You know those times when your friends text you to come out and drink some beers but you're basically already elbow deep in Netflix and chill eat the fridge? And you think to yourself, nah, I don't want to put pants on tonight. I'm going to sit here and wallow in my own filth and hope for the best.
After you wake up in a pool of pillow drool in the morning, you log onto Facebook the next day and see what a great time those bastard friends of yours had and feel like a total putz. And with every click through the Facebook images your rage grows and grows, and builds and builds inside, until you slam the laptop shut in a fit of self-loathing and envy.