Susie O’Brien: Mark Wahlberg and I have extremely different schedules
MARK Wahlberg’s daily routine is nothing like mine. Games of golf? 90-minute showers? No way. Here’s my day, writes Susie O’Brien.
Susie O'Brien
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MARK Wahlberg’s daily routine is nothing like mine. Games of golf? 90-minute showers? No way. Here’s my day.
7.30am: Wake up hungover after hitting the snooze button 145 times.
8.00am: Morning prayers. This involves checking my work emails, praying nothing much is happening at work so I can go back to sleep for a bit longer.
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9.15am: Breakfast. After giving milk the sniff test, it’s black coffee.
9.30am: Post-breakfast social media workout session.
Check Facebook to see what nice things people are saying about me.
Check Twitter to see what nasty things people are saying about me.
Check Instagram to see what parties I haven’t been invited to. Marvel at the willingness of new mothers to post nude post-partum selfies when their baby is a few weeks old. #showoffs #inspire #throwup
10am: Post Breakfast Breakfast. More black coffee. Skip the whipped avocado and feta on toast so I can afford to buy a house in 2072.
10.30am: Work. It’s a place I have to go to earn money so that my children have brand-name clothes and mobile phones with unlimited data. Some weeks they pay me more money than I spend, but not often.
12.30pm: Cryochamber recovery. Also known as the lunch room at work.
1pm: Lunch consisting of a depressing little container of leftovers which make the office smell like boiled armpits.
1.30pm: Family time/work calls/meetings. Spend two hours in meetings with other people from work so people think we’re busy and important even though the only people we can find to meet with are each other.
3.30pm: Pick-up at the kids’ school, where 255 other women with fake blonde hair and black puffer jackets are doing exactly the same thing as me, only in fancier cars.
4pm: Buy kids Maccas at the drive-through and eat all their chips when they’re not looking while writing column about the evils of McDonald’s sponsorship of kids’ sport.
5pm: Drink o’clock. Consume my body weight in bloody Marys, reasoning that at least it’s got fruit and veg.
5.30pm: Dinner/ family time. Force the kids to have some face time with me although their idea of fun is FaceTime or Fortnite rather than actual face time.
7.30pm: Binge-watch reality TV shows and fall into booze-induced coma on the couch dreaming about the Badgelor’s pecs.
11pm: Bed. Sleep. Snore. Repeat.