When I was in Love with Friday

November 18th 2011

You're just about to hit a wall - you just can't take it anymore. Right at that moment, he walks in. He seems so familiar, but you're unsure. He heads straight for you with confidence and a playfulness you can't resist. His jeans aren't too tight - but you get the impression you're not going to be disappointed. He hands you your favorite adult beverage (for me, it's a pint of Oatis by Ninkasi) and you two hit it off instantly. Before you know it, you've been talking for almost an hour and realize you haven't introduced yourself. Funny, he already knows your name and when you ask for his, he leans in close and with a sultry whisper says, "Friday." Well, helloooo Friday.

December 2nd 2011

You're not the doctor-going type - you just don't trust them. Maybe it's the insurance and/or the pharmaceutical industry's influence that has you soured. Whatever it is, it would take a severed limb to break you down and make an appointment. Today, you're thinking otherwise. You've had a headache for five straight days - constant, low-grade and personality changing. You've tried everything: Excedrin, Tylenol, Motrin, Alleve - nothing has worked. At this point you're actually thinking of trying something "natural" or "homeopathic" even though you think that's a load of crap too. Reaching for the phone to dial LifeSource, a co-worker approaches and soberly looks you straight in the eyes. He's never said much to you and honestly, you've been a little shy to talk to him; he has an aloof manner that makes him seem unapproachable. His lips part in a half smile as he knowingly says, "I know how you suffer." He delicately takes your hand and leads you to the opened front door, "Take a deep breath." Amazingly, your headache instantly dissipates. Your sudden relief mimics religious rapture and your voice quavers as you ask him, "Wha-what is it?" He looks down at you with compassion laced with possibility and replies, "That's the smell of Friday."

December 16th 2011

You've been dating your boyfriend for quite a while now, and you really like him. You were a little insecure at first, he's not the most demonstrative guy you've ever dated, but what he lacks in words he makes up for in actions. He wants you to meet his parents, and in a moment of unguarded optimism, you offered to cook. What were you thinking? You've heard stories of how his parents are big meat eaters and they requested ribs. You were a vegetarian for many years and have only been eating meat for a couple months. You've never cooked ribs; you don't even know where to start. You decide to go see a butcher that was recommended to you by one of your more carnivorous friends. The butcher is very obliging and gives you some tips on how to make delicious and succulent ribs. You're still not confident that you're going to be able to pull this off. You stress all week and the day comes when his mom and dad will be sitting at your table, waiting to eat meat off the bone. You're not the religious type, but you're so beside yourself with panic and worry that you drop to your knees and lift your voice to the heavens pleading for intervention. None comes. You have to force your legs to walk you into the kitchen; you will your hands to unwrap the ribs from the white butcher paper labeled in black raspberry juice "Beef Ribs." As you upwrap, you notice there's a note tucked in the folds of the paper. It's from the butcher. The words are easy to read, "Don't worry. I rubbed a little Friday on them. Enjoy." Those were the best f****** ribs you've ever eaten. You're now wearing your boyfriend's grandmother's diamond engagement ring. I guess a little Friday goes a long, long way.