A Timeline Of Your Friday Night

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A Timeline of Your Friday Night

You considered making this Friday a productive one following an unusually good Thursday. But a fantastic Thursday usually yields itself to celebratory drinks. And all of that positive momentum you had rolling into Friday? It flew out of the window after you decided to turn Thursday evening happy hour into a full fledged bar crawl. Enter Friday afternoon. Basically a dead zone for anyone working a 9-5 desk job. The following is your brain on a Friday.

Work has slowed to a snail’s pace. Jerry in accounting walks by your cubicle following lunch, leaving in his wake a crop dust that would make a hardened criminal break down in tears.

2:30 p.m.- You silently curse Jerry and his disgusting body as you stare blankly at a screen that has been stuck on the same spreadsheet since 10:30 a.m.

3:30 p.m.- Several thoughts, none of them terribly intrinsic or deep, run through your head.

Am I really still at work?

Maybe if I don’t look at any clocks in my field of vision time will move faster

I’d love to get laid tonight

3:37 p.m.– Let’s throw a t-bomb Brendan’s way. He’s always down to drink.

“Yooooo what are you doing tonight? I’m trying to black the fuck out, let’s go.”

3:39 p.m.-*checks phone*

3:45 p.m.-*checks phone*

3:49 p.m.-*checks phone*

3:55 p.m.- Fuckin’ a Brendan text me back you shithead.

4:00 p.m.- What would happen if I left right now? Like worst case scenario? I honestly don’t think anyone would notice or care for that matter. I’m not actually going to leave. I never even had an intention of leaving because I’d be worrying about it the rest of the weekend.

4:15 p.m.- I should hit my buddy up about a job in the Bahamas. He cleans yachts for a living and his Instagram is fucking sick.

4:45 p.m.- Fuck it, I’m leaving fifteen minutes early. They want to fire me for that then fine.

5:15 p.m.-Just my luck. Of course I get stuck in traffic. What a crock of shit. I’m stopping at a liquor store. I swear nothing good ever happens to me.

5:45 p.m.- Twelve dollars for a six pack is highway robbery. Thank God I’m home. Should I take a nap?

*Two hours and fifteen minutes later*

8:00 p.m.- Jesus Christ. Nothing but crickets from Brendan. Let’s just fire up Hulu and watch one episode of Seinfeld.

9:30 p.m.- That Kramer…what a riot. “Hi, could I get a large Hawaiian and an order of cheesy bread?

10:15 p.m.- Welp, way too late to start drinking now. *Nervously looks around empty apartment* Let’s just go ahead and get this out of the way. Gotta clear the pipes because I’m clearly not getting laid tonight. I have pizza sauce on my cheek.

10:19 p.m.- Fuck, that was not worth it.

10:30 p.m.-8:20 a.m.-*sleep*

8:30 a.m.- Brendan:hey man, sorry broke my phone Thursday night. Guess I forgot to tell you. Let’s get brunch

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