Why do we all only ever seem capable of having unproductive, comatose, and downright lazy days when we get a surprise 'holiday' from work? It's almost as if, all day, we subconsciously protest any action which might require effort. By no means am I complaining about this incredibly divine day of rest(HAHA, GET IT?), but I am curious as to how much we all truly hate our jobs when it seems that these days are just symbolically meant to smite the modern workman's ethos.
I haven't felt the need to leave my room all day. All I did all day was sleep, watch Roger Clemens perjure himself, drink some scotch, and browse teh internets. At the moment, I'm sipping on yet another glass of Glenfiddich scotch while watching Duke rip Maryland a new asshole, I just ordered A LOT of pizza for no apparent reason, season two of Arrested Development is awaiting play from my Xbox, and even if that gets boring, I've got the new Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition to peruse...
A perfect bachelor night, if you ask me, so Happy Valentine's Day suckers!
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