It's Nothing To Stunt: A Day In The Life Of Bauce Sauce

Image via Complex Original

Stay Woke Up

Sit up swiftly in your bed like The Undertaker when you hear your alert (which is Soulja Boy's "Zan With That Lean" bee tee dubs). This isn't an alarm to wake you up because you Stay Woke. You have taught yourself how to shut off half your brain like sharks and dolphins so that you are never fully unconscious, but get the rest our weak ass bonebag bodies require. Obviously, the only time that is holy enough to start your day on is 4:20am (the sex number). At this point, your mission for the day is second nature, but it's nice to remind yourself what is most important and what you must do first: Get off some Fire Tweets™.

Fuccboi Alternative: Set an alarm for two hours before you need to be at work and keep hitting the snooze button until you hop out of bed at the last possible minute.

The snooze button is like The Sandman's prostate. The more you hit it, the more powerful a sand boner he gets. Hit it enough times and he is going to stick that grainy girthstick right in your ear, which will cause you to not only not see Universal Truths, but also oversleep and get fired which is swagless because you'll be a poor.

Breakfast In Bed

Skip the de facto breakfast options (eggs, bacon, oatmeal, cereal, etc.) and do it big with some baby back ribs. Notice how I'm eating saucy, succulent rib meat on the all white, 1,000,000 thread count sheets. I'll wipe my sauce-covered fingers on them and throw them out like napkins because I don't give a shit about fiscal responsibility. Shouts out to my swagless accountant who keeps attempting to remind me about my massive debt. LMAO.

P.S. Chill out with the bacon deification. Bacon is good, but not infallible. You sound like a basic bitchboy every time you OD praise it. Liking anything besides yourself that much is weak.

Fuccboi Alternative: Hard boil some eggs or suck down a fruity shake. LOL. My god, remember that you are a man and that if you don't eat 10 pounds of meat each week your dick will get smaller. Don't argue with me, argue with science. Enjoy your ever-shrinking ding-a-ling, bro.

Arrive at Work

Fill your 52oz., illegal east of the Mississippi (Thanks, Obama!), quite trill, QuikTrip mini-BevKeg with Monster Energy. Chug it in under 30 seconds and see God. Once you meet God, she will bestow upon you the greatest gift: more Fire Tweets™. That Colton Burpo kid turned his given-from-God Fire Tweets™ into a damn movie!

If you are really real, when you are floating on another astral plane and in the presence of Jesus tell him this joke: "Jesus, you walk into a beauty spa. Person at the counter says, 'Mr. Christ, how may I help you?' Then you say, 'I need to get a manicure. I have a helluva hangnail.'" Ayyyy LMAO

Fuccboi Alternative: Post up in the kitchen asking co-workers about their lives because you actually care about them as human beings. BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Lunch

Shimmy on down to Subway and cop two footlongs. The price doesn't matter because you are so guapped up you don't even care if somehow up on the menu it says your sub is $6, but when you go to pay it's now magically $8.75. Who gives a shit. It's nothing to stunt.

Fuccboi Alternative: Heat up a Beef Chow Fun Lean Cuisine and eat alone in your cubicle checking to see if your test-run suicide note got any Tumblr notes. Spoiler Alert: It got one.

Post-Lunch

Go to the highest accessible point in your city and throw those Subway sandwiches off the roof into a dumpster. You didn't think you were going to eat those mediocre as fuck lumps of swagvoid did you? C'mon, fam, you only bought them in hopes of making Subway run out of sandwiches to serve earlier, which would spare two pathetic souls the misery of eating a mound of yeast with questionable meat. This is your one good deed for the day.

Fuccboi Alternative: Actually eat Subway for lunch.

Actual Lunch

Get money gut, motherfuck a diet. Eat more ribs for lunch. Wait until your co-workers congregate to get their lunches out of the kitchen then occupy the microwave for 10 minutes while you heat up your extravagant lunch. They'll have to stand there with their little PBJs and Hot Pockets and ponder where their life went wrong. LOL. Here's a hint, you goddamn struglords: It was at birth.

Fuccboi Alternative: Count your calories on MyFitnessPal.

Get Haircut

Get a haircut every day. You'll stay fresh as hell, but also it's a great way to waste money. Stunting, after all, is nothing more than being stupid with your money.

Fuccboi Alternative: Admire your neckbeard in the mirror after you go pee-pee in the bathroom without washing your hands.

General Flexing

At this point in the day, your swaglord levels should be pulsating. Dopeness secretes from your body in the form of pheromones. Your mere presence is a flex. I happened to visit this Pepsi machine and without even putting in any money, it spit out a Coca-Cola that said "Share a Coke with a Legend." I was honored.

Fuccboi Alternative: Brainstorm how to change your identity because your boss accidentally walked in on you in the dookie stall and saw you not reading Four Pins.

Drink Rapper Alcoholic Beverages

I’m faded off the Nicki Minaj Myx Fusions right now, my lords. I have two more to drink before I pop the Luc Belaire Rare Rosé and get rowdy in my wife's pussy in my pool. LMAO. I just casually dropped the fact I have a pool in my backyard, but also that I am a married man who still has sex. Very rare. Hashtag flex. Rapper-branded drinks have hella mark-up because they can. Again, stunting is about appearances and irrational decisions. Belaire isn't even really that good for $30, but I'm going to buy it because Rick Ross has it in his music videos and the bottle matches my all-black alphet with the pink laces. I just finished the Belaire, time to dip into my Conjure stash.

Fuccboi Alternative: Sip on a Bud Light Lime-a-Rita while paying your utility bills on time.

Dinner In Bed

Do you finally understand? Eat nothing but ribs for every meal. My doctors told me I'm mad vitamin-deficient, but I don't give a fuck about them. They wear scrubs and gotta put their fingers in strangers' buttholes for like 69% (the weed number) of their day. So fucking swagless. LOL. Wow, like I am gonna listen to someone who keeps a couple knuckles in a sphincter for half the day? LMAO. Fam. Ayyyyyyy LMAO. Real talk though, ribs are delicious. It's important to note every pillow case and sheet and down blanket is a replacement from the breakfast picture because I tossed all those out because I used them as napkins just like I said I would.

Fuccboi Alternative: Slurp down some lukewarm soup.

Late Night Reading

If you want to become the alphet gawd you know you can be or send the most volcanic magma Fire Tweets™ you know you are capable of, then you have to read this book every night before you go to sleep. This book is the primordial ooze of Four Pins. I have picked up four Sister Wives since reading this, and I'm only 10 pages in!!!!! Lawrence is forever the fashion guru, the swag deity, the sartorial czar. The rhetoric will pervade your psyche, slowly molding your brain, until you are one with the alphet. Let the #KnowledgeDarts consume your being. Allow your brain to process the staggering truth and beauty contained within these pages. You'll not only be a better person, but you'll also create more Fire Tweets™, which, after all, is the only thing that matters in this world. #SponsoredContent.

Fuccboi Alternative: Search for your name on Twitter and get emotional over all the possible subtweets.