9:45 AM: He wakes up, rolls over, and checks the time. He really should get up so he can get an early jump on job applications. On the other hand, some more sleep sounds really nice...

11:37 AM: Zzzzzzzzzz....

12:59 PM: Time to get up. He would get started on those applications right away, but he is starving, so a quick Mickey D's run is in order first.

1:47 PM: He checks the mail, only to find yet another "I regret to inform you" (Read: Go screw yourself; people more talented than you also applied for this job) letters from one of the jobs he has applied for.

1:48 - 2:37 PM: Nearly an hour solid of self-loathing, consisting of: wondering why he isn't good enough for any damned jobs, cursing his choice of such a generic major, considering becoming a crab fisherman or ice road truck driver, etc.

2:38 PM: Forgets all of his current problems once he realizes Steve Wilkos is on.

2:52 PM: "GET OFF MY STAGE!!!!!!!"                                         

3:35 PM: Naptime.

4:47 PM: Time to finally think about some self-grooming.  Contacts instead of glasses? Yes. Shower? Maybe. Shave? Absolutely not.

6:01 PM: He calls that girl he drunkenly met a week ago to see if she wants to hang out sometime soon. No answer. No worries though. He has tried calling her a couple times in the last couple of days with no luck. She's obviously just been busy. He just leaves a witty voicemail so that she can call him back and work something out. They hit it off really well that night. I mean, she said he should call her, right? Right?

6:45 PM: No callback yet. No big.

7:38 PM: Still no word from her.

8:04 PM: NOT EVEN A TEXT?!?!?!?!

8:57 PM: After swearing off all women forever, it is time for him to dive into an intense and potentially friendship-ending game of Tiger Woods golf on the 360.

10:32 PM: 18 holes, 8 beers, half a bag of pretzels and one sweet victory later, he realizes he still hasn't searched for or applied for a single job all day. He can do that now, of watch Super Troopers for the seventy-seventh time.

10:53 PM: "You ARE freaking out, mannnnnnnnn."

12:17 AM: Finally time to get down to business. "Get down to business" meaning quickly and half-drunkenly slapping together an application for a job he isn't really qualified for and doesn't really want.

1:57 AM: After some late night TV watching, it is time to hit the sack. He makes sure to set his alarm for 9:00 AM, because tomorrow is definitely going to be a productive day.

Early Rounds
The guys who end up with Adrian Peterson and Drew Brees are as happy as pigs in sh*t, while those who have to talk themselves into Frank Gore in the first round have already begun writing off their season in their heads. All of the studs get snapped up in mostly logical order. However, there are always hilarious exceptions, like Joseph Addai going in the first round. Don't you realize he is injury prone AND splitting carries? It's not 2006 anymore.