Why Monday is Evil And Can Lead You to Conclusions Such as I Want to Be a Guinea Pig

The most hideous place to be on a Monday is in school (in a Geography class) at about the age of thirteen, where nothing matters except that spot on your chin and the fact that you think everybody saw you stumble beside your locker at 9.01am. Well more specifically that Mr. Mathews saw you stumble and that due to your blush he has more than likely figured out your secret crush.

So you more or less end up looking a lot like this

Suddenly, as happened to me on one such occasion, there is a moment of light. Your teacher stops warbling and offers you a ray of hope.

            "Eh so next week, who wants to go be a Guinea Pig over at UL?"

All hell breaks loose because anything sounds better than going through this again. You and your peers vying to be the chosen ones.

Then it happens.

They choose, you or me, or whoever this short anecdote might be about.

We have become the chosen people. Monday might not be so bad after all.

The thought of missing Geography kept me up to the small hours of the morning contemplating the meaning of life (or at least the meaning of boys).

I imagined next Monday with unsuppressed glee. Yes, glee!

I was going to get to be a Guinea Pig, I wondered would there be a giant human-sized cage. Would we get to go in one of those hamster-wheel-type-contraptions.

So then comes the Monday of joy. The moment that I was sure would set the tone for the rest of my teenage years. We were shuffled into a small classroom with a nervous, twitching twenty something year old. I thought it was some sort of pep-talk before they let us loose on the hamster wheels. But no, no, no, it was not.


"Can anybody draw the map of Ireland?"
"Nobody can," was the insolent response.

"Can anyone try?"
"I will," I said, "Then do we get to dress up as Guinea Pigs?"

I don't think I need to continue, I think it's all quite clear how things went after that.

Slowly downhill. I became some sort of strange Guinea-Pig-Fetish girl.

Nobody else seemed to think it was an honest mistake, a misunderstanding and why would I want to dress up as a Guinea Pig anyway (I still maintain the same argument 'why wouldn't I?').

If there is a moral, and I am led to believe there should always be some kind of moral, it is that Monday's will always be evil...even if someone miraculously asks you to dress up as a Guinea Pig...