They’re gonna look back at the week you’ve had, and how hard you ball out in the weekend! *pause for effect* They’re gonna see how much you’ve ACCOMPLISHED! *pause for effect* They’re gonna see you struttin like the boss you ARE! *pause for effect* That’s because you paid the COST! *pause for effect* They’re gonna see all this, and say “yoooo! WE MADE IT! Let’s celebrate!” *disgusted look* Some might deserve to join you in celebrating the victory over the week, but you’ll need to ask them ALL one question. It’s the theme and refrain of this collaboration by Atlanta’s Future Hendrix, and Toronto’s 6 Man, Drake-Drizzy-Rogers. It’s the same question car chase shawty was asking the cops earlier:
Plies has a point. Is the “all natural” angle good? Yes. Is the barbacoa spiced to perfection. HELL YEAH. Matter fact, let’s be honest that maybe the best thing smoking outta there Chipotle. Everything else literally tastes like something you can get elsewhere. So WHY is Chipotle such a cult classic? Is it the Starbucks of Mexican food? Have loyal fans NOT had Panchero’s (Midwest chain, if you’re from elsewhere – sucks to suck, their tortillas RULE). Whatever the case is, do you agree with Plies Chipotle theorem or nah:
Siya and I have debated the definitely-not-happening animal uprising, World War Zoo, in this space many, many times before. But this may be the first time I’ve actually had to concede a point to Siya. He’s right: our pets are breaking free. But not to start a war with humans. No, that would be ridiculous and require organization and planning that our neocortex-less counterparts just aren’t capable of. Instead our furry friends are breaking free for the right reasons. Because they can, man. Because they can.
Look at that dog run! Look how free he looks! Look how HAPPY he is! You can’t tell him NOTHING. He’s gonna run the bases and ya’ll can just wait for him to be done running. Look at those little legs! Look at that tiny tongue! Look at that wild weiner! That’s a one pooch party. What’s up shortstop; you ain’t fielding this grounder! See ya, later security; can’t cuff this canine! Oh hey pet owner; can’t leash the beast! The PARTY beast!
They said it was to be a short race for a bunch of short dogs. But dude, you can’t tell tell that dog how to live its life. That dog’s decided for himself, thank you very much.
As the philosopher Dave Chappelle once asked White America: “If you get pulled over, wouldn’t you want to turn the radio down? Nobody wants to get their ass beat to a soundtrack“. While it took a while, it turns out Dave was wrong. When fellow theorist Lil Jon asked “Turn Down For What” in a follow-up years later, this young go-getter answers NOTHING… even after a high-speed chase with LAPD. Whoo. Because when Future and Drake ask “Where yo ass was at?” To her… she will emphatically reply as she does in this amazing video:
For real, fuck 3-5pm on Friday afternoon. Why does this chunk of time even exist? It’s an actual time prison, crushing down on your false delusions of freedom and hope. Oh hey, you see the weekend out there, so tantalizingly close? Just reach out and touch it. Oh wait, you can’t! Because it’s still the stupid fucking work week so you’re still chained to your stupid fucking desk for some stupid fucking reason. Fuck.
You know how much work has gotten done between 3-5pm on Friday afternoon (I’m talking CUBE work here, not the real work provided by heroes like doctors and plumbers and Happy Hour bartenders)? One. Now, you might say, “Ben, ‘one’ doesn’t seem like an applicable or complete answer to that proposed question. One of what?” To which I say, it’s fucking Friday afternoon between 3-5pm, so one of whatever, dude. One work unit. That’s all that has been done ever in the history of forever. In some dial-up, prehistoric sundial confirmed 3-5pm block of a Friday afternoon, one unit of work was accomplished once, by what I assume was a wide-eyed, newly hired, desperate-to-please intern before they looked up and realized everyone else in the office wasn’t doing jackshit, and abandoned that stupid idea forever. Yes, even misguided overachievers desperate to make a head first impact on the top rung of the corporate ladder don’t do shit on Friday afternoons from 3-5pm. SO WHY ARE WE HERE?
You know how I know work doesn’t get done between 3-5pm on a Friday afternoon? Because you’re reading a blog post titled Fuck 3-5pm On Friday Afternoon. You’re doing that right now. ON A FUCKING FRIDAY AFTERNOON. I was going to write my normal half-assed, week ending Potato Of The Day, but instead I was like yo, it’s Friday afternoon, why the fuck should I do anything? To which you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Truth.”
Anyway, I’ve got two hours til I can waterboard my liver with tequila. That’s nothing on a Monday. But on a Friday? That’s damn near impossible. It’s fucking torture by Friday cubicle. Yet, we always mange to endure that slow strangle of Friday afternoon time, finding trivial novelties to fulfill our meaningless Friday afternoon existences, don’t we? So let’s go do that. That thing that gets us by. I’ll probably go Snapchat some racially charged emojis or look at pictures of head tattoos or some shit. I don’t know. Hell, maybe I can kill eight whole minutes asking everyone for their weekend plans. Again. Fuck 3-5pm on Friday Afternoon. Fuck it long. And fuck it hard.