It’s currently 11:12 am and you’re awoken by the sound of your roommate taking the longest leak in the history of mankind. In spite of your best intentions to wake up at 8:00 am and have a productive morning, you waste the next five minutes cursing out your phone alarm for not going off – even though you never actually set it. You’ve got class in exactly thirteen minutes and every part of your hungover body pleads to stay in bed, but your guilty conscience (along with the tens of thousands of dollars in tuition) won’t let you skip. After throwing on an outfit that is maybe sixty percent clean, you sprint to your lecture hall and plop down in the first available seat.
Your class only goes from 11:30 to 12:20, but for some reason, a fifty-minute Friday class feels extremely tedious in comparison to the fifty-minute Brazzers double feature you watched the night prior. After fifteen minutes of the most wildly confusing lecture you’ve ever heard, you realize you’ve been looking at the textbook for an entirely different class this whole time. Sure, you could quickly recap the content that was just covered and continue taking notes for the rest of the lecture, but there are more pressing matters: your fantasy football team.
As you fire up the ESPN fantasy app, you immediately sink into your seat after seeing Stefon Diggs just dropped 45 points on your head the night prior, leaving little to no chance for you to win your matchup this week. For the remaining twenty-seven minutes of class, you alternate between laying down ridiculous parlays that wouldn’t even hit if they were Adrian Peterson’s children and checking out females who you probably will never end up talking to. The clock strikes 12:19, and you begin to pack up your stuff until your professor says, “Exam Monday, make sure to study”. At that very moment, you can already feel the Sunday Scaries fill your entire body, but that’s a problem for later. TGIF, am I right?
