Wednesday, 25 March 2009

Fuck you, Wednesday

Wednesday, you asshole. You make out you are oh, so damn relaxed and family friendly. You are all, 'Yay, school's out, do your chores and then have fun with your gorgeous kids! Partaayy! '. Yeah, right, Wednesday. Do I LOOK like a taxi, Wednesday? Well, do I?

No, this isn't working, is it. You see what I tried to do there? Crap, wasn't it? Start again with the normal Belgian Waffle whiny wordiness about my terrible, terrible first world problems.

Wednesday is totally hateful. Some stupid bastard (probably Napoleon) decided that children in continental Europe should have Wednesday off. EPIC ADMINISTRATIVE FAIL, NAPOLEON (god, I can't shake it, can I?). In Belgium this leaves parents with three choices:

1. Ignore it, leave children in gulag, prepare yourself for The Soulcrushing Guilt as you arrive at 6pm to find your children, alone, sitting at a sad little wooden desk with a four piece wooden puzzle and 2 brown crayons;

2. Pay some feckless arse student to collect them and rummage through your knicker drawer, then sit around eating your food while the children dismantle your house and kill each other;

3. Take Wednesday, or at least Wednesday afternoon off.

So here I am, as a long time proponent of option #1, testing option #3. Newsflash: it is pretty awful. First I do the shopping, which always casts me into a soup of expatriot despondency. Oh, Belgian supermarkets, so sad, so strip lit, so full of offal, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. No, let me not. Today I amused myself by trying to find the worst meat product possible after the fanmail Thierry the Tapeworm received. I think it has to be the neat rows of greying tongues packed in polystyrene trays, though the stir fry packs of gizzards were also appealing. Next time I take the camera.

Of course shopping also means driving, and I drive with all the skill and road sense of a crackhead spider monkey. I cannot judge my own width (a little like being pregnant, I find), I often get the sides of the road confused, and priorité à droite sends me into a terrifying spin. Add into the mix my fatal attraction to skips (they exert a magnetic pull on me when I am behind the wheel. I have lost three wing mirrors to their siren song), and you have a fairly terrifying scenario. The CFO has been watching 'Belgium's Worst Drivers' recently, a programme which gives him considerable amusement, but which is squirmingly near the knuckle for me.

Qui dit driving, dit parking. Ha! Just, no. Not ever, and especially not now when the Belgian Hole Digging and Filling Committee have designated the whole of my area a "Big Fuck Off Hole Zone" (yes, that's the technical term). Even when I am the only sober person in a car, the drunkards will not let me park, and I agree with them. Last week a complete stranger outside the bank stopped traffic to assist me parking. I have no spatial awareness at all and my bumpers are testament to that.

Then, add in the spawn. Two choices: allow them to run feral at home, or corral them into some improving activity. Clearly, the second option holds out the enticing possibility of child free time, and so I seize at it. Only, the spawn cannot agree on a single activity, and must do different things at different times. Cue MORE DRIVING, this time to the accompaniment of helpful commentary from the back seat. Things I must do, apparently, while driving:

- mental arithmetic courtesy of Lashes (douze fois trente deux maman? MAMAAAN?)
- constructing Kinder toys courtesy of Fingers
- explain why the man whose route I am blocking is making that gesture with his middle finger
- provide a constant supply of in-flight refreshments
- remove packaging from said refreshments
- select music (particular tracks, not merely albums) even when passengers are not remotely in agreement over which tracks they want.

Add in today's freak hailstorm and you have a recipe for endless joy. You might, just for variety, add a dog that trails its scrabbly claws in puddles making a noise like a slowly deflating balloon and then leaps all over you when it (sensibly) takes fright at the sight of a tram. A CFO who comes home early in order to hide in the attic complaining about the noise and send you emails requiring translation and asks you what day the 20th April is and where the Yellow Pages are and how the conditional tense works as you try and write your goddammed blog post (that, in a fit of OCD self-imposed cruelty you have decided you must do every single day UNTIL YOU DIE). You should almost certainly have leaking shoes and cold icy feet. Your children are skreeeking and shrieking at each other over their expensive video games until your ear drums puncture. It is nearly 7pm and you have not thought about dinner and your 1950s spouse is standing over you pursing his lips and narrowing his teeny tiny eyes as you type, and type, and type.

This, my friends, is Wednesday.

Fuck you, Wednesday.


G said...

If it makes you feel any better, I have spent my miserable bastard Wednesday going over every point I lost to a fucking FOURTEEN year old at badminton last night. He even wears glasses. In mitigation, he is of Chinese ethnicity. But still. Fucking hell, 14, with glasses.

Michelle said...

Hi Jaywalker! Just came across your posts via a link on another blog I only recently discovered: The Johnson Diaries-Life on the Edge at Just as amusing as yours and I’m addicted. You’re both on my blog roll now!Many thanks, take care.

The Spicers said...

Wednesday is hateful, especially with a child home "sick," with no apparent symptoms, but the school nurse has already warned me that said child will need to take tomorrow off too because of the "24 hour fever-free" rule ("fever" of 99.3 degrees), and I am forced to conjure dinner out of thin air because the thought of dragging this child out shopping is more than I can bear.

Titian red said...

Aaawww hugs - now I feel really shitty for spouting about my lovely Wednesday. Still tomorrow is Thursday, (the benefits of a University education coming in to play there) and I know in advance mine will be hell on toast, feel free to indulge in schadenfreude.
Car wise I have delegated "prangs and scrapes" to girlchild and she is coming up trumps .... bless

Nicola said...

I too am having worst Wed ever. 5 yr old is STILL off sick and refusing to get better. Will he ever go back to school???? Not before I am commited to an asylum apparently. Loved the driving comments! I only have a couple of talents and one of them is parallel parking. you would not believe the thrill and sense of accomplishment this can give me on a daily basis. Which is just as well, because not much else does. What is my other talent? I have no idea. I guess it's just the parallel parking then.

Potty Mummy said...

Priorité à droite is the worst. I hate it whenever I visit Holland. I mean, what kind of 'after you, Claude' numpty thought that one up?

And skreeking? Great word.

screamish said...

i reckon you need a holiday. come to the sunny south of france and babysit twins w me and help me renovate our house...or alternatively buy a random ticket to somewhere...i seriously think you need a holiday.

offal has been on my mind too today, strangely enough (now theres a sentences you dont get to say every day)

code word FRICYAL (this sounds like a Mississippi curse word)

katyboo1 said...

I heard somewhere that Wednesdays are statistically the most depressing day of the week. It may help you to know that you are not alone.

My iron tablets are not working and I have spent the day shouting and lying on the sofa in a grey fug of weariness, only getting up to cook meals nobody will eat.

Fucking Wednesdays

A Woman Of No Importance said...

Tongues in supermarkets? Please desist from taking photos, JW, I am only just getting over the Tapeworm Incident, and you might just hear my viral skreeking over there in holey, holy, weird, wonderful and chocolate-y Brussels...

Cassandra said...

I like the thing about the 1950sw spouse. I feel empathy. My friend Tom calls weds "hump day" as it's the middle of the week so supposedly downhill all the way post Weds. Unless you've got kids, of course!!!

Nimble said...

I must tell you that I love when my favorite bloggers reveal that they’ve folded their blogging into their OCD routines. It’s a little callous and selfish I know. But it’s practically a guarantee of regularly occurring new blog entries! Fabulous.
You mentioned that the CFO ‘pursed his lips’ at you when in quest of dinner on the table. Only last night my seven y.o. asked what ‘pursed lips’ were. I floundered a bit but settled on ‘lips pushed together, like when you’re thinking about something.’ Some writers use the phrase to mean a specific facial expression but I think there are many possible. And francophones of course do a lot more with their lips than we English speakers. When I was trying to speak French I found I had a better accent when my lips were more mobile. (That sounds like they were wandering around on my face.)

Millennium Housewife said...

Just wonderful. Made my night, and my wednesday for that matter.

Persephone said...

When we lived in British Columbia, Wednesday was the day when school let off at 1:30 pm instead of 3pm. This guaranteed that I would forget this fact at least twice a year, and then feel like an unworthy and uncaring parent when I came to pick up forgotten and forlorn elder daughter.

Parisgirl said...

Same problem here! Might have known it was Napoleon. How is a modern woman supposed to hold down a job when there's no school on Wednesdays?

Anonymous said...

Indeed. I was just coming down from my FUW(tm), started reading your post, clicked on another tab to youtube some music from my favourite tab and found out that the creative director is/was a gorgeous man/boy from my youth. Have spent the last 30 minutes in the toilet crying my eyes out because I am such an abject failure and all these beautiful men who doted on me are now successful and I am working in a shithole and filling my emptiness with shoes I can neither afford nor walk in. Today, it is official, I am still a complete fucking idiot. Sorry, I can't put my name to this, I'm all with the dramatics lately. You are lovely, though, JW, and if it makes you feel any better, my driving is far worse than yours.

Anonymous said...

Sorry, favourite 'tab' should read favourite 'ad'.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, fuck Wednesday. I'm off work today due to an extremely painful back, so I can't do much of anything (except play on the Intarnets, of course). I have an appointment at the chiropractor later this afternoon, so relief may be on the way - and so is Thursday.

Mya said...

Blimey, is that what it is? I thought the idle gits at the school were just going on strike once a week!

I suggest you stick the kids up in the attic with the CFO and they can skreek and Jane Eyre it to their hearts content whilst you doggedly plink away at the computer keyboard in peace.
It should be called fucking MERDEcredi!

Mya x

Sorry for that last Giles Brandreth-esque bit. I feel ashamed.

The Accidental Author said...

Ha! For once it's VLiF 1-Napoleon 0. My kids always had Wednesday school and it only changed in France for the 2009 rentree when my youngest started college which, of course, has Wednesday school! Yay! Sorry to gloat. I can totally understand how shite Wednesdays can be. Word verification is Entrip. Could that be some bizarre crossing of entrails and tripe, those charming staples of every French supermarket? VLiF

Anonymous said...

No no no no no. Wednesday is a day of joy, a day for watching Les Cites d'Or and Princesse Sarah while eating meringues and drinking menthe a l'eau. And possibly nibbling on some fried gizzards. Or a firm family favourite - boiled pig's ears.

Alternatively, it's also a good day to spend your mini break surreptitiously checking twitter and blog subscriptions. Sigh.

Helen Brocklebank said...

To be a bad driver in Belgium, now there's an achievement. Does King Baudoin still dish out a driving license as an 18th birthday present (ps. You are right, Wednesdays are rubbish)

Pochyemu said...

Yeah! Have you seen my post? FUCK WEDNESDAY! Actually, let's not be cruel and single out Wednesday, let's throw the rest of the damn days in there as well. Fuck DAYS, full stop.

Cassandra said...

Hey Jay, have you seen Titian Red's phallus on the roof? Well worth a peek!

Just came across your posts via a link on another blog I only recently discovered: The Johnson Diaries-Life on the Edge at Just as amusing as yours and I’m addicted.

Cassandra xxxx

Waffle said...

G - I get more and more intrigued by your badminton activities. Why are they making you play against children?

Myspace - I believe you are not actually a human being, but a robot. You have told me about this blog before, but you had another name. Watch out, I have my eye on you, android. And no, I will not buy a copy of the Watchtower either.

Iheart - well, thin air tastier than a Belgian sausage, believe me. Or grey tongues. Still, much sympathy.

Titian - oh, must go and find out where the good Wednesdays were hanging out.

Nicola - that is a HUGE accomplishment. Be proud, you can be.

PM - I love you. After you Claude indeed. I stole skreeking from Antonia though.

Screamish - yes please. If we renovate a house can Kevin McCloud come?

Katyboo - I am glad I am supported by statistics. Give up on cooking, it's the way ahead you know.

Woman - sorry, I have to. Cassandra was most insistent.

Cassandra - it used to be the day when the worst was officially over. Now, not so much.

Nimble - there has to be disapproval I think for lips to be really 'pursed'.

MH - well, I am bewildered but pleased. Would you like some tongues?

Persephone - Wednesday is guilt day, and self-loathing day. It is official.

Parisgirl - it's a Napoleonic plot. Along with being allowed to beat your wife as long as the stick is thin enough.

Fail - poor poor Fail, another victim of evil bastard Wednesday. Take heart that at least gorgeous men used to love you. None here. We must keep off the roads together. I hope you don't live in Belgium.

Pinklea - oh, poor you. Better soon I hope. Thursday will help.

Mya - it's ok. A bit risqué for Gyles anyway. My dad used to lock us in an outhouse when we were really horrid in the Christmas holidays. Did me no harm ahem ahem.

VLiF - hmph. I am happy for you, if bitter.

M - shut up, French child. Get back to your pig ears and your torturous handwriting. Oscar is happy to share his dried version with you.

Mrs T - I think King Baudoin is dead, not that that makes much different. I would have sworn the current one is Albert. Will let you know if L and F get licences when they turn 18, though of course I will have thrown them out WAY before that.

Pochyemu - as ever, I like your style. Fuck days! Hours too. Yeah.

Waffle said...

Cassandra - onoes! The robot has got you! Gaaaaah. I am sending Nick from the apprentice round to purse his lips at it.

Mr Farty said...

I think I saw you parking on FAIL Blog today. Not that I can talk, driving is a black art to me.

lisahgolden said...

I usually go for feral, though my kids are mostly at the age where it's not a big deal - too young for sex, too old for,well, nevermind that.

Today was sick Wednesday. All three were sick, as was I. We coughed in harmony. It's the only thing we did in harmony. Everything else was angst, horror and curse words.

Anonymous said...

Your Wednesday does sound harsh. I always resented Fridays when kids here in LA get out early. I loathe Sundays too, which makes me feel quite guilty.

Now the mere mention of "tongue" just makes my stomach lurch. I used to eat that! Sliced with mustard I had no idea what is was until the day I saw it in the pot. YIKES. Still traumatized by the memory. Think the tongue was served on a Sunday....

Anonymous said...

Why so much offal what happens to the rest of the beast? Don't even think Fergus Henderson has gizzard recipe, and probably would not want to eat it anyway. Perhaps with BBQ sauce?

Anonymous said...

I have to drag Attila to her guitar lesson on a wednesday and then, as she is trapped in the car, I take her round Sainsburys with me. I don't understand why I always have to stand at the bottom of the stairs yelling 'it's half past bloody six, we are going to be late.' She likes the lessons and fancies her teacher. Why, why why? Then Sainsburys. She says she likes coming but always ends up sulking because she always pushes too hard and I end up refusing to buy THAT MUCH chocolate, or hundreds of little bottles of orange juice when we have hundreds of empty bottles at home and she can fill them up from a carton. Then she asks me why I hate her and I cry all the way home. I bloody hate wednesdays.

Mutter said...

Were bloggers around the world struck down with Shite Wednesday Syndrome? Mine was crap too. Why doesn't the CFO make the dinner? Or go hungry, like my own Finance Director has to because he can't cook and I won't. You never know, he might come up with something better than Thierry the Tapeworm.

Liberty London Girl said...

Not ideal, no. But surely Thursday will be better?

And what's with the Johnsons robot? makes you want to DELETE that blog forever.


Anonymous said...

my wednesday sucked because a bat managed to find its way into my bedroom and there was no one to rescue me.. spent evening cowering in doorway with a broom, lights off and windows wide open praying for bat to leave of its own accord.. it did.. eventually.. still petrified though, that the light from my laptop will draw another one of them to the windows, so sleeping (or not sleeping) with them locked shut, even though the radiators still bust and my room is like an effing sauna.. yeah this wednesday hasn't been good to me.. still, i was mildly cheered by your post, and the fact that it's not just me..

GingerB said...

People, I am sitting in a low grade hotel room, scratching at my psoriasis, waiting for my sleeping pill to kick in so I can sleep while my husband is at home, alone, with my baby and toddler, who are both red headed. Knowing that I won't sleep without drugs but feeling like if I use drugs then my husband won't wake up and feed the baby who has a metabolic disorder that can cause death if she doesn't eat, and I am too far away to do shit about anything. Is it too late to vomit up the Ambien? I am eating cashews, chocolate, cookies and beer so I'd rather not vomit. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Wednesday can suck it and Thursday too . . .

GingerB said...

I forgot to mention the depth of eunnui at this law related conference I am forced to attend. A person, a higher up even, whom I like and admire actually said "fealty to the rule of law." Fealty. Yeah. The only thing I have in my favor is that my hair stylist really matched my color to that of my nearly three year old. The carroty color and susper shine draw the eye away from the psoriasis. So envy me!!!

Formerly known as Frau said...

Wow I feel your pain! Have a drink sister and settle down okay now breathe...good now it's Thursday all is good!

Anonymous said...

I hate to say this, but: focus on the little, silky, weepette peanuts. Surely they must brighten up your day?

Hope Thurs is improving.

JChevais said...

Fuck you, Wednesday. All the good "sports" for children like theatre, basketball, dance, etc. AD NAUSEUM, take place on WEDNESDAYS and as such, since I work on WEDNESDAYS, my children don't "benefit" from all this excellence.

Which means on SATURDAYS, I cannot shuck them off on an unwitting "animateur", which means that I have to listen to them bicker all fucking day long. By myself, since Mr C works on Saturdays.


Waffle said...

Mr F - oh, yes. That was me. Totally. Recognised the silky moves.

Lisa - oh, a nice refinement to the usual Wednesday shit, the sickness. Good good.

Jools - noo. Really? My mum made me and my brother eat horse once as revenge because we were being so vile. But not as bad as tongue.

Victoria - oh, but salade de gésiers a great delicacy (bleugh).

CA - oh, the shopping trips of doom, the joy the joy. Poor you. Don't cry.

Wife in HK: CFO recipes: uncle bens microwave rice with an egg in, pasta with tomato sauce.

LLG - I don't know, but it is stealthily taking over the world. Beware!

tragicanon - oh no! I love bats, very stroky and delightful. I wish you lived here and I could come and take it away for you.

Ginger - you are probably providing the only visual distraction at the entire conference aren't you? so yay for you. Is your daughter ok? Hard not to worry but I am sure your husband WILL remember to keep his daughter alive. Have faith.

Frau - it is. And Thursday is better. Always.

Mud - argh you are enabling me in my wrong wrong ways! Um, thanks. Yes, it helps.

Mrs C - it is so true. But take heart, if you weren't working you'd just have to ferry them around to woefully SHORT sessions that barely give you time to have a coffee.

Millennium Housewife said...

Well thanks. Really, thanks. Honestly. I've just let Husband read this post and he's laughed much (much) harder than at any of mine. I mean really, is it too much to ask for you to tone it down a bit? Damn you and your turn of phrase. MH

Millennium Housewife said...

ps shall I be so so English and say I didn't really mean it and it was just a joke, or did you get it first time? Oh, ok, you got it. Damn my Englishness.

Waffle said...

Millenium - ha, you see this is why I love us English people. Agonising about whether compliments might be taken badly. Also, thank you and your husband.

Anonymous said...

So does the lack of money and self-respect mean that you will not be attending the BlogHer shindig? Or are you like me and convincing your husband at this very moment that what is needed to remedy the circumstances is an American Vacation?

(My Wednesday was Ok. I spent it in bed with elephantine painkillers while my child ran around giggling to himself and brought me like a mini magpie all the shiny things he saw scattered on the floor. On the other hand I was forced to actually MOVE on Thursday, so my Thursday sucked turds).

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