Saint Dirty Face

Let me tell you, my friends — there’s an art to doing nothing. Not just any lazy, flopped-on-the-couch moment, but a sacred ritual of decompression.

Picture this:

End of a workday. Scrubs off, sweatpants on. I collapse into the couch like a Greek statue… if that statue was shaped like a melted candle. 🕯️💥

Blank stare into the void? ✅

Existential thoughts like “why do I exist?” mixed with “did I pay the internet bill?” ✅

Bonus points if you’re in a legal state and you light up a little something-something. 🤫 (P.S. You can smoke anywhere — that’s between you and the four walls, baby.)

Earbuds in, music ON, world OFF. 🎧💀

Enter the 30-minute Power Nap.

Boom. 💥 I wake up like Lazarus, back from the dead.

Watch out, bastards. Papa’s recharged. 😎

Now here comes Round 2: The Dinner Dilemma.

The Mrs. and I doing our nightly “What should we eat?” dance —

her: “I don’t care, you pick”

me: “No, you pick, babe”

repeat x100.

Finally, we land on wink-wink “dinner.” 😉

Bedroom door locked ✅

Sexy playlist spinning ✅

Toys charged ✅ (We adults believe in clean batteries, ok?)

30 minutes later…

We emerge relaxed, sweaty, and STARVING.

Family group text:

“Kids, check the fridge. Leftovers are life. Good luck, love ya!” 🤣

The Mrs. and I? We make waffles.

At 10 PM.

Half-dressed, giggling like teenagers. 🧇🍓🍯

Moral of the story?

Life is grand.

Love harder. Laugh louder. Rest unapologetically.

And when in doubt — eat waffles. 😎🍷

🔥 Saint Dirty Face — Imperfect on purpose. Sharp-tongued by design. NSFW by divine accident.