plant the seed that I’m available on the weekend to sit outside and pretend to have fun. Sometimes I’ll pretend to have fun on Tuesday (sounds crazy, but trust me) so people will say, That guy looks like he’d be fun to pretend with.
Wednesday aka Hump Day is a pivotal day that sets the tone for the weekend. Rip it up Wednesday and odds are I’ll rip it up on the weekend. Hopefully, I have secured an invite to a BBQ, so I can take my mind off work and start thinking about if I want to wear a button-up unbuttoned or no shirt at all to the BBQ. Either way, I will expose enough skin to leave the possibility of sauce spilling on my chest. There is just something about sauce sliding down my chest that makes me feel like I’m everyone’s favorite chicken wing. I start texting, Any plans this weekend, to tan friends if I still have not secured a spot to a BBQ, but still not freaking!
Thursday is one day before Friday and two before potential BBQ Saturday. At this point I’m focused on finding a squirt gun that matches my shoes or wondering what it is about me that makes me so bad that I can’t get one lousy invite to a BBQ. Is it that one time I skipped a Jack Johnson song at a pool party that got me blacklisted?
Friday is the day that I crumple up work and throw it in the trash. I’m either going to get real drunk so I can be in a perfect loopy mood the next morning to be a hit at the BBQ or get real drunk and drive on curvy roads with lots of trees because no one cares about me anyway.
Saturday I’ll either be hopping out of bed and into the shower and then off to the BBQ that’s full of high-fives, splashing (both ice in mixed drinks and into the pool), good smoke (both from the grill and illicit drugs, I’m also open to good snort, which could be anything. I snorted Hot Wing sauce one time! I’ll snort anything if it will make people like me), babes, buns, burgers, brats and most importantly, beers. I love beer, man. However, if I did not get an invite to a BBQ I will be either dead, in critical condition, or binging on Netflix and cold syrup and it’s always possible that at night I’ll pretend I’m homeless and hit the town begging for change.
Sunday is my day. I might just rest or walk down to one of my favorite boutiques and look at the sales section and if I have enough change from the night before I may treat myself to an ice cream cone. But no matter what I do, I know that Sunday night I will be rubbing ice all over my bare skin to either cool myself down from all the hot memories of the BBQ or to numb the pain.