A Case of the Mondays

I think I have a case of the Mondays. While I absolutely hate that expression, it is fitting today. I’m tired, bored, and there is currently a condescending bitch standing in front of me. She is treating my co-worker like a child. I really don’t like this lady. It’s taking all of my strength not to stand up, fill her mouth with formaldehyde, and send her to the Smithsonian with a caption reading ‘World’s Largest Cunt’. 

As I sit here with nothing to do but listen to these ladies go back and forth I thought of a few places/scenarios that I would rather be in than a Monday workday.

A Closet Full of Testy Monkeys

I’ve always admired Jane Goodall’s work on the social structure of monkey life. While I could not commit to living in the jungle with them for years, I would be willing to study what would happen if you locked thirteen unusually angry monkeys in a closet with me, an eager scientist.

My hypothesis: I would connect with the monkeys on a deeper level. The monkeys would gain respect for me as their intellectual superior and bow to my leadership. With the monkeys on my side, I would establish a pickpockting scheme in Las Vegas. The monkeys get bananas and top shelf whiskey, I get gambling money and strippers.  

My associates are never late with the cash.

Totally better than a Monday workday.

 Tom Cruise’s Basement

Unless you’re a scientologist, you are aware that Tom Cruise is one of the most delusional people to ever walk this Earth. I wouldn’t be surprised if he saw himself as some sort of prophet. He thinks he is right about everything.  

Now mix in the fact that Mr. Cruise is extremely dim-witted. He is a practitioner of Scientology, I remind you. Among many other ridiculous things, this man actually believes that evil alien spirits are the cause of suffering in this world and his special instruments and saunas have the ability to cleanse the soul of the evil aliens. That’s not even smart by religion’s standards. 

If you’ve ever noticed in television interviews he gets really angry when he’s proven wrong. That’s part of his delusion. That’s also partly because most of the people that surround Cruise are scared to disagree with him. Those who have disagreed end up in his basement complex where they are forced to repeatedly listen to audio recordings of Dianetics followed by screenings of Battlefield Earth until their will is broken down. In a last tortuous swoop, prisoners of Tom Cruise’s basement are made to watch Knight and Day. This is the tragic end for the hundreds of people who disagree with Cruise each year. 

Cruise in his confused/angry stage. This precedes an explosion of anger in which you end up chained to the wall in his basement.

Still better than a Monday workday.   

The Elephant House

Elephants are the largest of the land creatures we find here on earth. In the wild they roam miles and miles through territorial and migratory lands. So what gave us the idea that it was alright to put them in a building for a good portion of the year? And when we did, why didn’t zoologists veto this absurd idea? This argument can be made for most wild animals, I know. 

If I were you I'd spray water at pregnant mothers with your trunk. Otherwise their babies will come back in a couple years and throw little hot wax elephants at you.

But have you seen the amount of feces an elephant makes? Yeah, let’s not keep that inside. Generally speaking I refuse to go in Pachyderm houses at the zoo because the smell is overwhelming. I’m not one of those prissy city people by any means. I enjoy nature and all of its odoriferous qualities. But concentrated animal shit is not something I willingly put up with the see a three ton animal stuffed into a ‘habitat’ the size of my apartment junior year of college.

Stay free, animal brother. And maybe deuce in that little car so they know what it's like to be in a small area with a large amount of feces.

But in this case, I’d rather smell fecal matter for eight hours than come to work.  

Church

I was born and raised Roman Catholic. I went to Catholic schools literally my entire life. This entailed Catholic grammar school, high school, and almost seven years and two degrees at the college level. This institution has been trying to indoctrinate me for over twenty years and can’t get me to show up for Sunday mass. It’s not that I don’t believe in God, it’s just that I don’t believe in illogical bedtime stories. 

I wish Jesus had raves at my Church on Sundays. I'd even consider not watching football.

Every time I am in Church I feel like I’m part of a cult. Stand up, sit down, stand up, kneel, talk in unison, stand up, don’t worry eat this, drink the red stuff, talk in unison, shake hands, kneel, sing like you’re part of a zombie chorus, sit down, talk in unison. See you next week. Luckily up until now the wine hasn't been poisoned with arsenic or something of the like.

Taking everything into consideration, I’d rather take that chance and eat a little Jesus wafer instead of going to work Monday morning.