Ever have one of those days where you stub your toe getting out of the car. Subsequently offending a gaggle of nuns with your cursing due to said stubbed toe. Leading you to trip whilst apologizing and rip your brand new pair of pants. Causing you to inspect the rip in said pair of pants. Giving the birds overhead a perfect target for their processed food. Instilling in you a new and more immediate need to curse and call forth blasphemic epithets. Bringing about the collected hurumphing of the previously understanding and forgiving nuns. Thus necessitating the phrase “Welll SOOORRR-Reee, Sisters” at the exact moment a Roller Derby team consisting solely of women of African ethnic descent emerges from the adjacently parked van. Culminating into a massive beat down where the phrase “I wasn’t meaning you, I was trying to offend the nuns” gives you no respite from the kicking and the hitting and the thrashing about of the head and shoulders areas, and yet further angers the Catholic standers-by into defacing your car with the phrase “Racist Nun-Hater” keyed lovingly into the driver’s side panels. Eventually garnering no sympathy or repair estimate from the Nigerian Catholic body-shop owner, who is the local chapter head of the State Auto Body Paint and Repair club. Thus insuring that no auto body paint and repair shop in the state will be willing to fix your unfortunately mis-labeled car.
So there you sit in your defaced car bleeding from multiple locations, looking at your sullied and torn new pants, most likely getting excommunicated for blasphemy, trying to figure out why the Nigerian man is Catholic instead of coptic like you thought the majority of Nigerian Christians were, smelling of bird-shit, with an aching, throbbing toe wondering what it is that went wrong with your life.
I like to call those weekdays
To recap:
Work work work
I have to get a poster printed, and mounted by end of business today
And I cannot find anyone who finds the poster attractive enough to mount
I will return triumphantly tomorrow with another one of the 26
So there you sit in your defaced car bleeding from multiple locations, looking at your sullied and torn new pants, most likely getting excommunicated for blasphemy, trying to figure out why the Nigerian man is Catholic instead of coptic like you thought the majority of Nigerian Christians were, smelling of bird-shit, with an aching, throbbing toe wondering what it is that went wrong with your life.
I like to call those weekdays
To recap:
Work work work
I have to get a poster printed, and mounted by end of business today
And I cannot find anyone who finds the poster attractive enough to mount
I will return triumphantly tomorrow with another one of the 26