Inline with my lifetime dream to blog about extremely pressing matters around the world and touch the souls of millions of people with my written words, I bring you a topic of discussion which I am very passionate about: my bed. Or rather, how to get out of it.
Get into my bed. Yes, this is an open invitation for you, Benedict Cumberbatch.
I do not have a step 2 because if I was in bed with BCumberbomb you know what we’d be doing…eating ice cream and watching reruns of Sherlock.
Set about seventy-five alarms. Sleep. (Do these consider as two points or one?)
Wake up. (A very important, yet often overlooked, point.) Hit the snooze button for about seventy-four times.
When your snooze button has become tired of your shit and your brain starts telling you to ‘Wake up and get to work or you’ll have to work as a prostitute to pay for your internet’ in a strange British accent, open your eyes.
Lie on the bed and contemplate the meaning of life. One of these days, you’ll achieve Nirvana from all your beditations. You’ll know it when you start having thoughts like ‘Sleeping is just like death, except without the long term commitment.’
Revel in your zen.
(I seemed to have lost Benedict somewhere along one of these steps and I am too lazy to bring him back so let us pretend that he snuck out after our mind blowingly hot and kinky sessions of Sherlock reruns.)
You’d probably say, Ugh, I hate my life. I don’t want to wake up.
Then you’d probably look at your watch and swear horribly because you know you’re late for work. It will make you scramble out of bed, slide into the bathroom in a flurried mess, shower in less than five minutes (you can wash the dirtier bits during the weekends) and you’ll be out of the house in ten. TA-DA!
…yeah this is probably why I’m single. Oh well. I’ve got enough money in my bank to buy ten million cats.
(the above sentence is a lie. About me having enough money, I mean. I’m extremely single.) Alright, goodbye.