Then, there’s T.B.I.F. Too Bad It’s Friday.
Yeah. Yep. Yep, yep, I can feel you loving that! T.B.I.F. I can feel you feeling it. T.B.I.F!
‘Hey girl, T.B.I.F!’
Oooooh, wait, wait, wait…I’m thinking consolidate the BIF part so that it’s T-BIF.
“Yo, man, T-BIF!”
“Yeah! Yo man, back atcha…T-BIF!”
How do I copyright that?!?
Today at my new place of work (I refuse to call it a job) I got my MacBook and my first assignment. I’m anticipating all the writing and reporting I’m soon to do. It’s been…really good.
Yet, I guess, if you really break it down, I’m again working for The Man. Some man, at least. My initial plan was to totally freelance, you know? That was the reason for this whole blog: to document how my not working for The Man would work for me.
Well, screw that! I need a steady paycheck!
Let’s tweak things a bit. There are different types of The Man. The ladies will back me up here. Some men are disgusting and you’re all, “Give me back my uninhibited love-making on that marble statue at City Hall, oh, and my Glam-Glitter-Glo fingernail polish, too! And get your stinky oysters out of my refrigerator before you hop on your skateboard and scoot to your mother’s trailer!”
With other men you’re all, “I heart you I heart you I heart you I love you I heart you because you’re so sweet and kind and loving to me and I just…well…I heart you. Will you run into the kitchen like a little polar bear and get me my leftover TBI-Friday’s potato skins, baby? Oh, warm them up, please, okaaaaay?”
Again, my metaphors take some getting used to. But, all that’s to reiterate what my blog is about at its core. If on Fridays you’re sadly TGIF-ing yourself all over town, you might want to rethink how you’re spending most of your waking hours.
But, if you’re T-BIFFING like I am tonight? Well, then, you’re much closer to reaching your delightenment.
Get your T-BIF on!
Til next time!