12:30PM Brunch. Arugula salad with walnuts, feta, and dried cranberries, toasted pita bread and edamame hummus, and an orange. A wine spritzer.
3:00PM Nap time. Shouldn’t have had that wine spritzer.
6:30PM “Damn, did I just sleep for three and a half hours? The fuck!? I need to stop havin’ those damn brunch spritzers. Peer pressure’s a motherfucker in this rap game, goddamn!”
7:30PM ”Ahh, this new bodywash got Drake smelling like a motherfucking champion. Goddamn I’m about to have me an after-shower spritzer and I dare a motherfucker to try to stop me.”
“We’ll Be Fine”
8:15 PM *Dances way to closet, opens sweater drawer*
9:00PM Sweaters are strewn about the floor, dangling from bed posts, and piled up in each corner of the room. A shredded mock-neck lies in the center of the marble bathroom floor, soaked in urine. Drake is curled up next to the toilet, crying.
9:45PM Drake begins his pre-club champagne power hour.
10:00PM Drake realizes his esophagus hurts. He grabs a glass of milk to ease the pain. DJ Khaled appears from Drake’s bathroom.
“How the fuck’d you get in here?”
Khaled slaps the milk out of Drake’s hand, slaps Drake in the mouth, hands Drake a fresh bottle of champagne, shouts “WE THE BEST!” and jumps out of a window.
“Why the fuck is he always doing that?”
10:10PM Drake shrugs, pops the bottle, and drinks as he pouts in the mirror.
10:15PM Turns pout into mean mug, drawing strength from sheer will-power and Degrassi acting experience. He heads to closet, picks out shoes. The right pair of shoes makes Drake’s cool face come out. Mean mug switches to cool face – that, “I’m about to dick you down, girl” face. Except there is no girl to dick down, not within reach.
10:25PM Drake sprays himself twice with custom cologne. His cologne was made at a high-end parfum boutique in Paris, where after days of testing, they discovered that he only liked two smells. His cologne is made of lemon juice and wine spritzer. 50/50.
Feeling like a goddamn warrior king, Drake decides it’s time to go out.