Thursday is tough. Thousand Island Thursday? Thiamin Thursday? No. I vote for Thocolate Thursday, which sounds like your mouth is gummed with thweets.
FriedDay, obviously. Fries, fritters, tater tots. A good way to end the week.
Satay-day is a no-brainer.
Strudel Sunday has to happen. We have to make that happen. Somebody do a Kickstarter.
Meatless Monday is already a thing, but it is awfully pleasure-less. I say Mango Monday. Or Melon Monday. But that could be taken as misogynist. Or feminist. These days, it kind of depends on the hat you are wearing.
Then again, why does alliteration require food?
Mental Monday. The first day of the week is hard, so let's just assume that everybody is totally mental, as the British say, and give each other some extra slack. We bring donuts to the office. We flip off five fewer people in traffic. You know. Baby steps.
Trivia Tuesday. Coworker needs the Henderson report? "Sure," you say, "but first tell me this—who won the first season of 'American Idol?'" Or "Sure, but first, what is the capital of Andorra?" Your coworkers love trivia.
Wallaby Wednesday. It has always been my contention that Wednesdays do not involve nearly enough marsupials. I am not saying hey, on Wednesdays, let's everybody get a wallaby, because zoos frown on loaners. I just mean invoke your inner wallaby. Wallabies defend themselves with biting and hard kicks, and I suggest that is how you too spend midweek.
Thong Thursday. Get your mind out of the gutter. I jutht like thinging.
Factual Friday. If you are like me, during the week you keep a list of all the lies you have been told on a small notepad marked "Groceries." Celebrate truth. Friday, burn it.
Sacrificial Saturday. Forget watching golf. Pull the weeds you've already put off for five satays in a row.
Sumo Sunday. Why leave grappling to the talking heads on the political talk shows? And don't tell me you want to wear more than a loincloth on Sundays, because I do not believe you.
Tacos are so great, though. Food for thought—instead of just Tuesdays, how about an entire month? Just mull the idea, people—Taco-tober.
. . .