Wake up. Possibly to an alarm clock, or maybe you're one of those assholes who can just get up when you need to via some sort of natural ability inherited from the Swiss. Get out of bed. Possibly slipping on, well, slippers, if you're one of those poor saps living in a cheap studio apartment with no carpet because every fucking other place is too god damned expensive on your meager salary, if you even get a salary. Maybe you're like me and work "project-based," which is just a fancy-pants wannabe-artist's way of saying you're unemployed most of the time. Head to the bathroom. Piss. Take a dump. Hopefully you wipe your ass. This is excused if you plan on immediately hopping in the shower, but even then, do you really want shit smeared on your washcloth? Sure, it'll wash right off, but the thought is rather disconcerting. I mean, unless you're a yuppy with a separate cloth for your face, that thing is going to be touching your eyes, nose, and mouth. Shower. Dry off. Get dressed. Go to the kitchen and get some food. Perhaps you're either lucky or smart and have the ingredients for a balanced breakfast, in which case you're a pompous hack. The rest of us will have a bowl of Cheerios, thank you very much. Throw the dishes in the sink, exit the house or dumpster, head to the car. If you're a moron, your car is more valuable than your home. If you're really a moron, the stereo and the hubcaps are more valuable than the car. Drive to work, doing your best to maintain your cool in the face of bad and/or angry drivers. Unless you're a bad and/or an angry driver, in which case you relish your morning commute of making everybody else even more miserable than they already are. Park. Walk into work wearing a fake smile, noticing your opposite-sex coworkers whom you don't think are particularly attractive but want to fuck anyway. Count the seconds to lunch. Eat, or don't, depending on your budget and/or the fiscal value of any significant other willing to bring you food or take you out. Go back to work. Count the seconds to closing time. Closing time is where the hourly employees have a leg up on the overpaid salaried employees. They get to leave regardless. Drive home through more shitty traffic. Maybe stop by a convenience store or a poisonous fast-food joint to pick up dinner. Get home. Frown at your crappy car and unfulfilling lifestyle. Eat the crap you bought. Watch TV. Hopefully it's a night with something good on. If you have pets, neglect them, but pretend to make up for it by letting them sleep in the bedroom, which is also your living room. Pass the fuck out.
Wake up. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Masturbate.
Have a nice day.