(Skip forward to about 2:25 unless you want to watch the members of Loverboy engaging in semi-staged faux-witty banter.)
Because the weekend is only two short days long, you're going to want to make the most out of it. But it's not like back in university, when you'd shotgun a couple of beers at the crack of noon on Friday and keep the party rolling until sometime Monday afternoon* -- you work for a living! So, here are a few tips to make sure you squeeze the most out of your grown-up reprieve from responsibility.
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1. Get a good sleep on Thursday night.
It's almost midnight, and I should really be under the covers already. If you're up late Thursday, you're gonna feel terrible all day Friday, and by 8pm you'll be fast asleep on your couch in front of a rerun of Just Shoot Me. So, bed down early, quaff a little NyQuil if you need to, and you'll wake up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Friday morning.
2. Pace yourself.
You've made it through Friday, and now it's nighttime and you're ready to party. Now, I know what you might be thinking -- I have a trunk full of beer, a mountain of coke and some knives already jammed into the stove elements; what man can stop me? -- but you're going to want to watch it, Pedro. Friday's merely a dry run for Saturday, so don't blow your wad all in one night. Besides, you have to get up early the next morning to pick up some eleven-sided bolts at Ikea that they forgot to pack in your Flüvënhävën or some shit like that.
3. Eat sensibly.
It's Friday night, it's 3:30 in the morning, and you've been going pretty hard. What could be better than a double Big Mac meal with poutine and a side of bacon grease? The answer is, absolutely nothing. Go ahead and pound it into yourself. It doesn't matter anyway; you'll probably just be puking it back up in a little while. But, damn, that's gonna taste good.
4. Make the most of your Saturday.
Farmer's markets, craft shows, free samples aplenty at the Costco: these are things that happen on Saturday mornings. Since you probably hit it too hard the night before, you're best off sleeping until past 4 -- woken up by intermittent bouts of projectile-vomiting, of course. Stay in bed, asshole!
5. Saturday night is the real thing.
Well, you made it through Friday without any (permanent) damage to your liver, a few hours in the drunk tank, or somehow waking up wearing someone else's socks on the outskirts of Owen Sound. Saturday is the real deal: get yourself gussied-up, pimped-out, whored-down, whatever's the parlance of the day. Then, plunk yourself down in front of the TV and watch that episode of Frontline on PBS you've been meaning to catch, maybe make a donation and get a nifty tote bag, and turn-in early. Besides, there's church tomorrow morning, if that's your thing.
6. Sunday is a day of rest.
- Meet the Press: NBC, 9am
- This Week with George Stephanopoulos: ABC, 10am
- Question Period: CTV, 11am
There's your plans right there. Make yourself a nice pot of coffee, grab the coziest blanket you have, and catch all those riveting round-table discussions on flat taxes, congressional redistricting and the latest goings-on in the Centre Block. Take notes; there's bound to be water-cooler talk on Monday about them, and you don't want to look the buffoon, do you?
7. Have a nice family dinner.
Grab a chicken from the coop, kill it, gut it, dress it, stuff it, and put it in the oven. (You all have chicken coops, right?) Make up a nice big pot of mashed potatoes, invite over the family (or someone else's, if you're an orphan), and enjoy each other's company -- until your mom asks you again if you're sure you're not gay because she hasn't met a girlfriend of yours in a while. Or ever. And you respond the same way you always do: Mom, just because your life has been an abject failure and "the 'beetus" took your toes doesn't mean you have to take out all your aggression on your children. But maybe that's just my family.
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Whoops! Midnight, the "witching hour." And speaking of witches, has anyone heard from Ann Coulter lately? Anyway, it's off to bed for me. Good night, and have a fantastic weekend.
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* I went to Waterloo, so this never, ever, EVER happened.
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