Yesterday was allegedly the most depressing day in the year – Blue Monday. I certainly felt a little blue, so I was a bit relieved to find out there was a reason for my blue-itude. There’s even math looking stuff to back the claim up:

where weather=W, debt=d, time since Christmas=T, time since failing our new year’s resolutions=Q, low motivational levels=M and the feeling of a need to take action=N

_{a}. ‘D’ is not defined in the release, nor are units.

…so says Wikipedia anyway. I just want to say, “T to the Q power” as many times as possible today. I feel less blue already.

Wikipedia also says its some sort of publicity stunt whipped together by a travel agency and that the mathematics aren’t even sound. Bollocks. Now I need a new excuse for wallowing in my funk.

I’m too lazy to call up the little brother with his fancy degree in “Stochastic Systems and Non-Linear Equations” and ask him if I can use that frightening equation as an excuse to alternate between listening to Nina Simone while laying on flat on the floor and watching this video on a constant loop while picking at a scab on my knee. Both of those things sound WAY better than acting like a functional human being today.

You’d think having a mathematician as a sibling would be awesome, right? Nope. He flat out refuses to share his unique skill set. When we’re on road trips, he declines to calculate our arrival time based on our current speed and wind resistance. Allegedly the lack of oxygen in the car prevents him from computing what percentage of the car’s inner atmosphere is comprised of Rocco’s farts. If I break off a piece of his Kit Kat, he won’t compute the number of calories in that morsel. He consistently ignores me when I ask the probability of our reaching a state line before I request a pee break. He claims he doesn’t know a formula to accurately determine the number of bubbles in a bottle of soda.

It’s like he’s not even TRYING.

God forbid you go out to dinner with the boy and ask him to break up the check.

Me: “My head hurts, do your math thing.”

Thom: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Whack up the check.”

Thom: “That’s not math.”

Me: “I don’t mean use a cleaver and shred the bitch. Tell us what we owe. Pretty please.”

Thom: “That’s not math.”

Me: “How is that not math?”

Thom: “That’s arithmetic.”

Me: “That’s not math?”

Thom: “No.”

Me: “Can you do arithmetic?”

Thom:

Me: “Then whack up the check!”

Thom:

Me: “Fine, will you at least figure out the tip?”

God, I hate math. Wait… Or is it arithmetic? Is algebra different than both of those? I hate them all. Especially Calculus. Calculus stole my girlfriend AND my lunch.

Fucking calculus.

.-= KeepingYouAwakeÂ´s last blog ..Living the Dream =-.

I like the number 7, but only when it’s got one of those sexy little slashes through it. Sadly I can’t show you because I apparently don’t use that font on here. Damn, I TOTALLY should have thought of that when choosing a font. If only I hadn’t been so damned distracted by the g’s.

Well, 7 IS the best number. I always do the little line, as well as a serif when I write it.

I can understand you being distracted by the Gs. [insert some idiotic pun about Gangstas, G-Men or Money]

Hindsight is always 20/20, unless you’re backing up.

.-= KeepingYouAwakeÂ´s last blog ..Living the Dream =-.

So arithmetic is not math? Is that like how scales are not music? Try playing/composing music without scales.

.-= submomÂ´s last blog ..We are all in this =-.

Christ! Now you want me to compose music, too?!? I’m still trying to figure out how many quarters make change for a Susan B. Anthony.

I thought they were both the same thing!… Don’t ya hate it when people don’t share?? I am a smartass and I spread that around as much as possible.

.-= Eternally DistractedÂ´s last blog ..Everyone loves a quickie… =-.

Spreading ED all around. Giggle. I’m still twelve.

So, math and arithmetic, not the same, ok. But, one is dependent upon the other, therefore, if you are capable of complicated math, you can split a friggin restaurant check!! Ummm, me thinks your brother is as stubborn as mine. Ass kickin’ sister time. *giggle* I say that all the time, but my brothers are the only guys, scrathc that, my dad, too, who I will totally take shit from…..pisses love of my life off so bad you can actually see his face change colors. It’s awesome!! 😉

.-= Wicked ShawnÂ´s last blog ..Guest Post From My Friend The Dick =-.

Speaking of changing colors, I can only assume you’ve seen this already…

http://www.blogher.com/what-color-your-labia

I never have more than ten dollars with me anyway so I just throw it on the table and look like I’m still engaged in conversation with the person to my right while I continue to drink my wine. My friends hate me.

.-= KellyÂ´s last blog ..Superpower Summit =-.

Dirty confessions. I’ve started bringing a filled wine carafe with me. It always saves money to pack your lunch. 🙂

Just remember this rule:

When all else fails, ‘x’ equals ‘8.’

That right there, my friend, got me into the state’s third best community college.

.-= moooooog35Â´s last blog ..No Sooner a Nooner than an Afternooner is a Goner =-.

I’m going to sign that on the credit card slip next time and see how well THAT goes over.

He is right, that is arithmetic. And…. once you do higher math, the arithmetic is beneath you. And surprisingly hard without a calculator capable of differentiating equations.

Asshat. You are NEVER allowed to meet my bro.

I cannot do math or arithmetic.

But I can make a kick ass burrito.