TGIF

It's Friday and I don't give a damn! 

For those of you with humane work schedules that recognize a two-day weekend, happy Friday.  For the rest of us schmucks, I'm sorry and I feel your pain.

Remember TGIF shows on ABC?  How effing awesome were they!?  Life was so much simpler when a Friday night consisted of getting your shower before 8:00 so you could spend the next couple hours sprawled out eating ice cream on your mom's bed with the Tanners, the Winslows, and whatever the hell hyphenated abomination the family on Step By Step was named.  That show kind of sucked anyway.  Suzanne Somers really went downhill after Three's Company, and Patrick Duffy looks like a Muppet.  Plus the dude that played Cody beat his girlfriend in real life, but he was probably just pissed that his parents gave him a girl's name.  Who names their son Sasha?  Seriously, DYFS should have stepped in on that one. 

Since ABC totally dropped the ball on wholesome Friday night programming and I don't have TV anyway, I'm just gonna hang out, drink a beer or two, and read some more of The Executioner's Song.  I was all set to watch Reality Bites on Netflix (see the comments from the previous post), because I figured, hey, it's an older movie, of course you can probably stream it.  Then I discovered it's not available for streaming, so there it sits, at the bottom of my queue, below a bunch of shitty mountain climbing documentaries my husband threw on there. 

Speaking of mountain climbing, I hate it so much.  Or rather, I hate the equipment required for the activity.  My current pet peeve is just hearing Andy say the word "crampons."  It's such a disgusting word.  I'm insane, so I've been making him call them "foot spikes," because he insists on constantly reminding me of how badly he wants a pair (they are very expensive).  "Crampons" (I shudder to even type the word) sounds too much like a portmanteau of cramps and tampons.  I hate the sound of the word almost as much as I hate the word "moist."  That's really saying something.