What to Do When Jesus Has You Under House Arrest
Several German states still ban public dancing on Good Friday. Not metaphorically—actual legislation, still enforced, on the logic that moving your body to music is disrespectful to a man who died two thousand years ago. Which is why you’re back at your parents’ place, the weekend stretching out like a sentence, your little sister doing something irritating in the next room, all of this in honor of a dead man and a very busy rabbit. Here’s what you do with it.
Find some footage of Lana Del Rey dancing and give it your full attention. She moves like someone doing their absolute best while recently receiving very bad news. It’s instructive. Then, if you have a deadline you’ve been avoiding—a paper, a project, something you swore you’d start two weeks ago—spend fifteen minutes reading about procrastination strategies instead of working on the thing itself. Experience the irony fully. Do nothing.
Find photos of someone you’ve been meaning to jerk off to and discover that intention and execution are not the same thing. Sounds simple. Isn’t.
Give all your friends new nicknames. Something hard and wrong. "Pole Splitter." "Instant Soup Inhaler." Something they’ll have to explain at awkward moments. Use the names in every context—work, family dinners, Starbucks. No exceptions, no mercy. Then buy a GPS tracker, attach it to whichever neighborhood cat will sit still long enough, and follow the animal for the entire weekend. Document everything. You will learn things about your own street that you cannot unlearn.
Go through the old "Texts from Hillary Clinton" Tumblr—someone was imagining what she typed on her phone during diplomatic summits in 2012, and the results were funnier than they deserved to be. Then call someone you haven’t spoken to in ten years. Fill them in on your problems in elaborate, unnecessary detail. At the end of the call, ask calmly whether they have any drugs, spare cash, or interest in sleeping with you. Thank them warmly regardless and hang up.
Finally: pink bunny costume. Wear it until Christmas, no exceptions. When small children give you that look—the one that says something is very wrong but they can’t place it—throw a hard-boiled egg at them. You’ve been waiting your whole life for a legitimate excuse. Easter gives it to you.