Oil Spills Are Romantic

I love fridays.
I hate mondays.
Sundays suck.

The rest of the days of the week are inferior as far as I'm concerned. They're just placeholder days for new tv episodes of tv shows. So I could hate all of this theoretically, every day of the week I could hate, but the interesting part is I don't. I like tuesdays, wednesdays and thursdays. Fridays are great because then it's the weekend, so everybody's jolly on Fridays, except those freak kids who like school. I wanna kick them in the shins, then point at them and laugh. Mondays suck because you have to get into the groove mode for the next 4 days until it's Friday again. Sundays suck because you know, no matter what you do all day, that in the back of your head is a nagging realization that you either HAVE TO go to work/school the next day.

This Friday however, may be as weird as Sunday or Monday is. Not that it's BAD or anything, but I've agreed to go up to San Francisco with the women I (insert mooshy feeling here) to help clean up the oil spill. Sure, I'd like to help clean up the environment, but I have to be honest, which is terrible but honesty always gets me the WRONG things and leads me into pure trouble. It has the OPPOSITE effect lying does. Weird. But I have to be honest, yes, I'd LOVE to help clean up the environment and the animals and beach, but it's a 50/50 thing. Because as much as I am up for doing that, I'm also doing this to spend time with her.

Cleaning up an oil spill.

That's romantic.

Nothing like a little toxic waste to help your romantic life.

Well, in the end it may be totally worth it, so.

MW