Ten Ways to Ruin a Weekend Productively

A weekend without a list is just two days of increasingly expensive indecision. Here’s the one I recommend, from the archive.

Sleep with Courtney Love—she’s practically a landmark at this point, everyone has, go tick the box. While you’re at it, get yourself a free thong from American Apparel under a Japanese girl name, wear it the entire weekend without removal, then sell it at a premium to a corrupt Belarusian businessman who will not ask questions and frankly doesn’t need to. Swap your roommate’s sea salt with regular iodized salt and spend Sunday watching them have a quiet existential collapse about it. Three missions, zero consequences, deeply satisfying.

Download The World’s Not Bad by Smoosh and let it run on repeat until it starts to feel like a memory you don’t have yet. Commit for the rest of the weekend to only eating animals with more than five legs. You’ll discover this is accidentally a balanced diet, which tells you everything you need to know about how you normally eat.

Re-enact Cruel Intentions with whoever is available—your most inconvenient stepsister, preferably—complete with luscious intrigues, doomed virgins, and at least one scene where someone cries in a moving vehicle. Take the trash out. The rat family under the sink has been filing formal complaints and honestly their case is solid. Push on your belly until the fat migrates somewhere more useful. I can’t confirm this is anatomically possible but the experiment is worth running.

Go somewhere tonight with music loud enough to count as a medical event. Berlin had a room for this; every city does, if you look hard enough. Dance. Don’t be careful about it. Come home when it gets light.