One of my lovely Texas boys, Tyler F., blogs under the title of "Thursday's Child." Now, because I'm lazy, I don't generally get to know the history of a blog's title unless the person has a nifty little tab on their site for just such a thing. I just sit around in oblivion, letting my absent-mindedness take its course.
Today, however, I was browsing through Google Reader, trying not to laugh too hard (for the sake of sleeping family members) at the funny things at Overheard in New York. (I also had to restrain myself from wishing evil things upon the person who thought Boston was in Chicago.) But then, I came across this entry, which referenced "Monday's Child" in one of the suggested titles for the quote.
Hmm. If Monday and Thursday have children, then I bet the other days do, too! I thought to myself, quite impressed with my own deductive reasoning. Hurriedly, I whipped open a new tab in my browser and Googled "Monday's child." Of course, Wikipedia rushed to my aid, sharing this entry with me, which details the whole nursery rhyme.
How quaint! I thought, excited to find out what it would say about me.
But boo on you, evil poem! I was born on a Wednesday, and you don't say very nice things about me. "Wednesday's child is full of woe"?? Yeah, the "original 1887 version" says that I'm "loving and giving," but we all know THAT to be a lie, now don't we?
Now I'm truly doomed! I'll pout every time I go to Tyler's blog (at least until I absent-mindedly forget about this), which will indeed leave me "full of woe." Curses, internet!
I hereby decree that Google should read my mind, predict what will happen as a result of my future search results, and give me a page that says "Ignorance is bliss!" when it realizes that I really don't want to know the answer to my question.
So let it be written, so let it be done.