If you’re lazy and you know it, clap your hands… except maybe I’m too lazy to clap

I am the quintessential lazy person. I don’t want to do anything. If I could stay asleep for my whole life, then wake up dead that would be absolutely, positively fine by me. Just how lazy are you? Do you think you can top me? Well, let’s see.

I would rather not have something than to have to do any maintenance to keep it in working order.

  I have an old car that gets me where I need to go *most* of the time. I actually really appreciate it. However, one day a year or two ago (yes, it has been YEARS) the dome light went out. Finally, FINALLY, I got a replacement bulb and installed it. Easy, peasy, right? Wrong. The next day after I replaced the bulb I went to the car and the car wouldn’t start. Called AAA and got a jump. Guess what had happened? Well, because I don’t always make sure my door is completely closed, it wasn’t closed the night before, and the light stayed on until I came out for work the next morning. I asked my hood mechanic if that little dome light being on could have drained the battery. He told me that it could and probably did. Well, fuck that! I can’t say that I will FOR SURE check that the door is flush against the frame every day. So… You guessed it! I took that fucking bulb right back out.

Fuck it. I went all this time without it. All it does is illuminate all the junk in my car so it was basically pointless anyway….

Even if I want it, if it takes too much effort, (I use the word “effort” *very* loosely) then I might not do it

The other day I decided to bleach my hair blonde. I like blonde hair. I think blonde afros are super cute.

After weeks of gradually buying the supplies I would need I decided that this past Saturday would be the day I get my blonde ‘fro. The devil tried and almost succeeded in trying to thwart me. I already own a dye bowl and brush from previous dyeings, but I could not find it in the usual hair supply places in my home. After approximately 3 minutes and 47 seconds of searching, I decided, welp, guess that’s that and got in bed and cuddled up with a book. After a few minutes I decided that perhaps asking to borrow my more organized sister’s items would probably work. I did eventually get up and ask her. I also dyed my hair. It is now bozo orange. So this one is kinda a success story.

If you exercise and believe in fitness, I will not consider you as a potential partner

A couple of things with this one. I have very specific criteria for choosing a potential dating partner from an online dating app. The criteria doesn’t necessarily coincide with what I think life is about or anything. One of them is fitness and healthy eating. If I see a dude’s pic of him on a hike, in the gym, on a bike, completing a triathlon, or if he says  he lives a healthy lifestyle, I will swipe left on his ass so fucking fast. Hell no. I don’t need nobody trying to motivate me out of my bed to sweat and build muscle. Uh-uhn.

I went on a date with a guy older than me, which is cool. I always assumed older dudes would be more my speed because they might not be as sex crazed as dudes my age or younger. I realize now that perhaps 7 years isn’t enough of a gap. I need a real geriatric like Hugh Hefner or David Rockefeller. (Maybe not Rockefeller because he looks like what I imagine Satan looks like, but you get the point.) So, we met on I think 4^th of July or something; some holiday that passed recently. I told him to meet me at a park not far from my house because I’m tired of eating with and/or getting raped by these dudes in a house. We get to the park and he’s cuter in person. Well, well, well! We stand outside our cars talking for a bit, then decide to walk the trail. Background: I am tall for a woman, but I have the slowest gait second only to a sloth. I am not kidding. ALL of my friends and family walk faster than me. Anyway, we’re walking and he’s telling me that he works out after work every day. This is a red flag. Why is this the first time I am hearing about this? Hmmm. He almost exclusively eats homemade meals; meals that he, himself, prepares. Uhhhh…. Okay, whatever. He can live his life as he sees fit and I will do the same. As soon as we get to the dumbest question anyone could ever ask, “Why are you single?” I realize that I’m huffing and puffing a lil bit. Hmmm, I’m fat, but I can walk ¼ of a trail, can’t I? Yes, I can. However, I'm used to a MUCH slower pace. What the fuck are we doing? I realize that we’re walking waaaayyyy too briskly. I told him, “Hey, we’re walking kind of fast for this to be a casual walk.” I can’t have my blood flowing and heart pumping that energetically. Slow the fuck down.

So, now you know. Still think you can top me? Well, tell me. I will be the judge of that!