A lot of people think that Friday is all about getting to that moment in the day when you can finally Fred Flinstone it out of there, so that you can, at long last, let off some much needed steam after five days spent keeping that lid on so tight (you know, Sarah Jessica Parker-style in The Family Stone).
But that’s not what Friday is about at all. It’s about the D–or DD: direct deposit. So much of your time as an office worker is spent as a pauper that when the one instance of richness arrives in your monthly budget, you tend to let all your spending fantasies get the better of you: Italian restaurants, facials, vag waxings, cheap jewelry that costs too much, cheap clothes that are actually cheap–the gamut. Some boys may kiss you and some boys may hug you, but they’ll never excite you as much as the DD.