I apologize in advance for not being funny this week, but I’m trying to make a point. Bear with me.
On the seventh day the Lord rested, so that means the rest of us are supposed to, right? Sunday should be the one day where people are actually motivated to accomplish all of the tasks that they were putting off for the whole week and also the one day that people go to church to atone for the sins that they don’t necessarily feel bad about.
Sunday used to be television’s greatest night, but now there is nothing good to watch on the tube, laundry is less important than it used to be, and homework is pretty much out of the question. So what to do on Sunday nights?
I struggled with this question until opportunity came knocking at my door on Feb. 29. I was trying to get in a poker game, so when I got a hold of my fellow gambling addict J.C., I was disappointed to hear that he was not interested.
The disappointment did not last for long however. He told me that the reason we couldn’t play cards at his house is that we were going to go to Foxwoods instead. Being easily influenced, I didn’t hesitate to respond, “Oh hell yeah we are”.
A trip to Foxwoods is always a treat; however this was no ordinary trip to the casino. After my friend popped the question, he then proceeded to inform me of the circumstances that were leading us to take the wonderful journey to exit 92 on a Sunday night.
He said, “By the way, were going there in a stretch H2 limousine. Mike dominated his LSATs, so its time to celebrate. There is going to be a lot of booze and a bunch of girls. Do you want to come?
Being that I was on the bad end of a 5 day binge, I can’t talk to girls, and I’m poor, I should have said no. But how do you say no to that? It’s second semester senior year. In three months all I am going to be able do on Sunday nights is think about how much I hate my boss and how many TPS reports I have to turn in by the end of the week. I wouldn’t have been able to look at myself in the mirror if I had said no.
Long story short, I got hammered, lost money, had the time of my life. There are 14 other people that feel as miserable as I do right now, but let me reiterate that it is second semester senior year. Hangovers go away, memories do not. Carpe diem, baby.
Leave a Reply