- FUCK.
- My head.
- That noise…
- What the hell is that noise?
- Is the damn world ending? Yes.
- Seriously.
- Wait. Shit, what time is it?
- What YEAR is it?
- Phone, phone, where’s my phone?
- 9:02 a.m.?
- How is it already 9 a.m.?
- Stop fucking screaming at me, alarm clock. I get it.
- I get it, but I’m not doing it.
- Nope.
- There is NO way I’m getting out of bed.
- Like, no. Sorry.
- What. Happened. To. Me?
- Why is there no saliva in my mouth? Like, at all?
- Did I drink anything at all last night besides tequila?
- OMG. Tequila. Don’t think about tequila.
- Ew.
- No wonder my mouth tastes like vomit. And regret.
- Wait–it’s 9 a.m. I have class. Shit.
- How do I go?
- Do I even need to go? I’m sure I don’t need to go.
- What are the chances of it mattering?
- I wish there was something that told me what we were doing in class on this particular day…
- That would be genius.
- Oh, right. The syllabus.
- Fuck. A test review?
- How do we have a test already?
- The semester JUST started. It’s literally been, like, one week.
- Uuuuuuuuughhh. A test review isn’t that important though, right?
- I mean, I know most of the stuff…about…wait. What is this class about?
- The French Revolution? Did that take place in France, or…?
- Shit.
- Fuck it, I’m going in sweatpants and sunglasses.
- Like, I’m wearing them in the building.
- How is it so bright? Even with sunglasses?
- SUN, YOU’RE DOING A GOOD JOB, BUT YOU NEED TO TONE IT DOWN.
- I don’t care if I’m going to be late for class. I need coffee.
- Just look at me, lady–yes, I need a large.
- And a side order of “no fucking judgment.” Thanks.
- Okay, just walk in and sit in the back.
- Avoid all eye contact.
- “Yes, I know I smell like vomit and mistakes, excuse me.”
- I should have brushed my hair.
- I wish my hair was full of secrets instead of shame…and bar smoke.
- Why is this professor so animated?
- His love of teaching is making me dizzy.
- Do you need to walk back and forth so much, sir?
- Breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.
- This is the actual devil. The only thing I’m learning right now is how to keep last night’s Taco Bell down.
- How many shots did I take?
- There were the lemon drops, then the Jäger…
- Oh my God. Did I do body shots?
- With my potential little?
- And my big?
- Shit. There goes the family tree.
- Wait, what did he say? How many questions are on this test?
- I can’t even hold a pen properly to write down this information.
- Look at how well that person next to me is writing.
- And in CURSIVE?
- By the way, thanks for the lies, fourth grade teacher. I actually NEVER use cursive. This is why I have trust issues.
- I wonder if I can still write in cursive.
- Nope.
- I should work on that, because I don’t want to pay someone to do calligraphy for my wedding invitations.
- I guess I need a reason to get wedding invitations first, though.
- Like by finding a boyfriend. And apparently a calligraphist, because I cannot figure out how to make a “Z.” Is it just like a squiggle?
- Fuck, the class is almost over, and I have no idea what type of test this is.
- What if it’s written response?
- I’ll just fucking drop out now. Seriously.
- Okay, I’ll just pop a mint and ask someone without a bitch face.
- Alright, you got this. She looks nice, and she can’t see the bad decisions you made last night. Except maybe on your neck.
- “Hey, do we need a Scantron for the test?”
- Wait, what? There’s no test next class? That doesn’t make sense. Why the fuck did I come?
- “How come my syllabus says we have a test next class?”
- What? Wrong class? What do you mean?
- WHAT DO YOU MEAN?
- So, I sat in the wrong class FOR AN HOUR right before a test after staying up until 3 a.m.?
- LIKE, I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO BRUSH MY TEETH. At all. Not with a bottle of Jack or Colgate.
- This is why I don’t have nice things.
- Or a boyfriend.
- Or a calligraphist.
- I’m never drinking again.
- Today.
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