You wake up at 12:45pm and groggily take a shower. The rest of the afternoon is spent comfortably in front of TVs that have the Birds game (I’m writing it, so I get to pick the team. Fuck off.) and RedZone on. As you watch the men on screen hit each other and do things that you can only imagine in your most athletic dreams, you scream bloody murder in hopes that it will make them score more points for your fantasy team and force them to complete the three legs left in the parlay that you bet your food money for the week on. When your fantasy football team has put you into a near clinical depression and your parlay is dead, you drown your sorrows in leftover pizza and stale potato chips until it’s time to go to bed well before you’ve completed any of the work you have due the next day.
You the day praying that you can get through your classes without being exposed for doing almost nothing academic during the two days you did not have class. Instead of getting a jump on all the work that you missed, you take a three-hour nap so that you can properly adjust to the day. After grinding on your schoolwork for thirty-seven minutes, you decide you’ve earned a break and you put on Monday Night Football to decompress for the night. Your defense does not put up the 67 points you need to win your fantasy matchup and the “absolute lock” you hammered to salvage Sunday’s losses sends you to bed at 11:30pm in tears.
You attempt to move on from the sadness you’ve experienced over the past two days, but the only real way to heal is to skip your 9am. That quickly turns into also skipping your 11am and 1pm lectures as well, so when your four o’clock class comes around, it doesn’t feel worth it to go anyway. You tell yourself that tomorrow will be your day.
You manage to get to all of your classes, but after spending Tuesday in bed, your body isn’t prepared for the stress you just put it through. It would simply be unwise to try and do homework because you might overload yourself, and you remember the assembly that you went to during orientation that said you should prioritize your well-being over anything else. With that excuse in hand, you watch fourteen episodes of Family Guy in a row and fall asleep without setting an alarm.
You wake up and rush to your first class, only to realize that the professor emailed the afternoon prior explaining that class would be cancelled due to an emergency that she had to deal with. The distress you feel from running to class coupled with the resounding empathy you’re feeling for whatever your professor is going through is just too much. You’re not mentally able to go to class that day. At night, you tell your roommates you’re just going to have a chill night, drink a couple beers, and watch Thursday Night Football. A few beers turns into nine, and then you’re leaving for the bar against the advisement of everyone who you told not to let you go.
The piercing sound of your alarm and an even more piercing headache greets you Friday morning. Tired, hungover, and without any recollection of what happened after you got to the bar, you make your way to class. The girl that sits next to you asks if you remember seeing her the night before, and when you tell her that you do not, she shows you the Snapchat video she has of you butt-flossing shirtless in the middle of a dance floor. You purposefully only scheduled one class on Friday with the idea that you would use the rest of the time to get work done, but in reality, you spend the entire day alternating between sleeping and jerking off. The night arrives and you strike out with four different girls at the party you go to, so when you get home you put on Frank Ocean and cry yourself to sleep.
With two hours of sleep and a bone-chilling hangover, it’s beer for breakfast today. Gameday waits for no one, and by the time you arrive at the stadium, you’re fully ready to fight the opposing fan who though it was okay to bring his wife and two young children into your domain.
You wake up on a friend’s couch at 6pm. The Snap group with your boys is currently housing several unopened videos of you dead asleep in your seat while your team makes a historic comeback to take a victory. A DoorDash dinner and a good shit means you’re ready to bounce back from your failures with the ladies from the night before. You strike out yet again, but all your boys have left and there’s no one to watch you take home the girl you’re currently talking to, so you suck it up and call the Uber back to her house. The walk home twenty-seven minutes later puts your entire life into perspective, and you tell yourself that you’re going to make serious changes to your lifestyle. It’s a brand new you.
Repeat until Winter Break