Laziness Takes Work:

Greetings, fellow listless lumps, and listless lump wanna-be. Today we’ll explore a few tips and tactics to have a gloriously unproductive day. Like, beyond your wildest dreams unproductive. Like, your family will check your pulse unproductive. A tall order, but with a little practice, you too can contort on the couch all day, clutching the clicker like a lover.

The bad news

I’m just gonna be upfront because there’s no easy way to say this. Listless lumping requires a bit of pre-planning to be truly epic. I know, I know, that’s doing stuff(augh), but we’re playing the long game here.

We will accept nothing less than a complete couch-lock.

You don’t wanna have to move your listless, lumpy ass because you forgot your coffee, the blunt, or your blankie. Gather your supplies, people. Place everything within arm’s length, or invest in one of those kick-ass reaching poles. Keep in mind that’s next-level lazy, so novices should ease into the use of artificial grabbing devices gradually.

No one wants to move mid-lump. It goes against everything lumping stands for. So save your future self some misery and do a wee bit of prep. Look at it as an investment in laziness. Then you and the couch cushions can be as one again.

And, very important

*** MAKE SURE YOU PEE FIRST***

I cannot stress this enough.

Do a final check of your listless lump supplies. A beverage, the remote, your comfy pillow, and a small buffet on the coffee table. Any smoking materials you may be partaking of *wink, wink* and for the love of fuck, don't forget the lighter. Forgetting the lighter is a rookie mistake.

If god forbid, you forget your phone, you’re just hopeless, then, and can’t hang. By now, our fucking phones are basically extensions of our hands, so there’s no excuse to forget them.

Whoa, wait — JACKPOT!

OMFG, yas! A weekend-long marathon of Sex and the City on E! is starting right now! You know you’re all in, even though it makes you feel icky and sad and ashamed.

*** PEE ONE LAST TIME, TAKE NO CHANCES ***

Trust me on this.

Pause a minute to stand back and appreciate your listless lump habitat. Take it all in. This is a moment to savor, as you stand there in your comfiest sweats and fuzziest socks, ready to curl up in a ball.

And now, it is time.

Stretch yourself on the couch like Julius Caesar on his divan. Or Cleopatra on hers. Pretend “Lethal Weapon” era Mel Gibson is fanning you with palm fronds and feeding you peeled grapes. Le pant.

Of course, YMMV, so feels free to substitute Mel with your personal ideal of perfection if you must. Weirdo.

Anyway, this is your time to shine. With your phone in one hand and the remote in the other like a ball and scepter, you are the supreme ruler of your tiny universe. Revel in your sloth. You’re committing one of the seven deadly sins without leaving your couch. so wipe a joyful tear from your eye and grab the Funyuns.

Couch-lock achieved. Celebrate your accomplishment.

Until the kid, the dog, or the cat pukes on the rug. And one of them will. I think it’s a law. You are comfy and content and that simply ain’t gonna fly. Someone’s gonna puke on the rug.

Then it’s welcome back to Planet Fukdisshit. Until next time.

Whatever. You needed to pee anyway.