A Day in the Life of DeMarcus Cousins

7:30 AM: Alarm goes off

7:30 AM: Hit snooze button

7:40 AM: Hit snooze button

7:50 AM: Hit snooze button

8:00 AM: Wake up

8:10 AM: Breakfast – egg whites, turkey bacon, water

8:15 AM: Bless up

8:30 AM: Shower, dress, head to Sleep Train Arena

9:15 AM: Park in personal parking space with sign reading “UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLES WILL BE FLIPPED OVER BY BOOGIE PERSONALLY”

9:20 AM: Take the long way to the practice court that avoids Coach Karl’s office

9:30 AM: Start getting shots up, threes first

9:45 AM: Make 32 of 100; make mental note to tell coach you made 52

10:00 AM: Set up dummy to practice post moves against

10:10 AM: Yell at dummy for not giving enough effort

10:15 AM: Begin to yell at referee because the dummy clearly fouled you before realizing you’re alone

10:20 AM: Free throws, you’ve earned them after getting hammered down there

10:28 AM: Rajon Rondo arrives at the court

10:30 AM: Time to leave

10:45 AM: Cold tub

11:00 AM: Realize cold tub is a metaphor for life; why are you always surrounded by cold?

11:15 AM: Freak out; jump in hot tub to overcompensate

11:30 AM: Relax finally; head for home

12:00 PM: Lunch – two seperate 2 for $20 meals from Applebees To Go

12:30 PM: Hour-long Game of War session on your phone, not looking up once

1:30 PM: Nap under a blanket made of the jerseys of everyone you’ve dunked on

3:00 PM: Awoken by four pitbulls you forgot you owned until this exact moment

3:15 PM: Put kiddie pool in the kitchen and fill with dog food; tell pitbulls how much you love them

3:20 PM: Leave for the arena

3:25 PM: You forgot your lucky headband

3:30 PM: Leave for the arena again

4:00 PM: Go through all pregame activities, a process you’ve repeatedly dubbed “unnecessary bull****”

5:00 PM: Pregame meal – traditional Sacramento energy boost of two handfuls each of almonds and raisins along with “BoogieJuice,” the recipe to which you refuse to share

6:00 PM: Scroll through Twitter @ replies, slowly shaking head and muttering to yourself; no one comes within 15 feet of you

7:00 PM: Basketball game – a blur of buckets, rebounds, swinging limbs, and anger; Kings lose

10:00 PM: Speak to media; resist urge to call them “punk-ass nerds” for 1,900th day in a row

11:00 PM: Arrive home

11:01 PM: Open the ESPN Trade Machine and start clicking around with the force that has already broken seven computer mice

11:31 PM: Make that eight

11:45 PM: Lights out

12:00 PM: Where the hell are all these dogs and why are they barking?

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