10:00 a.m.: Wake up in a grog-induced haze. That woodwind ensemble that rented the restaurant out last night was WILD! Realize that you’re still wearing your helmet and that there’s a Dorito lodged in it.
10:03 a.m.: Carefully extract the Dorito and remove the helmet. Acknowledge that eating the Dorito is kind of gross, but do it anyway.
10:10 a.m.: Find your phone in the recesses of your sheets, open Instagram, and see that one of the clarinet-playing cuties from last night followed you. Score! Briefly wonder how she found you before getting distracted by her photos, one of which features her aggressively straddling her instrument. Follow her back immediately.
10:30 a.m.: Muster up the strength to get out of bed—but not to shower—because you have to work again tonight and that armor just locks in all of the juices, so why bother? Another Dorito falls out from an undetermined location. God, you really have to get your shit together.
10:45 a.m.: Stop at the bodega around the corner. Buy a bacon, egg, and cheese, plus a Vitamin Water for good measure.
10:55 a.m.: Suddenly remember that you have an audition for a body spray commercial at noon. Deeply regret not showering, but hope that the casting directors will dig the irony.
11:55 a.m.: Arrive at the audition and take a seat in the waiting room with 15 other stocky lumberjack types with perfectly-groomed beards, all of whom probably showered. Fuck.
12:00 p.m.: Locate the crumpled script in the bottom of your messenger bag. Wish you didn’t smell like a combination of Cool Ranch and B.O.
1:00 p.m.: Leave the audition. You’ve had better ones, but considering your sorry state, it could have been much worse. Anyway, is being known as “the bearded guy in the Axe commercial” really going to cement your status as a serious artiste? Doubtful.
1:05 p.m.: Drive to your buddy Rob’s house and play Fortnite, like you do every. single. Saturday.
3:00 p.m.: A 15-YEAR-OLD JUST KILLED YOU AND NOW HE’S TAUNTING YOU. Today’s youth have no respect for their elders! So what if you called him a pansy-ass mama’s boy? Kids still say that, right?
4:00 p.m.: Return home, planning to catch up on Game of Thrones because it helps you get into character, but find your roommate parked on the couch—again—watching The Big Bang Theory. Stare at him disdainfully, wondering how the hell he has a girlfriend and you’re relegated to fantasizing about flutists and sliding into the DMs of Darcy, the hottest wench at work.
4:01 p.m.: Decide to take a nap. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
6:00 p.m.: Wake up and finally hop in the shower, in case Darcy is working tonight. Turns out you hadn’t seen the last of those Doritos!
6:30 p.m.: Drive to work and suit up. This outfit has to weigh at least 1,000 pounds and it’s at least 85 degrees in here. On the bright side, Darcy’s here! Damn, she is looking FINE in that corset tonight. If only she’d give you the time of day; she’s been ice cold since you sent her that sonnet a couple weeks ago in which you rhymed “exude” and “nude.” Chivalry is officially dead!
6:45 p.m.: Steal some garlic bread and a piece of roasted chicken from your favorite royal chef, Marco. Sometimes, you feel like he’s the only one who really understands you. He’s also the only one who lets you steal food.
7:00 p.m.: It’s showtiiiiime. After a lengthy internal debate, you decide that you’re going channel Heath Ledger in A Knight’s Tale (rest in peace). Not that those plebeians in the crowd know or care; they’re mostly rowdy teenagers on field trips who just want to gorge themselves on turkey legs like uncultured swine, chanting, “Fuck the Blue Knight!” and not giving a single thought to the intense creative process that informs your performance.
8:00 p.m.: This evening’s jousting match is in full swing, and the crowd is so electric that it’s scaring your horse, Napoleon! Maybe they’re picking up on the Heath vibes after all. It’s more than you can say for tonight’s nemesis, Brett, AKA The Green Knight. You’ve faced off with him so many times that it’s not even fun anymore, but he’s really got a lance up his ass.
8:10 p.m.: Try desperately to piece together your boozy memories from last night, searching for evidence that you offended him, while simultaneously entertaining the crowd with false machismo and keeping Napoleon under control. You really don’t get paid enough for this.
8:15 p.m.: The truth comes out as Brett trots by and leans toward you, aggressively whispering, “Stay away from my girl.” Of COURSE, he’s dating Darcy! How could you have been so blind?! No wonder she looked so smitten last night when he grabbed an acoustic guitar and joined the ensemble for a cover of “Wonderwall.”
9:00 p.m.: The joust is over, and Brett won, as usual. He always manages to distract you and make you feel inadequate, just like everyone else in your life!
9:30 p.m.: Hit the Wendy’s drive-thru on the way home. You’ve earned this JBC and Frosty, damn it.
9:45 p.m.: And these fries.
9:50 p.m.: And these nuggets.
10:00 p.m.: Open Instagram. Time to see what that clarinet player’s up to…