Well, It's Friday.

Friday has long been a vaunted, exalted day.

It's holy to Jewish people. Shabbat begins at sundown on Friday and ends at sundown on Saturday. It's the holiest day of the year, and it happens every week. That's the only thing I remember from Hebrew School, other than the way chestnut-haired Margo, the girl who sat in front of me in handrwriting, smelled. You don't forget that sort of holiness.

Friday's the end of the traditional workweek for those lucky enough to be working stiffs and/or schlubs. I've added that word "traditional" in there because I no longer have a "traditional" workweek. I work Monday, have off Tuesday, then work Wednesday through Friday. Every other week, however, I have that same week's schedule, but then I work 3pm-11pm Saturday and Sunday. That's my employer: sucking my dick till my balls turn inside-out and do pirouettes.

When in quotation marks, "Friday" also happens to be a movie about black people, including the older black dude who plays the dad and is frequently seen on the toilet taking huge shits.

Since it's Friday, and since there are so much built up expectations surrounding this day of the week, I think it's only natural that you should come to this particular website, the blog written by a notorious hermit, to get some ideas of what to do with yourself, and/or others, on this day known as Friday.

* Shave your pubes.

Hey, come on-- what better way to divest yourself of the stressors of shuffling papers around in a cubicle and checking Facebook habitually on your work computer than running the old Gillette through the short-n-curlies? You never know-- it's Friday, 'Cuz, and you might be showing off that real estate to a potential buyer (well, more likely renter) so you're gonna want to spruce that lawn up a little bit, n'yah mean? If you're feeling really adventurous, go ahead and dye that shit some cray-cray color. If you're stumped, try mauve.

* Pretend to have a seizure in public.

You absolutely cannot beat faking a seizure for something awesomeballs to do on a Friday night. I don't know how late libraries are open on Friday nights, but that the first place I would suggest faking a seizure. The quieter the place, the better. If you are unfamiliar with the mechanics and specifics of seizures, just start by going rigid. Fix your gaze, and, when people say, "Hey, buddy, are you okay?" don't respond in any way. Just roll your eyes back in your head, fall on the floor and shake like a motherfucker. Don't forget to piss yourself, or it really does not have the desired effect. Thanks to shows like "E. R." and "Grey's Anatomy", even total morons know that people having gran mal seizures usually wet themselves. So, you know, you gotta kick it up a notch.

* Paint Your Car

I would suggest doing this with a Crayola Washable Watercolor paint set (assorted colors). It's incredibly reasonable ($2.89 when purchased online through Office Depot) and you can just let your creativity soar. I might also suggest imbibing several quarts of Clarke's Old Kentucky Straight Sour Mash whiskey prior to beginning this particular artistic endeavor.

* Go to a Nightclub Dressed As Your Favorite Victorian-Era Politician

You haven't lived until you've gone to a cocaine rave dressed as Sir Robert Peel, licking E out of the bellybutton of a twenty-two-year-old goth barista named Salmon. Stick-on mutton chops are available from several theatrical supply retailers.

* Take Pictures of Your Cat Doing Dumb Shit

You know, you can make millions of dollars doing that. For real, motherfucker.

* Hang Out in a Local Metropolitan Emergency Room

Pretend you have diabetic testiculopathy or brain stones or something. If you have insurance, they won't even question it-- they'll just run a shitload of expensive tests on you because they know they'll be able to get reimbursed. While you're there, just watch the circus go by, man-- you're never going to see crazier shit than you will in a big city emergency room. You're going to see homeless people try to kill each other over a drawstring belt or newspaper underwear, prostitutes with their jit-holes hanging out all over the place, overweight people with fat hanging over the sides of stretchers, maniacs screaming about aliens, people fornicating in the bathroom, cops wrastlin' with crazies, nurses smoking the bejesus out of their own lungs outside and just the general mayhem of life. And the smell? Oh, God. You'll never forget it.

* Be Judgmental, Hostile, Paranoid, and Fear-Mongering

It seems to work for Glenn Beck-- why shouldn't it work for you, too?

Happy Friday. Remember-- there's so much more to do than just "get fucked up." Live the dream, bitches.

A Friday Kind of Sunday Blog

So, I’ve been doing this bloggity thing for a while now. I’d call myself a pro, but I’m not getting paid, so I think I’ll stick with the moniker “experienced amateur” as that perhaps more accurately describes my blogger status.

As I’ve made my way through the months, blogging every day, sometimes multiple times a day, since March of 2009, I’ve noticed a few things. Want to hear them? Sure you do, Sugar:

• People may like it when I blog about serious topics, but they comment more on the funny shit.

• Hardly anybody ever comments on “Dear Apron,” yet, when queried, people profess to like it.

• Some people of the female persuasion admit to reading my blog in a state of semi-nudeness, and that makes me feel strange considering I always write fully clothed, mostly because, if I didn’t, our new dog would claw at my balls and tear open my scrote.

• There is, like, one male that I know of who reads my blog, and I don’t know whether he reads it in a state of semi-nudeness or not. And I don’t care.

• I can make you read a post about dog shit.

• You don’t mind that your loyalty to this blog is not rewarded with appreciable amounts of eye candy in the form of flashy graphics, backgrounds, wallpapers, pictures of cats wearing cowboy hats, hyperlinks, music videos, audio clips of Mel Gibson demanding pre-Jacuzzi blowjobs, Lady Gaga references (except for that one) and/or totes fab giveaways. OMG, LMT.

• Basically, nobody reads this blog on Friday.

The last point kind of baffles me, just a little bit. As most of you know, I’m a tad obsessive about my stats. Not that they’re astronomical or anything—hardly—but I find them interesting. And I like to know when you, yes YOU, are reading. It’s like my own, private Nielsens. Does that disturb you?

Good.

So, while my stats are usually admittedly modest, on Fridays, they are unfailingly modester than usual-- to the point of bordering on pathetic. When I first started noticing this trend towards end-of-the-week awfulness, I immediately set about to search for the cause of the aberration. My first idea was that the vast majority of my readers must be Orthodox Jews, Friday being Shabbat and all, and the use of the electronic that would be required for blog viewing would be verboten.

But then I realized that Shabbat doesn’t start until sundown on Fridays, so there would be plenty of time, especially in the summer, to enjoy oneself a little peek-a-boo under My Masonic Apron before the dying rays of the setting sun were at last extinguished and you, you know, couldn’t see the goods up there anyway.

Anyway…

So that idea sort of went nowhere—like the majority of my ideas. Then I started trying to convince myself that you people don’t like “Dear Apron,” since I write that exclusively on Fridays. But then I started hearing from some people that it was the highlight of their week and that they would eat their own babies if I stopped doing it and that this one chick threw herself under a four-hundred pound gorilla while wearing a bathing suit made of lowfat peanut butter because I had stopped doing “Dear Apron” every single week.

And so that shot that theory to shit.

Then I remembered that my former best friend works in NYC and that, during the nice weather, all New Yorkers who make $45,000 or more annually get excused from work by 2:00pm, like they’re elementary school students or something. And so I thought to myself, well, if they do this in New York, it must be done in other cities and faux-cities all across America, maybe even the world. And then it hit me. People read blogs at work. So, if people are let go from work early, then nobody’s reading blogs!

Eufuckingreka!

Amazing what you learn by blogging. And, occasionally, thinking.