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An Hour-by-Hour Breakdown Of A Day In The Life of Father Jenkins

Everybody wants to know how the other half lives. What’s Brad Pitt’s favorite late-night snack? Does Christina Aguilera like to waterski? Does Tom Cruise really eat babies to stay eternally youthful? However, these are small-fry questions. We at The Black Sheep want to step it up a notch, and take a look at the richest, most powerful, and most handsome man in America: Father Jenkins. In a stunning turn of events, The Black Sheep has successfully recovered/stolen Father Jenkins’ personal daily itinerary within his journal. Check it out:

4:43 a.m.
I awake in a cold sweat. The dreams have returned. I’m wearing a diaper and resting in a small pool. Suddenly, the ghost of Father Hesburgh appears, taunting me. He keeps asking: “Have YOU ever ridden in an SR-71 Blackbird?” I wake up screaming. Maybe I’ll name another building after myself. That’ll show him.

5:00-6:00 a.m.
Stare at a blank wall. I sit in the predawn light of my simple, gold-plated room. Why do students keep calling me “Daddy”? I’m not their father.

6:00 a.m.
Breakfast. The high point of my day. Breakfast is half of a Cracklin’ Oat and a dollop of sour cream. Delicious.

6:00-9:00 a.m.
Asset Management: I travel to Hesburgh Library. I’ve had a Scrooge-McDuck-Gold Coin Room installed 70 feet beneath the basement. I try to swim in gold coins at least three hours every day. However, I still feel empty. I rename Hesburgh Library “Jenkin’s Cool-Time-Fun-Zone.” That makes me feel a little better.

9:00–12:00 a.m.
Fundraising: A Hedge Fund Manager from New York has donated less money than last year. Erin-Hoffman Harding shakes him upside down, while I grab his wallet when it falls out. Another fundraising victory for Notre Dame. We give him a skybox for his trouble.

12:00 a.m.
For lunch I eat a single raw Robin’s Egg. I bought it from a Robin with a gambling addiction. The bird tears make it taste especially scrumptious.

12:00-3:00 p.m.
Meeting with the Lizard People. They prefer to be called the Board of Trustees, but Po-tay-to Po-ta-toe. This is a low point of my day. They keep saying“I don’t like walking far to football games, can we bulldoze Hesburgh Library to make a parking garage?” and “Whenever I’m on campus twice a year, I keep seeing a lot of gross students walking around. Do we even need them?” To prove I am not jealous of Father Ted, I answer “no” to the first question, but I hesitate on the second. I will make note of this proposition so that I can consider it further.

3:00-3:09 p.m.
Office Hours. I take it back, this is the low point of my day. Half the students just take pictures of me and leave, talking about the “Meme Page” or something. The other half keep asking me to “divest from fossil fuels” and “make up my mind on birth control”. What does that even mean?!  At least the office hours have my name on them.

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3:10-6:00 p.m.
Workin’ out. In the words of Fergie, “I be up in the gym, just workin’ on my fitness.” I’m not seeing results though. I’m hitting the stress ball every day, but my grip just won’t tighten up. I’ll never get any babes with this weak of a handshake.

6:00-7:00 p.m.
For my dinner tonight, I eat an endangered Siberian Sturgeon. Sure, this fish costs about a million dollars, and it’s tough to wrestle it into the oven, but the taste is sooo worth it. I still feel a strange emptiness. I name the fish “The Jenkin’s Memorial Sturgeon.” But it doesn’t work this time. I make eye contact with the fish. I wish I was a sturgeon, wild and beautiful.

7:00-10:00 p.m.
R n’ R. The university requires that I watch three hours of Notre Dame football every day. I am an intellectual.

10:00 p.m.:
Bedtime! The best part of the day, amirite ladies?! I congratulate myself for making a relatable joke and rest fitfully, wondering all night if I will ever be enough.

 

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