THERE IS A DISTINCT POSSIBILITY THIS WILL BE THE LAST YOU EVER HEAR FROM ME, SO LET'S GET THIS STARTED EARLY! (I am writing from the home of the FluterParents, where their tiny little Cujo dog has decided it is time for me to die. I was going to get upset, but fuck it. It's Friday. I can hide in here - there are cookies.)

WE OPENED A BOTTLE OF WINE LAST NIGHT. FLUTERMOM DOESN'T DRINK AND FLUTERDAD ONLY DRINKS BEER, SO BY WE, I MEAN ME. FLUTERMOM'S SISTER BRINGS UP FANCY WINE AND FORGETS IT, SO I FOUND SOME LOVELY CAB IN THE PANTRY. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL MOMENT. HALF OF IT IS STILL SITTING ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER AND THEY ARE AT A FUNERAL AND I'M THINKING: YOU KNOW, I'VE NEVER BEEN DAYTIME DRUNK AT MY PARENTS' HOUSE.

WHAT IS THAT THING WE SAY ON FRIDAY? THAT THING WE SHOUT ENTHUSIASTICALLY, POSSIBLY WHILE SHAKING A FIST IN THE AIR? THAT THING WE ANNOUNCE WITH PRIDE AS WE DECLARE THE END OF THE DAY AND WE WELCOME IN THE WEEKEND?

I THINK ... I'M PRETTY SURE ... COULD IT BE? FUCK IT FRIDAY!!!

SO FUCK IT. IT'S FRIDAY. I'M GONNA DRINK SOME WINE IN FRONT OF THE FIREPLACE AND PRETEND THIS SWANKY HOUSE IS ACTUALLY MINE. (EXCEPT THE YELLOW ROOMS. I WOULD NEVER HAVE THIS MANY YELLOW ROOMS.) I MAY EVEN HAVE SOME COOKIES WITH FLOUR IN THEM BECAUSE FUCK IT, IT'S FRIDAY AND I LIKE COOKIES.

HOW ARE YOU CELEBRATING FUCK IT FRIDAY ON THIS, THE LAST FUCKING FRIDAY OF 2013?