-Drink.

-Day-drink

-Play my guitar at 11pm

-Yell, “I CAN MAKE ALL THIS NOISE BECAUSE MY KID ISN’T HERE!” at times when I know my roommates aren’t sleeping.

-Get to work on time.

-Happy hour!

-All the fucking karaoke I want.

-Go eat at restaurants that don’t fucking SERVE chicken fingers and goddamn french fries.

-Drink some more.

-Absolutely fucking nothing, and without pants on, too.

-Cook whatever the fuck I want without ALSO making a fucking grilled cheese.

-Put tomatoes on EVERYTHING.

-Watch Reservoir Dogs as loud as I possibly can in my bed, sans pants, but with booze and maybe probably pizza too.

-Maybe drink some?

-Develop a crippling gambling habit, then decide to seek help after a dramatic breakdown; write memoir about that time.

-Hooters? (No.)

-Finally get around to all that yardwork! (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAyeahno)

-MONKEY KNIFE FIGHTS.

-Get the baaaaaaaaand back together, maaaaaaaaaaaan! (The band = Cameo.) (WORD UP.)

-Guest star on a very special episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Spoiler alert: I’m Kanye.

-Trigonometry.

-Choreograph and direct an all-cat production of the Andrew Lloyd Webber hit Cats.

-EAT SOME FUCKING CAKE FOR BREAKFAST.

-Jump on my kid’s bed.

-Using Game of Thrones’ opening sequence as a template, reconstruct Westeros and its surrounding places using nothing but chewing gum and those tiny golf pencils.

-Get married.

-Get divorced.

-Air guitar.

-PLOW THE FIELDS.

-Enjoy myself to the fucking fullest because these week-long respites are few and far between. See you at happy hour, jerks!