Saturday became Sunday at Jared's. Where there was: a fire, a soulful cover of "I'm on a Boat," revolting bratwurst, cheap lemon vodka, and 90 trips to the bathroom.
I got home at 4 in the morning, which resulted in oversleeping and eating ghetto honeycombs while speeding to work.
Baby naming contests on break, with a lettuce sandwich.
Then I came home and ate this pitiful dinner, because pork chops are gross.
Now I'm staring at this wall and dreading tomorrow.
And also wondering why there is a ladder in my room.
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