When you go to get a breakfast burrito before work

and you’re pretty sure you’re still drunk, and you are on the struggle bus, so all of the Mexican “Latino” line cooks are laughing at you because you can’t figure out the ketchup situation and you’re drinking a carton of chocolate milk through a straw like a 5-yr old who has her shit less together than your average 5-yr old, and one of them asks you how it’s going and you just say, “UGHHHHHHHHH. Friday. Pray for me.”