Any Day of the Week

Wake up at 345am. Gag on my toothbrush as I feel the remnants of tussi drip down the back of my throat. Put a tie on today since I have to present on a video call to the field.

Arrive to the office promptly at 435am. I’m 5 minutes late my trader tells me. “Up much earlier than usual”. He’s aware I have to present today. He can tell how hungover I am and he’s enjoying twisting the knife. “Did you take any pictures last night?” I know what he’s asking. “No”. The girls weren’t hot enough to brag about.

Everyone loved telling me how great being done at 2pm was. I nearly fell asleep driving home. I pass out fully clothed on my couch. By the time I came to it was 830 and I had 22 text messages figuring out where to go. I met my Italian gf ████ at her place in WeHo to pregame. She never liked me very much and wouldn’t call me her boyfriend.

She made me drink this disgusting liqueur because it reminded of her home. Or him. Anywhere else than her kitchen with me. I didn’t care she was hot enough and knew all the promoters.

Head to some new restaurant that opened on a rooftop by 10pm. The proprietor was stupid though to think paying this shitdick promoter 10k/night to bring insta girls there to eat chicken tenders and slurp tequila out of the bottle would make his place successful. It folded 4 months after this night.

Head to Off. She tells me in the Uber Black XL that I might have a hard time with the list and try not to fight with ███████ again.

I get in fine and some TikToker immediately starts hitting on her which she doesn’t even pretend to not entertain even momentarily. I head upstairs to the bathroom to fill my nose. Some guy in there said he loves my shirt. “Thanks i thrifted it” (no I didn’t). He wants a bump. Take the whole fucking bag I’m about to have a heart attack. I clear the sinuses with a key of tussi.

I go back downstairs. Girls gone somewhere. She texted me an address. I can’t even fucking see I take some sunglasses off some guys shirt and put them on. He doesn’t give a shit.

I pick up a bottle and start pouring it down some college girls throats. A bit too much one of them spits on me and tells me I’m an asshole. I can’t feel any part of my body.

I hate the DJ at Off, no one’s gonna dance anyway at least do something interesting.

I head out the backdoor. I put the address in my phone it’s 36 minutes away in the early parts of the hills. What else am I gonna do.

Show up and people are fighting at the door. Of course. I squeeze in last while some guy asks me who I know there. “No one”.

Find my girl in some room on the second floor sniffing coke with three guys. These are her “best friends I have to meet them”. Great. She wants to leave. I’ve been there 5 minutes. Or 50. It wouldn’t matter.

She suggests Overpass. I tell her I’ll drop her off there. But as we’re pulling up two of my friends tell me they’re there. Perfect.

I go inside and hand them the bag of coke they really texted me for. I look at a watch. It’s 415. I get an uber to my office.

I arrive at 435. 5 minutes late my trader tells me. I show him a pic of some girls tits and put my head down on my desk to sleep.