Ok, I know you're thinking, what the hell does a Madonna video have to do with you hating Tuesdays? Well, it actually has nothing to do with it, but I'm kinda obsessed with this song since I saw Madonna in concert this past weekend (yes, that's right. MADONNA. IN CONCERT. Be jealous) and she put on a great performance to this song. Well, she put on a great performance the whole show! But I digress . . .
So, you might be thinking, Why hate Tuesdays? Why not Mondays? Everyone hates Mondays. Yes, Mondays are awful. But that's a given. Everyone expects Mondays to be awful days. Anyway, Tuesdays are just a long, and, usually for me because I'm overly dramatic, stressful and upsetting day. Today was one of those days. It seemed like I was drowning in work and I got myself all upset for nothing because when I really looked at it, it wasn't all that bad. Then, on my way to the gym, I got on a subway with no seats. I take the local R home and there is always a seat when I get on at 49th. The only two free seats on the subway car this evening were covered in water. How this happened is beyond me. How do only two seats get wet? And why are there no signs of a flood? And why aren't there any paper towel dispensers on the subway?!
Once at the gym, I had the unfortunate experience of hopping on the only free eliptical machine next to a girl on her cell phone. I hate this. Like, I really hate this. You are at the gym. To work out. Go home and talk on the phone. I get that some people are insecure when they are alone in public. Hell, during my silly college days I once talked to my boyfriend-at-the-time while I was eating in a Burger King because I was way too self-conscious to be seen eating alone. But this is a gym. Most people are alone. In fact, it's ok to be alone. We know you have friends and you are popular and stuff, so you don't need to prove it by talking on the phone while you are working out. But, despite the nasty looks I kept throwing this girl's way, she chattered on. Fed up, I hopped off my eliptical to check the sign hanging on the mirror and sure enough, it said that cell phone use was prohibited. So, I said something along the lines of, "Excuse me, but the sign says cell phone use is prohibited in this area and it's really annoying." She looked at me in shock, probably not believing I was being that girl, and mumbled something to her friend on the other line, which I'm assuming was something along the lines of, "Some skinny bitch next to me is complaining about my cell phone use. I'll call you when she leaves." I know that may have been obnoxious of me to say something to her, but I had no headphones on and I wanted to relax and listen to the music playing in the gym. I pay way too much money to be a member of my gym and I expect to be able to have an enjoyable workout.
Anyway, the rest of the day ended nicely because when I went upstairs to my abs class, this nice guy in my class who talked to me once before, sparked up another conversation with me. I was really happy about this because I was afraid I had offended him the last time we spoke and he said he loves taking the spin class before our abs class, and I told him that I always wanted to try spinning, but since my old coworker used to swear by it and she was always fat, I wasn't convinced the class worked.
And finally, as a reward for making it to the end the long-ass day (I didn't get home until almost 9:30 p.m.!), I was rewarded with my fave, chicken quesidillas, for dinner :)
And that is why I hate Tuesdays. What's your least favorite day of the week?
Why I hate Tuesdays
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Why I hate Tuesdays
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3 comments:
i love every day of the week because i just always hold onto the thought that someone might give me candy. i don't want to ever get down because then the candy won't taste as sweet.
I think you have some issues, Sam.
I also hate Tuesdays. With a passion. That's why I do a "Cheer Me Up Tuesday" post on my blog - I always need something to make me laugh by the end of the day. I don't know why they always turn out so awful, but they just do . . .
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