The never ending guessing game about how much you think upper management makes. PGP.

1: “Who in the fuck brewed decaf?” 2: “Some virgin.” PGP.

I was so excited about getting this job. Now I’m only excited for lunch. PGP.

All Mint.com does is remind me that the majority of my income is spent on alcohol. PGP.

I’m not driving the struggle bus. I’m not even riding the struggle bus. I just got run the fuck over by the struggle bus. PGP.

90% of the emails I send start with “Sorry for the delay.” PGP.

I now consider 3 Tinder matches in a row a “hot streak.” PGP.

That blissful couple of hours on payday when you have 4 digits in your checking account, before all the bills and rent come out. PGP.

Caring more about crafting a stellar internet comment than an effective work email. PGP.

The only text I received today was from Papa John’s. PGP.