Your Ideal Day

[exploited]

Money is no object, and neither is the law, but you have to account for travel time. Runs from 8 AM to 8 AM. Go.

11:00 AM: I probably should have woken up earlier, but sleep is priceless to me, and there's still lots of time.

11:30 AM: I roll out of bed, and hop into one of those showers that sprays from all directions.

11:50 AM: When I get out of the shower, I am greeted by a bowl of fresh fruit, a glass of orange juice, six slices of crispy bacon, two slices of french toast (cut into strips) and three egg in a cup.

12:30 PM: Breakfast complete, I go to get changed, but am tackled by my friskily compliant, lingerie-clad wife. But wait! There's more! Another young lady enters the room. Oddly, she is also my wife... a clone, made by my genetics department. Guilt-free threeway ensues.

12:34 PM: Jess, Jess and I get dressed.

2:34 PM: Now that my wives are ready, we take a chopper down to Toronto.

3:34 PM: Because I am infinitely rich, I attend a ribbon-cutting ceremony to rename The Rogers Center to Place of Frigid Desolation. As guest of honour, Mayor Rob Ford shakes my hand and asks if I have any snow. It's January.

4:00 PM: We take a quick limo ride to Steamwhistle Brewery. All of my friends and family are there. Included is a pizza bar tended to by Italian masters. The opening band is Sublime, followed by Jay-Z and ending with a giant cabaret show directed by Rob Zombie and scored by The Transplants.

9:00 PM: Gotta buzz on. Leave the Brewery, travel to the airport. Time to leave the country. The plane is typical oligarch quality... except this one has a cage in the corner, and in that cage is Stephen Harper and Barack Obama. For the remainder of the trip, I heckle, cajole and verbally assault them.

12:30 AM: I parachute out of the back of the plane, landing in Woody Creek, Colorado, in Hunter S. Thompsons compound. I tour his house and tap out a couple letters on his typewriter. Then I ingest a sizeable quantity of mescaline and shoot a wide variety of high-powered weapons.

2:45 AM: Leave the compound. The Gonzo Cannon fires a salute.

3:30 AM: Now that I'm really flying, I'll need to go swimming. But where, you ask? Conundrum Hot Springs near Aspen. Luckily no one else is there, so the wives and I get to go skinny-dipping. Yeeeee.

4:25 AM: Get picked up by Harrison Ford flying a chopper, dressed as Indiana Jones. Go to closest airport. Fly to Toronto.

7:45 AM: Release Harper and Obama, who are dressed in Nixon masks and nothing else.

8:00 AM: Grab a coffee.

[lnrw]

You ruined your day by going to toronto.

[exploited]

What's the point of an ideal day if it isn't ideal, I ask you.

[Aaron]

My ideal day is one where I make progress on my interests, support the happiness of my loved ones and friends, and progress in my understanding of what it means to live on earth. How those activities manifest themselves are not possible to predict..

Therefore, itemizing my hourly activities is an exercise in time wasting.

[lnrw]

[lnrw]

[The Comrade]

i wake up to find out i'm immortal

[exploited]

[exploited]

[lnrw]