TGIF
I was on the subway today with someone I respect, someone much smarter than me—one of my roommates. He actually made it in the journalism world. He had a job, he even had an intern that would do his beckoning. Then, get this, while at the job, the job that gave him a minion (a girl minion at that!) another job called him, and plucked him away, a few blocks south and one avenue block over. This job gave him even more money and less responsibility.
The bottom line is, this guy is smart and he’s not a douche. We eat together and talk about stuff and love and laugh and live. It isn’t gay, it’s just pleasant.
So, we were on the L train, rubbing up on every other 20-something being whisked from the tip of Brooklyn to some office somewhere in Manhattan to sit at a computer inside some building and do something that on its own doesn’t shake the earth very much, but if you sum it all, still doesn’t shake very much.
I told him that I felt high, I had a cold and had just taken some sudafed to trade my cold symptoms for sudafed symptoms, which are both fun and harrowing in a carpeted mid-morning cubicle.
“Thank God it’s Friday,” he said. And he meant it. Other people said that today at work, people I also respect and enjoy. They say it, and they mean it, not noticing what they’re really saying. T.G.I.F. is only appropriate if referring to the blockbuster lineup of Full House, Step by Step, Family Matters and Boy Meets World. Other than that, strictly prohibited, it goes hand-in-paw with douchebaggery and being a big ‘ol toolbox. But something happens after enough 9 - 5 I think where people forget, they get tired, and in a quiet moment of desperate relief, it slips out with a pathetic little splash into the cosmos.
Thank God it’s Friday.
It’s ruined the same way you can’t say “Can you hear me now?” trying to get bars on your cell phone because of that assclown with the thickframed glasses who shows up everywhere. Instead you flip the syntax, claw for synonyms. “Now you hear me?” “Your hearing of my, it is better?” “Improved sounds go to you?” Those bastards, they took the easiest one and pooped on its face.
But back to TGIF, this phrase is both ruined by certain chain restaurants and a history of desperate smalltalk at the coffee pot, water cooler, what have you. It means that you suffer five days to live two, that isn’t me.
And it’s a cliché, and you know what they say about those don’t you?
They’re bad.