Being Al Bundy from the 90s sitcom Married with Children, my life is filled with misery, sarcasm, and deadpan humor. Here's an average day:
Wake up in the shithole of a bedroom at our shitty house on Franklin Street, Marcy Heights, Chicago. My wife Pearl drags herself out of bed, cursing at me for snoring or some other bullshit reason. We both head to the kitchen, where we start arguing about who's going to make breakfast. I usually win by threatening to eat cold cereal or just not eating at all, so she takes over.
While Pearl slaves away in the kitchen, I flip through the channels on our old-ass TV, complaining about how there's nothing good on and how the remote control is broken. Eventually, I land on some game show, where I mock the contestants for being dumb fucks and call out their answers before they even have a chance to say them.
Breakfast is served - most likely cold cereal or burnt toast - and we all sit down to eat with our youngest kid Kelly, who's in high school now. She barely speaks a word to us, which is fine by me because I hate talking to women who aren't hot. Our other kid, Bud, has already skipped out on breakfast and left for work or some bullshit.
After breakfast, we all go our separate ways - Pearl goes to her job at the bra factory, Kelly heads to school, and I head to work at the shoe store, Footsbys. My coworkers are a bunch of retards who can't tie their own shoes, so I spend most of my time complaining about how shitty everything is and fantasizing about being rich and famous instead of selling sneakers for minimum wage.
At lunch, I head to the bar with some of my coworkers - Al, Fat Bob, and Steve - where we drink cheap beer, talk shit about women and our miserable lives, and play darts. After work, I drag myself home, trying not to think about how much better life would be if I had a different wife or didn't have to work at all.
At home, Pearl has dinner waiting for me - usually something cold or reheated from a can - and we eat in silence while watching some shitty sitcom rerun on TV. After dinner, we watch more TV together until it's time for bed, where we argue about who gets the cool side of the bed before finally passing out in our separate misery.
This is pretty much how every day goes - a never-ending cycle of shit jobs, shitty wives, and even shittier food. But that's what being Al Bundy is all about.
