Couch Potato Quotes

When you're with someone for so long you get used to them, y'know? It's a comfort-zone thing. When we get settled in our comfort zone, trying to pull us out of it even if everything about it is hell and unhealthy, is like trying to pull a fat ass couch potato out of his living room long enough to get a life.

To attract a lover, you need to craft the perfect Craigslist ad. Here’s mine: Free TV with purchase of potato chips and couch.

I’d considered therapy, but the never-ending search for mental stability would cut into my couch potato time. That couch was not going to sprout roots itself.

Newton’s First Law, also known as the Law of Inertia: Objects at rest tend to stay at rest unless acted on by an outside force. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, unless something stops their momentum. Put another way, couch potatoes tend to stay couch potatoes. Achievers—people who get into a successful rhythm—continue busting their butts and end up achieving more and more.

If you don’t know what to do with the rest of your life, make your bed. If you’re going to be a couch potato, at least fluff the pillows. If you can’t afford pearls, red nail polish is your best accessory. If you don’t have time to do your nails, smile and stand up straight.

We are not consumers. For most of humanity’s existence, we were makers, not consumers: we made our clothes, shelter, and education, we hunted and gathered our food. We are not addicts. “I propose that most addictions come from our surrendering our real powers, that is, our powers of creativity.” We are not passive couch potatoes either. “It is not the essence of humans to be passive. We are players. We are actors on many stages…. We are curious, we are yearning to wonder, we are longing to be amazed… to be excited, to be enthusiastic, to be expressive. In short to be alive.” We are also not cogs in a machine. To be so would be to give up our personal freedoms so as to not upset The Machine, whatever that machine is. Creativity keeps us creating the life we wish to live and advancing humanity’s purpose as well.

We spent days and weeks doing nothing, calling one another ten times a day to schedule our nothing-doing.

High school and college students like to torture their bodies. They pull countless all-nighters, continually skip breakfast, eat nothing but ramen noodles for dinner, find creative new ways to guzzle alcohol, transform into couch potatoes, and gain 15 pounds at the freshman dinner buffet. At least, that's the stereotype.

The best way to reach your destination is to just keep going until you get there.

The old saying goes that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But in Willow's experience, the opposite is more likely true. An apple is nothing but a seed's escape vehicle, just one of the ingenious ways they hitch rides -- in the bellies of animals, or by taking to the wind -- all to get as far away from their parents as they possibly can. So is it any wonder the daughters of dentists open candy stores, the sons of accountants become gambling addicts, the children of couch potatoes run marathons? She's always believed that most people's lives are lived as one great refutation of the ones that came before them.

I'd always assumed Beth and I would be friends forever. But then in middle of the eighth grade, the Goldbergs went through the World's Nastiest Divorce. Beth went a little nuts. I don't blame her. When her dad got involved with this twenty-one year old dental hygienist, Beth got involved with the junk food aisle at the grocery store. She carried processed snack cakes the way toddlers carry teddy bears. She gained, like, twenty pounds, but I didn't think it was a big deal. I figured she'd get back to her usual weight once the shock wore off. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only person who noticed. May 14 was 'Fun and Fit Day" at Surry Middle School, so the gym was full of booths set up by local health clubs and doctors and dentists and sports leagues, all trying to entice us to not end up as couch potatoes. That part was fine. What wasn't fine was when the whole school sat down to watch the eighth-grade cheerleaders' program on physical fitness.

Opaque and invisible models are the rule, and clear ones very much the exception. We’re modeled as shoppers and couch potatoes, as patients and loan applicants, and very little of this do we see—even in applications we happily sign up for. Even when such models behave themselves, opacity can lead to a feeling of unfairness.

You’ve climbed too many mountains and crossed too many rivers to stop and turn back now.

Like all living things, you were created for unlimited growth and possibilities. Keep growing. Keep changing. Be everything you were meant to be.

Technology never makes someone lazy. It sometimes reveals someone’s laziness.

(Couch potatoes) are not the people likely to cause an epidemic of goal-directed actions in their immediate vicinity." Amtower

How we spend our time says a lot about who we are. To a great extent, our habits define us. You might call yourself an artist, but if you spend most of your time on the sofa watching Netflix, you're really a couch potato.

Subtlety #1: Not giving a fuck does not mean being indifferent; it means being comfortable with being different. Let’s be clear. There’s absolutely nothing admirable or confident about indifference. People who are indifferent are lame and scared. They’re couch potatoes and Internet trolls. In fact, indifferent people often attempt to be indifferent because in reality they give way too many fucks. They give a fuck about what everyone thinks of their hair, so they never bother washing or combing it. They give a fuck about what everyone thinks of their ideas, so they hide behind sarcasm and self-righteous snark. They’re afraid to let anyone get close to them, so they imagine themselves as some special, unique snowflake who has problems that nobody else would ever understand. Indifferent people are afraid of the world and the repercussions of their own choices. That’s why they don’t make any meaningful choices. They hide in a gray, emotionless pit of their own making, self-absorbed and self-pitying, perpetually distracting themselves from this unfortunate thing demanding their time and energy called life. Because here’s a sneaky truth about life. There’s no such thing as not giving a fuck. You must give a fuck about something. It’s part of our biology to always care about something and therefore to always give a fuck.

Wiggly, that's the word most often used by pit bull owners to describe their dogs. Others are loyal, compassionate, devoted, affectionate, couch potato, courageous, lapdog, snugglepuss, heroic, kissy-faced, lovebug, bed hog, pansy, soul mate, family.

Procrastinators often follow exactly the wrong tack. They try to minimize their commitments, assuming that if they have only a few things to do, they will quit procrastinating and get them done. But this goes contrary to the basic nature of the procrastinator and destroys his most important source of motivation. The few tasks on his list will be, by definition, the most important, and the only way to avoid doing them will be to do nothing. This is a way to become a couch potato, not an effective human being.

One of the issues with our field is when we've looked at activity, and what controls activity, we've forgotten that we know very clearly there are biological mechanisms that actually influence people to be active or not" Lightfoot says. "You can have a predisposition to be a couch potato

All my cats are toms. I’m telling you, ladies, it’s a plan I wish we could implement on the other half of our own species. You just take’em to the vet for that one simple little surgery and all their grand ideas go away. You wind up with big lovable couch potatoes who purr just because you walk in the room.

Words stretch the muscles of the imagination. Continual placid acceptance of ready-made visual images turns the imagination into a couch-potato.

It can be hard to hold onto your vision because other people will want you to be like they are. But your life has a course of its own, and only you can walk it.

Well done, is well said.

If you’re spending your days on the couch watching TV whilst eating potato crisps and downing diet cola, you can’t reasonably wonder why you’re so depressed right now.

A sabbathless life ends up with neither true work nor true rest, but with frantic and ineffective activity punctuated by couch-potato lethargy.

spot on the couch, I listened to the nightly sounds of our house, as familiar as the hymns we sang every Sunday morning at Boon Chapel. The crack of the ice tray. The opening of the silverware drawer with its earsplitting creak. As Momma reheated Daddy’s supper, the smell of fried potatoes and salt pork filled the air. Abby and I had eaten hours ago. When Daddy worked extra late, Momma

Corporations found out that without a healthy culture, people are not natural Marxists but natural couch potatoes. With no extended family, no effective church, and no healthy local community to support their lives, people don’t form revolutionary cells: they buy a case of beer or renew their Xanax prescription and spend their non-working hours watching NFL games and the Lifetime network and various types of pornography.

Even worse was [singing] in English, a language much too lacking in chewability for hard Finnish jaws, so sloppy that only little girls could get top marks in it - sluggish double Dutch, tremulous and damp, invented by mud-sloshing coastal beings who've never needed to struggle, never frozen nor starved. A language for idlers, grass-eaters, couch potatoes, so lacking in resilience that their tongues slop around their mouths like sliced-off foreskins.

What does a successful life look like? We all have our own deep-seated needs, so we each have to decide for ourselves what success is. I don’t care whether you want to be a master of the universe, a couch potato, or anything else—I really don’t. Some people want to change the world and others want to operate in simple harmony with it and savor life. Neither is better. Each of us needs to decide what we value most and choose the paths we take to achieve it.

From Bertrand Russell’s “An Outline of Intellectual Rubbish”: “I am sometimes shocked by the blasphemies of those who think themselves pious — for instance, the nuns who never take a bath without wearing a bathrobe all the time. When asked why, since no man can see them, they reply: ‘Oh, but you forget the good God.’ Apparently they conceive of the Deity as a Peeping Tom, whose omniscience enables him to see through bathroom walls, but who is foiled by bathrobes.

I wanna see the dance!” “Forget about it,” I tell him. We’re in the living room; each of us has our own couch or armchair. I poured us iced teas and put out a bowl of potato chips, which we’ve already finished. “Come on,” he pouts. “Show me the dance. Please, please show me the dance.” “That’s not going to work on me, Peter.” “What’s not going to work?” I wave my hand in his Handsome Boy face. “That. I’m immune to your charms, remember?” Peter lifts his eyebrows like I’ve dared him. “Is that a challenge? ’Cause I’m warning you, you do not want to step into the ring with me. I’ll crush you, Covey.” He doesn’t take his eyes off mine for several long seconds, and I can feel my smile fade and my cheeks heat up. “Come on, Lara Jean!” I blink. Kitty. I’d forgotten she was still in the room.

more powerful than any supercomputer in the world. But before you cancel your gym membership, scientists warn us that any progress on any skill or training regime does require a good deal of physical work, beforehand. This makes logical sense, I suppose. After all, it makes more sense that they would’ve wanted their study participants to be reasonably fit and muscular in the first place before the experiment began, right? Surely they wouldn’t pick a big couch potato for their experiment, would they? Yes, the power of imagination must

notes, “that the original unlicensed device was a ‘couch potato’–like remote control for radio receivers.” So the 1939 Philco Mystery Control once again revealed its originality.) If all this bureaucratic infighting seems obscure, what followed from it is happily familiar. “The rules adopted,” Marcus writes, “had a much greater impact than any of [their] advocates could ever have imagined at the time. They enabled the development of Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, the majority of cordless phones now sold in the US, and myriad other lesser-known niche

On our way to the back stairs, we passed by the elevator. At one time, its mechanism was faulty, and only Matilda was brave enough to use it. Gramps wanted to have it repaired, but she’d raised holy Hell about it. “It’s too late to die young,” she’d insisted, “but it’s never too late to die quick!

A cell phone rang from the end table to my right and Kristen bolted up straight. She put her beer on the coffee table and dove across my lap for her phone, sprawling over me. My eyes flew wide. I’d never been that close to her before. I’d only ever touched her hand. If I pushed her down across my knees, I could spank her ass. She grabbed her phone and whirled off my lap. “It’s Sloan. I’ve been waiting for this call all day.” She put a finger to her lips for me to be quiet, hit the Talk button, and put her on speaker. “Hey, Sloan, what’s up?” “Did you send me a potato?” Kristen covered her mouth with her hand and I had to stifle a snort. “Why? Did you get an anonymous potato in the mail?” “Something is seriously wrong with you,” Sloan said. “Congratulations, he put a ring on it. PotatoParcel.com.” She seemed to be reading a message. “You found a company that mails potatoes with messages on them? Where do you find this stuff?” Kristen’s eyes danced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you have the other thing though?” “Yeeeess. The note says to call you before I open it. Why am I afraid?” Kristen giggled. “Open it now. Is Brandon with you?” “Yes, he’s with me. He’s shaking his head.” I could picture his face, that easy smile on his lips. “Okay, I’m opening it. It looks like a paper towel tube. There’s tape on the—AHHHHHH! Are you kidding me, Kristen?! What the hell!” Kristen rolled forward, putting her forehead to my shoulder in laughter. “I’m covered in glitter! You sent me a glitter bomb? Brandon has it all over him! It’s all over the sofa!” Now I was dying. I covered my mouth, trying to keep quiet, and I leaned into Kristen, who was howling, our bodies shaking with laughter. I must not have been quiet enough though. “Wait, who’s with you?” Sloan asked. Kristen wiped at her eyes. “Josh is here.” “Didn’t he have a date tonight? Brandon told me he had a date.” “He did, but he came back over after.” “He came back over?” Her voice changed instantly. “And what are you two doing? Remember what we talked about, Kristen…” Her tone was taunting. Kristen glanced at me. Sloan didn’t seem to realize she was on speaker. Kristen hit the Talk button and pressed the phone to her ear. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you!” She hung up on her and set her phone down on the coffee table, still tittering. “And what did you two talk about?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. I liked that she’d talked about me. Liked it a lot. “Just sexually objectifying you. The usual,” she said, shrugging. “Nothing a hot fireman like you can’t handle.” A hot fireman like you.I did my best to hide my smirk. “So do you do this to Sloan a lot?” I asked. “All the time. I love messing with her. She’s so easily worked up.” She reached for her beer. I chuckled. “How do you sleep at night knowing she’ll be finding glitter in her couch for the next month?” She took a swig of her beer. “With the fan on medium.” My laugh came so hard Stuntman Mike looked up and cocked his head at me. She changed the channel and stopped on HBO. Some show. There was a scene with rose petals down a hallway into a bedroom full of candles. She shook her head at the TV. “See, I just don’t get why that’s romantic. You want flower petals stuck to your ass? And who’s gonna clean all that shit up? Me? Like, thanks for the flower sex, let’s spend the next half an hour sweeping?” “Those candles are a huge fire hazard.” I tipped my beer toward the screen. “Right? And try getting wax out of the carpet. Good luck with that.” I looked at the side of her face. “So what do you think is romantic?” “Common sense,” she answered without thinking about it. “My wedding wouldn’t be romantic. It would be entertaining. You know what I want at my wedding?” she said, looking at me. “I want the priest from The Princess Bride. The mawage guy.

Provided you drink enough water daily, fiber eases constipation by making your stool softer and bulkier. High-fiber foods include beans, bran cereals, whole grains, fresh fruits, and vegetables. In many instances, constipation arises from the modern couch-potato lifestyle lacking in regular exercise. Physical inactivity can definitely lead to lazy and sluggish bowels.

Burnout is very real. I see it in my practice on a daily basis. Men and women from every age and walk of life are so overwhelmed they can hardly function.” “Maybe they’re just working too hard.” “A common misconception. A person can suffer from burnout even if they’re a couch potato. You can burn out from being idle just like you can burn out from success. The common denominator is prolonged frustration.” “Spinning your wheels.” “Exactly. The feeling that no matter what you do you’re in the same place as you were yesterday. That there’s simply no reason to continue because you’d still be sunk in the same mire, running on the same treadmill, dancing the same tired dance. The housewife, the cop, the slacker, or the business tycoon can all suffer from burnout.” Cal

Aerobic activity is beneficial in several ways. Exercise strengthens your cardiovascular system and improves your circulation, which means your body can deliver more blood to your brain when it’s working. Because the brain’s demand for oxygen and sugar rises when you’re concentrating hard, this can make the difference between grasping that insight or feeling like it’s just out of reach. A firing neuron uses as much energy as a leg muscle cell during a marathon. Further, sustained aerobic exercise stimulates the body to generate more small blood vessels in the brain, and a better-developed cerebral vasculature can deliver blood to the brain faster and more effectively. A 2012 study found that episodic memory improves as maximal oxygen capacity increases. (Conversely, comparative studies of adults who do and don’t exercise find that couch potatoes have lower scores on tests of executive function and processing speed and in middle age have faster rates of brain

It is easy to be virtuous in our world because we have adopted easy virtues. We applaud ourselves for our goodness, but it costs nothing to be “good” in modern times. A man can be good just by sitting in his living room. The couch potato is the new paragon of virtue, exceeded in goodness only by the man in a coma. Virtue has been pulled down from its lofty perch and made accessible to the inert. By this standard, the most virtuous thing on the planet is a turnip or a blade of grass. It just sits there and says nothing and does nothing and does not get in the way. The church, once the stalwart defender of real virtues, now promotes cheap and shallow ones. Christians are not often exhorted to courage, chastity, fidelity, temperance, and modesty anymore. Those virtues require action and sacrifice and intention and thought and sometimes pain. They ask you to do something for their sake, become something, be something. These are the formidable, inconvenient virtues. You must rise to them because they will not come down to you. Luckily for us, we are no longer asked to strive for those high virtues. Instead we are encouraged to be welcoming, accepting, and tolerant. The turnip virtues. Compassionate, too. Always compassionate. And I agree, of course, that a Christian ought to be welcoming, accepting, and tolerant. Certainly he must be compassionate. But these virtues have superseded and ultimately consumed all the others.

The night before, Um-Nadia came over with her small wooden box stuffed with handwritten recipes, dishes Um-Nadia hadn't prepared or eaten in the thirty-five years since she and Mireille had left Lebanon. Some were recipes for simple, elegant dishes of rice pilafs and roasted meats, others were more exotic dishes of steamed whole pigeons and couscous or braised lambs' brains in broth. And they discussed ingredients and techniques until late in the night. Um-Nadia eventually fell asleep on the hard couch in the living room, while Sirine's uncle dozed across from her in his armchair. But Sirine stayed up all night, checking recipes, chopping, and preparing. She looked up Iraqi dishes, trying to find the childhood foods that she'd heard Han speak of, the sfeehas- savory pies stuffed with meat and spinach- and round mensaf trays piled with lamb and rice and yogurt sauce with onions, and for dessert, tender ma'mul cookies that dissolve in the mouth. She stuffed the turkey with rice, onions, cinnamon, and ground lamb. Now there are pans of sautéed greens with bittersweet vinegar, and lentils with tomato, onion, and garlic on the stove, as well as maple-glazed sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, and pumpkin soufflé.

Soap operas have the same hypnotic power as witnessing clothes turning in a washing machine - if you don't look away quickly, you'll be watching until the end.

Now I have a ghost and a grim reaper in my lounge room!" said Lance Infuriated. "A Grim Reaper where?" asked the ghost in horror. "Me, the grand reaper,", said. Blake more engrossed in the television than the ghost who he saw as no problem. "Grand reaper what's that?" the ghost asked. "Another name for a couch potato!" Lance hissed, "King of the Grim reapers he's meant to get rid of you!

In exchange for the male being the ultimate couch potato, the female never has to wonder where her mate is on a Saturday evening. It turns out that some males do indeed amount to little more than an appendage.

The lone couch potato browsing through electronic shopping malls or lost in virtual reality is scarcely likely to threaten the political status quo.

Train the new modality no more than twice per week for at least four to six weeks (ideally with two to three days of rest between). This will give your connective tissue time to heal between sessions and increase load tolerance. (Remember, collagen synthesis levels within joints stay elevated for three full days postexercise.)128 You can then bump up the training frequency to three days per week for another four to six weeks. This rule applies whether you’re a couch potato or dedicated fitness junky.

We are celestial couch potatoes

The crowd were cheering and Geraldine led the Ass squad in that annoying as fuck song about princesses as they all celebrated her win, but I ignore them as I moved forward to offer Roxy a hand up. “I’ll toss Mildred back in her room, heal her and cast a sleeping spell on her so that she can properly recover,” Cal announced as he moved around us and I couldn’t help but smile at him. It might have annoyed the fuck out of me that he’d been with my girl, but he really was a good friend. A true brother. He threw Mildred over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and shot out of the room as Seth howled in excitement. “Come on,” I said to Roxy. “I’ll clean you up and heal those wounds.” “Okay.” Roxy followed me back to the couch and I sat her down in my spot before throwing a ring of fire and a silencing bubble up around us to give us some pretence of privacy. “Doesn’t this count as us being alone?” Roxy asked as I dropped to my knees in front of her and she pulled her busted bottom lip between her teeth. That shouldn’t have been hot, but it really fucking was. “I’m going with no,” I replied, but as the ground trembled beneath my knees I had to admit it did. “Maybe you should just-” “I’m going to look after you,” I growled, leaving no room for negotiation. “So just let me.” Her lips parted, eyes flared, fingers gripped the edge of the couch and I was sure she was about to tell me no, but instead she just nodded. I reached out and curled my fingers wound around her waist as I pressed healing magic from my skin into hers, closing my eyes so that I could concentrate. She had cracked ribs and healing bones was more difficult than damaged tissue. (Darius POV)

The crowd were cheering and Geraldine led the Ass squad in that annoying as fuck song about princesses as they all celebrated her win, but I ignore them as I moved forward to offer Roxy a hand up. “I’ll toss Mildred back in her room, heal her and cast a sleeping spell on her so that she can properly recover,” Cal announced as he moved around us and I couldn’t help but smile at him. It might have annoyed the fuck out of me that he’d been with my girl, but he really was a good friend. A true brother. He threw Mildred over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and shot out of the room as Seth howled in excitement. “Come on,” I said to Roxy. “I’ll clean you up and heal those wounds.” “Okay.” Roxy followed me back to the couch and I sat her down in my spot before throwing a ring of fire and a silencing bubble up around us to give us some pretence of privacy. “Doesn’t this count as us being alone?” Roxy asked as I dropped to my knees in front of her and she pulled her busted bottom lip between her teeth. That shouldn’t have been hot, but it really fucking was. “I’m going with no,” I replied, but as the ground trembled beneath my knees I had to admit it did. “Maybe you should just-” “I’m going to look after you,” I growled, leaving no room for negotiation. “So just let me.” Her lips parted, eyes flared, fingers gripped the edge of the couch and I was sure she was about to tell me no, but instead she just nodded. I reached out and curled my fingers wound around her waist as I pressed healing magic from my skin into hers, closing my eyes so that I could concentrate. She had cracked ribs and healing bones was more difficult than damaged tissue. She fell still as I shifted my hands over her flesh and I tried to ignore the way the floor quaked beneath me. We couldn’t stay in this bubble for long, but I wished that we could. I wished we could just build a bubble where the stars couldn’t see us and stay in it forever. Although I guessed if I offered her that she’d just say no again. I sighed as my magic depleted, using the last drops of it to heal her and clean the blood from her skin after burning through so much in the game. A soft touch against my hair made me open my eyes and I looked up at her as she pushed the crown onto my head. “Mildred knocked me off of the couch first,” she explained in answer to the question in my eyes. “So you win. Besides, you need a big head like yours to pull off a crown like this.” I snorted a laugh as the ground trembled so violently that I was almost knocked back onto my ass. Roxy quickly pulled the rings and bracelets from her hands and offered them to me too and I pushed them into my pockets wordlessly. But as she reached up to unclasp the blood ruby pendant from around her neck I caught her wrist to stop her. “Keep it,” I said, my gaze slipping to the priceless heart where it lay against her flesh. Dragons didn’t give treasure away. Ever. It was inherited through the family or we bought more of it, but we never gifted it to anyone. It went against everything we stood for and the fierce possessiveness of our natures. But for some reason that I couldn’t fully comprehend, I wanted her to keep that necklace. “It looks better on you anyway.” Her eyes widened but before she could reply, I dropped the wall of fire and stepped away from her. Darcy hurried forward with wild eyes, looking between me and her sister for a long moment like she’d expected us to be arguing or something. But the last thing I was going to do was call Roxy out for beating Mildred’s ass for me. She’d absolutely been working in my interests and I wasn’t even going to pretend to be pissed about it. “Darius fixed me up like new. Did you see the bit when I kneed her in the vag?” Roxy asked as she grinned and Darcy started laughing. “It was classic, you’ve gotta come see Tyler’s slow motion footage of you punching her in the throat too!” (Darius POV)

My dad’s brows scrunch at me. “Did your mom and I not teach you the art of being a couch potato? Jesus Christ, I’ve truly failed as a parent.

She literally oozes sex appeal. While I ooze something like a couch-potato crossed with a quirky free-spirit. It's my chosen ooze. I don't want to ooze anything but what I ooze. Enough about oozing.

In fact, there are many lines of evidence to suggest that apes were specially selected to have unusually low levels of physical activity to help them thrive in the rain forest. As we saw, apes usually don’t need to travel far to get food, and their highly fibrous diet requires them to spend much time resting and digesting between bouts of feeding. In addition, their adaptations to climb trees make them outlandishly inefficient at walking. A typical chimpanzee spends more than twice as much energy to walk a mile as most mammals, including humans.23 When walking is so calorically costly, natural selection inevitably pushes apes to spend as little energy as possible schlepping about the forest so they can devote as much energy as possible to reproduction. Apes are adapted to be couch potatoes.

In my little house I have my worktable, I have my Smith-Corona, my mattress, my box springs, my bed frame. I have a couch I found on the street in Pacific Grove. I have kitchen utensils—a pot, a teakettle, a frying pan. I have one spoon and one fork. I have a knife. I have no TV, no radio, no stereo. This is before computers, so no email, no Instagram, no social media. I have no correspondents. I write to nobody—not friends, not family. Nobody. And nobody writes to me. My day goes like this. I wake before dawn, eat a breakfast for a lumberjack. Four eggs, raw milk, potatoes, tomatoes. Bacon or sausage are too weak for me. Liver. A big slab for power. I walk for an hour. The sun is coming up now.

I love you like a couch potato loves his remote. - Brody Madden

In 1966, Gregg Hill took the world’s laziest summer job. First he was poked and prodded and had his fitness assessed by every technique then known to medicine. Then, for 20 days, he and four other student volunteers became the ultimate couch potatoes, confined to bed—not even allowed to walk to the toilet. The goal was to investigate how astronauts would respond to space flight, but when Hill and his fellows finally staggered to their feet, their drastic deterioration helped spark a revolution in medical care here on Earth. As Rick A. Lovett explains, before the experiment took place, bed rest was recommended for people with weak hearts. Afterward, doctors knew that it made them worse.

That’s a sweet little ass you got, Sugar.” I’d been sitting on my ass for hours; how did she know it was sweet?

Pedro lit a cigar with my lighter, the one engraved, “Smoking will kill you someday, love, Jen.

Wishbone Half-eaten chicken lying on white serving plate quartered potatoes chunks of carrots celery too we tell stories and laugh about the day your little finger is locked around the wishbone so is mine I pretend to make a wish close my eyes mumbling my lips that’s the way I faked out the nuns pretending to say the rosary so they would leave me alone your face is so determined you win the wrestling match lifting your piece of chicken bone above your head in victory I know better than to ask what did you wish for secret desires of the heart are not to be shared or they won’t come true everyone knows that you clean the dishes I turn on the TV lying on the couch listening to you make music with running water and closing cupboard doors.

Guns? What do we need guns for?” Not that I didn’t like guns, but... Jenny managed a half-smile. “It’s isolated here. You never know what’s lurking. You might need to scare off a bear. But don’t kill anything, not even paparazzi.

He some kinda terrorist. Jack Russell and toy poodle, all stirred up.

People! What’s wrong with ‘The Smurfs’?” The boy looked up at her with the wide, innocent eyes of a “Precious Moments” figurine. “The Smurfs are dead, Mom. That’s why they’re blue.

fault lies not with our movie stars, but with ourselves. All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to sit back and enjoy the show.

Monique’s voice droned on and on, with the hypnotic quality of a medieval chant, reminding me of what a friend of my mom’s, an ex-priest, used to say about religion: “The music’s great, but the lyrics stink.

According to geneticist and evolutionary biologist, J.B.S. Haldane, theories have four stages of acceptance: 1. This is worthless nonsense; 2. This is an interesting, but perverse, point of view; 3. This is true, but quite unimportant; 4. I always said so. I can’t help thinking that Jimmie would have added: 5. It was my idea to begin with.

When in doubt, do the math: The Wizard of Oz = Al Lundy = God. Why not? Everything makes sense to a dead guy in a lion suit.

One thing I have learned as a competitor is that there are clear distinctions between what it takes to be decent, what it takes to be good, what it takes to be great, and what it takes to be among the best. If your goal is to be mediocre, then you have a considerable margin for error. You can get depressed when fired and mope around waiting for someone to call with a new job offer. If you hurt your toe, you can take six weeks watching television and eating potato chips. In line with that mind-set, most people think of injuries as setbacks, something they have to recover from or deal with. From the outside, for fans or spectators, an injured athlete is in purgatory, hovering in an impotent state between competing and sitting on the bench. In my martial arts life, every time I tweak my body, well-intended people like my mother suggest I take a few weeks off training. What they don’t realize is that if I were to stop training whenever something hurt, I would spend my whole year on the couch. Almost without exception, I am back on the mats the next day, figuring out how to use my new situation to heighten elements of my game. If I want to be the best, I have to take risks others would avoid, always optimizing the learning potential of the moment and turning adversity to my advantage. That

A lifetime of exercise results in a sometimes astonishing elevation in cognitive performance, compared with those who are sedentary. Exercisers outperform couch potatoes in tests that measure long-term memory, reasoning, attention, and problem-solving skill.

Not far away lay the big cannons that had held Ulysses Grant at bay for fifty siege days while the citizens of the town ate rat flesh and clung to their long-cherished beliefs. How many had died in that lost cause? Dr. Tarver wondered. Fifty thousand casualties at Gettysburg alone, and for what? To free the slaves who built this house? To preserve the Union? Had Stonewall Jackson died to create a nation of couch potatoes ignorant of their own history and incapable of simple mathematics? If those brave soldiers in blue and gray had seen what lay in the future, they would have laid down their muskets and walked home to their farms.

My plan was to stay in bed with you all day,” he said grinning, “but since we’re already up, we can hang out in front of the TV and be couch potatoes.

When a person loses a job, we know the first area to be impacted negatively will be career. The next immediate one affected is financial. With those two in trouble, family relationships are likely to be strained, causing personal development and self-esteem to crumble. Naturally, he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to hang out with the guys right then (social). With all of this negative stress on Monday morning, rather than being out beating the streets, the poor guy is sitting on the couch eating potato chips and watching Seinfeld reruns. So physically he begins deteriorating—and of course in all of this he wonders, “Why is God angry with me?” (spiritual).

The “active couch potato syndrome” is an actual observed scientific phenomenon whereby devoted fitness enthusiasts—who conduct daily workouts but live otherwise inactivity-dominant lifestyles—are not immune to the cellular dysfunction and metabolic disease patterns driven by inactivity. Statistics referenced by James Levine, MD, PhD, a Mayo Clinic researcher, international expert on obesity, and author of Get Up! Why Your Chair is Killing You and What You Can Do About It,

You want some breakfast?” “Home fries?” There are potatoes in a bag on the counter, the Yukon gold kind. “Check.” He smiles again. “Poached eggs?” I open the fridge, stare inside it. A carton of eggs wait happily on the shelf, ready to be cracked. “Double check.” “Orange juice?” I pull out the plastic container. “Apple cranberry.” He mock frowns, pulls himself off the couch, strides over. “Oh, I don’t know. Apple cranberry is so . . .” “So what?” “It’s not really manly.” “What? There are manly juices? Orange is more manly than apple cranberry?” He grabs the edge of the counter and leans back, stretching out his calves. I plop the juice container on the counter. He looks at me. His eyes are confused. “Really, Nick. That is silly. You’re already having poached eggs.” “So?” “So how are poached eggs manly?” He tilts his head. “They aren’t manly? Quiche isn’t manly, I know. But that’s egg in pie form. Poached eggs should be fine. Although fried eggs are probably the manliest. Maybe we should fry them.

I was on a path, and I became determined to give it everything I had — no matter what.

The old saying goes that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But in Willow's experience, the opposite is more likely true. An apple is nothing but a seed's escape vehicle, just one of the ingenious ways they hitch rides - in the bellies of animals, or by taking to the wind - all to get as far away from their parents as they possibly can. So is it any wonder the daughters of dentists open candy stores, the sons of accountants become gambling addicts, the children of couch potatoes run marathons? She's always believed that most people's lives are lived as one great refutation of the ones that came before them.

You don't talk; you watch talk shows. You don't play games; you watch game shows.

You don't talk; you watch talk shows. You don't play games; you watch game shows. Travel, relationships, risk: Every meaningful experience must be packaged and delivered to you to watch at a distance, so that you can remain ever sheltered, ever passive, ever ravenous consumers who can't bring themselves to rise from their couches, break a sweat, and participate in life.

You have this one life to live, and you don't make dreams come true by sitting on the couch eating potato chips and wishing you were somewhere else.

Let's consider an overweight person, who is obese not because of a medical condition, but simply through eating junk food and being a couch potato. If that person checks their weight, looks in the bathroom mirror, and says, "Look at me, I'm fat and ugly. I'll never lose this weight." Then that person has just shut themselves in the prison of their own negativity. Their prophecy will be self-fulfilling. They will continue to live a lifestyle of excess, thinking "What's the point, might as well enjoy it!

Todd had dinner at Danny’s that night. Danny’s mother served fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Then she and Danny’s father argued all through dinner about where to go on their vacation, and whether or not they should save the money and buy a couch instead. Danny seemed really embarrassed about his parents’ loud arguing. But Todd didn’t mind it at all. He was so happy to relax and eat and not worry about finding any long, purple worms on his plate or in his glass.

Intelligent vs. unintelligent High strung vs. placid & laid back Extraverted vs. introverted Low psychic metabolism (low energy) vs. high psychic metabolism (high energy) Extraordinary talent (or accomplishment) vs. ordinary abilities & accomplishments Ambitious vs. content with status quo Attractive vs. unattractive Cultured vs. barbarian Spiritual vs. unspiritual (or different styles of spirituality) Philosophical vs. frivolous Risk taker vs. obsessed with safety Commitment to vigorous personal growth vs. content with the status quo Visionary vs. lives in the moment Scrupulously honest vs. morally flexible Wealth-acquisition mindset vs. poverty mindset Neat and organized vs. slovenly and disorganized Logical thinker vs. emotional, reactive thinker Couch potato vs. physically active Regular exercise regimen vs. none Involved in service outreaches vs. pursues only personal pleasuring Argumentative Andy vs. non-confrontational Carla Back packer Bert vs. five-star-hotel-connoisseur Connie Frugal Freddy vs. shop-‘til-you-drop Shelley

Fall Ferguson, attorney and former president of the Association of Size Diversity and Health, later added that healthism “emerges as the assumption that people should pursue health. It’s the contempt in the nonsmoker’s attitude toward smokers; it’s the ubiquitous sneer against couch potatoes. Healthism includes the idea that anyone who isn’t healthy just isn’t trying hard enough or has some moral failing or sin to account for.”10

There’s absolutely nothing admirable or confident about indifference. People who are indifferent are lame and scared. They’re couch potatoes and Internet trolls.

Laziness is waiting to have someone else change your mind for you.

Recipe for Disaster: How do you get an apple in your eye? Just how easy is pie? Who would eat crow, Or eat their heart out? Or how could anyone eat enough hay to eat like a horse? How can a potato sit on the couch? In a world where so many things are confusing, Even food, I dream of a day when it is a piece of cake.

His work shows that people who sit all day then attack the gym have higher rates of back dysfunction compared to couch potatoes.

The most common arguments against using exercise to control weight are that calories from diet dwarf those spent on physical activity and that exercise increases hunger and fatigue, thus supposedly causing us to compensate by eating more and becoming couch potatoes after we exercise. A two-mile walk burns about 100 more calories than sitting, but that refreshing Coca-Cola afterward contains 140 calories. However, studies show that people who exercise more don’t necessarily compensate by eating more and they usually don’t become less active for the rest of the day.5 It is untrue you can’t lose weight by exercising. Instead, weight loss from exercise is much slower and more gradual than weight loss from dieting. Over the course of a year, walking an extra two miles a day can potentially lead to five pounds of weight loss. In addition, exercise definitely helps prevent weight regain following a diet, and likely plays a major role in preventing weight gain in the first place.6

And therein lies another key difference between walking today and in ancient times. If I walk ten thousand extra steps to place my body in negative energy balance, it is literally a piece of cake for me to wipe out the extra cost of such a walk. The ease of refueling with a donut or a Gatorade or just by sitting at my desk for the rest of the day helps explain the counterintuitive result we just saw from the DREW study in which the women who exercised the most lost less weight than predicted: they ate more.36 Happily, more than a dozen studies on the effects of exercise, food intake, and non-exercise physical activity on weight loss found that modest doses of prescribed exercise rarely cause people to spend the rest of the day as couch potatoes erasing the benefits of their exertions.37 However, several experiments that required large doses of exercise (one involved training for a half marathon) did cause exercisers to eat more.38 When the body regulates energy balance like a thermostat, it apparently does so more through diet than through physical activity.

There were men whose dating profiles had read like rules at a public pool: No tattoos. No couch potatoes. No heavy drinkers. No picky eaters. No taking oneself too seriously. NO DRAMA! Men who demanded a woman have a sense of humor but showed no signs of being funny. Men who posted photos alongside striking female acquaintances, as if to say, “just so you have a sense.” Men whose insecurities ran so deep, they came out as accusations: “How do you not have a boyfriend? What’s wrong with you?” I went out with them anyway,

I can say with full confidence that my rapid transformation from middle-aged couch potato to Ultraman—to, in fact, everything I’ve accomplished as an endurance athlete—begins and ends with my Plantpower Diet. Along the way, I’ve sought and been blessed with the support and wisdom of many others—medical authorities, professional athletes, spiritual guides, not to mention Julie, who was my very first mentor in finding a food lifestyle that worked for me. And that food lifestyle has meant removing all animal products and most processed foods from my diet. No chicken, no eggs, no fish, no dairy. All plants, all whole foods, all the time. It’s what I live on. It’s what I train on. It’s what I compete on. It’s what I thrive on. I’m not a doctor. I’m not a nutritionist. I’m just a guy who started paying really close attention to what he was putting into his body.

People who are indifferent are lame and scared. They’re couch potatoes and Internet trolls.

Will exercising willpower muscles make them stronger the same way using dumbbells strengthen biceps? In 2006, two Australian researchers—Megan Oaten and Ken Cheng—tried to answer that question by creating a willpower workout. They enrolled two dozen people between the ages of eighteen and fifty in a physical exercise program and, over two months, put them through an increasing number of weight lifting, resistance training, and aerobic routines. Week after week, people forced themselves to exercise more frequently, using more and more willpower each time they hit the gym. After two months, the researchers scrutinized the rest of the participants’ lives to see if increased willpower at the gym resulted in greater willpower at home. Before the experiment began, most of the subjects were self-professed couch potatoes. Now, of course, they were in better physical shape. But they were also healthier in other parts of their lives, as well. The more time they spent at the gym, the fewer cigarettes they smoked and the less alcohol, caffeine, and junk food they consumed. They were spending more hours on homework and fewer watching TV. They were less depressed.

Studies show obese individuals tend to remain seated for about two and a half hours longer each day than the average, inactive yet lean, shoestring couch potato.3174 Normal-weight individuals just tend to get up and move around more.

He couldn’t understand that, she thought, because he had no purpose to his life. He was a couch potato. He’d reverted back to childhood. He was a wasteoid. He was the man of her dreams, and she was afraid living with him would be a nightmare. His laziness and lack of motivation would drive her crazy

The extraordinary successful fitness motivation coach Michelle Segar uses this dynamic to turn even the most stubborn couch potatoes into exercise aficionados (Segar, 2015). She brings those who really don’t like exercise but know they have to do it into a sustainable workout routine by focusing on one thing: Creating satisfying, repeatable experiences with sports. It doesn’t matter what her clients are doing – running, walking, team sports, gym workouts or bicycling to work. The only thing that matters is that they discover something that gives them a good experience that they would like to have again.

devices. Deepening inward is not solely about excavating suppressed feelings and expressing them. It’s not simply about throwing off the shackles of outward roles or the “inner custodian.” It is about coming to a new, more satisfying relationship between conflicting desires and goals. Our desires, our conscience, and everything in between—they are all our own. We each struggle to reconcile our own conflicts in a livable way. Stories that off-load responsibility—Jim’s first wife is a semifrigid slob, after all, and Anna’s husband is a couch potato—encourage a self-serving tendency to attribute the “problem” to others and reserve the “solution” for ourselves.

The Great and Powerful Theopolis didn't look so powerful now, lounging on his couch with potato chip crumbs on his chin.

Exercise and fasting can raise blood glucose levels in the short term, for someone burning fat.  That’s not a reason to sit on the couch and eat pretzels and potato chips.  In the long term, exercise while fasting makes the body more efficient in its use of energy, and that works against the overuse of insulin that caused the diabetes to begin with.

There is nothing restful about real faith. Where belief is the easy way out, a comfortable position for pious couch potatoes, faith demands an active engagement with uncertainty. “Doubt,” wrote playwright John Patrick Shanley in the introduction to his drama of that name, “requires more courage than conviction does, and more energy; because conviction is a resting place and doubt is infinite—it is a passionate exercise.” An exercise of the heart, that is, as much as of the mind—not of one against the other, but of the two interwoven, each constantly challenging and thus enriching the other.

Now here’s the thing about people who swear by routines. When they decide to break from the usual, they go big. The Greek salad is replaced by a large pepperoni pizza. The skipped day at the gym becomes a month of couch-potatoing.