Friday Fun-Licking

My colleagues were understandably confused. I bounded into the office with this phrase: "Get ready for some Friday fun-licking!" The lady who sits next to me gave me a half-curious look over her shoulder then returned to her desktop. The guy who sits behind me raised his eyebrows. I think I've said enough stupid stuff in my day that the mere possiblity of licking fun on Friday didn't seem too extreme. (Mental note: Start avoiding these people when I'm drinking...perhaps then my sober comments might be more inspiring).

I stole the phrase from a band called Moxy Fruvous, a Canadian group that is full of good harmony and social commentary. They do a version of the Spider Man theme song that somewhat indicts the superhero for the as yet unwritten self-help project called Fun-Licking. "Spidey the Fun-licker!" they proclaim.

I thought it about it and decided fun-licking must be a lot like toad-licking without all the attached social stigma. Lick some fun, especially on a Friday, and slip into a naturally-released pool of good-time endorphins.

Fun-licking Friday was born...at least in my mind.

Then my project for the fell through. Bureaucratic bull shit squelched a perfectly good, timely, and proactive news story on crime prevention. That died within 15 minutes of my fun-licking proclamation. I still had faith in the fun-licking though.

I dove into a world of pretty girls with beautiful children. The mother had found drugs in an old mill community and decided to take her kids along for the ride. Daddy was understandbly frustrated. While he was most concerned about his kids, he even seemed willing for drug-crazed wife to come back home. The police were concerned as well. But frankly, in a time when random acts of violence and madness occur on a fairly regular basis, the plight of a young father who hooked up with the wrong woman just isn't big news.

Fun-licking was taking a major hit on its first foray into a Friday.

Now...I'm considering calling off the whole fun-licking project until we can form some sort of committee to study the effects of prolonged fun-licking on the endorphin pool.

I haven't eaten a real meal in more than 24 hours. In that time I had a few beers, half a slice of old pizza, and three french fries. There is a mini-Moon Pie sitting next to me. Despite my longing for licking, I don't think I'm going to touch the thing.

Perhaps, if I can find the fun, I can lick it in lieu of a meal.