I know you have all been wondering, “What’s a day in the life of an Oakland Post satire writer like?” And while I can’t stop you from wishing you were me, I can help you with that quandary.

6:00 a.m. I wake up to Debbie Reynolds singing “Good Morning” and then tell my girlfriend that “Singing in the Rain” was a masterpiece of a musical that should be enjoyed in your daily life like prayer.

6:01 a.m. After getting punched in the face for singing as loud as I can, I get up to make some coffee. I consider it the most difficult part of my day because I spend nearly 15 minutes staring down at the K-Cup as I curse myself for considering such an environmentally horrifying piece of equipment.

6:18 a.m. You know, it’s really nice to have a Keurig. It’s so quick and easy. Now I can work on my homework.

12:00 p.m.  Alright, that’s enough Facebook. Time to actually start on homework.

6:00 p.m. I like to take ten minute breaks to do homework in between political arguments on Facebook. Slow and steady wins the race.

6:15 p.m. It’s usually around this time that I suddenly remember that I had three classes I was supposed to go to. So I always feverishly email my professors reminding them that my bone laryngitis hasn’t fully healed and that I’m still highly contagious.

6:30 p.m. I like to read. It helps me keep in shape for writing. This week I was reading “Le Mythe de Sisyphe” by Algerian/French-Existentialist Albert Camus. If you want to have a shoddy understanding of French existentialism along with a pompous attitude toward everything, you can take the short cut and just watch “Rick and Morty.” It’s easier, and you feel way smarter than you actually are.

7:30 p.m. This is where my day gets tricky. I got almost nothing done and I can’t think of any conceivable way to actually finish what I need to do.

9:30 p.m. Somehow, by the grace of God, I finished my homework and my Oakland Post work. There is a god and he’s probably taking effort away from ending world suffering to get me to finish my work every day.

9:31 p.m. I like to feel pretty smart for finishing my homework in as little as two hours, so I like to go to the bar on a Tuesday night and engage in public discourse with the proletarian masses. Google “Socratic Symposium” and you’ll see what I mean when I say the more drinks you have, the smarter you sound.

12:00 p.m. I’m good and Socratic at this point, so when I come home to my girlfriend, I always have to shake her awake to tell her something that I, the misunderstood genius, have pondered in inebriated inquiries. This is my favorite part of the day because it’s nice to lie next to her and just talk about anything.

6:00 a.m. I wake up in a daze, wondering why I can hear Debbie Reynolds screaming for me to wake up from two rooms over while I’m on my living room couch.