Wake up, damn you! It’s seven a.m., the sun is up, the birds are singing, you’re looking mighty fine for an early Friday morning, except for your hair which looks pretty awful. But nevermind that! Take a deep breath and haul ass down those stairs, because you’ve got shit to do today, my friend.
I hope you plan on scrubbing your hair with more vigor, because that isn’t the lathering technique of someone with amazing plans to show life what’s what today. Come on, you pansy! Take a big bite out of that shampoo bottle, plastic and all, and savor the hibiscus extract of success and cucumber melon infusion of total dominance. Barf it up on the shower wall becauseeew you just ate shampoo, write your name in it followed by a BIG exclamation point, and just let it crust there for your roommate to find later. Because you’re awesome, damnit! Maybe write “Fuck yeah” in barfed conditioner below that, just to really give the impression that you’re about to go out and really make something of yourself today.
Feeling down because you hate your job? Or you don’t make enough money at your job? Or your boss won’t stop giving you Wet Willies at your job and it’s starting to make you feel used, like nothing more than a dirty Wet Willy receptacle? Well march in there in your best marchin’ clothes, lick your fist, then punch your stupid boss in his stupid neck! That’ll show him to start respecting the fine ancient institution of Wet Willy-ing.
Oh, you don’t have a job anymore? You got fired for punching your boss in the neck? Well first of all, way to show initiative, guy! And second, why don’t you just march down the street (still have those best marching clothes, right?), walk into the first office building you see, grab the guy or gal behind the front desk by the scruff of the neck, and throw ‘em out on the street!
“THIS IS MY JOB NOW, SUCKER!” You scream at them as they try to dodge early morning rush hour traffic. It doesn’t really matter if you have no idea what function this particular office performs; whenever someone comes in the door, just scream loudly and then throw your stapler at their head (assuming you have one; if not, just improvise because you’re a clever motherfucker). Nothing says “respect me” like an office supply concussion.
What’s that you’re bitching about now? You just got broken up with for the third time by the same person for the exact same reason as the other two times? Well what the fuck is wrong with you?! Get your head out of the couch cushions and look at me. I SAID LOOK AT ME. Break up with you twice, shame on them. Break up with you three times, maybe you shoulda cut your losses a ways back, poked them in the eye, then run off and done awesome day-owning sexy things to somebody else. In fact, yes! Do that, go! Now! Go! I mean, do you realize how many naughty parts you haven’t touched lately? Go touch them all, and then pour a cooler of Gatorade over your head and chest bump somebody, doesn’t matter who, because you just shoved that break-up up its own ass.
Your dog died? FUCK THAT DOG. YOU’RE GOING TO LIVE FOREVER. Your mom stepped on a crack and broke her back? Well I hope that crack is ready for what’s coming to it, because today is your day and you just bought a jackhammer because you’re worth it.
Find a shark and yank one of its teeth out.
Climb up onto your roof, scream “I’M BATMAN!” and start throwing shingles at random passersby.
Become President of the United States. RIGHT NOW.
Jump on the first flight to to the Middle East and drive an eighteen wheeler into the Gaza Strip. Grab an Israeli, grab a Palestinian, push their heads together and say “NOW KISS.”
Today is the first day of the rest of your goddamn life. So get up, stop your damn whining, and give a big ol’ middle finger to yesterday. Because yesterday was a dick.