That Friday Feeling
It’s official. I have that Friday Feeling.
I should explain. Americans say “Thank God it’s Friday,” or “TGIF” if you’re really corporate, or “Is it beer o’clock yet?” or “Fuck this, tomorrow’s Saturday, I’m hiding behind something until 5.”
Norwegians say they “have that Friday Feeling.”
I found this out from working with Norwegians. One of them particularly would say this. “I have that Friday feeling.” He was very earnest about it. We would just laugh and laugh. I guess it loses something in the translation, but to us, it always sounded really gay. Not gay like: “Antwan just told me he likes to lick sphincter, I think he’s gay.” More 80s gay, like: “I can’t believe you’re wearing parachute pants. That’s so gay.” (Though I suppose if Antwan wore parachute pants, that’d be double gay, or übergay, or gay to the max.)
Coincidentally, the Norwegian who use to say he had the Friday feeling really was gay, but not 80s gay, though I don’t know if he licked sphincter. I don’t analyze gay enough to need to know that, but I digress.
My point is – as both gay and straight Norwegians would say – I have that Friday feeling.
Maybe it’s the weather. This has been our week of spring. The weather is gorgeous, breezy, just right for sitting in a field and drinking really good Belgian beer. Even when it hits 80, it’s a dry 80 – the kind you spend most of your days dreaming about in Tampa.
Or maybe it’s the dusty document I’m pouring over, trying to remove the irrelevant parts from the desperately dated parts. The whole thing’s practically useless, and it’s all about some policy or some such blah blah.
Or maybe it’s just that Friday feeling, and I want to get the fuck out of here and do just about anything that doesn’t invoke responsibility and/or being here. Hell, I’ll even do something semi-responsible, if I can do it at home or from a pub.
Today is the kind of day that justifies why there should be outdoor bowling alleys.