What the hell is that noise?
Is the damn world ending? Yes.
Wait. Shit, what time is it?
What YEAR is it?
Phone, phone, where’s my phone?
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.
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.
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…?
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.
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.
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