How To Be A Slacker


My internet research frequently goes off into the weeds and/or down rabbit holes, so I wasn’t particularly surprised the other day when I found myself reading a list of impromptu speech topics.

I used to enter public speaking competitions when I was a kid, and I enjoy presenting prepared talks to audiences large or small.  But I’ve always loathed impromptu contests, where they assign a random topic and you get one minute to prepare before giving your speech.  (Or, in my case, you get one minute to sit frozen in sheer panic before standing up to mumble humiliating gibberish.)

So it was with a shudder of sympathy that I read the list of topics designed to torture juvenile victims:  Deadly stuff like “Why I deserve an allowance” and “Interesting things you see in the sky”.  Then I came across this one:  “How to be a slacker”.

Wait, what?

Where was this topic when I was a kid?  Not necessarily for an impromptu speech (nothing could have helped me through that) but as a life-skills course.  The more I thought about it, the clearer my realization dawned:  I don’t know how to be a slacker!

I mean, I guess I know the basic recipe:  Sprinkle incompetence liberally over the task at hand, lock up your flying fucks and rat’s asses (you don’t want to give any of those), and marinate the whole thing in apathy before leaving it half-baked.

But it just doesn’t seem to work out for me.

I’ve never quite managed to chase every last flying fuck from the vicinity – there’s always a little one hovering around somewhere.  And I’ve been down to my last pox-riddled rat’s ass a few times, but I’ve never been completely out of rat’s asses to give.

I’ve got a decent supply of incompetence, but I prefer not to use it – it leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

And by definition apathy is hard to procure:  as soon as you attempt to generate it, you’re trying too hard.

There must be some trick to slackerdom.  Maybe I need to drink more.  I’ve heard that rat’s asses and flying fucks dissolve in alcohol, and booze also seems to bulk up incompetence nicely.  Even the elusive apathy precipitates well from an alcoholic solution.

When I told Hubby I was writing a post on how to be a slacker, he inquired, “Why didn’t you ask me?  I could have advised you.”

I replied that I didn’t think he was good enough at it… but on second thought, I’ve reconsidered.  After all, he’s the one who introduced me to this concept:  If you do it badly enough the first time, they won’t ask you again.

So far he’s successfully applied that technique to dusting, being my administrative assistant, shovelling snow, and bookkeeping.  I guess I should’ve been watching him and learning; but every time I try, those pesky flying fucks keep getting in my way.

Any advice?  What’s the best way to be a slacker?

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