Alright Thursday, You Gotta Go

outtahere 300x217 Alright Thursday, You Gotta Go

You…..Are…..OUTTA HERE!

Seriously.  I mean it this time.  Thursday, you have outlived your usefulness and I’m about good and goddamned tired of dealing with your shit.  You’re pointless.  We could take and add four more hours to every other day and actually have something to show for it.  Or, we could just add twelve hours each to the weekend days and really enjoy ourselves.

But no.  Noooooooo, of course you won’t go away.  You’re like the clueless college buddy that came for a “visit” and decided to just move right the hell in with us.  Never mind that we don’t have room for you and that you’re a huge inconvenience to everyone.  Don’t give a second thought to the fact that you haven’t offered to pitch in for groceries, power bills or the rent.  That’s fine.  We LOOOOOVE having your sorry, resource-draining ass always around.

And of course, when we try to go out for a nice evening with our spouses, there’s nothing more exciting than having you as a third wheel, getting in the middle of every damn thing we try to do to escape you.  Nope, perfectly acceptable if you ask me.  Who wouldn’t want you sitting there, talking about your glory days in high school sports while we’re trying to enjoy a quiet dinner with a beautiful woman?  I sure love it when you’re around.

What’s that?  You want to watch the marathon of “Aliens In Heat” on SyFy?  Well, sure, that’s what I want too.  Give not a second thought to the fact that a.) I hate alien movies and b.) SyFy freakin’ blows 99% of the time.  I didn’t want to see the big game tonight anyways, and you are my guest, so it’s perfectly acceptable to me that you get to hog the television that I paid for and watch the premium cable package that I paid for and I don’t even mind that you’ve ransacked my kitchen for refreshments that I paid for.  Nope, I don’t mind a bit that you haven’t so much as bought a roll of toilet paper since you’ve been here. It’s my pleasure to be at your beckon call.

You see, I’m not the one asking you to leave.  It’s the wife.  She’s tired of having a house guest.  Says “we need some privacy around here”.  Sheesh, women right?  So, I know it’s against the bro-code and all, but my hands are tied.  I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.  Yeah, I know it’s weak, but sometimes you just gotta please the old lady, ya know?  Look man, don’t give me shit, it’s not me, it’s HER.