Friday the 13th

The unlucky day, right? Aw, that special day when Jason Vorhees gets to decimate scantily clad, promiscuous young woman getting it on with their man in the backseat of a car, steaming up the windows with their stank only to be violently decapitated like an overly enthusiastic autistic boy with a small, defenseless mammal. Mmm… smells like a low budget classic to me!

But I never really understood why it had to be a Friday, not a… Thursday, or a Monday even! I guess it has to do with the blokes of yesteryear’s past who failed to see that Fridays are actually awesome because they’re the end of the work week, so they are, therefore, bad luck. And something about 13 being a prime number after a perfect number ordained by the gods of Olympus is also bad luck… whatever. So their theory was that two wrongs definitely don’t make a right, they make a freakin catastrophe.

Anyways. Bad luck. It’s only bad luck if you make it bad. I’m a firm believer in finding the good in any terrible situation. Hence my sarcastic proverb: bad day? It was totally worth it if it makes a good story. You can argue “shell shock.” I won’t disagree.

But regardless if today is a bad day or just another day, I own this sort of chaos. Maybe I should be Kayak Loki instead if Kayak Jesus. Norse god of chaos? Yes please. Anyways, just remember. While you all avoided paved cracks or scorned black cats, I welcomed superstition, taunted it even.

And then I clotheslined myself with an electrical fence.

Happy Friday the 13th, loves!

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