Bobby D'Angelo
You roll over to find your disposable, which by the way, is named like the stupidest thing ever because the government thought they were saving the youth from vaping by taking away flavored pods, and now we have unregulated vapes the size of the CN tower with names like “Nee-how-Kylan Lemon” and “Hannah Montana Mango.” After one decent rip, you discover that the thing is skull emoji dead, much like a person from an urban community commenting on a Druski video. Not the best start to the day, but it’s warm out, and birds are chirping like a hockey player from Massachusetts, so it’s positive vibes only. You walk into your kitchen to your roommate making eggs. He has recently gotten incredibly into fitness due to a messy breakup and wants that picture on a boat this summer so bad.
You walk to class with Jack Harlow moaning in your ear and get a surprising notification that your little cousin has followed you on Instagram. He has his middle school graduation year and “add me on Snapchat” in his bio. AMOS? What the fuck does he think this is? Spanish class? This will require a conversation another time because today, you have bigger fish to fry. You have a two-person group project, and your partner is in the business fraternity. He dresses like he’s auditioning for the show White Collar despite the fact that it’s seventy-six degrees outside, and he’s not happy with your work ethic. You have to turn it around with a three-hour library sesh after a class where you’ll spend ninety minutes hearing your teacher basically call you, your entire family, and everyone you’ve ever loved racist.
After class you’re thirty minutes into rotating between Snapchatting the girl you’re talking to and Microsoft Powerpoint when you get a text from your friend telling you to download the Lucra App “L-U-C-R-A.” You respond with, “what the fuck? Also, your sister’s last Instagram picture *Italian hand gesture emoji”.” He tells you that the kid from Tik Tok who talks out of the side of his mouth and makes videos barely speaking English at 1:43 AM on Sunday morning said it’s basically Venmo for Sports Betting, and it would help him out tremendously because, let’s be honest he’s one of the only straight guys on the app that doesn’t lip-synch and he convinces himself that Strippers actually like him, so he needs some dough.
Two hours later, you get an article sent to you from your Dad about how the median income out of college for someone in your major has gone up tremendously. He doesn’t know that, like eighty percent of people protesting a certain Floridian bill, you feel confused about yourself and don’t know what to do about it. Your stomach starts making noises like a disheveled cat, so you decide to take a walk down the street for a bite to eat. You have two options: you could go to the place you always go for a chicken sandwich, or you could go for a Poki bowl. You want the Poki bowl, let’s not lie to yourself, but you know if any of your friends see you walk out with a Poki bowl, surrounded by a sea of yellow Pi Phi tee-shirts and Kardashian products, it’s over. You take the risk anyway.
