Forty-Eight Hours of Excellent Decision-Making

The sun is currently removing my skin, which means it’s Friday and time to plan a weekend that’ll be difficult to explain afterward.

Diablo 3 drops next week and the only rational response is cryogenic suspension until the install completes. I’d also need a clone—someone has to show up at work—and I’m going to need the sun to go away for a few weeks. Anja Rubik appeared on my feed this morning looking like she hasn’t eaten since 2009, which is genuinely troubling, and someone should do something about that.

Here’s the plan: I’m buying a mouth spreader and wearing it for the full 48 hours. Whatever ends up in my mouth stays there or gets swallowed. No exceptions. I’m also licking everything I see—a lamp post, a car door, the coffee machine, the coffee machine again. The commitment is total and non-negotiable. And if something large nearby happens to not belong to me and is particularly flammable, I’m not ruling out what happens next.

Saturday night: I’ve been meaning to have sex with more than three people simultaneously since I was eleven. I didn’t have a complete grasp of the logistics at eleven. But the dream has survived into adulthood largely intact, and weekends were invented for a reason. I’ll also record a video message for any hypothetical future children—something honest and comprehensive, covering the worst things I’ve done and including directions to the porn I made at eighteen when I needed the money. Might as well set expectations early. Then I’ll smoke an apple. Then I’ll liberate two animals from a research lab, put them in small colorful costumes, and spend Sunday fighting crime.

I’ve earned this.