HERE, MY STATE -- I woke up this morning, like all mornings, on the couch in my parents’ basement with a hangover that could put Bacchus down for the day. I know I have a limited amount of time before work, only enough time to watch Failure to Launch twice in a row while crying into my favorite morning after breakfast: Instant FUCKING Ramen. So I roll off the futon I call home and army crawl my way to the kitchen: a microwave placed directly on top of a mini-fridge next to the toilet. The most efficient way to get Instant Ramen, ambrosia of the line cooks, to its final resting place. And guess what I see?! NO FUCKING RAMEN!!

So here I am, praying to the porcelain god to release me from this hangover and this nightmare that is being without my ‘men. And I know, in my heart of hearts, I know that one of those dick-less wonders I work with stole it. They must have thought this would be a great fucking prank to play on me. Sneak into my parents' house after I’m passed out drunk and eat what is rightfully mine, even if my parents do still pay for all my groceries. And the assholes didn’t even make it right! There’s broken noodles all over the floor and futon. There’s even some in my hair for christ’s sake. How big of a dumbass do you have to be to fuck up Instant Ramen. You literally just pour water in it and throw it in the microwave. And I will fight any pervert that tells me they heat up the water before pouring it in. Not all’s lost, I guess; at least they left me the chili spice packet. My adderall script ran out the other day.

      
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