If your job doesn’t suck, you probably work somewhere where you’re allowed to listen to music at your desk. And if you’re like me, you listen to music as much as you can, and sometimes leave your headphones in without music when you decide you actually want to be productive, just so no one will bother you.
Just because you have a vagina, that doesn’t mean you can’t be a dude bro. No one will notice that you have boobs, let alone that you make an effort to wear different pants each day. Pants they don’t want to get into because you are already ensconced within their bro ranks.
You can spend it at a six hour brunch with your best friends drinking, eating, and trying your darndest to have your life resemble an episode of Sex and the City. Or you can lie in bed naked watching old episodes of Beverly Hills, 90210. Both are acceptable because Sundays are all about YOU, about reacquainting yourself with a quality of life you may have lost during the grueling work week.
Know for a fact that there are going to be at least four emails that will feel excruciatingly imminent and demanding an immediate reply, and so go to your email account and be surprised/ delighted/ horrified by the fact that there are 16 new emails, none of which are spam.
I begin urinating onto them. While doing this, I say “It’s time to rain on your parade.” I chuckle to myself about how this would appear to a third-party observer. I chuckle to myself about the fact that I am chuckling and urinating on some ants.
Gain a couple pounds. You have bags under your eyes, not because you’re tired, but because you’re miserable so your body is metaphorically showcasing how life has punched you in the face. You still haven’t made your first student loan payment.