How to Waste a Friday Properly

Rebecca Black didn’t invent Friday, but in 2011 she gave it an anthem, and whatever you think of the song, she wasn’t wrong about the feeling: school out, work out, brain out. The next forty-eight hours belong to everything a reasonable god would probably prohibit.

So here’s the plan. Write down all your brilliant ideas for a new social network, then rip the paper into pieces and flush it down the toilet—the world has enough of those. Pull up a list of the ten hardest Zelda dungeons ever designed and see how far you get before throwing the controller. Stuff yourself with pizza, guilt-free, because the US Congress once officially classified it as a vegetable, a decision that tells you everything you need to know about American nutritional policy. Give yourself a Tim Burton double feature, or a single, or the whole filmography—it’s Friday, no one’s counting.

Name your firstborn Dovahkiin. Bethesda once ran a promotion offering lifetime free games to any parent who actually did this, which is either the greatest or most irresponsible long-term parenting strategy imaginable. Print out photos of Cintia Dicker from her Brazilian GQ shoot and see where the afternoon takes you. Get a pet—cat, dog, fish, species irrelevant—and name it Snuggles. Non-negotiable. Post something online that you immediately, viscerally regret. And finally, earn your membership in the extremely niche fellowship of people who’ve had sex on a bridge. Just do it quietly enough that you don’t turn up in a tabloid under a headline that makes the whole thing sound considerably more tragic than it was.

Happy Friday.