A Weekend’s Worth of Bad Decisions

Two days of total freedom and you’re already at a loss. Fine. Start with Matt Harding—the guy who spent years dancing badly in front of every landmark on earth—watch his latest video and then make your own. Something personal. Quoting Bieber upside down in every Starbucks bathroom. Naked, licking walls in train underpasses. Playing Super Mario Land on a Game Boy while sitting on someone. The concept is flexible.

From there: choose a film, go to the cinema, put earplugs in, close your eyes for the entire runtime, and do not touch the popcorn. Afterward, spend the rest of the afternoon sniffing everything you encounter. Strangers, furniture, dogs—especially dogs. Follow your nose with total commitment and zero shame.

You could watch Octomom’s porn. It came out. It is, by all accounts, genuinely strange in ways that resist description. I have to advise against it. Strongly. With the full weight of personal conviction. Let it exist out there without you. Seriously. No.

Cut out the friends who aren’t friends. You know exactly who—the ones who consistently end up with your money, your potential sex partners, or your best Pokémon cards before you’ve noticed what happened. They’ve had long enough. Saturday is as good a day as any to clean house.

Look at the Kate Upton GQ GIFs circulating online without touching yourself. I know. I know it isn’t possible. That’s precisely what makes it a mission.

Then read old fairy tales to sick children and play Connect Four with them. This is the one genuinely redemptive act available to you—the only credible insurance policy against going directly to hell after everything else you’ve done and will do. The drugs, the lies, the orgies. Connect Four won’t erase any of it, but it’s something.

Have sex. Then, immediately after, have sex again. With someone else.