Who's this bitch??

When I was in high school, I had a teacher who would give you extra credit if you were the first to tell him, “It’s Friday Sucka!” each Friday of the week. The story goes that when he was in college, he had a friend who would do this to him but with elaborate pranks which would end with his friend slyly informing him, it’s Friday sucka (translation: watch your back because I’m going to somehow make you look like a total jackass today.)

In honor of this endearing college tradition, he continued to implement it within his work as a professional and thus opened the door to each of his students to pull creative (and ok ..sometimes illegal) ways to tell him it was the weekend. This usually spanned into massive plans of attack to be the first in his class to attempt this title each week. I’m sure he came to school every Friday just jazzed out of his freaking mind that his classroom might be full of thousands of sticky notes exclaiming SUCKA in bright red letters or that his morning coffee sleeve had a secret message declaring someone winner for that week. To Mr. Thompson, EVERY Friday was a surprise.

I too, have re-created the “It’s Friday Sucka” game into my daily weekend routine throughout college as a game I would play with my sorority’s cook (yo Dennis.. it’s friday btw) on who could say it to eachother first. One time I was walking down the stairs at 8 AM and he already had a banner there waiting for me. Tricky, tricky… well played.

The reason this blog is called “Leftovers from Friday”?? When I was in the third grade (I was a particularly precocious and intellectual child).. I wrote a poem for a class contest and labeled it Leftovers from Friday. The winners of this contest got their piece published in the local newspaper along with their picture and name. Being in the advanced spelling group, I figured my chances were decent. I’m pretty sure I pulled like three all-nighters to ensure victory of this highly coveted title but ultimately, the day of the winning contestants were released and it was at that moment that I received my first brush with fame (spoiler alert: I won that bitch). Do you even know what kind of ecstacy this brings an 8 year old?? There aren’t words. There are noises.. which I made. A sort of half-strangled gargle while choking on your cheerios as you stare at your angelic face in black and white print type of noise. It’s kind of a unique one-time sound. πŸ™‚

ANYWAY.. Since then, Leftovers from Friday has been a symbol of good fortune for me. Who even knows what that poem was about? And who cares? It brought me luck. and joy. and fame. And in honor of my 8-year-old self in all her ingenious glory, I am bringing Leftovers from Friday back with hope it can do it again. (mostly the joy part but I’m being realistic and also knowing it will ultimately make me famous in the long term)

and so to end this story…SHE LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER. Actually, I don’t think we have gotten there quite yet. What I meant to say is…




Have a great weekend!


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