It’s not a question of whether or not I’ll have drinks after work, it’s how many. PGP.

Drove half way to work until I realized it was Sunday.

Parking furthest away from the door knowing it’ll be the most exercise you get all day. PGP.

College girls think I’m too told. Girls I meet out think I’m too young. PGP.

Crying at the end of “Animal House.” PGP.

Can’t tell if Tinder is broken or if no women within a 10 mile radius are interested in having sex with me. PGP.

Thinking to yourself “…there’s no way this can be right,” when your bank account hits four digits. PGP.

Been tired since 2009. PGP.

Watching Spongebob with my nephew and exclusively identifying with Squidward. PGP.

The 8:05am “I gotta get the fuck out of this place” panic attack. PGP.