They Call it Throwback Thursday, I Call it Random Shit Thursday

                                                                                                               Only The Beat

Ah, it’s Thursday! And since its Thursday, well, people have another excuse to post more on social media sites like Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Why? Because it’s Throwback fucking Thursday. Yay! Yes, this is the only day of the week where you have the liberty to post pictures from a “while” ago or “few years back” when you still mingle with dinosaurs and shit. Of course, you would defeat its purpose if you post pictures of tomorrow or the not-so-distant future (and hell would really break loose if you happen to post one) or if you share it on a Monday. Oh, before I forgot, I really wonder whose brilliant mind has thought of Throwback Thursday. He could have used Wednesday or Sunday. Nah, Thursday sounds legit because both terms start with a letter T. Anyway, because I’m not a Throwback Thursday practitioner, I’d rather acquaint a new term to this practice – “Random Shit Thursday.” But hey, this only applies to me, and I don’t expect you to do the same shit. After all, you’re still busy scanning old photos of yourself for this weekly celebration.

                                                                                                               Jacaranda FM
WTF! Fast forward Thursday, please. Fast forward!

If you want to jump into the Culprits’ bandwagon, however, you have my permission. So yeah, if you might ask: What does “Random Shit Thursday” in-store for me? It’s simple, and there’s nothing too serious about it. You just need to have William Wallace’s long drape skirt as well as his braveness to expose what random shit happened to you on that day. And when you decide to showcase it already, you don’t need hashtags at all. Hence, you have freed yourself from the confines of the Number Sign (#). Congratulations! On the other hand, you have the freedom to choose from photos (which definitely requires a high level of courage, like King Leonidas’), articles and things of such nature to serve as mediums for your “Random Shit Thursday.”

“But Felix, can I share it on various social media sites as well?”

Of course dear! I ain't your father to tell you what to do with your life. Just like I said; it only takes a leap of courage for one to indulge into this activity. But since you’re still confused and can barely grasp the notion I’m trying to convey, let me give you my own “Random Shit Thursday.” Drum rolls, please.

Here it goes:

Although my 8-hour shift ended around 5 am this morning, it felt like I worked for almost 24 hours. It’s pretty natural though especially if you’re working as a call center agent where you’re mostly dealing corporate lies and shits with people from the other side of the globe. So to shrug the weariness out of my shoulders, I quickly lit my cigar and accompanied it with a cup of coffee. I was definitely having a pleasant time. Alas, my damn stomach quickly broke the momentum. It seems to relay a very urgent message shortly after enjoying a moment with my cigar and coffee. So yeah, nature called me. “Fuck this!” The next scenario, however, was actually neat and of course, relaxing. It brought me to a new level of relaxation and reverie. There I was, making the time of my life inside the comfort room: My ass kissing the very lips of the toilet bowl while dropping bombs similar to Hiroshima's and Nagasaki’s – such scenery, indeed. When I was about to call it “a job well done,” the fucking-horrifying-traumatic-shit-shit-shit part happened:  There was no fucking water! There was even no sign of W-A-T-E-R drops from the faucet, and the pail was completely empty too. And not to mention the absence of tissue that time. So I told myself, “Think, Felix. Think!” I was like a 14-year old girl who just loss her virginity; too afraid to tell her mom that Uncle Steve dug her hard.

                                                                                                                               PWF

I really didn't care about percentage during that time. 

“Should I use my hanky or just pretend that nothing happened, and go straight home?” I was really hysterical that time, and felt desperate as I look myself in the mirror. I was in the comfort room for almost an hour, and by any minute, one of my officemates will surely knock the door, “C’mon, boy! You’re not the only one who has stomach problems.” So before I resorted on solving my current situation, I chose to finish my cigar first because it might just give me the “Bulb” above my head. And it did give me. Yes. Later I realize that there was a liter of water placed at the very corner of the door next to the comfort room. Although it was supposed to be used for the flowers and plants in the balcony, I didn't hesitate grabbing it. However, it seems that I’m bound for mishaps on that very moment; the water left was just fucking ¼. Yes, just enough for one to brush his teeth. But because I was desperate, helpless and feeling stupid at the same time, I had no choice, but to label it “a blessing in disguise.” Anyway, it solved my fucking problem. But then, I do know that they (officemates) might sense the literal shit I got into, I quickly ran outside and bought a hygienic ethyl alcohol from a nearby store. Wew! It was indeed a Random Shit Thursday!

Since I already gave you a picture of my own Random Shit Thursday, you can now start your own. Just always remember to bring the courage that William Wallace taught us especially if you want to share it using a photo (e.g. a photo of you shitting on a public utility vehicle). And by the way, as what I’ve suggested, get rid of (#) hashtags. It won’t do you good. Trust me.