Today you're going to try to fake your way through an airplane safety seminar because you are pretending to be an FAA Safety Inspector.
"When the hatch is opened while a plane is in flight, it makes all the light bulbs burst. Light bulbs are very fragile and they can't handle the pressure," you'll stammer. "The two main causes of death when someone opens the door on a plane is people getting cut really bad from light-bulb glass, and people freaking out on each other because it�s dark all of a sudden."
The safety inspectors in training will take notes. Only one or two will appear suspicious. They did the reading.
"Do a good job, but don't be too hard on yourselves. No matter how hard you work, if a plane flies over an island with a really strong magnetic pull, it's going down."
The trainees will continue taking notes. One in the back will say, "Isn't that from Lost?"
Don't be rattled. "While it's true that many planes are haunted, most of them are haunted by good ghosts. They whisper advice into the pilot's ear, so don't scare them away."
Now most of the trainees will start making noise and asking what gives. You'll try not to look at Charlotte, but how can you be expected to take your eyes off of her? Her eyes will narrow as she looks at you more closely.
"Donald?" she'll ask.
You'll play with your notecards, pretending not to hear her, hoping that the class will return to order on its own.
"Stop him!" Charlotte will shout.
Two of the trainees will rush the stage and grab your arms. One of them will rip your fake beard off of your face. The other will remove your fake afro wig.
"Call the police," Charlotte will shout. "Goddammit Donald!"
"Marry me Charlotte," you'll shout back at her. Then you'll shake the grip of the two trainees and run for the door. Scream, "Marry me Charlotte! Marry me! Marry me! Marry me!"
"Fuck you!" Charlotte will respond. "500 yards you piece of shit! You're going to jail this time!"
Run out the door and keep going as fast as you can to get off the grounds. Charlotte's wedding is Saturday, and you need to go with plan B. Impersonating her instructor to try and get close enough to propose didn't work. So now you're going to have to kidnap her sister and hold her captive until Charlotte promises to cancel her wedding to that guy. You can't pull that off if you get put away for violating a restraining order, so keep running.
Happy You Don't Know Anything About Airplane Safety Day!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
You Used To Fuck Him When You Worked At Kinko's Day!
It's always awkward when you bump into someone you used to fuck when you worked at Kinko's. You'll usually see him at a bar or some other nightspot and he�ll always come on really strong really fast, hoping for another shot. You try to brush him off but he keeps pushing and you end up having to explain, "it was just a Kinkos thing."
"We were underpaid. The customer service standard was negligible. It was 3 AM and we had that big storeroom," you'll say. "Come on, man. It was just Kinko's."
That will usually get through, and after that he'll buy you a drink and toast "to Kinko's!" with you.
Today is going to be a different story. Today you're going to bump into Bryan at a florist when you buy a funeral bouquet for your boss' wife's father. Bryan will be waiting at the counter while a bouquet is being dressed for him.
"I'm a paralegal now," you'll say to him.
"I'm a sales rep for a company that manufactures paint thinners," he'll say.
You and Bryan only did it twice before he got fired for disabling the alarm on the back door. You did it on each of two consecutive shifts that you worked together. When you came in for the third shift and the manager told you Bryan wouldn't be coming back, you were surprised to realize that you had been looking forward to doing it with Bryan again. You even called him that day to find out what happened, but he didn't answer and you didn't leave a message. It felt like you would have been violating some sort of code if you had left a message. Kinko's employees are not supposed to let the Kinko's life bleed into their real lives.
The florist will hand Bryan his bouquet and he'll hand over his credit card.
"Those flowers for me?" you'll ask. With your eyes, you'll try to tell Bryan to invite you out for a drink.
"My girlfriend," he'll say. "We had a fight."
"She'd better watch herself," you'll say.
Bryan will smile. Then he'll lean in and kiss you on the cheek. "It was just Kinko's, you know?"
You'll nod and blush. It will be quite a surprise to be on the receiving end of that for once. You'll worry for a second that you might cry.
After Bryan leaves, you'll order your funeral bouquet. Then you'll ask the florist if he has Bryan's address on file. If so, have a bouquet of roses sent to his home so that his girlfriend will think he's cheating and maybe she'll break it off with him. Then maybe you and Bryan can see if it's possible for a Kinko's thing to turn into something real.
Happy You Used To Fuck Him When You Worked At Kinko's Day!
"We were underpaid. The customer service standard was negligible. It was 3 AM and we had that big storeroom," you'll say. "Come on, man. It was just Kinko's."
That will usually get through, and after that he'll buy you a drink and toast "to Kinko's!" with you.
Today is going to be a different story. Today you're going to bump into Bryan at a florist when you buy a funeral bouquet for your boss' wife's father. Bryan will be waiting at the counter while a bouquet is being dressed for him.
"I'm a paralegal now," you'll say to him.
"I'm a sales rep for a company that manufactures paint thinners," he'll say.
You and Bryan only did it twice before he got fired for disabling the alarm on the back door. You did it on each of two consecutive shifts that you worked together. When you came in for the third shift and the manager told you Bryan wouldn't be coming back, you were surprised to realize that you had been looking forward to doing it with Bryan again. You even called him that day to find out what happened, but he didn't answer and you didn't leave a message. It felt like you would have been violating some sort of code if you had left a message. Kinko's employees are not supposed to let the Kinko's life bleed into their real lives.
The florist will hand Bryan his bouquet and he'll hand over his credit card.
"Those flowers for me?" you'll ask. With your eyes, you'll try to tell Bryan to invite you out for a drink.
"My girlfriend," he'll say. "We had a fight."
"She'd better watch herself," you'll say.
Bryan will smile. Then he'll lean in and kiss you on the cheek. "It was just Kinko's, you know?"
You'll nod and blush. It will be quite a surprise to be on the receiving end of that for once. You'll worry for a second that you might cry.
After Bryan leaves, you'll order your funeral bouquet. Then you'll ask the florist if he has Bryan's address on file. If so, have a bouquet of roses sent to his home so that his girlfriend will think he's cheating and maybe she'll break it off with him. Then maybe you and Bryan can see if it's possible for a Kinko's thing to turn into something real.
Happy You Used To Fuck Him When You Worked At Kinko's Day!
Monday, January 29, 2007
Spill Your Life Story Day!
"And that's when I met my Dolores," you'll tell the burglar. He'll be sprawled out on the kitchen floor, the blood spurting out of his neck forming a puddle all around him. He didn't stand a chance against Teddy, your Doberman. Teddy is hovering over the burglar while you tell him your life story.
"She was a taxi dancer at the Beltway on 72nd," you'll tell the burglar just as he dies. Those will be the last words the burglar hears. You'll keep talking for fifteen minutes after he's dead, then you'll call the police and ask them to take the body away.
Tonight you're going to sleep well. Over the course of the forty minutes that the burglar bled to death on your floor, you'll have managed to confess to some pretty weighty regrets. You'll have apologized to a few people who are no longer around to hear it. Maybe if the burglar makes it to heaven, he'll pass your words along. It was nice to talk to somebody again.
Happy Spill Your Life Story Day!
"She was a taxi dancer at the Beltway on 72nd," you'll tell the burglar just as he dies. Those will be the last words the burglar hears. You'll keep talking for fifteen minutes after he's dead, then you'll call the police and ask them to take the body away.
Tonight you're going to sleep well. Over the course of the forty minutes that the burglar bled to death on your floor, you'll have managed to confess to some pretty weighty regrets. You'll have apologized to a few people who are no longer around to hear it. Maybe if the burglar makes it to heaven, he'll pass your words along. It was nice to talk to somebody again.
Happy Spill Your Life Story Day!
Friday, January 26, 2007
Bubble Bath Street Day!
Today when the rain is at its heaviest, a Bubble Bath Truck will swerve to avoid a pedestrian and it will overturn on its side right outside your apartment. The tank of bubble-bath will capsize and thousands of gallons of bubble bath will leak out into the sheets of rain. Within minutes, your entire block will be covered in bubbles ten feet high. All of your neighbors will run outside to play in the bubble bath. Even emergency personnel who arrive at the scene will be so excited that they finally get to play in a giant urban bubble bath that they'll forget to save the driver of the truck, who will be the only one to die when the cab of his truck explodes. The bubbles will protect everyone else from the blast. It's going to be a beautiful, bubbly rainy day.
And if you don't think there are any such thing as Bubble Bath Trucks, it's because you don't want to believe in Bubble Bath Trucks. It's because you're a negative person. That's a choice you're making. Being negative. It's a choice.
Happy Bubble Bath Street Day!
And if you don't think there are any such thing as Bubble Bath Trucks, it's because you don't want to believe in Bubble Bath Trucks. It's because you're a negative person. That's a choice you're making. Being negative. It's a choice.
Happy Bubble Bath Street Day!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
He Works In A Morgue Day!
You've been dating a boring boy that you don't like, but he works in a morgue. You've continued seeing him in the hope that one day he will take you to the morgue and show you some of the dead bodies. You've seen dead bodies before, at open-casket funerals. You just want to see some more. It's not like after you've seen one dead body the experience grows dull.
Tonight he's going to take you to the morgue and show you some of the dead bodies. He'll show you a man in his forties who just arrived, and two women, one in her twenties, another in her seventies. The one her twenties will have long surgical scars down her torso.
While you look at the dead bodies, the boy will occasionally put his arm on your back and shoulders. He'll be trying to see whether you're interested in having sex near the bodies. He won't actually try to kiss you or anything. You and he have not had the best communication when it comes to sex, so he won't be comfortable actually making a move or asking you what you want. He'll just awkwardly keep his hand near you. Eventually, he'll give up and let his hand rest by his side.
Once you've seen the dead bodies, you'll want to break up with him since you really weren't interested in anything else he has to offer. It seems like you could do it to his face at the end of the night. If he accuses you of having used him just to look at dead bodies, you can pretend to be outraged and he'll probably relent. But if you want to avoid that confrontation altogether, when he takes you home you should just start crying and run into your apartment building. Don't return his calls for a few days, then eventually call and tell him your experience in the morgue has upset you and you need to be alone for a while. Tell him he reminds you of the dead bodies now, so you're not sure whether you can see him again. This might make him call back a few times over the next month or two, but you can get away with ignoring him since he'll believe that you're not calling him back because he summons for you memories of the freshly dead. That beats the hell out of "She thinks I'm boring."
Happy He Works In A Morgue Day!
Tonight he's going to take you to the morgue and show you some of the dead bodies. He'll show you a man in his forties who just arrived, and two women, one in her twenties, another in her seventies. The one her twenties will have long surgical scars down her torso.
While you look at the dead bodies, the boy will occasionally put his arm on your back and shoulders. He'll be trying to see whether you're interested in having sex near the bodies. He won't actually try to kiss you or anything. You and he have not had the best communication when it comes to sex, so he won't be comfortable actually making a move or asking you what you want. He'll just awkwardly keep his hand near you. Eventually, he'll give up and let his hand rest by his side.
Once you've seen the dead bodies, you'll want to break up with him since you really weren't interested in anything else he has to offer. It seems like you could do it to his face at the end of the night. If he accuses you of having used him just to look at dead bodies, you can pretend to be outraged and he'll probably relent. But if you want to avoid that confrontation altogether, when he takes you home you should just start crying and run into your apartment building. Don't return his calls for a few days, then eventually call and tell him your experience in the morgue has upset you and you need to be alone for a while. Tell him he reminds you of the dead bodies now, so you're not sure whether you can see him again. This might make him call back a few times over the next month or two, but you can get away with ignoring him since he'll believe that you're not calling him back because he summons for you memories of the freshly dead. That beats the hell out of "She thinks I'm boring."
Happy He Works In A Morgue Day!
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
She Loves You Too Much Day!
Your girlfriend broke another one of your ribs. When she comes to your hospital bed, tell her she needs to control herself.
"What the fuck!" she'll argue. "Can I help it if I love you enough that I always end up squeezing the shit out of you? Jesus, now I'm getting shit for loving my man. Fucking hell." In her anger, she'll throw a chair against the wall and it will shatter into pieces on the floor.
"Fuck! Now where the fuck do I sit?"
She'll be upset about having no place to sit, so she'll kick the frame of your bed and knock it out of whack so that the automatic recline doesn't work anymore.
"Oh great. Does nothing in here work? Jesus fucking Christ."
Your girlfriend will punch a hole in the wall. She'll break two fingers and you'll summon a nurse to take her someplace to get a cast.
"I love you. DON'T FORGET THAT!" she'll bark. Just smile and tell her you love her too. Don't ask her to change anymore. Your girlfriend is really strong and she loves the living shit out of you. Be careful.
Happy She Loves You Too Much Day!
"What the fuck!" she'll argue. "Can I help it if I love you enough that I always end up squeezing the shit out of you? Jesus, now I'm getting shit for loving my man. Fucking hell." In her anger, she'll throw a chair against the wall and it will shatter into pieces on the floor.
"Fuck! Now where the fuck do I sit?"
She'll be upset about having no place to sit, so she'll kick the frame of your bed and knock it out of whack so that the automatic recline doesn't work anymore.
"Oh great. Does nothing in here work? Jesus fucking Christ."
Your girlfriend will punch a hole in the wall. She'll break two fingers and you'll summon a nurse to take her someplace to get a cast.
"I love you. DON'T FORGET THAT!" she'll bark. Just smile and tell her you love her too. Don't ask her to change anymore. Your girlfriend is really strong and she loves the living shit out of you. Be careful.
Happy She Loves You Too Much Day!
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The Big Poker Game Day!
Tonight at the big poker game, things will get out of hand and when you bet your solid gold watch, Manny will see you by betting his seventeen year old son, Nicky. You'll win with four jacks.
"I'll bring him over on Saturday," Manny will say.
"Now, Manny," you'll say. "I had my watch ready to hand over. Go get your son. I want him in my possession in one hour or you welched."
An hour later, Manny will bring you Nicky and you�ll take him home to your place. You'll set up the pull-out.
"How long do I have to live here with you?" Nicky will ask.
"Until your Dad wins you back," you'll say. "In other words, forever!" You'll go to bed laughing so hard you won't even hear Nicky crying in the living room.
Nicky has his SAT test this weekend, but the move will have his head so messed up that he'll get very poor scores and he won't go to college. Instead he'll get some girl pregnant not long before he graduates high school and the two of them will end up taking crap jobs and scrounging for money. They'll borrow from you more times than you can count, and "borrow" never means they're planning to pay you back. Eventually he'll ask you to hook him up with a score.
"If you hadn't won me, my life wouldn't be so screwed up right now," he'll say.
"You mean, if your real Dad hadn't lost you!" you'll argue. But Nicky will just stare at you and wait. With him staring like that, you won't be able to deny that you owe him something.
"Goddamn I wish your Daddy was better at cards," you'll say.
So you'll bring Nicky in on your scheme to rob a diamond store on the day the diamonds are delivered (best day to rob them because they haven't sold any of the diamonds yet. They're all there!) Nicky will screw up and start shooting. The guards in the store will open fire and you'll take one in the chest.
With your last breath, you'll say to Nicky, "I'm glad your Dad wasn't better at cards Nick. Otherwise, I never would'a got hold of you, and I never would've won the best years of my life." Then you'll die.
Happy The Big Poker Game Day!
"I'll bring him over on Saturday," Manny will say.
"Now, Manny," you'll say. "I had my watch ready to hand over. Go get your son. I want him in my possession in one hour or you welched."
An hour later, Manny will bring you Nicky and you�ll take him home to your place. You'll set up the pull-out.
"How long do I have to live here with you?" Nicky will ask.
"Until your Dad wins you back," you'll say. "In other words, forever!" You'll go to bed laughing so hard you won't even hear Nicky crying in the living room.
Nicky has his SAT test this weekend, but the move will have his head so messed up that he'll get very poor scores and he won't go to college. Instead he'll get some girl pregnant not long before he graduates high school and the two of them will end up taking crap jobs and scrounging for money. They'll borrow from you more times than you can count, and "borrow" never means they're planning to pay you back. Eventually he'll ask you to hook him up with a score.
"If you hadn't won me, my life wouldn't be so screwed up right now," he'll say.
"You mean, if your real Dad hadn't lost you!" you'll argue. But Nicky will just stare at you and wait. With him staring like that, you won't be able to deny that you owe him something.
"Goddamn I wish your Daddy was better at cards," you'll say.
So you'll bring Nicky in on your scheme to rob a diamond store on the day the diamonds are delivered (best day to rob them because they haven't sold any of the diamonds yet. They're all there!) Nicky will screw up and start shooting. The guards in the store will open fire and you'll take one in the chest.
With your last breath, you'll say to Nicky, "I'm glad your Dad wasn't better at cards Nick. Otherwise, I never would'a got hold of you, and I never would've won the best years of my life." Then you'll die.
Happy The Big Poker Game Day!
Monday, January 22, 2007
You Really Want To Teach Those Little Girls How To Dance Day!
Six months ago you were staying up for days on end in your cell because you heard the White Supremacists were looking to firebomb you while you slept. If someone told you back then that today the most important thing in your life would be whether or not a bunch of pre-teen girls win a stupid dance recital, you probably would have slit his throat from ear to ear and then cut his tongue out of his mouth to let the other hacks in Gen-Pop know he was talking shit. And yet, here you are.
You bluffed your way into this position as a jazz dance teacher after breaking out of prison because you knew you'd get caught by the Marshalls if you kept running. You needed to settle into a town and get a job as a cover while the hunt is still on. They'll look for you hiding in folks' tool sheds. They won't be looking in the Magic Steps Dance Studio.
At first, you'd just turn on a pop music radio station and tell the girls to dance however the hell they like. While they ran around and wrestled each other, you'd sit with a little mini-TV watching all of the soap operas you got addicted to while you were in the Pen. You barely even knew those girls were in the room. Not until you spoke with Dorothy.
Dorothy used to take the class with her twin sister Jill, who was a way better dancer than her. Last year, Jill got hit by a car and died. Now Dorothy's parents can't stop talking about how great a dancer Jill was and how all they ever wanted was to go to the big Jazz Dance competition and see Jill win. Dorothy told you how she just wants to learn to be as good as her dead sister, so that maybe her parents will be able to go to that competition after all.
That did it for you. Dorothy's story reminded you of how your own Dad started kicking your ass after your brother Mo died. You ended up running off and turning to crime. You weren't going to let Dorothy take the same path. YOu were going to teach that little girl how to dance. And if Dorothy's parents didn't end up loving her just as much as her dead twin sister, by God you'd find them and you'd stab them in their stomachs.
First thing you did was learn how to jazz dance yourself. You begged the instructor from a school one town over to teach you. Against her better judgment, she helped you. She always acted against her better judgment when it came to dangerous men. You learned how to jazz dance in four days.
Next, you had to win the girls' trust. After ignoring them for so long, they weren't too excited to follow your lesson plan. But then you bought them all some Bratz dolls and they eventually came around.
Finally, you had to whip them into shape and turn them into the best fucking jazz dancers in the region. Today's the day of the competition. And you're in jail.
The local sheriff glimpsed your wanted poster in an email from the justice department. He's got you locked up in his cell while he waits for the Marshalls to show. If you don't get out soon, you'll miss the entire recital. Those girls can't win if you being in jail is all that's on their minds.
"Please," you say to the Sheriff. "I'll do anything."
The local Sheriff isn't much different from the CO's at the Pen, and he agrees to let you go after you blow him through the bars of the cell. You make it to the recital just in time to see Dorothy win it all. Her parents rush up to the stage to hug her and drench her in their tears. The Marshalls show up and watch with you from the wings. You tell them they can take you back to prison whenever they want. Because as long as they let you hang on to this memory, you'll always be free.
Happy You Really Want To Teach Those Little Girls How To Dance Day!
You bluffed your way into this position as a jazz dance teacher after breaking out of prison because you knew you'd get caught by the Marshalls if you kept running. You needed to settle into a town and get a job as a cover while the hunt is still on. They'll look for you hiding in folks' tool sheds. They won't be looking in the Magic Steps Dance Studio.
At first, you'd just turn on a pop music radio station and tell the girls to dance however the hell they like. While they ran around and wrestled each other, you'd sit with a little mini-TV watching all of the soap operas you got addicted to while you were in the Pen. You barely even knew those girls were in the room. Not until you spoke with Dorothy.
Dorothy used to take the class with her twin sister Jill, who was a way better dancer than her. Last year, Jill got hit by a car and died. Now Dorothy's parents can't stop talking about how great a dancer Jill was and how all they ever wanted was to go to the big Jazz Dance competition and see Jill win. Dorothy told you how she just wants to learn to be as good as her dead sister, so that maybe her parents will be able to go to that competition after all.
That did it for you. Dorothy's story reminded you of how your own Dad started kicking your ass after your brother Mo died. You ended up running off and turning to crime. You weren't going to let Dorothy take the same path. YOu were going to teach that little girl how to dance. And if Dorothy's parents didn't end up loving her just as much as her dead twin sister, by God you'd find them and you'd stab them in their stomachs.
First thing you did was learn how to jazz dance yourself. You begged the instructor from a school one town over to teach you. Against her better judgment, she helped you. She always acted against her better judgment when it came to dangerous men. You learned how to jazz dance in four days.
Next, you had to win the girls' trust. After ignoring them for so long, they weren't too excited to follow your lesson plan. But then you bought them all some Bratz dolls and they eventually came around.
Finally, you had to whip them into shape and turn them into the best fucking jazz dancers in the region. Today's the day of the competition. And you're in jail.
The local sheriff glimpsed your wanted poster in an email from the justice department. He's got you locked up in his cell while he waits for the Marshalls to show. If you don't get out soon, you'll miss the entire recital. Those girls can't win if you being in jail is all that's on their minds.
"Please," you say to the Sheriff. "I'll do anything."
The local Sheriff isn't much different from the CO's at the Pen, and he agrees to let you go after you blow him through the bars of the cell. You make it to the recital just in time to see Dorothy win it all. Her parents rush up to the stage to hug her and drench her in their tears. The Marshalls show up and watch with you from the wings. You tell them they can take you back to prison whenever they want. Because as long as they let you hang on to this memory, you'll always be free.
Happy You Really Want To Teach Those Little Girls How To Dance Day!
Friday, January 19, 2007
One Of Your Movers Is Heartsick Day!
The move out of your apartment went well enough. It's the move into your new place that will meet with a snag. On around their third trip up, the head mover will drop a box in the middle of the living room floor, and he'll slump over the edge of the box and burst into sobs. The other three movers will gather around to place their hands on him and tell him it's going to be okay.
"What's wrong?" you'll ask them.
Another of the smaller movers will come to you and speak softly. "His girlfriend broke up with him on the they day they moved. He moved all their stuff in, then she went out for a soda and never came back. She sent him a letter, but it didn't arrive until after five days of him living in a quiet apartment full of unopened boxes."
The sobbing man will be shouting, "How could she? How could she?"
"Jeez," you'll say. "When did it happen?"
"Twelve years ago," the little mover will say. "He started this moving company the following year, thinking if he did enough moves there'd be so many that he wouldn't even be able to remember that day. Hasn't worked yet."
"Poor guy," you'll think. But a little part of you will wonder whether this is all a ruse to stretch the move time out since you're paying by the hour. And at the end of the move, when they present you with a parking ticket that they'll say they incurred because it was illegal to park on your block, you'll look closely at the ticket because you'll bet they just got their hands on some blank parking tickets so that they can fill them out themselves and charge the customers extra cash. But you won't accuse them of anything because some of them are large men and they're all still in your apartment. Also, the boss is still kind of broken up over everything. You'll tip them well.
"Thanks for using The She Done Me Wrong Moving Company," the boss will say. Then he'll burst into tears. "I'm sorry I thought I could handle this but I can't. I thought that enough time had past but it hasn't. Aw God." Then he'll run out the door. As soon as the other movers finish taking shits in your new bathroom, they'll leave too. Welcome home!
Happy One Of Your Movers Is Heartsick Day!
"What's wrong?" you'll ask them.
Another of the smaller movers will come to you and speak softly. "His girlfriend broke up with him on the they day they moved. He moved all their stuff in, then she went out for a soda and never came back. She sent him a letter, but it didn't arrive until after five days of him living in a quiet apartment full of unopened boxes."
The sobbing man will be shouting, "How could she? How could she?"
"Jeez," you'll say. "When did it happen?"
"Twelve years ago," the little mover will say. "He started this moving company the following year, thinking if he did enough moves there'd be so many that he wouldn't even be able to remember that day. Hasn't worked yet."
"Poor guy," you'll think. But a little part of you will wonder whether this is all a ruse to stretch the move time out since you're paying by the hour. And at the end of the move, when they present you with a parking ticket that they'll say they incurred because it was illegal to park on your block, you'll look closely at the ticket because you'll bet they just got their hands on some blank parking tickets so that they can fill them out themselves and charge the customers extra cash. But you won't accuse them of anything because some of them are large men and they're all still in your apartment. Also, the boss is still kind of broken up over everything. You'll tip them well.
"Thanks for using The She Done Me Wrong Moving Company," the boss will say. Then he'll burst into tears. "I'm sorry I thought I could handle this but I can't. I thought that enough time had past but it hasn't. Aw God." Then he'll run out the door. As soon as the other movers finish taking shits in your new bathroom, they'll leave too. Welcome home!
Happy One Of Your Movers Is Heartsick Day!
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Your Boyfriend Is An Expert Juggler Day!
He can juggle up to five small items at once. It is very impressive to children and simpler adults.
"Leave him," your therapist says. "People learn to juggle when they feel the need to maintain various deceptions. More often than not, a man who knows how to juggle has a secret wife and kids hidden someplace."
"It's a way to make himself less threatening," says your gay neighbor who's always coming by for some dish. "I read this book. It said that during World War II when the government was recruiting spies and training assassins, they were all taught to juggle so that people wouldn't suspect them as being operatives. Once they start juggling, everyone thinks 'Oh look, he's a grown man who likes to do amusing things with small balls.' Hate to tell you this honey, but your boyfriend probably sneaks out of bed in the middle of the night runs off to slit the throats of sleeping diplomats."
"Get out as fast as you can," your mother will say.
"But Mom, Daddy knows how to juggle," you'll reply.
Just then, your mother will see your father through the kitchen window. He'll stop in his yard-work and the two of them will stare at each other. You'll feel a chill enter the room as the two of them look upon each other as if they were standing on either side of an international border. They did this all the time when you were growing up. They would see each other and cease all activity. With their mutual, ice-cold stare, each would silently ask of the other,
"How did it come to this?"
Leave them to it and go home. When you walk through the door, you'll find your boyfriend juggling three juice glasses and the little jingling mouse that the cat plays with.
"Check it out," he'll say.
"What are you hiding from me?" ask him.
His arms will drop to his sides and the juice glasses will crash on the ground, followed by the short jingle of the cat toy. His face will be grave as he approaches you. You'll start to shiver as you stare up into his blank eyes.
"Follow me," he'll say. Then he'll pull on a wall lamp and your living room bookcase will slide open to reveal a vast chamber where several ninjas are being trained...to juggle some bowling pins.
Happy Your Boyfriend Is An Expert Juggler Day!
"Leave him," your therapist says. "People learn to juggle when they feel the need to maintain various deceptions. More often than not, a man who knows how to juggle has a secret wife and kids hidden someplace."
"It's a way to make himself less threatening," says your gay neighbor who's always coming by for some dish. "I read this book. It said that during World War II when the government was recruiting spies and training assassins, they were all taught to juggle so that people wouldn't suspect them as being operatives. Once they start juggling, everyone thinks 'Oh look, he's a grown man who likes to do amusing things with small balls.' Hate to tell you this honey, but your boyfriend probably sneaks out of bed in the middle of the night runs off to slit the throats of sleeping diplomats."
"Get out as fast as you can," your mother will say.
"But Mom, Daddy knows how to juggle," you'll reply.
Just then, your mother will see your father through the kitchen window. He'll stop in his yard-work and the two of them will stare at each other. You'll feel a chill enter the room as the two of them look upon each other as if they were standing on either side of an international border. They did this all the time when you were growing up. They would see each other and cease all activity. With their mutual, ice-cold stare, each would silently ask of the other,
"How did it come to this?"
Leave them to it and go home. When you walk through the door, you'll find your boyfriend juggling three juice glasses and the little jingling mouse that the cat plays with.
"Check it out," he'll say.
"What are you hiding from me?" ask him.
His arms will drop to his sides and the juice glasses will crash on the ground, followed by the short jingle of the cat toy. His face will be grave as he approaches you. You'll start to shiver as you stare up into his blank eyes.
"Follow me," he'll say. Then he'll pull on a wall lamp and your living room bookcase will slide open to reveal a vast chamber where several ninjas are being trained...to juggle some bowling pins.
Happy Your Boyfriend Is An Expert Juggler Day!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Crawl Under The Covers And Get Drunk Day!
Today's the day for some "you-time." A special day when the world at large shows up at your door and gets turned away by the big, bold DO NOT DISTURB sign at the door. The office is closed temporarily. The doctor is out. In honor of absolutely nothing, this tiny little apartment will be dark for the day so that its occupant may curl up cozy in bed underneath a big thick pile of blankets and get drunk. If you have some clean sheets somehow, you should dress your bed with them first to prevent your drinking glass from getting dirty with weeks of accumulated lint and dandruff. You're free to choose your own spirits, but an icy cold day like today calls for some Maker's Mark. Get it in the short and fat bottle so it's easier to pour underneath the sheets. Or even better, if you have a hot sake dispenser that you can keep on your nightstand, please do. Place a plate of cold chicken at the foot of the bed on top of the sheets in case you get hungry. Once everything's in order, the day is yours. Today the world can envy the man who's keeping warm and seeing double while watching The Price Is Right.
Happy Crawl Under The Covers And Get Drunk Day!
Happy Crawl Under The Covers And Get Drunk Day!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
99 Pushups Day!
You've been doing one hundred pushups every morning for the past 39 years. Today, do only 99. When you get up from the carpet, you'll find that your house is a run-down shack and the idyllic town in which you've lived all of your life is impoverished and there's graffiti everywhere.
"All over the place," you'll whisper to yourself as you take in all of the graffiti. "Even on the tree which once held my beloved tire swing."
A voice will bellow from behind you that you never swung from any tree in this town, because you were never born. You'll turn around and you'll see that the voice is coming from this big fat ghost.
"Is this because I only did 99 pushups today?" you'll ask.
The ghost will shrug. "They just send me down here when someone's given up on life. I'm here to show you what the world would be like if you were never born."
"But I haven't given up," you'll say. "I just cut down on my pushup regimen today. I've been doing 100 pushups a day for the past 39 years without fail. Today I wanted to see what would happen if I only did 99. I could argue that I was trying to live even more by throwing a little bit of variety into my life."
The ghost will say, "Look! Your mother is digging a latrine!"
Across the street you'll see your mother looking filthy, digging into the ground with a shovel.
"Since she never had you, she never felt any need to make anything special of her life. Now she digs latrines."
You'll watch your mother take a break and light a cigarette.
"And look, here comes your Dad!"
"My Dad?" you'll say.
You father will pull up in a pickup truck and get out to hand your mother her lunch box. Then he'll give her a kiss. The truck will read "Kevin and Cecile's A-Plus Latrine Digging." Kevin and Cecile are your parents.
"Neither of them really saw any reason to go for the gold, not without a son to pass on their dreams to, so they opened this latrine digging business and are making ends meet."
You'll say to the ghost, "You mean my mother and father are still together? But my Dad ran off when I was two. It broke my mother's heart and she never laughed again. Are you saying that if I was never born my father would have stayed with my mother?"
You'll watch them talk and then just before your father hops back in the truck, he'll say something that makes your mother bust out in laughter. Then he'll drive off.
The ghost will realize that he created an uncomfortable situation. "So anyway," he'll say. "If you want your mother to stop digging latrines and, um, if you wanna see all this graffiti go away, I suggest you go back and do that last pushup."
"But then my mother and father won't be together," you'll say. "She'll be miserable. Look how happy she is without me having been born."
The ghost will look at her. There will be a glow about her.
"Yeah, but the graffiti," the ghost will say.
You'll keep your eyes on your mother, taking in as much of her as you can. It's such a marvel to see her truly happy.
"Man my Dad sure must have hated me. He really loved her, and yet he still ran off."
The ghost will try to come up with some way to steer you towards a decision, since he can't leave until you either embrace life with a renewed vigor or you give up once and for all. But he won't think of anything to say but, "This is a tough break kid. Sorry."
You'll turn to the ghost and he'll hold you tight.
Happy 99 Pushups Day!
"All over the place," you'll whisper to yourself as you take in all of the graffiti. "Even on the tree which once held my beloved tire swing."
A voice will bellow from behind you that you never swung from any tree in this town, because you were never born. You'll turn around and you'll see that the voice is coming from this big fat ghost.
"Is this because I only did 99 pushups today?" you'll ask.
The ghost will shrug. "They just send me down here when someone's given up on life. I'm here to show you what the world would be like if you were never born."
"But I haven't given up," you'll say. "I just cut down on my pushup regimen today. I've been doing 100 pushups a day for the past 39 years without fail. Today I wanted to see what would happen if I only did 99. I could argue that I was trying to live even more by throwing a little bit of variety into my life."
The ghost will say, "Look! Your mother is digging a latrine!"
Across the street you'll see your mother looking filthy, digging into the ground with a shovel.
"Since she never had you, she never felt any need to make anything special of her life. Now she digs latrines."
You'll watch your mother take a break and light a cigarette.
"And look, here comes your Dad!"
"My Dad?" you'll say.
You father will pull up in a pickup truck and get out to hand your mother her lunch box. Then he'll give her a kiss. The truck will read "Kevin and Cecile's A-Plus Latrine Digging." Kevin and Cecile are your parents.
"Neither of them really saw any reason to go for the gold, not without a son to pass on their dreams to, so they opened this latrine digging business and are making ends meet."
You'll say to the ghost, "You mean my mother and father are still together? But my Dad ran off when I was two. It broke my mother's heart and she never laughed again. Are you saying that if I was never born my father would have stayed with my mother?"
You'll watch them talk and then just before your father hops back in the truck, he'll say something that makes your mother bust out in laughter. Then he'll drive off.
The ghost will realize that he created an uncomfortable situation. "So anyway," he'll say. "If you want your mother to stop digging latrines and, um, if you wanna see all this graffiti go away, I suggest you go back and do that last pushup."
"But then my mother and father won't be together," you'll say. "She'll be miserable. Look how happy she is without me having been born."
The ghost will look at her. There will be a glow about her.
"Yeah, but the graffiti," the ghost will say.
You'll keep your eyes on your mother, taking in as much of her as you can. It's such a marvel to see her truly happy.
"Man my Dad sure must have hated me. He really loved her, and yet he still ran off."
The ghost will try to come up with some way to steer you towards a decision, since he can't leave until you either embrace life with a renewed vigor or you give up once and for all. But he won't think of anything to say but, "This is a tough break kid. Sorry."
You'll turn to the ghost and he'll hold you tight.
Happy 99 Pushups Day!
Monday, January 15, 2007
You Make Jews For Jesus Give Up Both Day!
You have a very specific look. Not only are you devastatingly beautiful, but you also give people the sense that you're spiritually gullible. This makes you a prime target for representatives of Jews For Jesus when they're handing out their poorly illustrated pamphlets on the outskirts of parks (the city won't let them in parks anymore). This is also why people are finding piles of Jews For Jesus pamphlets in trash cans all over the city. They're going to find another such pile today.
The way it works is, a Jew For Jesus will spot you from afar and based on the way you walk he'll decide that you look like an easy convert. He'll approach you, but as he gets closer he'll start to forget his own sales pitch ("I know what you're thinking� 'Jews For Jesus? What'll they think of next?' Well that's what I used to think until I read this embarrassing pamphlet�") because your beauty will strike him to his core and it will seem like an injustice to sing the praises of anybody but the very woman walking towards him on the sidewalk just ten paces away.
He'll stand before you and you'll wait for him to find some words. He'll stammer out, "I know what...I...What was I thinking?"
You'll say, "Oh dear, not another one."
"I've been a fool, searching everywhere for answers and then a face like yours appears from out of nowhere and I can't even remember the question."
"Isn't there someone you can talk to before you give it all up?"
He'll toss his pile of pamphlets into the garbage.
"Please, they're all morons. Have you seen the pamphlets they make us hand out?"
You'll plead with him, "But your faith. I can't displace that."
"Too late," he'll say. "No way Jesus is prettier than you. I'm going to go watch TV. Unless, can I buy you some coffee?"
You'll shake your head sadly. "I'm seeing someone."
"Then I'm going to go watch TV," the former Jew For Jesus will say. He'll wander off into the park for the first time since he embraced the faith. You'll worry about him, but there's no need. If he was able to become a Jew For Jesus, it won't be long before he joins some other church that meets in the back of a pizza place. You're real pretty and all, and your face may have robbed him of his faith, but if he was giving Jews For Jesus a shot his faith wasn't screwed on all that tight in the first place.
Happy You Make Jews For Jesus Give Up Both Day!
The way it works is, a Jew For Jesus will spot you from afar and based on the way you walk he'll decide that you look like an easy convert. He'll approach you, but as he gets closer he'll start to forget his own sales pitch ("I know what you're thinking� 'Jews For Jesus? What'll they think of next?' Well that's what I used to think until I read this embarrassing pamphlet�") because your beauty will strike him to his core and it will seem like an injustice to sing the praises of anybody but the very woman walking towards him on the sidewalk just ten paces away.
He'll stand before you and you'll wait for him to find some words. He'll stammer out, "I know what...I...What was I thinking?"
You'll say, "Oh dear, not another one."
"I've been a fool, searching everywhere for answers and then a face like yours appears from out of nowhere and I can't even remember the question."
"Isn't there someone you can talk to before you give it all up?"
He'll toss his pile of pamphlets into the garbage.
"Please, they're all morons. Have you seen the pamphlets they make us hand out?"
You'll plead with him, "But your faith. I can't displace that."
"Too late," he'll say. "No way Jesus is prettier than you. I'm going to go watch TV. Unless, can I buy you some coffee?"
You'll shake your head sadly. "I'm seeing someone."
"Then I'm going to go watch TV," the former Jew For Jesus will say. He'll wander off into the park for the first time since he embraced the faith. You'll worry about him, but there's no need. If he was able to become a Jew For Jesus, it won't be long before he joins some other church that meets in the back of a pizza place. You're real pretty and all, and your face may have robbed him of his faith, but if he was giving Jews For Jesus a shot his faith wasn't screwed on all that tight in the first place.
Happy You Make Jews For Jesus Give Up Both Day!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Dangerous Toys Day!
You've spent the last thirty years being the top American manufacturer of the kind of unsafe knockoff toys that are only sold in 99-cent stores. Chinese and Korean manufacturing behemoths have made it harder and harder for you to stay in business, but you keep going. Because you still remember a time when Americans were able to buy cheap, harmful toys that were MADE IN AMERICA.
Today you're going to interview a woman for the nursing position that opened up. Last week, the nurse you've had on staff for the past year just couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm not going to lie to you," you'll tell her. "It's a busy job. We've got a lot of kids trying out the toys here in our product-testing department. They're from low-income neighborhoods and their parents need the extra money so they bring the kids bring in. And since our toys are pretty much lacerations waiting to happen, a lot of the kids end up getting cut pretty bad."
You'll raise your finger in the air triumphantly to add, "But we've never lost one!"
"And you're not about to," the woman will say.
"You mean you'll take the job?" you'll ask.
"I grew up very poor," she'll tell you. "Your toys were all my parents could afford to buy me. I was lucky that someone like you was willing to cut enough corners to provide cheap knockoff toys for those who couldn�t afford the real thing. And I will consider it my duty to make sure all those poor kids growing up today get a fun if potentially harmful toy for their birthday this year."
Just then, a child will run into your office with blood gushing out of his neck.
"Looks like you were having a fun time!" your new nurse will shout.
"This is Clarence," you'll say. "Clarence, meet your new nurse."
The boy will try to talk but his voice box will appear to have been sliced open. He'll be holding one of your dangerously sharp, fake 'Rambo' knives (they're called 'Rambo II Survival Knives,' but the packaging features an image clearly from the movie Cobra).
"She'll be taking care of you from now on," you'll tell Clarence. When your new nurse stabs a pen into Clarence's neck and he starts to breathe easy again, you'll start breathing easy too. You normally don't like to hire anybody who has ever played with your toys. Too often it ends up that they just want to get close to you so they can avenge the death of a sibling who died while playing on one of your knockoff slip-n-slides (called the "Trip N' Skid"). But looking at the way she takes care of Clarence, you know it won't be long before that child is having fun times with your toys again. Whatever her intentions are towards you, the important thing is that your children are in good hands.
Happy Dangerous Toys Day!
Today you're going to interview a woman for the nursing position that opened up. Last week, the nurse you've had on staff for the past year just couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm not going to lie to you," you'll tell her. "It's a busy job. We've got a lot of kids trying out the toys here in our product-testing department. They're from low-income neighborhoods and their parents need the extra money so they bring the kids bring in. And since our toys are pretty much lacerations waiting to happen, a lot of the kids end up getting cut pretty bad."
You'll raise your finger in the air triumphantly to add, "But we've never lost one!"
"And you're not about to," the woman will say.
"You mean you'll take the job?" you'll ask.
"I grew up very poor," she'll tell you. "Your toys were all my parents could afford to buy me. I was lucky that someone like you was willing to cut enough corners to provide cheap knockoff toys for those who couldn�t afford the real thing. And I will consider it my duty to make sure all those poor kids growing up today get a fun if potentially harmful toy for their birthday this year."
Just then, a child will run into your office with blood gushing out of his neck.
"Looks like you were having a fun time!" your new nurse will shout.
"This is Clarence," you'll say. "Clarence, meet your new nurse."
The boy will try to talk but his voice box will appear to have been sliced open. He'll be holding one of your dangerously sharp, fake 'Rambo' knives (they're called 'Rambo II Survival Knives,' but the packaging features an image clearly from the movie Cobra).
"She'll be taking care of you from now on," you'll tell Clarence. When your new nurse stabs a pen into Clarence's neck and he starts to breathe easy again, you'll start breathing easy too. You normally don't like to hire anybody who has ever played with your toys. Too often it ends up that they just want to get close to you so they can avenge the death of a sibling who died while playing on one of your knockoff slip-n-slides (called the "Trip N' Skid"). But looking at the way she takes care of Clarence, you know it won't be long before that child is having fun times with your toys again. Whatever her intentions are towards you, the important thing is that your children are in good hands.
Happy Dangerous Toys Day!
Thursday, January 11, 2007
You Can't Join The Carpool Program Day!
You testified against a mob boss a few years back and now you're in the witness protection program with a pretty stable job selling information technology products that you don't quite understand, but your days on the streets taught you enough to know how to close a deal.
The only problem with your job is that the company has been aggressively pushing its carpooling program, and everyone thinks you're a wasteful, polluting, Saudi loving dick because you refuse to share rides with people. You can't tell them you're afraid that it's only a matter of time before your old friends back east track you down and give you what you deserve. You can't tell them you'd be late picking people up because you always park your car in a supermarket parking lot so that you can drive in circles around the empty lot in the morning, slamming on the brakes repeatedly to be sure no one's rigged them to fail midway through your drive. And when your carpool companions complain about the smell of your car, you wouldn't be able to explain that you have to pay a homeless person twenty bucks to start your engine every morning in case the ignition is rigged to blow. You can't tell them that you're just trying to protect innocent, hard-working citizens from the just consequences due for a sniveling, backstabbing rodent.
You're going to have to spread a rumor that you have a drinking problem. Get caught drinking and driving once. The company has a program in place to handle the rehab, and the cops can't put you away because they know you'll be killed by mob associates minutes after you arrive in your cell. Get pulled over and everyone will assume that you didn't want them to ride with you because you need to sip from a hip flask in order to see straight in the morning. Better that they see you as a drunk than that you turn their kids into orphans and their wives into widows on the day Fat Mikey finds out you been hiding out in Iowa ever since you turned rat.
Happy You Can't Join The Carpool Program Day!
The only problem with your job is that the company has been aggressively pushing its carpooling program, and everyone thinks you're a wasteful, polluting, Saudi loving dick because you refuse to share rides with people. You can't tell them you're afraid that it's only a matter of time before your old friends back east track you down and give you what you deserve. You can't tell them you'd be late picking people up because you always park your car in a supermarket parking lot so that you can drive in circles around the empty lot in the morning, slamming on the brakes repeatedly to be sure no one's rigged them to fail midway through your drive. And when your carpool companions complain about the smell of your car, you wouldn't be able to explain that you have to pay a homeless person twenty bucks to start your engine every morning in case the ignition is rigged to blow. You can't tell them that you're just trying to protect innocent, hard-working citizens from the just consequences due for a sniveling, backstabbing rodent.
You're going to have to spread a rumor that you have a drinking problem. Get caught drinking and driving once. The company has a program in place to handle the rehab, and the cops can't put you away because they know you'll be killed by mob associates minutes after you arrive in your cell. Get pulled over and everyone will assume that you didn't want them to ride with you because you need to sip from a hip flask in order to see straight in the morning. Better that they see you as a drunk than that you turn their kids into orphans and their wives into widows on the day Fat Mikey finds out you been hiding out in Iowa ever since you turned rat.
Happy You Can't Join The Carpool Program Day!
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Huff Buddies Day!
You met this girl Tara back when you were huffing paint and you fell in love. The two of you spent a few months huffing paint and then screwing in alleys. Eventually, you both got kind of worn out and all you wanted to do is huff paint. Then you lost track of each other because you both huffed enough paint that you got too stupid to remember when you were supposed to meet each other or where. Now that you're clean, the only thing you can remember about that time is Tara's name and how much you loved her. You're still in love with Tara, and it feels like something's been cut out of you now that she's gone. The trouble is, you can't remember her last name, her address, or what she looks like. Your days of huffing glue left you so stupid, when you're in your apartment you have to tie your wrist to the bathroom door so you can remember where it is when you have to go really bad. You're pretty sure that if you were in her presence, you�d know it was her because you'd feel like a giant part of your soul had been given back to you. So you spend your days just kind of walking up to girls and standing next to them to see what happens. No dice yet. The doctors keep saying brain cells regenerate over time, and you might eventually remember what Tara looks like and where you can find her. You just hope love can wait that long.
Happy Huff Buddies Day!
Happy Huff Buddies Day!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Someone's Got To Do Something About All The Garbage Day!
You love everything about your new baby except for all the garbage she generates with her diapers and all the paper towels you use to clean up her spills. You've always been ashamed of your garbage, refusing to toss it all into the communal bins in the basement for fear of people judging you by your copious waste. It actually got to the point where you started to resent your daughter for making you look like you do nothing all day but fill up trash bags with filth. Now your wife resents you because the co-op board just voted that you must sell your unit and be out as soon as possible. They didn't like that you were going to up the roof and setting all your trash on fire. They see it as a fire hazard and that�s enough justification to vote you out. Your wife has been giving you lots of crap about it. She keeps saying that throwing out lots of diapers is part of having a baby and no one thinks it's gross, as long as they don't have to touch it. You stopped trying to make her understand, so you're resigned to letting her resent you. It's hard for you not to blame your daughter for causing all of this. To punish her for it, you've been holding her less. Sometimes when it's just you and her in the house, you'll sit her on the couch and let her reach out and cry to be held, but you'll just stand there and stare at her angrily. She knows why.
Happy Someone's Got To Do Something About All The Garbage Day!
Happy Someone's Got To Do Something About All The Garbage Day!
Monday, January 08, 2007
It's Been A While Since You Saw Her Day!
You'll be working the register at your luncheonette when a girl you went on a couple of dates with three years ago is going to stick a gun in your face and demand that you give her everything in the drawer.
"Marcy?" you'll ask. "Is that you?"
"How the fuck do you know my name?" she'll bark.
"Who the fuck is that?" her burly partner will shout. He'll have his back to you and Marcy, keeping his gun aimed at the customers.
"We went on a couple of dates remember?" you'll say. "Back in like 2003?"
A spark of recognition will change the expression on her face. She'll suddenly seem less hostile and just sort of uncomfortable.
"Oh right. Right," she'll say. "I'm sorry I never responded to all those emails you sent."
You'll say, "I didn't send that many emails."
Marcy will shrug. "It was kind of a lot," she'll say.
Marcy's partner will come to the register and ask what's taking so long.
"This is that guy," she'll say. "The one with all those emails?"
A smile will appear on her partner's face. "This is him!" he'll say, suddenly giddy.
"Did you show people my emails?" you'll ask.
"No, not really," Marcy will say. "Look, maybe you should just give us the money so we can get out of here."
"What'd they say?" one of the customers will ask.
"Oh they were classic!" Marcy's partner will say. "Long poems. Photo attachments of himself when he was a baby. He was downright proposing to her and they only went out like twice!"
The customers will start to laugh at you. The regulars will really give you heck. "You proposed over email?" they'll ask.
"I did not propose!" you'll shout, suddenly turning beat red.
Marcy's partner will throw his arm over her shoulder. "Hey don't worry about it pal. We've all done that once or twice with a chick when we get too lonely. 'Course, that chick usually doesn't end up robbing us later!"
That will make everyone in the luncheonette burst out laughing. You'll start shoving the contents of your register into a paper bag. Before they go, Marcy will say, "I'm sorry about this. I hope you're well."
They'll leave, but all of your customers will continue to razz you. The police will join in on the teasing when they show up to take a report. Later tonight, when you're eating dinner alone, you'll wonder whether Marcy really chose to rob your luncheonette by accident or whether she was just looking for an excuse to talk to you again. You'll assume the latter and send her an email telling her it was good seeing her today.
Happy It's Been A While Since You Saw Her Day!
"Marcy?" you'll ask. "Is that you?"
"How the fuck do you know my name?" she'll bark.
"Who the fuck is that?" her burly partner will shout. He'll have his back to you and Marcy, keeping his gun aimed at the customers.
"We went on a couple of dates remember?" you'll say. "Back in like 2003?"
A spark of recognition will change the expression on her face. She'll suddenly seem less hostile and just sort of uncomfortable.
"Oh right. Right," she'll say. "I'm sorry I never responded to all those emails you sent."
You'll say, "I didn't send that many emails."
Marcy will shrug. "It was kind of a lot," she'll say.
Marcy's partner will come to the register and ask what's taking so long.
"This is that guy," she'll say. "The one with all those emails?"
A smile will appear on her partner's face. "This is him!" he'll say, suddenly giddy.
"Did you show people my emails?" you'll ask.
"No, not really," Marcy will say. "Look, maybe you should just give us the money so we can get out of here."
"What'd they say?" one of the customers will ask.
"Oh they were classic!" Marcy's partner will say. "Long poems. Photo attachments of himself when he was a baby. He was downright proposing to her and they only went out like twice!"
The customers will start to laugh at you. The regulars will really give you heck. "You proposed over email?" they'll ask.
"I did not propose!" you'll shout, suddenly turning beat red.
Marcy's partner will throw his arm over her shoulder. "Hey don't worry about it pal. We've all done that once or twice with a chick when we get too lonely. 'Course, that chick usually doesn't end up robbing us later!"
That will make everyone in the luncheonette burst out laughing. You'll start shoving the contents of your register into a paper bag. Before they go, Marcy will say, "I'm sorry about this. I hope you're well."
They'll leave, but all of your customers will continue to razz you. The police will join in on the teasing when they show up to take a report. Later tonight, when you're eating dinner alone, you'll wonder whether Marcy really chose to rob your luncheonette by accident or whether she was just looking for an excuse to talk to you again. You'll assume the latter and send her an email telling her it was good seeing her today.
Happy It's Been A While Since You Saw Her Day!
Friday, January 05, 2007
Warn Elementary School Children About What's In The Sewers Day!
You've spent the last few years giving "Scare Assemblies" at elementary schools. It's a pretty good circuit. The pay is limited by school boards, but in the past decade it's been voted up to a pretty good sum since parents have been demanding that schools shell out more money to scare their kids away from more stuff. The key to making a living is to choose a topic that isn't too overcrowded.
The sex scare racket is so crowded that there's practically one act per school. Same with drugs. "Cult Awareness" is a pretty good one to get into, but you're not going to be competitive unless you've actually spent a few years in a cult and managed to escape. Way too much of an investment.
"Bullies" will still get you some gigs in the Midwest. "Gangs Are Bad" will work most anywhere, but again, you have to have either been a gangmember or a cop. "Eating Disorders" is like a license to print money. But guess what, that one is usually run by ladies. When it came time to figure out what kind of lecture to give, you looked at your qualifications (you're missing an arm, you know what's in sewers), and you wrapped it all up in a bow.
"You think you know what's in the sewers?" you start off. "Think it's just a nice little stream of tadpoles? Well maybe you oughta just climb down there and see if you're right. And if you see the thing that took THIS�!" That's when you whip out your stump of an arm and all the kids gasp. "Make sure and tell it hi from me."
You lost your arm in a drunk driving accident in '86 (your fault), but as far as your paycheck is concerned, it gotten eaten off by something that lives in the sewers.
"No matter how much you like to explore and pretend you're one of the Goonies or whatever, don't go down into the sewers kids," you always tell them. Then you list what's down there.
Giant rats
Giant snakes
Giant raccoons
Vengeful abandoned babies
Terrorists
Escaped convicts
The homeless
Bat-Tigers (blind tigers with giant bat wings)
The Queen of the Underthings and Her Bloodthirsty Minions
Needles
Pee
Germs
"There are also some baseballs down there. Stickballs. Hockey pucks. Every ball you ever last during a street game. Those balls cost you about 2 bucks at the sporting goods store. How much do you think THIS cost?!" You show them the stump again and all the kids gasp again. Then you say thank you.
At the end of today's lecture, when they all start clapping, you'll notice one kid who's sitting still as a stone, staring straight ahead with a sneer on his face. Go to him.
"Nice show," the kid will say.
"You been there," say to him.
He'll nod once.
"What'd you see?"
The kid will turn to you. "The question you ought'a ask is, what'd I take?"
Wait for him. He'll make you wait a second. Then he'll open up his bookbag and pull out a ball of cafeteria napkins. He'll unwrap the ball and reveal a black furry chunk of a Bat-Tiger's wing.
"No one's ever returned from a battle with the Bat-Tiger with a tale to tell," you'll say to him.
"I don't have any tale to tell just yet," the kid will say. "The story ain't over. You wanna be a part of it?"
Say to the boy, "We go down tonight. At midnight."
Then get away from the boy before a school administrator is forced to add you to a pederast watch-list. Nothing can kill a scare lecture career faster.
Happy Warn Elementary School Children About What's In The Sewers Day!
The sex scare racket is so crowded that there's practically one act per school. Same with drugs. "Cult Awareness" is a pretty good one to get into, but you're not going to be competitive unless you've actually spent a few years in a cult and managed to escape. Way too much of an investment.
"Bullies" will still get you some gigs in the Midwest. "Gangs Are Bad" will work most anywhere, but again, you have to have either been a gangmember or a cop. "Eating Disorders" is like a license to print money. But guess what, that one is usually run by ladies. When it came time to figure out what kind of lecture to give, you looked at your qualifications (you're missing an arm, you know what's in sewers), and you wrapped it all up in a bow.
"You think you know what's in the sewers?" you start off. "Think it's just a nice little stream of tadpoles? Well maybe you oughta just climb down there and see if you're right. And if you see the thing that took THIS�!" That's when you whip out your stump of an arm and all the kids gasp. "Make sure and tell it hi from me."
You lost your arm in a drunk driving accident in '86 (your fault), but as far as your paycheck is concerned, it gotten eaten off by something that lives in the sewers.
"No matter how much you like to explore and pretend you're one of the Goonies or whatever, don't go down into the sewers kids," you always tell them. Then you list what's down there.
Giant rats
Giant snakes
Giant raccoons
Vengeful abandoned babies
Terrorists
Escaped convicts
The homeless
Bat-Tigers (blind tigers with giant bat wings)
The Queen of the Underthings and Her Bloodthirsty Minions
Needles
Pee
Germs
"There are also some baseballs down there. Stickballs. Hockey pucks. Every ball you ever last during a street game. Those balls cost you about 2 bucks at the sporting goods store. How much do you think THIS cost?!" You show them the stump again and all the kids gasp again. Then you say thank you.
At the end of today's lecture, when they all start clapping, you'll notice one kid who's sitting still as a stone, staring straight ahead with a sneer on his face. Go to him.
"Nice show," the kid will say.
"You been there," say to him.
He'll nod once.
"What'd you see?"
The kid will turn to you. "The question you ought'a ask is, what'd I take?"
Wait for him. He'll make you wait a second. Then he'll open up his bookbag and pull out a ball of cafeteria napkins. He'll unwrap the ball and reveal a black furry chunk of a Bat-Tiger's wing.
"No one's ever returned from a battle with the Bat-Tiger with a tale to tell," you'll say to him.
"I don't have any tale to tell just yet," the kid will say. "The story ain't over. You wanna be a part of it?"
Say to the boy, "We go down tonight. At midnight."
Then get away from the boy before a school administrator is forced to add you to a pederast watch-list. Nothing can kill a scare lecture career faster.
Happy Warn Elementary School Children About What's In The Sewers Day!
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Airport Girlfriend Day!
For the past four months you've been emailing with a girl who lives in Europe. You tell your friends that she's your girlfriend, but they don't believe you. So you sent her $700 to fly in today and prove to your friends once and for all that she's real.
Gather your friends by the gate and warn them not to be dicks. "I mean it," tell them. "If you guys are dicks I'm not driving you home." Your friends will swear to be cool.
When your girlfriend steps through the gate, all of your friends will look at their printouts of the email you sent them containing her photo. They'll be shocked to find that very girl walking towards you with a big smile on her face.
"He really does have a girlfriend!" one of your friends will shout.
"Not so fast. Maybe she just wants to be friends," another will respond. "The only way to truly tell if a girl is your girlfriend is if she lets you touch her butt while you kiss her."
You'll be pretty nervous about your very first real-world kiss with her (you both have web-cams), but your girlfriend won't let your nerves get the best of you. She'll march right up and plant her lips on yours. You'll almost get lost in the kiss when you hear one of your friends clear his throat. When you move your hand to your girlfriend�s butt, your friends will gasp.
"I guess he really does have a girlfriend," you'll hear one of them say.
"That's amazing. Look, his hand's still there," another will add.
"He's my hero now," another will say of you. "I want to be just like him and get a girl to let me do stuff."
Finally, you and your girlfriend will stop kissing and you'll introduce her to your friends. Her flight back to Europe won't leave for another ninety minutes, time enough for some chicken fajitas at the airport Mexican bar and grill. You and your girlfriend will sit at your own table, and your friends will sit nearby so they can watch you.
When it's time for her to go to her gate, you'll be surprised at how sad you are. You'll start talking about how maybe you should just go with her, but your friends will tell you that you can't because they need a ride home. Finally, you'll say goodbye and head back to your car with your friends trailing behind you, all of them looking upon you as if you're some kind of God who has come down to earth to teach them how a life is to be lived.
Happy Airport Girlfriend Day!
Gather your friends by the gate and warn them not to be dicks. "I mean it," tell them. "If you guys are dicks I'm not driving you home." Your friends will swear to be cool.
When your girlfriend steps through the gate, all of your friends will look at their printouts of the email you sent them containing her photo. They'll be shocked to find that very girl walking towards you with a big smile on her face.
"He really does have a girlfriend!" one of your friends will shout.
"Not so fast. Maybe she just wants to be friends," another will respond. "The only way to truly tell if a girl is your girlfriend is if she lets you touch her butt while you kiss her."
You'll be pretty nervous about your very first real-world kiss with her (you both have web-cams), but your girlfriend won't let your nerves get the best of you. She'll march right up and plant her lips on yours. You'll almost get lost in the kiss when you hear one of your friends clear his throat. When you move your hand to your girlfriend�s butt, your friends will gasp.
"I guess he really does have a girlfriend," you'll hear one of them say.
"That's amazing. Look, his hand's still there," another will add.
"He's my hero now," another will say of you. "I want to be just like him and get a girl to let me do stuff."
Finally, you and your girlfriend will stop kissing and you'll introduce her to your friends. Her flight back to Europe won't leave for another ninety minutes, time enough for some chicken fajitas at the airport Mexican bar and grill. You and your girlfriend will sit at your own table, and your friends will sit nearby so they can watch you.
When it's time for her to go to her gate, you'll be surprised at how sad you are. You'll start talking about how maybe you should just go with her, but your friends will tell you that you can't because they need a ride home. Finally, you'll say goodbye and head back to your car with your friends trailing behind you, all of them looking upon you as if you're some kind of God who has come down to earth to teach them how a life is to be lived.
Happy Airport Girlfriend Day!
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Flags Of Our Fathers Day!
Your father was never in a war. The military didn't want him because he walked funny, like a gay chicken, and though he was never diagnosed with a physical infirmity, his way of walking was enough for the draft office to send him home.
"But I want to raise a flag on a foreign beach, like those guys!" he shouted to the man looking for kids to send to Viet Nam.
"Maybe you can do your part by going home and learning to sew," the military man giggled. "Someone's got to make the flag before it gets raised, you know."
Your father took the man's advice and started a custom flag-making business. He distributes his share of American flags, especially around the Fourth of July, but his specialty is the custom design.
"A group of us meet every month and collect tadpoles from the creek," a man seeking a flag might say to your father. "We're all in our forties."
"I've got it," your father will say. Then he'll sketch out a pattern of earth tones with a solid block in the corner containing three wormy looking creatures held in a palm worn down with time.
"I'm a serial killer and I like to stick a little flag inside the eye-socket of my victims," another customer might tell your father. "Fucks with the police something fierce."
Your father will ask the killer how many people he plans to kill, then he'll quickly cover a sheet of sketch paper in blood red colored pencil. In the corner will be a block of stars, just like the American flag, but three of the stars will be upside down. "You stick this in your third victim. I'll need to give you one for every person you kill. This is going to be expensive."
The serial killer would place the order and would then start saving money before he went on his killing spree. Your father might end up getting stuck with the flags if the killer came to his senses or got caught molesting a farmer's crop or something else that would send him to jail, but your father was the kind of man who would take the risk for the sake of his vision. Compromising a design was a far greater sacrifice than the monetary investment.
Your father's never made you a flag before. Today, as a grown man, you're going to go into his shop and place your order.
"I want a flag that says Oops on it so I can raise it in the air every time I fart."
Your father won't sketch right away. First he'll need to wipe the tears from his eyes. He always dreamed that one day you would come to him like this. Cry with him.
Finally, he'll wipe his nose, take a breath, and he'll say, "Do you want 'Oops' with an explanation point or a frownie face?"
Happy Flags Of Our Fathers Day!
"But I want to raise a flag on a foreign beach, like those guys!" he shouted to the man looking for kids to send to Viet Nam.
"Maybe you can do your part by going home and learning to sew," the military man giggled. "Someone's got to make the flag before it gets raised, you know."
Your father took the man's advice and started a custom flag-making business. He distributes his share of American flags, especially around the Fourth of July, but his specialty is the custom design.
"A group of us meet every month and collect tadpoles from the creek," a man seeking a flag might say to your father. "We're all in our forties."
"I've got it," your father will say. Then he'll sketch out a pattern of earth tones with a solid block in the corner containing three wormy looking creatures held in a palm worn down with time.
"I'm a serial killer and I like to stick a little flag inside the eye-socket of my victims," another customer might tell your father. "Fucks with the police something fierce."
Your father will ask the killer how many people he plans to kill, then he'll quickly cover a sheet of sketch paper in blood red colored pencil. In the corner will be a block of stars, just like the American flag, but three of the stars will be upside down. "You stick this in your third victim. I'll need to give you one for every person you kill. This is going to be expensive."
The serial killer would place the order and would then start saving money before he went on his killing spree. Your father might end up getting stuck with the flags if the killer came to his senses or got caught molesting a farmer's crop or something else that would send him to jail, but your father was the kind of man who would take the risk for the sake of his vision. Compromising a design was a far greater sacrifice than the monetary investment.
Your father's never made you a flag before. Today, as a grown man, you're going to go into his shop and place your order.
"I want a flag that says Oops on it so I can raise it in the air every time I fart."
Your father won't sketch right away. First he'll need to wipe the tears from his eyes. He always dreamed that one day you would come to him like this. Cry with him.
Finally, he'll wipe his nose, take a breath, and he'll say, "Do you want 'Oops' with an explanation point or a frownie face?"
Happy Flags Of Our Fathers Day!
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Nametag Day!
Today, at the Superfresh, when your cashier asks you whether you'd like anything else. Say to her, "No, that'll be all." Then take a pause to look at the nametag on her breast, and add, "Sarah."
The cashier will smile. "Actually, this isn't my nametag. I borrowed this from somebody because I left my nametag at home. But I appreciate you taking the time to address me by my first name. It seems like we all do everything we can to run from transaction to transaction, casting people out of our lives as quickly as we pull people in, making an effort to not remember a single detail of the strangers we meet in our day. I mean, if I place my fingertips to the skin of your palm when I hand you your change, are we really strangers anymore?"
"Precisely," you'll say. "So what is your real name?"
The cashier will say, "It's Sara, but without the H."
Ask to speak to the manager and complain that Sara without the H was getting nitpicky with you. Threaten to never shop there again and he'll give you some special coupons.
Happy Nametag Day!
The cashier will smile. "Actually, this isn't my nametag. I borrowed this from somebody because I left my nametag at home. But I appreciate you taking the time to address me by my first name. It seems like we all do everything we can to run from transaction to transaction, casting people out of our lives as quickly as we pull people in, making an effort to not remember a single detail of the strangers we meet in our day. I mean, if I place my fingertips to the skin of your palm when I hand you your change, are we really strangers anymore?"
"Precisely," you'll say. "So what is your real name?"
The cashier will say, "It's Sara, but without the H."
Ask to speak to the manager and complain that Sara without the H was getting nitpicky with you. Threaten to never shop there again and he'll give you some special coupons.
Happy Nametag Day!
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