The woman next to me brought fucking spaghettios and is eating them at 8 a.m. I’m going to throw up. PGP.

“How’s your bracket?” PGP.

“Where’s your green?” PGP.

I was 150% productive yesterday; I’m about 30% productive today. It’s called balance. PGP.

I don’t give a damn about your cheat day. PGP.

Having to write the “I’m pretty sure I just really fucked up” email to your boss. PGP.

Calling in sick for Monday during brunch on Sunday. PGP.

Didn’t get the job. So the three month job search continues. PGP.

Your parking job being your proudest accomplishment of the work day. PGP.

Leaving one suit coat at your desk at all times so your boss doesn’t know if you’ve truly left. PGP.