Every night after dinner they go outside to the streets, get in their cars, turn on the radios, and sit and listen until the Moms send their youngest daughters out to knock on the car windows and ask the Dads to come inside.
"It's probably connected to the recession or something," says an out-of-work expert named Laraine. "They probably lost their jobs, moved their families to smaller houses with no driveways, and they feel like they don't deserve to share their homes with these people they've let down, so they go listen to their radios in their cars."
People who walk past the Dads say they don't see them cry. They don't see them rock out. They don't see them do much of anything really. They just listen to the radio and breathe and think about stuff, it looks like.
"I'm telling you, recession!" insists Laraine, a person who used to make money acting like she knew everything, but now gives it out for free. "The Dads are probably thinking about how just eighteen months ago they could have gone out to their cars and taken their own lives by turning on the motors and shutting their garage doors, but now they can't because they had to move into houses without garages. Too broke to die. Get it?"
The daughters who go out to knock on their Dad's car windows are the real victims in all this. In order for them to convince their Dads to come in, they have to go out there in their pajamas, with their arms wrapped around plush toys. As we head into Autumn, the nights are going to get a lot chillier and those pajama-clad daughters are going to start catching colds.
Happy Dads Are Sitting In Their Cars Listening To The Radios Day!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Spraypaint Day!
Your twelve-year-old daughter was sent to the principal's office for spraypainting a boy's body.
"It's what I dig," she says. "He was into it."
"I won't have you shame her," tell the principal.
The principal explains that while they do what they can to let sexuality blossom without any finger-wagging, your daughter's practices can be harmful. To the lungs.
"Sex is messy," your daughter shrugs.
The boy's parents are traveling in Europe for the year so there's nothing to worry about there.
"What's the problem here?" demand of the principal. "As far as I can see, my daughter and this boy were just experimenting with aerosol compounds. Just like I used to do when i was a kid, and I'm betting, like you used to as well Principal Harris."
Principal Harris will blush. That's the beginning.
She'll let your daughter go with a warning to use painter's masks from now on, which cost only pennies from any hardware store. In a week she'll call you again. You'll recognize the number, but she won't say anything when you pick up. You'll listen to each other breathe for a few seconds. Finally, you'll say "Where." She'll name a hotel and say, "45 minutes."
Happy Spraypaint Day!
"It's what I dig," she says. "He was into it."
"I won't have you shame her," tell the principal.
The principal explains that while they do what they can to let sexuality blossom without any finger-wagging, your daughter's practices can be harmful. To the lungs.
"Sex is messy," your daughter shrugs.
The boy's parents are traveling in Europe for the year so there's nothing to worry about there.
"What's the problem here?" demand of the principal. "As far as I can see, my daughter and this boy were just experimenting with aerosol compounds. Just like I used to do when i was a kid, and I'm betting, like you used to as well Principal Harris."
Principal Harris will blush. That's the beginning.
She'll let your daughter go with a warning to use painter's masks from now on, which cost only pennies from any hardware store. In a week she'll call you again. You'll recognize the number, but she won't say anything when you pick up. You'll listen to each other breathe for a few seconds. Finally, you'll say "Where." She'll name a hotel and say, "45 minutes."
Happy Spraypaint Day!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Man Come By Take Your Wife Day!
People keep cornering you to give you pep talks about that man who came by and took your wife.
"Man come by take your wife, you go take her back," they say.
You try to explain again how it all played out. That the man walked through the front door while the two of you were watching "Saving Grace." The man looked at your wife and said "Let's go." Your wife looked at you and said "I'm going." You looked at her and said "Can't blame you."
"Woman needs to see it. Needs to know, you're her man. All there is to it."
They don't understand who you are and what you're capable of. They think that just by explaining to you what most people would do - what they would do if they were in your situation - it will inspire you to go out and do the same.
"She wanted you on your feet. She wanted you bloodying that man to bits."
You tell them that you appreciate their concern, and their encouragement, but you will not let anyone else tell you how you're supposed to treat your wife. You raise your voice and you tell them "No one tells me how to treat my wife!"
They tell you it's "No one tells me how to raise my child" and that you don't have a child. They tell you it's okay to tell someone how to treat his wife, especially if his wife just up and left with some man who walked through the front door. They ask you flat out, "Do you want her back?"
You say of course you do but you won't go get her and drag her back into your arms because then she'd have to be in your arms again and you wouldn't wish that on anybody.
"Honestly," say to them. "She's probably really happy with this new guy and if you were really her friends, you wouldn't try to get me to try to go and convince her to come back and live here with me. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Jerks."
Finally they will admit that they really were just trying to be cruel to your wife, to try and make her have to live with you again because they are jealous of the new happiness she must be enjoying, and they will leave in shame.
Happy Man Come By Take Your Wife Day!
"Man come by take your wife, you go take her back," they say.
You try to explain again how it all played out. That the man walked through the front door while the two of you were watching "Saving Grace." The man looked at your wife and said "Let's go." Your wife looked at you and said "I'm going." You looked at her and said "Can't blame you."
"Woman needs to see it. Needs to know, you're her man. All there is to it."
They don't understand who you are and what you're capable of. They think that just by explaining to you what most people would do - what they would do if they were in your situation - it will inspire you to go out and do the same.
"She wanted you on your feet. She wanted you bloodying that man to bits."
You tell them that you appreciate their concern, and their encouragement, but you will not let anyone else tell you how you're supposed to treat your wife. You raise your voice and you tell them "No one tells me how to treat my wife!"
They tell you it's "No one tells me how to raise my child" and that you don't have a child. They tell you it's okay to tell someone how to treat his wife, especially if his wife just up and left with some man who walked through the front door. They ask you flat out, "Do you want her back?"
You say of course you do but you won't go get her and drag her back into your arms because then she'd have to be in your arms again and you wouldn't wish that on anybody.
"Honestly," say to them. "She's probably really happy with this new guy and if you were really her friends, you wouldn't try to get me to try to go and convince her to come back and live here with me. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Jerks."
Finally they will admit that they really were just trying to be cruel to your wife, to try and make her have to live with you again because they are jealous of the new happiness she must be enjoying, and they will leave in shame.
Happy Man Come By Take Your Wife Day!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Shopping For School Clothes With Dad’s Girlfriend Tami (A Back-To-School Miracle!) Day!
Since Tami is only seven years older than you, she dresses really cool and she still remembers how important it is to look hot in high school. You didn’t think Tami liked you that much, because she hasn’t really wanted to spend much time with you since she started dating your dad, so you're surprised when she comes into your room and says, “Let’s go get you some school clothes.”
You tell her that you usually go shopping for school clothes with your mom, but Tami says, “Well this year you’re going with me. Come on, you have to look superhot on your first day.”
Tami lets you buy skinny jeans, which Dad never lets you buy. She lets you buy a bunch of things from American Apparel, and mom won’t even let you set foot in there. You buy like six pairs of the cutest shoes, and Tami even brings you into Gap Body and helps you pick out bras.
Some of the stuff is super-expensive too. You'll probably spend more on your school clothes this year than all the other years combined, but Tami says it's cool and just charges it all to your Dad’s credit card.
“You sure Dad’s not gonna get angry about this?” you ask when you're at the food court. “He never lets me spend this much. He says I’m too young to spend so much on clothes.”
“Your Dad says a lot of stuff he doesn’t really mean,” Tami says, kind of staring blankly at the Chick-Fil-A counter.
After lunch Tami takes you to the MAC Cosmetics store and you try on a ton of makeup. Tami doesn’t help you out too much though. The counter girl tells you what colors are right for you while Tami is in the back talking to one of her friends who works there. At first it looks like they're fighting because Tami seems really angry, but before you leave she and her friend hug for a really long time, and it looks like the friend is comforting Tami. Then Tami comes over and tells you to buy all the makeup you tried on. It costs over $250!
“Are you sure Dad’s not going to be upset about this?” you ask Tami when you're walking towards Macy’s. Tami is walking really fast so you have to kind of trot to keep up.
“If he gets upset,” she says to you. “You tell him he shouldn’t expect other people to do the right thing when he keeps doing the wrong thing over and goddamned over again.”
You tell Tami you aren't sure if you could say all that to your Dad, but she doesn’t hear you. You're walking really fast now, right past juniors, past womens, and up the escalator into men’s.
“What are we doing here?” You start to ask, but then you stop in your tracks when you see your mom standing behind the Men’s Fragrance counter. You didn’t even know she’d started working again after she and your dad separated.
“Mom?” you say.
Before she can answer, Tami starts picking up cologne sample bottles and throwing them at your mom, screaming at her and calling her a bitch and a cow and the c-word. Your mom ducks behind the counter, trying not to get hit, while Tami is practically falling over the counter grabbing at her hair, shouting stuff like “I’ll kill you you whore” and “Just let him go you old cow” and “Think you won’t lose him again? Think you can really hang onto him this time?”
Some security guards come and drag Tami out of the store, and your mom finally stands up and shouts, “He’s my husband!” But Tami is already gone.
And that’s how you're going to find out your mom and dad are getting back together!
Happy Shopping For School Clothes With Dad’s Girlfriend Tami (A Back-To-School Miracle!) Day!
You tell her that you usually go shopping for school clothes with your mom, but Tami says, “Well this year you’re going with me. Come on, you have to look superhot on your first day.”
Tami lets you buy skinny jeans, which Dad never lets you buy. She lets you buy a bunch of things from American Apparel, and mom won’t even let you set foot in there. You buy like six pairs of the cutest shoes, and Tami even brings you into Gap Body and helps you pick out bras.
Some of the stuff is super-expensive too. You'll probably spend more on your school clothes this year than all the other years combined, but Tami says it's cool and just charges it all to your Dad’s credit card.
“You sure Dad’s not gonna get angry about this?” you ask when you're at the food court. “He never lets me spend this much. He says I’m too young to spend so much on clothes.”
“Your Dad says a lot of stuff he doesn’t really mean,” Tami says, kind of staring blankly at the Chick-Fil-A counter.
After lunch Tami takes you to the MAC Cosmetics store and you try on a ton of makeup. Tami doesn’t help you out too much though. The counter girl tells you what colors are right for you while Tami is in the back talking to one of her friends who works there. At first it looks like they're fighting because Tami seems really angry, but before you leave she and her friend hug for a really long time, and it looks like the friend is comforting Tami. Then Tami comes over and tells you to buy all the makeup you tried on. It costs over $250!
“Are you sure Dad’s not going to be upset about this?” you ask Tami when you're walking towards Macy’s. Tami is walking really fast so you have to kind of trot to keep up.
“If he gets upset,” she says to you. “You tell him he shouldn’t expect other people to do the right thing when he keeps doing the wrong thing over and goddamned over again.”
You tell Tami you aren't sure if you could say all that to your Dad, but she doesn’t hear you. You're walking really fast now, right past juniors, past womens, and up the escalator into men’s.
“What are we doing here?” You start to ask, but then you stop in your tracks when you see your mom standing behind the Men’s Fragrance counter. You didn’t even know she’d started working again after she and your dad separated.
“Mom?” you say.
Before she can answer, Tami starts picking up cologne sample bottles and throwing them at your mom, screaming at her and calling her a bitch and a cow and the c-word. Your mom ducks behind the counter, trying not to get hit, while Tami is practically falling over the counter grabbing at her hair, shouting stuff like “I’ll kill you you whore” and “Just let him go you old cow” and “Think you won’t lose him again? Think you can really hang onto him this time?”
Some security guards come and drag Tami out of the store, and your mom finally stands up and shouts, “He’s my husband!” But Tami is already gone.
And that’s how you're going to find out your mom and dad are getting back together!
Happy Shopping For School Clothes With Dad’s Girlfriend Tami (A Back-To-School Miracle!) Day!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Write A Letter To Some Rain Day!
Start with "Dear Rain" because it's respectful, then be self-effacing right off the bat.
"I know I'm an asshole for going back and forth about you." that way the rain won't want to call you an asshole because you already came up with it.
Get hostile all of a sudden. "But seriously, who gives a shit what you think of me? You're weather." That was cold but it's the only way to guarantee a clean break.
Now it's time to lay it all down plain. "On Monday I was into you. On Tuesday, I thought, this is still kind of boss. Today, sorry but you're what's wrong, not me."
You're doing it! You're really doing it! Keep going. "I probably didn't need to write this letter because I see according to a website that can see into the future that tomorrow you're going to be replaced by sunshine and also you can't read (no eyes)."
Ouch on the 'no eyes' thing.
"Bye and once more, I don't like you the way I did 40 hours ago (that was fun then)."
Awesome. Now close. "So long. Love (why did I write love, I don't), [your name]."
Yes! That rain is going to kill itself you broke its heart so sad.
Happy Write A Letter To Some Rain Day!
"I know I'm an asshole for going back and forth about you." that way the rain won't want to call you an asshole because you already came up with it.
Get hostile all of a sudden. "But seriously, who gives a shit what you think of me? You're weather." That was cold but it's the only way to guarantee a clean break.
Now it's time to lay it all down plain. "On Monday I was into you. On Tuesday, I thought, this is still kind of boss. Today, sorry but you're what's wrong, not me."
You're doing it! You're really doing it! Keep going. "I probably didn't need to write this letter because I see according to a website that can see into the future that tomorrow you're going to be replaced by sunshine and also you can't read (no eyes)."
Ouch on the 'no eyes' thing.
"Bye and once more, I don't like you the way I did 40 hours ago (that was fun then)."
Awesome. Now close. "So long. Love (why did I write love, I don't), [your name]."
Yes! That rain is going to kill itself you broke its heart so sad.
Happy Write A Letter To Some Rain Day!
Monday, August 23, 2010
Do You Wanna Come With Me Day!
A man will hold out his hand and ask, "Do you wanna come with me?"
No blood on his hand, some scars, fingernails thick as a car windshield, and a wedding ring so old the gold's gone bad.
"Do you wanna come with me?"
If you take his hand he'll lead you to the passenger seat of his Caprice Classic, and he'll drive you across town to a small, two-story home.
Inside he'll sit you down in a chair that looks like it's only purpose is to make the elderly sit up straight while they die. He'll give you a glass of tonic water and he'll turn on the TV. A rerun of "Medium."
"Is this it?" you'll ask.
He'll nod, belch airily.
"I was kind of hoping for an adventure," you'll say.
He'll laugh once. Then he'll get lost in the show.
In the show, a person will have died, but no one will know why. Then the medium will use psychic powers and it's over.
"Time to turn in," he'll say. He won't get up. He's going to sleep exactly where he's sitting on that couch.
"Is there anyone else who lives here who might involve me in dangerous capers? Or maybe a love affair that will be my end?"
He'll shake his head slowly from left to right while watching the evening news on mute.
"Why did you ask me to come with you?"
"I asked you if you wanted to come with me, and you did. Apparently where you were sucked so bad you didn't care where I was going."
You'll try to remember how you felt about where you were, and whether it was so much worse than the chair in which you're sitting. You won't be sure, so you'll keep comparing, looking back every chance you get. You'll stay in the chair, looking back and doing your best to decide which was the better life. You'll die sitting up straight.
Happy Do You Wanna Come With Me Day!
No blood on his hand, some scars, fingernails thick as a car windshield, and a wedding ring so old the gold's gone bad.
"Do you wanna come with me?"
If you take his hand he'll lead you to the passenger seat of his Caprice Classic, and he'll drive you across town to a small, two-story home.
Inside he'll sit you down in a chair that looks like it's only purpose is to make the elderly sit up straight while they die. He'll give you a glass of tonic water and he'll turn on the TV. A rerun of "Medium."
"Is this it?" you'll ask.
He'll nod, belch airily.
"I was kind of hoping for an adventure," you'll say.
He'll laugh once. Then he'll get lost in the show.
In the show, a person will have died, but no one will know why. Then the medium will use psychic powers and it's over.
"Time to turn in," he'll say. He won't get up. He's going to sleep exactly where he's sitting on that couch.
"Is there anyone else who lives here who might involve me in dangerous capers? Or maybe a love affair that will be my end?"
He'll shake his head slowly from left to right while watching the evening news on mute.
"Why did you ask me to come with you?"
"I asked you if you wanted to come with me, and you did. Apparently where you were sucked so bad you didn't care where I was going."
You'll try to remember how you felt about where you were, and whether it was so much worse than the chair in which you're sitting. You won't be sure, so you'll keep comparing, looking back every chance you get. You'll stay in the chair, looking back and doing your best to decide which was the better life. You'll die sitting up straight.
Happy Do You Wanna Come With Me Day!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Funny Newsman Blooper Day!
You are responsible for the big funny newsman blooper clip of the day. You just finished the 5:30 broadcast, but already people are forwarding to each other the clip of your hilarious blooper, where the weather guy says to you, "So it looks like rain tomorrow, Dan." And you replied, "Pain? I mean rain? Whoops!"
Everyone chuckled a little bit, then you asked, "Rain of blood or tears? Or both? That's my life right there. Crying my eyes out until the tears stop and my eyes have no choice but to reach back into my skull, scratch my brain until the blood starts to flow and pour out my tear ducts just to appease my tear ducts' thirst. Why'd Susanne leave? Hey Susanne, you out there? Why'd you leave? I told you you were my only one, forever and ever amen. Aw God, it's not gonna end is it? Life? Is it Frank?"
Frank the weather guy didn't know what to say. So you walked over and spit in his face.
"This is it, Cincinnati! You want some news, here it is!"
Then you got up on the anchor desk, opened your pants, laid down on your back and started peeing up in the air, aiming your penis until the arc of pee was landing in your own open mouth. Your co-anchor Leslie tried to pull you off the desk, so you took her hand and started slapping your own face with it.
"Fucktastic!" you shouted. Then you stabbed yourself in the heart.
It was classic and everyone who watched it already forgot about it.
Happy Funny Newsman Blooper Day!
Everyone chuckled a little bit, then you asked, "Rain of blood or tears? Or both? That's my life right there. Crying my eyes out until the tears stop and my eyes have no choice but to reach back into my skull, scratch my brain until the blood starts to flow and pour out my tear ducts just to appease my tear ducts' thirst. Why'd Susanne leave? Hey Susanne, you out there? Why'd you leave? I told you you were my only one, forever and ever amen. Aw God, it's not gonna end is it? Life? Is it Frank?"
Frank the weather guy didn't know what to say. So you walked over and spit in his face.
"This is it, Cincinnati! You want some news, here it is!"
Then you got up on the anchor desk, opened your pants, laid down on your back and started peeing up in the air, aiming your penis until the arc of pee was landing in your own open mouth. Your co-anchor Leslie tried to pull you off the desk, so you took her hand and started slapping your own face with it.
"Fucktastic!" you shouted. Then you stabbed yourself in the heart.
It was classic and everyone who watched it already forgot about it.
Happy Funny Newsman Blooper Day!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Office Girl Day!
Office Girl is the saddest girl there ever was because she spends all day with her back bent over a stapler and her legs wrapped up in strange-fitting slacks when she should be in a park with her head lain back in a boy's lap, her hair splayed out over his thighs, her eyes looking up into his wondering if she's wasting her looks on the wrong boy.
"Look at this blouse," she says to you. "I should be wearing tops that fall off the shoulder. My shoulders are amazing. Instead I'm wearing this shit, stuck doing this shit, talking about this kind of shit to boys like you, who don't even look half as handsome as the boy who's probably not good looking enough for me."
Just then two grown men will pass by her cubicle tossing a nerf football. Office girl will cry and you'll hold her and yes, she'll know how big a deal it is that you're getting to hold her. But Uncle Sam expects everyone to work if they want to eat a meal or two so she's stuck crying into terrible excuses for chests like yours.
"The world deserves better than to have me cooped up in here talking to you," she says.
You know she's right. It hurts to have it confirmed, but you shouldn't take it out on her. If you're looking for someone to blame, there's no better place to start than with the man upstairs (God).
Happy Office Girl Day!
"Look at this blouse," she says to you. "I should be wearing tops that fall off the shoulder. My shoulders are amazing. Instead I'm wearing this shit, stuck doing this shit, talking about this kind of shit to boys like you, who don't even look half as handsome as the boy who's probably not good looking enough for me."
Just then two grown men will pass by her cubicle tossing a nerf football. Office girl will cry and you'll hold her and yes, she'll know how big a deal it is that you're getting to hold her. But Uncle Sam expects everyone to work if they want to eat a meal or two so she's stuck crying into terrible excuses for chests like yours.
"The world deserves better than to have me cooped up in here talking to you," she says.
You know she's right. It hurts to have it confirmed, but you shouldn't take it out on her. If you're looking for someone to blame, there's no better place to start than with the man upstairs (God).
Happy Office Girl Day!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Summer Romance Day!
Today you're going to meet a boy who upsets you in a way that makes you want to kiss him in lakes. He'll be 40 (you're 42).
"What are we going to do when the summer ends?" you'll ask him one gorgeous night when you're lying on the hood of his car staring at airplanes.
"Go back to our spouses I guess," he'll say.
You don't know what you were hoping to hear him say. You know that he's right. You have to go back. No matter how much fun you're having with your summer romance, you miss your husband and your daughters. But you kind of wish he didn't miss his wife and teenage son. You kind of wish he would express just a little sadness that these things can only last for the duration of a season.
"Hey you guys," you'll hear from behind the car. It's your husband.
"What are you doing here?" you'll ask.
"Dominique had to go back to Paris," he'll say. "She's taking a summer semester."
"Summer semester?" you'll say. "How old was she?"
"Eighteen. Why, how old's yours?"
Your summer romance will sit up and show your husband his mop of gray hair and face full of wrinkles.
"Jesus," your husband will say. "More like winter romance. Or whichever season means being near death of natural causes due to old age romance."
You and your summer romance will say, "Yeah that's winter."
Your husband will tell you that with Dominique gone, he's free for the rest of the summer so he can pick up the girls from your mother's and raise them. You're a little jealous that he gets to be with your daughters, but he hurt you when he said your summer romance is too old. You don't want him to think you'd rather be home raising your children, so you give your summer romance a wet sloppy kiss while your husband watches.
"Ew!" your husband shouts. Then he takes off in his Volvo and heads for home.
Happy Summer Romance Day!
"What are we going to do when the summer ends?" you'll ask him one gorgeous night when you're lying on the hood of his car staring at airplanes.
"Go back to our spouses I guess," he'll say.
You don't know what you were hoping to hear him say. You know that he's right. You have to go back. No matter how much fun you're having with your summer romance, you miss your husband and your daughters. But you kind of wish he didn't miss his wife and teenage son. You kind of wish he would express just a little sadness that these things can only last for the duration of a season.
"Hey you guys," you'll hear from behind the car. It's your husband.
"What are you doing here?" you'll ask.
"Dominique had to go back to Paris," he'll say. "She's taking a summer semester."
"Summer semester?" you'll say. "How old was she?"
"Eighteen. Why, how old's yours?"
Your summer romance will sit up and show your husband his mop of gray hair and face full of wrinkles.
"Jesus," your husband will say. "More like winter romance. Or whichever season means being near death of natural causes due to old age romance."
You and your summer romance will say, "Yeah that's winter."
Your husband will tell you that with Dominique gone, he's free for the rest of the summer so he can pick up the girls from your mother's and raise them. You're a little jealous that he gets to be with your daughters, but he hurt you when he said your summer romance is too old. You don't want him to think you'd rather be home raising your children, so you give your summer romance a wet sloppy kiss while your husband watches.
"Ew!" your husband shouts. Then he takes off in his Volvo and heads for home.
Happy Summer Romance Day!
Friday, June 25, 2010
We Are The Magic Police Day!
We are a special division of your local police force that uses magic to prevent crime. For example, last week, a suspicious man was seen outside the 7-11 around the corner from your house. He was planning to rob the 7-11 at gunpoint, but we sawed him in half before he could. We kept him in two halves until he agreed to see a jobs counselor to help him find a way to make money that doesn't involve committing crimes. Once he agreed, we spun the boxes containing his two halves around the parking lot, then we put him back together, let him out of the box, and sent him on his way to a crime free life. See? Magic! (police)
But that's not why we're here. We're here because you used to date our top illusionist, Leland. Yeah, Leland's an illusionist now. It's different from a magician in some way (he says). Anyway, he's really been down in the dumps since you broke it off with him, and it's made him unable to wow criminals with his mind-boggling illusions, which has in turn caused the town's murder rate to skyrocket.
Apparently, you're just about the hottest thing Leland's ever seen naked. And remember, he can make illusions so he can pretty much see whatever he wants naked. He's convinced there's no point in bothering anymore if he has to live a life without you naked in it. If you don't take him back, Leland might stop fighting crime by making people look at fucked up shit altogether! Which means more people are going to die and when we have our departmental review we're going to have to juke the stats.
What do you say? Do you think you can find a part of your heart that isn't grossed out by letting Leland touch you? Remember, people are going to die and while we're not trying to say it will be your fault if they do, well, who else would be to blame? Not us, that's for sure, because we are the Magic Police.
Happy We Are The Magic Police Day!
But that's not why we're here. We're here because you used to date our top illusionist, Leland. Yeah, Leland's an illusionist now. It's different from a magician in some way (he says). Anyway, he's really been down in the dumps since you broke it off with him, and it's made him unable to wow criminals with his mind-boggling illusions, which has in turn caused the town's murder rate to skyrocket.
Apparently, you're just about the hottest thing Leland's ever seen naked. And remember, he can make illusions so he can pretty much see whatever he wants naked. He's convinced there's no point in bothering anymore if he has to live a life without you naked in it. If you don't take him back, Leland might stop fighting crime by making people look at fucked up shit altogether! Which means more people are going to die and when we have our departmental review we're going to have to juke the stats.
What do you say? Do you think you can find a part of your heart that isn't grossed out by letting Leland touch you? Remember, people are going to die and while we're not trying to say it will be your fault if they do, well, who else would be to blame? Not us, that's for sure, because we are the Magic Police.
Happy We Are The Magic Police Day!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Dance With Her Again After 30 Years Apart Day!
The night you got arrested for a crime you didn't commit, you were at a cotillion with Loretta, the most beautiful girl in your town. You danced with her for hours, feeling heaven in your hands as you lifted and squeezed and swayed with that wonderful dream of a girl. You could have danced with her for the rest of your life. But when you stepped out of the dance you found out you'd been framed for a crime you didn't commit so you spent the next thirty years in jail.
You spent those thirty years remembering your dance with Loretta. You wrote to each other every day, promising each other that you'd wait. You felt in your heart that it didn't matter that you were in prison, just as long as you'd get the chance to dance with Loretta just one more time. Your life will have been wonderful if you get the chance to hold that woman in your arms again while the music plays you about the dance floor.
Tonight's the night. You got released, you have a suit on. You're going to dance with Loretta again. You're going to meet Loretta at her home, and you're going to dance with her on her living room floor. You're certain that the minute you place your hand on her back, it will feel as if the past three decades have been completely erased from time and you're both right back where you were that night of the cotillion.
Halfway through your first dance, you'll know you were wrong. It's nice to dance together again, sure, and you both feel a great deal of love for each other. But those thirty years are definitely still there. In fact, they loom even bigger for both of you, knowing how awesome it would have been to spend those thirty years dancing instead of sending letters in and out of prison. You hold each other's aged bodies, pained with thoughts of how wonderful it would be to hold each other's bodies when they were still fit, young and muscular. You move slowly about the carpet, trying not to scream at God for making you miss out on the time when you used to float together. It's so wonderful to finally hold each other again, and so unfair that you had to wait this long.
At the end of the song, you both move to separate chairs and weep.
Happy Dance With Her Again After 30 Years Apart Day!
You spent those thirty years remembering your dance with Loretta. You wrote to each other every day, promising each other that you'd wait. You felt in your heart that it didn't matter that you were in prison, just as long as you'd get the chance to dance with Loretta just one more time. Your life will have been wonderful if you get the chance to hold that woman in your arms again while the music plays you about the dance floor.
Tonight's the night. You got released, you have a suit on. You're going to dance with Loretta again. You're going to meet Loretta at her home, and you're going to dance with her on her living room floor. You're certain that the minute you place your hand on her back, it will feel as if the past three decades have been completely erased from time and you're both right back where you were that night of the cotillion.
Halfway through your first dance, you'll know you were wrong. It's nice to dance together again, sure, and you both feel a great deal of love for each other. But those thirty years are definitely still there. In fact, they loom even bigger for both of you, knowing how awesome it would have been to spend those thirty years dancing instead of sending letters in and out of prison. You hold each other's aged bodies, pained with thoughts of how wonderful it would be to hold each other's bodies when they were still fit, young and muscular. You move slowly about the carpet, trying not to scream at God for making you miss out on the time when you used to float together. It's so wonderful to finally hold each other again, and so unfair that you had to wait this long.
At the end of the song, you both move to separate chairs and weep.
Happy Dance With Her Again After 30 Years Apart Day!
Monday, June 14, 2010
It's Time To Talk To Janice About Deborah And Leon Day!
Your wife Deborah is cheating on you with Leon, who is married to Janice. Are we clear? Good.
Go see Janice (the one married to Leon) and tell her that Leon (Janice's husband) is sleeping with Deborah (your wife). Make sure you keep all these names straight or this will go horribly.
"Wait, who?" Janice will say.
"Leon," you'll say. Janice will be real impatient with you since she has a whole lot more cakes to make. Janice owns a bakery. Remember that.
"Why did you come here to tell me that Leon and I are having sex?" Janice will say. You must have screwed up the names.
"No, I didn't mean to say you're having sex," you'll say.
"Well if you did, you'd be right. I just don't understand why you came all the way here [to the bakery I own] to tell me that."
Look down at your hand for the notes you wrote in pen. Janice - Leon wife. Leon - Deborah affair. Deborah - My wife. Janice is a baker.
Say, "You're a baker."
Janice will nod.
"I'm married to Deborah."
Janice will nod again.
"You're married to Leon."
Janice will lean forward now. She can see you're on the right track.
"Deborah has sex in bakeries with Janice."
NO! YOU FUCKED IT UP!!!
Happy It's Time To Talk To Janice About Deborah And Leon Day!
Go see Janice (the one married to Leon) and tell her that Leon (Janice's husband) is sleeping with Deborah (your wife). Make sure you keep all these names straight or this will go horribly.
"Wait, who?" Janice will say.
"Leon," you'll say. Janice will be real impatient with you since she has a whole lot more cakes to make. Janice owns a bakery. Remember that.
"Why did you come here to tell me that Leon and I are having sex?" Janice will say. You must have screwed up the names.
"No, I didn't mean to say you're having sex," you'll say.
"Well if you did, you'd be right. I just don't understand why you came all the way here [to the bakery I own] to tell me that."
Look down at your hand for the notes you wrote in pen. Janice - Leon wife. Leon - Deborah affair. Deborah - My wife. Janice is a baker.
Say, "You're a baker."
Janice will nod.
"I'm married to Deborah."
Janice will nod again.
"You're married to Leon."
Janice will lean forward now. She can see you're on the right track.
"Deborah has sex in bakeries with Janice."
NO! YOU FUCKED IT UP!!!
Happy It's Time To Talk To Janice About Deborah And Leon Day!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Carson City Motorcycle and RV Day!
Your wife disappeared eighteen years ago because she met a slick talking salesman who told her he'd give her the world and she bought his pitch. Little did she know the world he was promising didn't extend very far outside the glass-enclosed showroom of Carson City Motorcycle and RV, where she is presently the number 4 saleperson (out of six).
She left you to raise your son alone. He was just a baby when she split, and if he ever got curious about her, he kept it to himself. So when you pull onto the lot today to buy your and her son a new Kawasaki for his high school graduation present, the boy doesn't have a clue that he's being upsold by his very own mama.
"Pretty kickass," you son says, sitting on a banana yellow Ninja 250R.
You and his mother stare at each other with the boy in between. Her eyes wonder if you brought him here on purpose. You let her know with your eyes that it's just one of those funny coincidences that are never as funny as they should be, that the only thing you wanted in life was to make it to the grave without seeing her face again.
"Four stroke engine," she says, unable to look the boy in the eye. "Liquid cooled. DOHC. Four valve per cylinder."
Your son bounces in the seat. His mother sighs at the sight, now looking like she's on the verge of breaking down and throwing her arms around his shoulders.
"Liquid cooled," she repeats herself. "Four valve."
Your son asks you if he can have it.
"Looks like you just made yourself a sale," you say.
The price on the windblock reads $7200.
"You're not even gonna haggle dad?" your son asks.
You don't say a word. You just pull your checkbook out of your pocket and start to write.
"I can give you a good deal," she says. "Half-price."
"I'll pay the price on the vehicle," you say, continuing to write your check.
"Dad."
"I want to give you this deal," she says.
Your son looks at his mother, then at you.
"Ain't no way you're taking a penny less than full price for my son's high school graduation present," you say, not lifting your eyes from the check.
She looks at the boy. He's staring at you bewildered. He doesn't see her lift her hand to his head, and he's startled when she puts her fingers through his hair.
This grabs your attention. This is worth looking up from that checkbook to witness. You let it happen. You don't yank her arm away from the boy so you can break it at the wrist. You don't need to. There's way too much pain in that touch already.
Happy Carson City Motorcycle and RV Day!
She left you to raise your son alone. He was just a baby when she split, and if he ever got curious about her, he kept it to himself. So when you pull onto the lot today to buy your and her son a new Kawasaki for his high school graduation present, the boy doesn't have a clue that he's being upsold by his very own mama.
"Pretty kickass," you son says, sitting on a banana yellow Ninja 250R.
You and his mother stare at each other with the boy in between. Her eyes wonder if you brought him here on purpose. You let her know with your eyes that it's just one of those funny coincidences that are never as funny as they should be, that the only thing you wanted in life was to make it to the grave without seeing her face again.
"Four stroke engine," she says, unable to look the boy in the eye. "Liquid cooled. DOHC. Four valve per cylinder."
Your son bounces in the seat. His mother sighs at the sight, now looking like she's on the verge of breaking down and throwing her arms around his shoulders.
"Liquid cooled," she repeats herself. "Four valve."
Your son asks you if he can have it.
"Looks like you just made yourself a sale," you say.
The price on the windblock reads $7200.
"You're not even gonna haggle dad?" your son asks.
You don't say a word. You just pull your checkbook out of your pocket and start to write.
"I can give you a good deal," she says. "Half-price."
"I'll pay the price on the vehicle," you say, continuing to write your check.
"Dad."
"I want to give you this deal," she says.
Your son looks at his mother, then at you.
"Ain't no way you're taking a penny less than full price for my son's high school graduation present," you say, not lifting your eyes from the check.
She looks at the boy. He's staring at you bewildered. He doesn't see her lift her hand to his head, and he's startled when she puts her fingers through his hair.
This grabs your attention. This is worth looking up from that checkbook to witness. You let it happen. You don't yank her arm away from the boy so you can break it at the wrist. You don't need to. There's way too much pain in that touch already.
Happy Carson City Motorcycle and RV Day!
Friday, June 11, 2010
You Are A Good Person Because You Take Care Of Your Grandmother Day!
She has no one left, clearly, if she's living under the care of one of her kids' kids. No husband anymore. All her children were probably killed in a car wreck or sent to jail or something. Way back, it might have been her taking care of you, but she quickly became infirm and helpless. So it came to pass that you started taking care of your grandma and are therefore a good person.
"Wesley?" she shouts downstairs.
You can't answer because you're making meth in the basement, but only to raise some money for an orphanage that's down on its luck.
"Wesley?" she shouts again.
"Coming grandma!" you say. You head upstairs to the kitchen to get her dinner out of the oven. You stop in the living room on your way and you grab a single yellow rose from a vase and place it on her dinner tray. Then you head upstairs.
"Happy birthday Grandma," you say. She smiles a big smile and claps her hands once.
"Such a good grandson," she says. "What would I do without you?"
"Guess you'd have to be the prettiest grandma all by your lonesome, wouldn't you," you say.
Your grandma laughs, then she waits as you spoon her meal into her mouth.
Just then a shady character from your past pulls into the driveway to make you a proposition that will change everything and send you down the road to either redemption or ruin, but you'll be able to reunite with your one true love along the way so that's bitchin'.
"One more bite Grandma?" you ask.
Both of you hear the car door outside.
"You keep quiet, okay grandma?" you say. "I'll go see who it is."
You get up from the bed and close the door. The next time you see your grandmother, you'll be standing over her corpse making her a promise that you're going to get the bastards who did whatever it was they did to turn her into a corpse.
Happy You Are A Good Person Because You Take Care Of Your Grandmother Day!
"Wesley?" she shouts downstairs.
You can't answer because you're making meth in the basement, but only to raise some money for an orphanage that's down on its luck.
"Wesley?" she shouts again.
"Coming grandma!" you say. You head upstairs to the kitchen to get her dinner out of the oven. You stop in the living room on your way and you grab a single yellow rose from a vase and place it on her dinner tray. Then you head upstairs.
"Happy birthday Grandma," you say. She smiles a big smile and claps her hands once.
"Such a good grandson," she says. "What would I do without you?"
"Guess you'd have to be the prettiest grandma all by your lonesome, wouldn't you," you say.
Your grandma laughs, then she waits as you spoon her meal into her mouth.
Just then a shady character from your past pulls into the driveway to make you a proposition that will change everything and send you down the road to either redemption or ruin, but you'll be able to reunite with your one true love along the way so that's bitchin'.
"One more bite Grandma?" you ask.
Both of you hear the car door outside.
"You keep quiet, okay grandma?" you say. "I'll go see who it is."
You get up from the bed and close the door. The next time you see your grandmother, you'll be standing over her corpse making her a promise that you're going to get the bastards who did whatever it was they did to turn her into a corpse.
Happy You Are A Good Person Because You Take Care Of Your Grandmother Day!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
You Are The Building Prankster Day!
Everyone in the building was counting on you to bring a little levity into their lives especially after Harris in 6C was found dead (suicide) so that's why you've hidden all of the building's housecats.
"I simply broke into each apartment that housed a cat and covertly abducted the cat to the hideaway, where all of the cats have been playfully fighting for the past six weeks," you tell the police.
"You should have seen their faces when they all started to realize that every cat in the building was going missing," you giggle, ignoring your lawyer's pleas for you to keep quiet. "They were all like, where are our cats? It was classic!"
The DA is still trying to figure out how to inflate the charges he can bring against you. Since no humans were harmed, it's difficult to get you on anything but burglary and animal cruelty. And since they have to make a deal with you in order to get you to tell them where the cats have been hidden (they're in a medium sized storage unit at the U-Stor-It on Columbus), you're holding all the cards.
"Prank of the century!" you exclaim to the police, cackling with pride. Seeing as the cats haven't been fed in a day, the police are running out of time so they're about to begin beating you in the mid-section with their night sticks.
Happy You Are The Building Prankster Day!
"I simply broke into each apartment that housed a cat and covertly abducted the cat to the hideaway, where all of the cats have been playfully fighting for the past six weeks," you tell the police.
"You should have seen their faces when they all started to realize that every cat in the building was going missing," you giggle, ignoring your lawyer's pleas for you to keep quiet. "They were all like, where are our cats? It was classic!"
The DA is still trying to figure out how to inflate the charges he can bring against you. Since no humans were harmed, it's difficult to get you on anything but burglary and animal cruelty. And since they have to make a deal with you in order to get you to tell them where the cats have been hidden (they're in a medium sized storage unit at the U-Stor-It on Columbus), you're holding all the cards.
"Prank of the century!" you exclaim to the police, cackling with pride. Seeing as the cats haven't been fed in a day, the police are running out of time so they're about to begin beating you in the mid-section with their night sticks.
Happy You Are The Building Prankster Day!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Be A Rich Person Who Dates The Poor Day!
Everyone likes it when rich people give to the less fortunate, so you should dump your similarly wealthy spouse and go to a poor-person's restaurant like McDonalds or Chipotle and hit on one of cashiers.
"You have a languorous beauty," say to the cashier, with relative certainty that it's a compliment.
The cashier will respond, "Normally I refrain from making eye contact with someone of such substantial means, but I can't help myself with you."
"Come out with me tonight," say to the cashier. "I will take you places where they keep lobsters in a fish tank and allow you to pick any one you want."
The cashier will be uncertain. "I come from proud people. We may not have a lot, but we don't take what we haven't earned."
Say to the cashier, "Oh I'll make you earn it. For every dollar I spend on you, you have to give a year of your life."
The cashier will estimate what a dinner with you might cost and then do the math. "Why, your asking me to give of myself to you until the end of time!"
Take your cashier's hand and promise to be true. The cashier will cry, and everyone else behind the counter will cheer as they do whenever someone wealthy comes along and steals away a staff-member. They'll take the cashier into the back of the kitchen to be scrubbed clean in one of the extra-large sinks, and then your cashier will be delivered to you, sparkling and fresh with scent of highly concentrated dish cleaner. Now all you have to do is take your cashier to a society dinner and finally give your mother the heart-attack she's been threatening to have for the last two damned decades.
Happy Be A Rich Person Who Dates The Poor Day!
Also this: How To Break Up With Boys
"You have a languorous beauty," say to the cashier, with relative certainty that it's a compliment.
The cashier will respond, "Normally I refrain from making eye contact with someone of such substantial means, but I can't help myself with you."
"Come out with me tonight," say to the cashier. "I will take you places where they keep lobsters in a fish tank and allow you to pick any one you want."
The cashier will be uncertain. "I come from proud people. We may not have a lot, but we don't take what we haven't earned."
Say to the cashier, "Oh I'll make you earn it. For every dollar I spend on you, you have to give a year of your life."
The cashier will estimate what a dinner with you might cost and then do the math. "Why, your asking me to give of myself to you until the end of time!"
Take your cashier's hand and promise to be true. The cashier will cry, and everyone else behind the counter will cheer as they do whenever someone wealthy comes along and steals away a staff-member. They'll take the cashier into the back of the kitchen to be scrubbed clean in one of the extra-large sinks, and then your cashier will be delivered to you, sparkling and fresh with scent of highly concentrated dish cleaner. Now all you have to do is take your cashier to a society dinner and finally give your mother the heart-attack she's been threatening to have for the last two damned decades.
Happy Be A Rich Person Who Dates The Poor Day!
Also this: How To Break Up With Boys
Monday, May 17, 2010
Mom Lives In Dad's Attic Now Day!
You like to stop by your Dad's house and cook him dinner once or twice a week. It makes you feel good to know he's not eating alone every night. You usually close out the meal with some typical chit-chat, updating each other on what you're up to, what you've heard about whom. But tonight, just as you're finishing the dishes and getting ready to put your coat on, your Dad will remember a bit of news.
"Oh by the way, if you wanna see Mom she's upstairs. Mom lives in my attic now, but don't tell the Feds."
After your mom and dad divorced, your mom started getting in a lot of trouble with the IRS and eventually a warrant was issued for her arrest. Apparently she reached out to your Dad and he was fine with her hiding out in his house, her old house for that matter, as long as she didn't make too much noise.
"And none of your sing-songy voice," he said during the negotiation. "Hated the way you couldn't say a word to me without having to sing it like we was living in a musical."
Your Mom agreed to his terms and now she's upstairs on an air mattress, reading some magazines.
"Just like old times," she says when you come up and see her.
You ask her if this is just some ploy to get back together with Dad.
"God no," she says. "It's just if the Feds find me I'll die in prison."
"Quiet up there!" your Dad shouts through the floorboards, banging the ceiling with a broom handle.
"Don't worry about me sweetie," your Mom says. "It's just so nice to be back in my old house, even if I have to stay in the attic."
Your Mom will live alone in your Dad's attic for the next twenty months, until one night your Dad climbs upstairs and asks your Mom if he can sleep up there with her that night because for the first time in 30 years he's scared to be alone. Your Mom will welcome him to her air mattress, and they'll live together in the attic for another four months. Then one night your Dad will die (of natural causes) and your mom will take off before the police show up for the body. She'll write.
Happy Mom Lives In Dad's Attic Now Day!
"Oh by the way, if you wanna see Mom she's upstairs. Mom lives in my attic now, but don't tell the Feds."
After your mom and dad divorced, your mom started getting in a lot of trouble with the IRS and eventually a warrant was issued for her arrest. Apparently she reached out to your Dad and he was fine with her hiding out in his house, her old house for that matter, as long as she didn't make too much noise.
"And none of your sing-songy voice," he said during the negotiation. "Hated the way you couldn't say a word to me without having to sing it like we was living in a musical."
Your Mom agreed to his terms and now she's upstairs on an air mattress, reading some magazines.
"Just like old times," she says when you come up and see her.
You ask her if this is just some ploy to get back together with Dad.
"God no," she says. "It's just if the Feds find me I'll die in prison."
"Quiet up there!" your Dad shouts through the floorboards, banging the ceiling with a broom handle.
"Don't worry about me sweetie," your Mom says. "It's just so nice to be back in my old house, even if I have to stay in the attic."
Your Mom will live alone in your Dad's attic for the next twenty months, until one night your Dad climbs upstairs and asks your Mom if he can sleep up there with her that night because for the first time in 30 years he's scared to be alone. Your Mom will welcome him to her air mattress, and they'll live together in the attic for another four months. Then one night your Dad will die (of natural causes) and your mom will take off before the police show up for the body. She'll write.
Happy Mom Lives In Dad's Attic Now Day!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Significant Objects (Day)
Am taking a brief break from Girls Are Pretty so that I can take some time to roll up into a ball and panic. But you can find a story by me, and an object, here. Read about and bid on my Chrome Turtle, and you'll get a turtle and a story, and all the money will go to charity (826 National). Would make a nice present for a Girls Are Pretty fan.
Go check it out, and happy holidays.
Go check it out, and happy holidays.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Prisoners Of Love, The Movie Day!
Your favorite movie is Prisoners of Love, The Movie. It takes place in a dystopian future where people are no longer allowed to love each other, but two people who can't help themselves fall in love anyway, so they're thrown into a prison full of other people who can't help but love each other. All of these people whose love can't be destroyed by an evil government are locked away in the same prison, trying to keep their love alive any way they can. They decide if they all love each other with all of their being, they will create a love so strong that it will topple the government so one night they all gather in the prison shower and begin loving each other and you don't know what happens next because it's porn and you only saw the first eight minutes.
Happy Prisoners Of Love, The Movie Day!
Happy Prisoners Of Love, The Movie Day!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Guitar Lessons For Women Day!
You worked all night on your flyer. It's got a picture of you smiling and holding a guitar. Underneath that is your headline.
"Guitar Lessons For Women."
Then comes the hard sell. "I will teach you how to play guitar in eight weeks, all in the privacy of your own home. Women only."
You're excited for your new business venture. You've looked around at the other flyers posted in the chinese takeout places and laundromats, and as far as you can tell yours is the first in-home guitar school that is specifically for females. You are certain that there are a lot of women out there who will be excited that there's finally a guitar teacher for them, a guitar teacher who will not just teach women guitar, but who will refuse to teach men the guitar.
As your flyer says, "If you're a woman and you want to learn the guitar, I'm ready to come over to your house. I will not teach mean guitar, nor will I give a woman a lesson if there is a man in the house. Absolutely private lessons guaranteed. No one else has to even know I'm there in your house."
All the baristas at the coffee shop who said your flyer is too creepy to post there, and the receptionist at the dance studio who said your flyer is too creepy to post there, and those first three copy shops who refused to xerox your flyers because they didn't want to get involved in the investigation that's sure to come, they're all just jealous that they didn't think of your idea first. This is the best business concept you've had since you opened your "Boys Under !2 Only Sauna."
Happy Guitar Lessons For Women Day!
"Guitar Lessons For Women."
Then comes the hard sell. "I will teach you how to play guitar in eight weeks, all in the privacy of your own home. Women only."
You're excited for your new business venture. You've looked around at the other flyers posted in the chinese takeout places and laundromats, and as far as you can tell yours is the first in-home guitar school that is specifically for females. You are certain that there are a lot of women out there who will be excited that there's finally a guitar teacher for them, a guitar teacher who will not just teach women guitar, but who will refuse to teach men the guitar.
As your flyer says, "If you're a woman and you want to learn the guitar, I'm ready to come over to your house. I will not teach mean guitar, nor will I give a woman a lesson if there is a man in the house. Absolutely private lessons guaranteed. No one else has to even know I'm there in your house."
All the baristas at the coffee shop who said your flyer is too creepy to post there, and the receptionist at the dance studio who said your flyer is too creepy to post there, and those first three copy shops who refused to xerox your flyers because they didn't want to get involved in the investigation that's sure to come, they're all just jealous that they didn't think of your idea first. This is the best business concept you've had since you opened your "Boys Under !2 Only Sauna."
Happy Guitar Lessons For Women Day!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Lantern Day!
Light your Pier One Imports decorative lantern and you will open a window through time to a place where wives sold themselves for money and husbands were fine with it, even proud. In the time before electricity, sex ruled the land and a husband whose wife didn't sell herself for money was considered miserly.
"Will all this descriptive stuff on the back of the tag really happen if I light this lantern?" you ask the Pier One Imports sales associate, who will shrug without looking up from her copy of People.
Your Pier One Imports decorative lantern will also light your way to a time when children over the age of six were forced to dig sewers. Many died there. They died heroes of sewage development.
"Do you have any lanterns that don't do this stuff?" you ask the Pier One Imports sales associate, who will go on her break.
The flame of your Pier One Imports decorative lantern will always flicker in the direction of the eldest virgin in the room, just like in the olden days, and if you look directly into the flame, you will see the faces of all of your deceased relatives who were sent to hell when they died. Cover all mirrors before lighting your Pier One Imports decorative lantern or else the walls of your home will scream with the anguish of sled dogs cut loose and left to perish alone when they grew too tired to cross the arctic.
"I seem to be having trouble letting go of this lantern. It's fused itself to the skin of my palm," you'll say to another sales associate who may or may not be there.
You are your Pier One Imports decorative lantern and your Pier One Imports decorative lantern is you. Burn always.
Happy Lantern Day!
"Will all this descriptive stuff on the back of the tag really happen if I light this lantern?" you ask the Pier One Imports sales associate, who will shrug without looking up from her copy of People.
Your Pier One Imports decorative lantern will also light your way to a time when children over the age of six were forced to dig sewers. Many died there. They died heroes of sewage development.
"Do you have any lanterns that don't do this stuff?" you ask the Pier One Imports sales associate, who will go on her break.
The flame of your Pier One Imports decorative lantern will always flicker in the direction of the eldest virgin in the room, just like in the olden days, and if you look directly into the flame, you will see the faces of all of your deceased relatives who were sent to hell when they died. Cover all mirrors before lighting your Pier One Imports decorative lantern or else the walls of your home will scream with the anguish of sled dogs cut loose and left to perish alone when they grew too tired to cross the arctic.
"I seem to be having trouble letting go of this lantern. It's fused itself to the skin of my palm," you'll say to another sales associate who may or may not be there.
You are your Pier One Imports decorative lantern and your Pier One Imports decorative lantern is you. Burn always.
Happy Lantern Day!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Turn Your Book Club Into An Anti-Government Militia Day!
Try and look distracted while your fellow club-goers are fighting it out over whether Lawrence or Ramsey is the better catch. When someone finally asks you what you think, throw your book down so that it shatters the glass top of the Noguchi knockoff coffee table and shout, "You all just wanna sit here and talk about chapter 9 of 'The Post Birthday World?' We are in the final chapter of the Post-America world people! And I am not just gonna sit here and find out what's in the epilogue while they tax us for every breath we expel! Who's with me?"
The other book clubbers will stare at you in silence. Then that week's host will get up and pull on a margarita glass in the sideboard, which will make the sidebar spin out to reveal a hidden weapons cache.
"Let's get to the woods," your book club host will say. "America still lives in the trees."
The rest of you will jump from your chairs and cheer. Then you'll each grab a weapon, pick up your kids from soccer, and then rendezvous at the compound in the north.
Happy Turn Your Book Club Into An Anti-Government Militia Day!
The other book clubbers will stare at you in silence. Then that week's host will get up and pull on a margarita glass in the sideboard, which will make the sidebar spin out to reveal a hidden weapons cache.
"Let's get to the woods," your book club host will say. "America still lives in the trees."
The rest of you will jump from your chairs and cheer. Then you'll each grab a weapon, pick up your kids from soccer, and then rendezvous at the compound in the north.
Happy Turn Your Book Club Into An Anti-Government Militia Day!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Your Strength Is In Your Nosehair Day!
You're like Samson, except disgusting. All of your strength and endurance is tied into the length of the hair that grows out of your nostrils. When you trim your nosehair, you find you can barely lift a glass of water without getting winded. But when you let it grow, you can lift couches over your head without taking a breath.
"I like that you're really strong," your girlfriend is going to tell you today. "But I hate that when I kiss you I often catch one of your nosehairs on my tongue and then I have to stop kissing you so that I can throw up for like an hour."
"I'm sorry," tell her. "But if I trim my nosehairs I will be vulnerable."
Your girlfriend will complain that you work in accounting and you don't need to be so strong. Tell her that advancing hordes only remain at bay because they know you're presently invulnerable.
"Break up with me if you ha--" You'll say, but she'll have already left screaming because she'll have spotted a some ants ascending the vine of your nosehair towards your chin and it will have shaken her to her core. GUESS WHO'S SINGLE AGAIN!!!
Happy Your Strength Is In Your Nosehair Day!
"I like that you're really strong," your girlfriend is going to tell you today. "But I hate that when I kiss you I often catch one of your nosehairs on my tongue and then I have to stop kissing you so that I can throw up for like an hour."
"I'm sorry," tell her. "But if I trim my nosehairs I will be vulnerable."
Your girlfriend will complain that you work in accounting and you don't need to be so strong. Tell her that advancing hordes only remain at bay because they know you're presently invulnerable.
"Break up with me if you ha--" You'll say, but she'll have already left screaming because she'll have spotted a some ants ascending the vine of your nosehair towards your chin and it will have shaken her to her core. GUESS WHO'S SINGLE AGAIN!!!
Happy Your Strength Is In Your Nosehair Day!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The Waste Of Society Day!
Society as a whole got together last night and elected one person to be THE Waste. The biggest waste of potential, of effort, and of space in all of western culture. That person's name is Leon Blatz. You came in second.
"I will murder Leon Blatz if it is the last thing I ever do," you say out loud to your homemade egg sandwich (scrambled eggs on untoasted wheat bread).
As runner up Waste of Society, you win new storm windows.
"I will accept my award of new storm windows and I will leave my storm windows in a pile on the floor, uninstalled for the rest of my days, while I pursue Leon Blatz to the ends of the earth. His life will be mine," you say out loud to the couch pillow.
As runner up Waste of Society, you also will receive a phone call from Thandie Newton, but she will have dialed the wrong number.
"I'll take it," you say to a six year old empty soda bottle sitting on one of your bookshelves.
Also, as runner up Waste of Society, your life is in danger as Leon Blatz knows he must defend his crown with blood and he has taken an offensive stance against you. Specifically, there is a rifle sight trained on your head as you talk to the items in your home about what you plan to do to Leon Blatz. The trigger will be pulled presently, and your conversation will end, and Leon Blatz will move on to the third runner up, and then the fourth, and then the fifth, until he has wiped out the entire human race, truly earning the title "Waste of Society" (HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED OUT GREAT!).
Happy The Waste Of Society Day!
"I will murder Leon Blatz if it is the last thing I ever do," you say out loud to your homemade egg sandwich (scrambled eggs on untoasted wheat bread).
As runner up Waste of Society, you win new storm windows.
"I will accept my award of new storm windows and I will leave my storm windows in a pile on the floor, uninstalled for the rest of my days, while I pursue Leon Blatz to the ends of the earth. His life will be mine," you say out loud to the couch pillow.
As runner up Waste of Society, you also will receive a phone call from Thandie Newton, but she will have dialed the wrong number.
"I'll take it," you say to a six year old empty soda bottle sitting on one of your bookshelves.
Also, as runner up Waste of Society, your life is in danger as Leon Blatz knows he must defend his crown with blood and he has taken an offensive stance against you. Specifically, there is a rifle sight trained on your head as you talk to the items in your home about what you plan to do to Leon Blatz. The trigger will be pulled presently, and your conversation will end, and Leon Blatz will move on to the third runner up, and then the fourth, and then the fifth, until he has wiped out the entire human race, truly earning the title "Waste of Society" (HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED OUT GREAT!).
Happy The Waste Of Society Day!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Heart Donation Day!
Your wife needs a new heart and only yours will work out.
"I'll do it," you tell the doctor.
"Sweet!" your wife shouts.
The doctor will tell you that if you donate your heart, you'll die. You and your wife just stare at the doctor.
"Uh huh," you say.
"What's taking so long?" your wife shouts.
The doctor says he just has to scrub in.
"It's been a great 22 years," you tell your wife.
"Yup," your wife says. "Pretty sweet."
You high five. You make one last inside joke about that Seinfeld episode you both like, then you lay down and have your heart surgically removed and reinstalled in your wife's body and that's the end.
Happy Heart Donation Day!
"I'll do it," you tell the doctor.
"Sweet!" your wife shouts.
The doctor will tell you that if you donate your heart, you'll die. You and your wife just stare at the doctor.
"Uh huh," you say.
"What's taking so long?" your wife shouts.
The doctor says he just has to scrub in.
"It's been a great 22 years," you tell your wife.
"Yup," your wife says. "Pretty sweet."
You high five. You make one last inside joke about that Seinfeld episode you both like, then you lay down and have your heart surgically removed and reinstalled in your wife's body and that's the end.
Happy Heart Donation Day!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Sectional Couch Day!
You sit here and she sits there.
"Weapons?" she asks.
"Sure," you say. You reach under your cushions for a hunting knife and some throwing stars. She reaches under hers and pulls out two handguns, different ones, you don't know what they're called, but one looks like the kind Riggs would carry and the other would look good in Murtaugh's hand.
"Clothed or naked?" you ask.
"Tops and bottoms?" she asks.
You take off your bottoms. She takes off her top.
"Okay, let's do this," you say.
She takes a deep breath. "I feel scattered."
"I feel heavy," you say. "Like everything inside me is made of wet cement."
She laughs. "Can I write the Van Halen VH on your insides with a stick?"
You don't laugh. You throw one of your stars and she dodges it.
"I hate November. Always have," she says. "More so since you."
You tell her she's just scared of getting older. She shoots the Murtaugh gun and the bullet slices the skin of your left bicep.
Suggest a compromise.
"Let's both get on buses going in opposite directions. First one to jump off the moving bus to sprint after the other person's bus apologizing for everything and begging for a second chance loses," you say.
"Deal," she says. "You're gonna go down in flames."
You tell her you're well aware of that. Then you put on your tops and bottoms and go to the bus station.
Happy Sectional Couch Day!
"Weapons?" she asks.
"Sure," you say. You reach under your cushions for a hunting knife and some throwing stars. She reaches under hers and pulls out two handguns, different ones, you don't know what they're called, but one looks like the kind Riggs would carry and the other would look good in Murtaugh's hand.
"Clothed or naked?" you ask.
"Tops and bottoms?" she asks.
You take off your bottoms. She takes off her top.
"Okay, let's do this," you say.
She takes a deep breath. "I feel scattered."
"I feel heavy," you say. "Like everything inside me is made of wet cement."
She laughs. "Can I write the Van Halen VH on your insides with a stick?"
You don't laugh. You throw one of your stars and she dodges it.
"I hate November. Always have," she says. "More so since you."
You tell her she's just scared of getting older. She shoots the Murtaugh gun and the bullet slices the skin of your left bicep.
Suggest a compromise.
"Let's both get on buses going in opposite directions. First one to jump off the moving bus to sprint after the other person's bus apologizing for everything and begging for a second chance loses," you say.
"Deal," she says. "You're gonna go down in flames."
You tell her you're well aware of that. Then you put on your tops and bottoms and go to the bus station.
Happy Sectional Couch Day!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Deli Racist Day!
Today you're the deli racist. You're the guy in the corner deli who is openly raving about how much you hate the race of everyone who walks in the store. If you see an Asian person walk in, march up and down the aisle barking about how the Asians are walking on thin ice with you and they better watch it. If you see a black person walk in, march up and down the aisle barking about how the blacks are gonna get what's coming to them one day and you're gonna see to it. If you see a Hispanic person, march up and down the aisle talking about how Mexicans better not climb that wall cause you'll be waiting on the other side.
The customers will ask the deli owner why he keeps you there and the deli owner will explain that you ward off pests. That's when you'll see a mouse crawling out from under the soda fridge and you'll stop in your racist rant and drop to the floor to catch its tail in your teeth. Spend the rest of the day playing with the mouse until it's dead. Then expound a little bit on the Arabs.
Happy Deli Racist Day!
The customers will ask the deli owner why he keeps you there and the deli owner will explain that you ward off pests. That's when you'll see a mouse crawling out from under the soda fridge and you'll stop in your racist rant and drop to the floor to catch its tail in your teeth. Spend the rest of the day playing with the mouse until it's dead. Then expound a little bit on the Arabs.
Happy Deli Racist Day!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Pictures From Your Mom's And Dad's Wedding Day!
If you look closely at the photos of your Mom's and Dad's wedding, you can see the dark, monstrous face of someone standing in the background.
"That's Satan," your Mom says.
"Yeah he was there," your Dad says.
You ask them why Satan was at their wedding.
"Your mother summoned him," your Dad says.
"It was before I met your father," your Mom says. "I was just a kid. I gradually grew out of all that but we were still in touch on occasion. When it came time to send out invites, it would have been rude not to invite him."
You say that it kind of looks like there's a dark, angry spirit hovering over their nuptials.
"Yeah. Because Satan was at our wedding," your Dad says. "Hello? You in there?"
"You'll see," your Mom says. "When you get married you'll have to invite people you don't want to invite."
You make a vow right then and there to begin cutting off ties with Steve the Malevolent Angel Whose Arrival Portends The Coming Judgment of Man. He'd bring a date and you know EXACTLY how that would play out.
Happy Pictures From Your Mom's And Dad's Wedding Day!
"That's Satan," your Mom says.
"Yeah he was there," your Dad says.
You ask them why Satan was at their wedding.
"Your mother summoned him," your Dad says.
"It was before I met your father," your Mom says. "I was just a kid. I gradually grew out of all that but we were still in touch on occasion. When it came time to send out invites, it would have been rude not to invite him."
You say that it kind of looks like there's a dark, angry spirit hovering over their nuptials.
"Yeah. Because Satan was at our wedding," your Dad says. "Hello? You in there?"
"You'll see," your Mom says. "When you get married you'll have to invite people you don't want to invite."
You make a vow right then and there to begin cutting off ties with Steve the Malevolent Angel Whose Arrival Portends The Coming Judgment of Man. He'd bring a date and you know EXACTLY how that would play out.
Happy Pictures From Your Mom's And Dad's Wedding Day!
Monday, November 09, 2009
The Bikini Car Wash Is Going To Be Shut Down Day!
There's a greedy, evil developer who wants to build a giant strip mall in town and they're going to try and shut down the Bikini Car Wash that's been dispatching bikini clad girls to wash the town's cars for the past three decades. If the Bikini Car Wash doesn't raise ten thousand dollars over the next week, they'll be done for.
"But how do we raise money to save a Bikini Car Wash?" wonders Mama Fredricks, the owner of the car wash. "It's not like we can just hold a bikini car wash. That's just our daily grind."
"The town usually comes to us to raise money for the about-to-be-shut-down orphanages and recreation centers," says Frida, the hottest girl at the car wash. "Maybe it's about time the town paid us back."
"What could this town possibly have to offer that could make people empty their pockets the way they do for a bikini car wash?" wonders Leona, the fifth hottest girl at the bikini car wash.
That's when it hits them all at once. They all throw silk robes over their bikinis and they run to the women's prison to ask the warden if she'll force the inmates to put on a sex show for which they'll sell tickets.
Happy The Bikini Car Wash Is Going To Be Shut Down Day!
"But how do we raise money to save a Bikini Car Wash?" wonders Mama Fredricks, the owner of the car wash. "It's not like we can just hold a bikini car wash. That's just our daily grind."
"The town usually comes to us to raise money for the about-to-be-shut-down orphanages and recreation centers," says Frida, the hottest girl at the car wash. "Maybe it's about time the town paid us back."
"What could this town possibly have to offer that could make people empty their pockets the way they do for a bikini car wash?" wonders Leona, the fifth hottest girl at the bikini car wash.
That's when it hits them all at once. They all throw silk robes over their bikinis and they run to the women's prison to ask the warden if she'll force the inmates to put on a sex show for which they'll sell tickets.
Happy The Bikini Car Wash Is Going To Be Shut Down Day!
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Hate The Show "Psych" Day!
There's a show called Psych on TV and you've never seen it, but today's the day you're going to begin hating it.
"What's it about?" you ask.
Psychic cops maybe? Or cops hunting psychics and rounding them up because they can't be trusted? People just messing around with each other who then shout "Psych!" Maybe?
"What do I get if I hate it?" you ask.
One million dollars.
"Really?!" you ask.
Psych!
"Holy crap. I hate you right now," you say.
No, you hate the show "Psych."
"No I don't," you say. "I hate you. I hope you lose a family member today. One of the ones you like seeing over the holidays."
Don't say that.
"Just did," you say.
Look, this was supposed to be about the show "Psych."
"You made it about you by being the worst entity in existence. Get set on fire," you say.
So are you going to watch the show "Psych" just to spite me?
"Every episode. I'm going to rent the DVDs to catch up on the plotlines. Just to make you feel like you failed at something."
What if I told you I'm on the marketing team for the show "Psych?"
"Oh shit are you serious?"
Psych?
"I have no idea whether to watch Psych or not now," you say. "My life has come to a halt."
Because of the show "Psych." Told you it was worth hating.
(You don't say anything because you have lost your will.)
Happy Hate The Show "Psych" Day!
"What's it about?" you ask.
Psychic cops maybe? Or cops hunting psychics and rounding them up because they can't be trusted? People just messing around with each other who then shout "Psych!" Maybe?
"What do I get if I hate it?" you ask.
One million dollars.
"Really?!" you ask.
Psych!
"Holy crap. I hate you right now," you say.
No, you hate the show "Psych."
"No I don't," you say. "I hate you. I hope you lose a family member today. One of the ones you like seeing over the holidays."
Don't say that.
"Just did," you say.
Look, this was supposed to be about the show "Psych."
"You made it about you by being the worst entity in existence. Get set on fire," you say.
So are you going to watch the show "Psych" just to spite me?
"Every episode. I'm going to rent the DVDs to catch up on the plotlines. Just to make you feel like you failed at something."
What if I told you I'm on the marketing team for the show "Psych?"
"Oh shit are you serious?"
Psych?
"I have no idea whether to watch Psych or not now," you say. "My life has come to a halt."
Because of the show "Psych." Told you it was worth hating.
(You don't say anything because you have lost your will.)
Happy Hate The Show "Psych" Day!
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Your New Sweater Pillow Makes You Dream About Things Wearing Clothes That Shouldn't Day!
You bought a brand new, soft, supercomfy sweater pillow from West Elm. It's a big puffy down pillow covered in the kind of fabric normally reserved for cableknit sweaters. You love to nap on it, except whenever you do you start dreaming about mailboxes wearing dresses, refrigerators dressed up in tuxedos, cartons of eggs that are sold wearing little pairs of jeans, a car with a giant bowler hat on its roof, and trees wearing sexy leather miniskirts which is especially unsettling as it makes you dream of having sex with trees. These dreams are weird but your dreams are always weird and your new sweater pillow is too important so deal.
Happy Your New Sweater Pillow Makes You Dream About Things Wearing Clothes That Shouldn't Day!
Happy Your New Sweater Pillow Makes You Dream About Things Wearing Clothes That Shouldn't Day!
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