Did I ever mention that I love the weekend. It has to be the best time ever. I mean, hear me out. You go to school and work for the entire week and not really get much sleep and you are forced to do things that are going to be graded and placed in your permanent folder, to follow and judge you for the rest of your life. Then comes the weekend, when you are hopefully free to sleep in, or go somewhere, or make a big breakfast, or even just vegg on the sofa in your living room.
However, it may be the plan of some notorious, evil master-minded professor or boss to assign you homework or "ask" you to come in and work on the weekend. That right there truly puts a damper on the whole festive occasion. So, my brillant well thought-out plan is to simply win the lottery and make my life one big weekend. This way I may be able to conquer the evil plans of those anti-weekend pickiters and truly have the result of pulling a coup d'état and feeling the rush of the weekend revolutionist!!! Hail the mighty weekend!!!!...
...or I simply call in sick to work or make up an excuse about an anti-cyclonic depression that pulled my homework in and completely destroyed it, spreading the remains of my spanish 102 excercises all over the Azores.
¡Vive el fin del semana! (Long live the weekend!!)