Wednesdays Suck.

Other days of the week have nomenclature.  Status.  Whirligigs.

Not Wednesday.  Unless you count the rather uncomplimentary “Hump Day.”

All the remaining days get spotlights… attention…  Press.

Black Friday.
Cyber Monday.

You know, as Holy Days go, the middle of the week gets the bum deal again.

Good Friday.

Easter Sunday.

But on Wednesday… all you get is ashes.

Heroes, Veterans, Presidents… all honored on Mondays.  Thanksgiving always pops out of the oven on Thursday.  The working world looks forward to Friday…. which is also donned in certain markets as the wild and wonderful “Casual” Friday.  And the weekends… OH… the WEEKENDS.  Don’t get me started.  Saturday Night Fever.  Saturday Night Live. Saturday Evening Post.  And of course….  Saturday Night’s all right for fighting….

The rest of the weekend, people put on their Sunday Best.

Let’s face it.  Wednesdays Suck.

Still doubt me?

Take the Day of the Week Children’s Birth Poem thing.  What’s it called?  The Monday’s Child Poem.

All the other days are full of grace, loving and giving, fair of face, bonny and blithe.

But, Wednesday’s child is full of woe.

Today I met a dog named Berta.  She told me she was born on a Wednesday.  Look at the poor, pathetic thing.  Filled with woe.

I too… was born on a Wednesday.  Sometimes I know woe.  Other times … everything is like…. WHOA.

If I go to a Chinese Restaurant, I order and Egg Woe.  At the stream, I woe my boat.  When I get out of the shower, I put on a Bathwobe.  I drive my car down the woad….

Wednesdays.