Not doing things has to be one of my all time favorite activities. It’s right up there with being better than other people and pretending to laugh at one of Dave Coulier’s “jokes.” So I figured, dear readers, I’d offer you a few diagrams to show how you, too, can get out of doing things that other people think matter even though they have nothing at all to do with changing the locks on Dave Coulier’s apartment then pretending to be a concerned friend when he starts crying. It’s all right, Dave. Why don’t you just tell me about that time you pretended to be Popeye and everyone in the world laughed? Oh that never happened? It’s okay. I don’t judge you.
I so judge him.
Anyhoodle, one of the best ways to get out of doing something is to lie flat on the floor. Okay, I’ll be honest. That’s the only way to get out of doing something, but it works for a number of scenarios. Take for instance when your family is starving and eating the dogs is apparently out of the question (can we say spoiled?):
Matt: Seriously, this again?
Me: What did you expect? You want me to put water in the pot and boil the pasta? What kind of gypsy science experiment are you trying to perform here?
Matt: I just want dinner.
Me: And I just want to take a floor nap and eat this Cheeto I just found two inches from my face but apparently we can’t always get what we want. And don’t even think of picking me up and taping me to your body and turning us into some sort of warped ventriloquist act so we can perform in front of the neighbors for loose change that we’ll use to buy a pizza. With extra pineapple.
Matt: I wasn’t at all thinking that.
Me: Yeah, no. Me neither.
Now if you think lying flat on the floor is only kosher within the privacy of your own home you’re probaby Dave Coulier. Here’s a tissue Dave and don’t worry, you were always better looking than Uncle Jesse. Snort. Anyways, you can also use this tactic at work and utilize it in a way where you’ll not only be championed for your creativity, but Claire from accounting will probably trip over you and break one of her precious fingernails. Serves her right for calling your Alf lunchbox “nostalgic.” She obviously meant “badass” but her accountant brain is hooked on stupid evil numbers. Lets all say a prayer for Claire that she forgets everything she’s ever known about math.
Boss: Oh, um Ericka? Are you okay?
Ericka: I’m doing very well, sir. How are you?
Boss: Can’t complain. I got a new Tweety bird tie.
Ericka: I imagine it looks absolutely stunning.
Boss: It does. It really really does. So, do you mind telling me what you’re doing on the floor?
Ericka: Well, in a steroid induced rage, Claire started yelling gypsy math at me and pushed me down on the ground. I figured I’d spend the rest of the day here on the carpet to remind everyone how harmful associating with numbers can be.
Boss: Hmmm…I like your style Ericka. Always coming up with the big ideas. If it weren’t for you I’d still have that obnoxious clock on my wall. You don’t happen to know the time do you?
Me: 3 a.m., sir.
Boss: Oh my. What’s that noise?
Me: Claire. I locked her in the bathroom just in case she attempted to do math problems out loud.
Boss: Good thinking. Well, I’m going to pass out under my desk now.
Me: Sounds good. Feel free to borrow the pillow and blanket I keep under my desk for emergencies. Like Mondays.
One of my favorite floor time scenarios is whenever you’re out shopping and people want you to do something while you’re over here minding your own business, acting like a store mannequin just to scare that silly baby who won’t stop staring at you and is probably related to Dave Coulier. Take for example that pesky store manager that just won’t listen to reason.
Manager: M’am, we can’t have you sprawled out here in the middle of the aisle.
Me: And I can’t have you refusing to sell Hanson CDs.
Manager: This is a sporting goods store, m’am. We don’t sell any CDs.
Me: Oh I see, so you manage to accommodate creepy Dave Coulier babies that will probably end up landing an acting gig on one of the best TV shows ABC will ever have the privilege of airing only to terrify our nation’s ten-year-olds into believing Popeye impressions are not only delightful but should be reenacted in front of your entire fifth grade class on a trip to the Washington Monument only for your teacher and your tour guide to insist you “Stop making that horrible racket!” and Billy Luger, your crush, no, your knight in shining armor, starts to call you “Ugly Olive Oyl” which makes no sense since you were being Popeye, not Olive Oyl, but your mom says Billy’s mom did some “hard things” when she was younger so God knows if he’s even sure what he’s talking about while I’m over here just wanting to buy a Hanson CD. What part of that makes sense to you bub??
Manager: None of it.
Okay, that last example isn’t a perfect one because not only was I forced to get up and apologize to that silly baby, but Matt made me make his evil pasta experiment when I got home. There was not one mmmbop to be heard that day. Not one.
But, as we can all agree, lying on the floor does get you out of doing most things. I suggest you give it a try and if it doesn’t work, I’ll give you Dave Coulier’s email address and my step by step guide on how to spot and apprehend a math learner to keep our families safe. Be careful out there.