Dear Diary,

Today I discovered that my paycheck has the comedic timing of a drag queen’s death drop, shocking, painful, and somehow still met with applause. Payroll, my sworn nemesis, has once again left me staring at my bank app like it’s a bad hookup: “That’s it? After all that effort?”

Look, I don’t ask for much. Just a number that says “I can buy dinner without doing math first.” Instead, I got “you can treat yourself to an oat latte, but only if you bring your own milk.” Truly humbling.

And yet, despite being underpaid and over-caffeinated, I find solace in one thing: a good T-shirt. HungTee might not fix my financial trauma, but sliding into 100% cotton that fits better than my therapist’s advice? Priceless.

Take our Spreadsheet Daddy tee, for instance. It’s structured enough to survive office meltdowns, soft enough to nap in after them, and bold enough to say what your pay stub won’t: “I am worth more than this.” Payroll may choke, but in HungTee I look like I’m running the damn company.

So yes, my paycheck is an insult wrapped in direct deposit, but at least my closet is full of comebacks in cotton form. And if rent comes down to a choice between groceries or another HungTee? Let’s just say I’ll be looking sharp while stealing condiments from McDonald’s.

Love & overdraft fees,
Bruce ✍️