Good Morning Awful Monday

By James 


Today is the first Monday of the rest of my life. I couldn’t think of a better first line. I looked at a photo of Glenn wearing nothing but argyle sox (GO SOX! Black Sox, Red Sox, blue sox, I don‘t care) for inspiration, but, predictably, I vomited onto my sox. No, I’m not going to use the backspace key. Ever. For any post. Well, we all hate Mondays. My fondest Monday memory is from two years ago, when I went to the bank to report my credit card and check card stolen, and the banker, who moonlights as the dumbest cooze in history, starts her conversation with the fraud and theft department, or whatever they are called, with “Hello, it’s Monday, I’ve got a James Ross here who…” That is how I feel every Monday--I feel like I keep getting my credit and check cards stolen.

So, I forgot until the last minute that I’m supposed to write a “Good Morning” post for OYIT or whatever they’re called, and I don’t know what any of you ass holes expect.

Okay. On with the show. My typical Monday morning during a winter semester in Iowa City, IA, begins with wandering out into a desolate wasteland and the human smog we call the student body at the University of Iowa (not one you would want to have sex with), and then dying right in the middle of it. At least, that is how it feels inside. I trudge on, shouldering a backpack that feels like it has eight hundred awkwardly placed medicine balls in it, scurrying from building to building, like a diseased rodent, smoking several packs of cigarettes between classes, generally trying not to fail out of the University of Life. Perhaps this is an exaggeration, but what do you expect, you ass holes? WHO EVEN READS THIS WEBSITE? Not me. But I have been damned for eternity to write the Monday “Good Morning” post, a Sisyphusian labor, as punishment for being one of the few literate human beings left on the planet. What a bunch of BULL SHIT.

Usually, a person would use the following paragraph to apologize for the last paragraph, and play it all off as a joke, a joke to his or her friends. Well. Fuck you, it’s not a joke. I hate writing for OYIT. I don’t even get paid, unless you count getting butt-fucked every Monday morning.

Now for the weather. The weather in any given place is probably colder than it usually is if it were summer, because it’s winter, you dumb fucking morons, just step outside. Ever wonder what people did before some lame-dick meteorologist told them? PROBABLY NOT, HUH? Oh, and there might be white stuff on the ground if you live in most any place but the South, and who decided they should have all the good weather states, anyway? They’re the worst people in the fucking world, next to the Nazis and Barack Obama, and they get all the good weather. It’s bullshit. California can go to hell, too, because you elected a governor who actually got paid cash to say, “ice to see you” and “chill out,” in the worst Batman installment, Batman and Robin. And you were complicit in the making of the Chronicles of Riddick.

What else does one write about in a “Good Morning” post? I mean, what else does one write about in a “Good Morning” post? We had one internet board meeting (more like bored meeting) and I’m supposed to know how this fucking thing works. Ridiculous. Basically, you’re all screwed if you think the Monday “Good Morning” post is going to be anything but awful.