I will bake cupcakes from scratch for a friend's birthday and leave all the mixing bowls, beaters, bowls of congealed melted chocolate and melted butter, spoons, spatulas, weighing scales, ingredients, including up to three different kinds of sugar all over the counter, and in the case of the sugar, on the floor too. For my coup de grace, I will leave the oven on all night. Oh and I will use the fancy cupcake papers, not the plain white ones.
I will text and say 'Can you come and get me now?' about ten minutes past midnight, and then when they arrive to pick me up I will not respond to either repeated texts or calls or the blowing of the horn. When they finally get out of the car and ring the doorbell I will take my own sweet time to collect my shoes and jacket and bag from different corners of my friend's house. Just when they are about to pull out into the road again, I will have to go back and find my phone.
I will occupy the bathroom for hours and respond with some tetchiness to people knocking and asking to come in, insisting I will be out in two minutes. Then when someone else is in the bathroom doing whatever unimportant thing they may be doing in there, I will knock constantly on the door and moan about people hogging the bathroom.
When I finally get out of the shower I will shout for them to bring me a specific pair of jeans, specific T-shirt, and matching set of pink bra and knickers, and the kicker is I will not know where any of those items are. I will urge them to hurry up as I'm getting cold.
I will lose a whole packet of hair elastics in one week. 25 of them will disappear into thin air and nobody will ever see them again. This will necessitate running to get more on the way to school. And money. I will ask for it in the carpark after they have gone to the trouble of finding a spot and pulling in.
I will use the word 'like' 18 times in one sentence.
I will insist they need a cat and then when it is time to change the litter box I will just laugh and make non-English sounds. I am working on how to convey the sentiment that changing a cat's litter box is one of the most disgusting things anyone could ever expect another human to do, using just one inarticulate, 'Euggh-uggghh-ughhhh'; so disgusting that it is in fact unthinkable, and maybe the suggestion is an attempt at a joke (this last bit will be conveyed by the laugh, but I haven't worked out the details of the tone just yet).
My friends and I will sit around watching sports on TV and commenting approvingly on our farts. We will judge them according to decibel level and smell but truth to tell, we are generous friends, and there is no fart that won't meet our hearty approval since they all come out of our very own butts and what's not to love about that. If I produce a truly noteworthy specimen I will stand up and make wafting motions with my hands just to make sure everyone gets to appreciate it on all the levels that I do, as long as there isn't some exciting moment of sports history afoot that would trump it, for want of a better word.
I will take photos of my larger and more variegated poos and insist on showing them to everyone in the house. Oh yes I will.