If you ever were to commit a serious crime, it would be on a Monday.
For many of us, Monday morning is the day that you will have the coffee in your vanilla latte burnt, your mustache will be prominently more visible, you’ll style your hair only for it to rain, and you’ll forget your umbrella. Your sock will slip off of your foot in your shoe, you’ll probably stub your toe, trip up in public, and be too stressed to laugh so will cry. Also, there will definitely not be anymore vegetarian sushi at the cafe.
Monday is the day you cannot bring yourself to get your ass out of bed on the fifteenth alarm, and realise when your long list of around 23 alarms is no longer in session, that you are an hour late for your seminar/lecture/job/whatever.
Monday is the day the ball from your septum horse shoe will just fall off and bounce across the tables filled with the new classmates you’ve just met. You’ll miss everything that was said in your lecture because you couldn’t figure out how the fucking dick cheese to screw it on again. Everyone probably thought you were picking your nose the whole time, just wanting everyone to accept you for the disgusting human being you are.
You then miss your weekly grocery delivery because you were singing Disney songs too loud in the kitchen. The only good thing that has happened all day was that the seven inch glittery platform stilettoes you ordered finally arrived. You are most likely going to die in them next Monday, but for now they are your only source of satisfaction. You sit on your bed listening to James Blunt in your cold room because you can’t afford to turn the heating on, a mud mask on your face, and upset because your sex life has been at a standstill since you got to university.
If nothing like this ever happened to you on a weekly basis, you probably are perfectly normal and living the high life. You see life is full of challenges we must undertake, but on Mondays it takes the fucking Michael.
Monday nights are tricky, because you can’t go too wild, and it’s the start of your week of terrors. The course work that you haven’t done, despite there being approximately 100 years of reading and research to do, must now get done in the space of like 48 hours (take 5 of them out for wallowing in self-pity, 3 hours out for the snacking time – actually make that 10…). You need to do something relaxing, yet active, and kind of productive to set you up for an enthusiastic rest of the week to make up for the fact you forgot to say thank you to that person that held the door open, or that moody bus driver who pretends he doesn’t care but does really.
If you were a crazy student like my housemate, you’d be recovering from a wild Sunday night full of memories that you can’t remember, and you would be recovering for the entirety of this ungodly day. I’ll tell you what that crazy gal was doing; sneaking past bouncers, dancing in the DJ booth, smoking cigarettes as a non-smoker, and slut dropping like there was no tomorrow. Unfortunately, there was definitely a tomorrow, and that tomorrow is Monday.
So. here are a few things that you could do if you haven’t fell into a coma from your wild Sunday night of bagels, bubble baths, and wine:
An all evening pamper session
Your nails haven’t been seen since Elle taught you the Bend and Snap. Forget the Bend and Snap and take off last century’s nail polish. Wash your fingers, gouge out the dirt clustered beneath, push back the cuticles, moisturise your nails (I don’t even know what this does but I do it anyway), file the sides, and run some nail hardener on them. There is something about nice nails that says, “I’m a gal with far too much studying to do, and amazing priority sorting skills.”
While you’re at it, have another bubble bath, give yourself a pedi, and unclog those pores, girl. Get that face mask out and finally use it. You found it in your stocking 2 years ago and have kept it for that night when you don’t know what to do with yourself… that time is tonight, my friend. Get that disgusting purple peeling mask on your face.
Text that guy, and practice your sexting skills
See ‘How to Be an Expert Sext-er’ first.
Start with a simple and innocent text, like ask him how his day was, or whether he enjoyed his lecture. Tell him how LONG and HARD your day was, and how you just need to let your hair DOWN and wind DOWN…
Maybe then get a bit saucier; ask him what he’s up to, whether he’s alone: you need to make sure he has the time to have a decent sext session, and is not with his friends. It is completely unsafe to sext someone you don’t know very well when they are with their friends, male or female, it isn’t a good idea.
It’s slightly different if you are sending images of your own personal self-containing collection of erotica to a rare trustworthy male. My favourite times to sext are whilst he is having a family meal with his parents, or at work. Take it from there with some killer adjectives. Now may be the perfect time to brush up on your vocabulary, pick up a thesaurus and a dictionary and go to town with your imagination.
Do some reading
I could I suppose do some reading up on Plato’s Cave analogy…
Or I could read every article on Sluttygirlproblems.com…
I could read back through my 4,839 tweets…
I could practise reading palms…
Get on with some actual work
We all know Mondays suck, so why change the tone and make it nice? Accept Monday for the heartless bitch it is and do the fucking work you were set. Maybe you’ll finish before midnight and get to have a baileys coffee at the end. Maybe you have to pull an all-nighter and have an even more shit Tuesday than you were expecting.
So basically Monday night is up to you. It is in your hands, just like your own fate. You could additionally read ‘How to spend a Sunday night’ and just do Sunday night shit on a Monday night. The world is your oyster. It acts as an aphrodisiac for your life. So seize the Monday, and don’t waste your Mondays to the same extent you waste your Sundays.