Fuck 3-5pm On Friday Afternoon

friday

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.

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