I went home at 3:30, because Fuck You, Monday.

You and your stupid bullshit. You and your shitty flood of emails from people who could have asked me to do all this shit last week.

Fuck you and your shitty vending machines that are out of Cheez Its. SERIOUSLY FUCK YOU, MONDAY.

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Fuck you, Monday. You knew I wanted to avoid that busybody idiot in human resources who is going to ask me to take on that stupid project no one else wants to do.

Oh and fuck you hard, Monday, for that stupid 2 hour Skype conference that was only supposed to take 'about 20 minutes.'

Fuck you, Monday. See you on the flip side.

By the way, have you guys had these things? They are called 'Strawberitas' and they taste fucking gross. I have had three of them since I got home.

Anyway, post me your Fuck You, Mondays. Why are you saying 'fuck you' to Monday?

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(ETA: and yeah, I know those fucking things are not 'margaritas'. Whatever, I don't care. They are good enough for 'fuck you Monday' margaritas.)