RRRR: Yo mama's got an afro. With a chinstrap!

So, what do you guys do on Tuesday nights?

How many of you immediately thought to reply with "Your mom"? Or perhaps in the truer spirit of SSS, simply, "Your face."

I'm pretty into my Tuesday nights.

Although piano lessons once severely dampened the appeal of Tuesdays for me, there came the fine day that Jack Bauer crash-landed into my life and suddenly severely moistened Tuesdays. I meeeeean. Made them good. Gooder. Better.

I'd ride the Tuesday evening express Metra (yeahh, you know the one!) out of the city after class to meet my friend Mike for some quality "24"-watching action. By which I mean, Jack Bauer was involved in the action portion; while the most I ever had to do was move to the edge of my seat and drop my jaw like it was hot. And fap.

Now imagine my disappointment - nay! heartbreak - when I solidified my Fall class schedule one semester, right before learning that 24 was moving to Monday nights! Recall that these were the primitive days of attempting to set up VCR recordings, folks!

Anyway, nowadays I have bowling league on Tuesday nights. And that totally way beats Bauer. I can feel myself coming into adulthood on Tuesdays, while I sweat it out at the lanes. Especially now that I've begun working exclusively on my hook roll, like a boss. And especially when I get home and settle down on the couch, usually slightly intoxicated, to watch the newest recorded episode of Dance Moms.

Wait, what?

You heard me. I ain't never done tried it, but I imagine Dance Moms is a lot like crack.

I'm not even some great enthused watcher of reality tv shows. Jersey who? Dancing with the whatsnaw?
But there was a lazy weekend a couple months back in which I found myself surfing the tube; and I came across the train wreck that is Dance Moms. Actually, let's face it, train wrecks are probably far less tragic than what occurs on that show. Between the dance studio head Abby Lee Miller, and the selfish, shallow, corruptive mothers whom the show follows, you get a pretty solid idea of why terrorists hate freedom.

Who really knows why I torture myself for 40 minutes at a time while I indulge in this wretched fat cow fest; but I suspect it's fulfilling some sick thrill that I once felt while serving evil customers as a barista. I don't get that anymore on the day-to-day. Everyone around me is just sorta nice. Whereas some of the women on the show remind me of the soccer mom sluts I used to delight in observing and loathing in real life.

Now, I figger this isn't the Dance Mom-watchin' crowd. But I also assume some of your lameass wives watch that Lifetime turd, so maybe you've been exposed to its horror too. Maybe you've even been sucked into repeat watchings. Maybe you even enjoy it. I'm looking at you here, Kenwo.

I only got on this topic because I wanted to ask about your Tuesday nights.
Tuesday is a somewhat shapeless day for a lot of people I know. It's not Monday, which carries its own negative significance among weekday workers; but it's pretty damn close. And that's why I've truly enjoyed the past year of having bowling league take place on Tuesdays. Improves the entire pace of the week. I encourage you to treat your Tuesdays with a little more flavor, if you don't already.

But for fuckssakes, do not watch Dance Moms.

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