Published in Opium Magazine 2003   
                                       

                          The Subtle Art of Slacking Off

                                                   by Diana Grove

 

         Personally, I don’t know how anybody gets anything done.  There are simply too many distractions in daily life.  Unless someone with arms like a whale’s neck is squeezing a pistol into your ear, demanding you to file office papers according to size, weight and acidity, there are always a million and one ways to slack off during a work day.
         You may say to your self, “but I’m supposed to work hard and strive for future success.”  This is all well and good if you’re a surgeon or some other sort who’s crafty with organ removal and wound stichery.  Imagine how the lawsuits would pile up if your doctor decided, on a whim, to slip your liver into Tupperware during surgery and store it in the head nurses mini-fridge next to the baked ziti, while he slinked out for a quick high ball at Ted’s Last Chance.  We’d be reduced to homeopathy.  Which is really just another excuse for hanging out in the woods all day playing with mushrooms.
In fact, surgeons should actually take extra curricular classes, such as Beginning Embroidery.  Then scars would take on the subtle nuances of a herringbone stitch or lazy daisy flowers.  Or, they should at least take a learning annex class on “How to Speak to Members of Your Own Species.”  This would greatly reduce their habit of looking at a patient like they’re a box of spare mufflers waiting to be reattached to the nearest Camaro.
         We, of course, need to give credit to doctors, after all they do save lives.  Despite the fact that some people deserve a premature toe tag, like murderers, rapists and that 5th grader who keeps putting ketchup in the finger holes of my bowling ball.
Other than doctors, teachers and various saints who reappear in the shape of potatoes and other tubers, many of us are basically punching a card to keep some bloated corporation afloat.  How can you, in good conscience, sit in a chair scooching around on a 3-ft diameter carpet protector when you know darn well you could be crank calling funeral homes of drawing ear hair on some secretaries prenatal baby picture? 
          By now we should know that offices are basically jail cells with bad coffee and modular furniture. Or perhaps they’re really just one peg up from being homeroom class. And we all know homeroom was specifically designed to teach children the delicate art of booger flinging and armpit farting.  A boy from my sophomore class actually put a band together called Pete Peters and the Hot Pits.  They could perform almost all of Stairway to Heaven with their amply talented underarms.  Unfortunately, the muskiness drove everyone from the room but me.  I happen to like muskiness; it reminds me of the Wild West.  P.S. if you’re going to try this technique at home, deodorant only throws off the rhythm. 
          What I’m getting at is, why grind your ass away at the office when you could be doing something useful, like drinking.
          Drinking to excess is not only very stimulating to the nerve endings but can also help bring in spare change, particularly if you swipe some Dixie cups to use as collection receptacles out on the street.  Friends may stop making social calls, claiming you “have a problem” or “you smell like furry cheese.”  I say screw ‘em. Did they send you a birthday card or console you when you cried during that 12-hour fatal disease marathon on the Discovery Health Channel.  The answer is no (and yes, fatal diseases are funny, if they happen to racists and people who drink shitty beer.)
          Slacking off really is an art form that anyone can perfect.  Even parenting (the hardest job in the world) can be modified.  These days parents take themselves way too seriously.  What they really need to focus on are the four basics: food, clothing, shelter, and a really good child restraint system – like duct tape.
          And why not take the natural approach and raise free-range children?  That’s what my mother did, and I only walk funny during a thunderstorm or when I’ve been given the wrong kind of feed.  The free-range approach to child rearing is both healthy and practical.  Simply let the kids run loose with a grapefruit spoon and a worm bucket.  Worm protein is second to none, with the possible exception of lizard eggs, or actually anything else you can find out back that’s small, round and gooey.
          Free-range children give parents time to seriously slack off. In other words, the ability to do things that make being an adult better than being a three-year-old worm-eater.  This includes: smoking, swearing, screwing and drinking gin in tall, frosted glasses with colorfully flamboyant stirrers.
          If the children are properly outfitted with gunnysacks, they should be protected from the elements.  Simply cut three small holes in each side for the ensuing appendages.  These can also be used for hauling dirt or trash or anything else you feel needs to be moved from here to there.
          Old cereal boxes and paint cans make excellent playtime reading material, and a cereal box makes a very stylish child-size hat, especially during a rain shower.  By the way, a well-rounded education means reading the front and back of the paint can, not just the hazardous ingredients list on the lower left corner.
          Of course, when you’re talking about slaking off, the greatest scam of all is the home office job.  Here, you can fart around all day and you don’t even have to make a dramatic spectacle of it for your co-workers benefit.  You don’t even have to wear pants!  Or, for something really different, wear all your pants at once and time how long it takes to get from the bedroom to the kitchen.  Create a detailed chart, Perot-style, comparing slacks vs. jeans.  Also, try consuming as many milk shakes as possible before lunch break so you can go home early with stomach cramps. Oh wait, you’re already home!  This is so easy it’s like shooting ducks in the freezer section.  Here’s a list of some classic slack off things I did before writing this wildly amusing, yet informative article:

 . searched for the staple gun to keep the hair out of my eyes

 . paced nervously, talking to the credenza
 . picked my toes with a meat skewer

 . threw the meat skewer under the couch next to some spare
   change and a Dixie cup

 . stretched

 . read the dust jacket on a book entitled “How to Build
   a Robot for Fun and Profit”

 . changed pants

 . pondered the magical powers one could gain by swallowing
   mouthwash

 . surveyed the amount of dust balls on the southern end of the
   house verses the north, decided the evils of gravity were
   once again at play

          By the time I was done it was easily dinnertime.  For this, I again changed pants, then I mixed myself a cocktail.  I then spent several hours refilling my mechanical pencil or maybe replacing the sugar bricks in my PEZ head, I’m not sure which.  And by some freakish trick of nature, some words were scribbled.  At any rate, this is a shining example of exercising the very natural “slack off” instinct with which we humans were blessed.  After an exhausting day like this I usually thank God for giving me the strength to carry on and then fall straight into bed, tripping over several dozen pant legs.