There Is a Time in Everybody's Life Where All They Want to Do for Three Days is Make Dinosaurs, and This Is My Time
Here is an excruciatingly fun thing to do:
1.) It all begins with picking the correct dinosaurs. You might be thinking, “Wow, cool, I’ll pick the best dinos for me according to my tastes and interests.” Don’t be an asshole. Spinosaurus, Stegosaurus, and Tyrannosaurus Rex. These are the only worthwhile dinosaurs.
2.) The next step is assembly. This is pretty tedious because the written directions are often incomplete or intentionally misleading. Once you decipher the crude symbols, you find that they are not dinosaur instructions at all, but frantic pleas from the puzzle scribe himself, enslaved by wicked toy merchants. They hold his family hostage, forcing him to engineer ever more vile and devious contraptions for their army of insane, cursed children. Sleepless children that speak no human language, and go about on all fours. Children with bodies so shriveled and frail that they can claw their way up under your bedroom door at night.
Point being, it is best just to look at the picture on the front of the box and work backwards.
3.) Now the fun part: inhaling paint fumes until you go deaf.
4.) And there you have it: your dinos are finished. Hey, that was pretty great. Will your friends ostracize you for this willfully non-normative behavior? Probably, and rightly so.