David Karp is 25 years old. He's just like any other twenty-something, except for the fact that he's worth $40 million, give or take. You see, Karp founded Tumblr, that little blogging platform that people everywhere love to use 13 times and then quit. But thanks to the New York Times, we know how he and his girlfriend spend their Sundays at their West Village apartment. Turns out: they're kinda boring! We can't fault him there, but since we got our degree in internet mogul image-polishing, we're willing to give Karp a free consultation.

On the weekends we don’t set the alarm. We just wake up or the dog gets us up. Neither of us is very inclined to sleep in particularly late. We’re both restless sleepers. Weekends are the same thing; we tend to wake each other up. And by 9 a.m., we’re both pretty restless, pretty ready to jump out of bed.

WOAH! Slow down Nikki Sixx! No alarm? You trying to kill yourself? The correct response here is: "I have a hidden camera trained at Mark Zuckerburg's head, and wake up six hours before he does, so that I may watch him sleep the deep sleep of fools."

We almost always go to Café Mogador in the East Village. It’s spectacular…We try and get there before the crowds start up and we’re more likely to get a table outside. Large orange juice, iced Moroccan mint tea. Either eggs Florentine or eggs champignon. And a side of bacon. And we usually split an avocado salad.

Brunch is classy. But would it kill you to go to Marlow & Sons? Or Buttermilk Channel? Robertas? It's good to be seen amongst the people, but you need to be amongst your people.

We usually scoot over there, even though it’s right across town, because we like to have the Vespa out. We’re pretty O.K. to take the Vespa either way uptown or over to Brooklyn. We have a bunch of friends in Williamsburg, and my family’s on the Upper West Side.

Yep this sounds about right.

We have been making a real effort to check out our new neighborhood. Growing up on the Upper West Side, I was really freaked out by anything off the grid. It feels like a totally different country down there, but I really don’t know how to navigate it at all. So we’ve been spending a lot of time just poking around the streets.

Yessir, people 'round here 'n the West Village do kinda talk a little funny *spits tobacco juice* but you'll take to it like a bistro to a $14 cocktail. An you ain't lived 'til you hogtied a rogue pisser on Christopher Street!

Lately I’ve been trying really hard to have dinner with someone from the team, usually them and their spouse or special other. It’s so much fun to have one person who I love working with, who I don’t get to spend nearly as much time with during the day as I’d like to, to get to hang out for a few hours and drink with him or her and their significant other.

While the opportunity to express "human emotions" like "love" and "friendship" should be taken, be careful not to reveal the fact that your brain works at disgustingly rapid speeds with phrases like "special other" and talking about how much you would enjoy having a polite drink with subordinates outside of work. Remember: you're just a regular guy, until the "Silo Stratagem" is initiated and the impenetrable quickening can finally begin.

We have people over and we’ll be finishing up around 12:30 or 1 a.m., and then Rachel and I are going to crash. We kind of have a “no screens in the bedroom” rule. Not a real rule, but it’s just something we both try to do.

See? This is good. Rules are meant to be broken! Feel free to turn on your Zuckerberg cam a few minutes late next Sunday. You've earned it!