Martin's In New York Day!

You've been married for eleven years, have had two wonderful children with a wonderful man. You have a job you love, friends you never thought you'd ever be able to hang onto after the way you treated them back when all the messiness happened, and you can pretty much spend a lot of your time marveling at how perfectly things have turned out for you.

"I made a vow though," you explain to your husband as you load the clip of your handgun. "I told him if he ever set foot in this city again, I'd blow his fucking head off."

Your husband pleads with you to just let it go, that he was just a bad boyfriend.

"There are degrees of bad," explain. "Sometimes, you can be such a bad boyfriend that you deserve nothing less than a messy death. Seriously, he convinced me that holidays like Christmas were for the intellectually weak. He deserves to die."

Your husband will ask you if killing him is worth having your daughters visit you in jail.

"Yeah," say. "Yeah it is. If I don't kill him, our little girls might think it's okay for a guy to be as bad a boyfriend as he was, that you should forgive boyfriends like that when in fact the reality is boyfriends like that surrender the right to house their brains inside their skulls. I mean it, he used to videotape British sitcoms off of PBS, the ones with the wigs and the screaming."

"Videotape?" your husband will confirm.

Nod. Tell him you had a whole library of VHS tapes of that one in the department store.

Your husband will ask you to at least wear a vest.

"No need," say. "He thinks violence is for people who went to public school."

Your husband will say, "I think I'm starting to support you in this."

Kiss him and tell him he's the best man there ever was, then strap up and go shoot your ex-boyfriend in the face.

Happy Martin's In New York Day!

Your Sister's Cellmate Day!

Today you're going to have to give up your fun-loving bachelor's lifestyle when your sister tells you that her cellmate wants you to raise her son while she's in jail.

"But I go on two dates a night with hot babes!" you'll complain. "Now I have to raise a kid? This is such a turn of the tables! Such a turn of the tables!"

Your sister will explain that her cellmate, Gladys, has promised to set your sister on fire if you don't raise her son.

"So I guess you have no choice but to give up the party life and start being a dad to a boy in need of some tough love. You might learn something about yourself."

Tell her that you've already learned something about yourself. You've learned that you hate having an arsonist for a sister.

"You mean you hate having an arsonist who got caught for a sister. You didn't mind so much back when you needed someone to set fire to that 800 acre expanse of forest."

Ask her why Gladys wants you to raise her son and your sister will say that she guesses she might have mentioned that you were a great big brother to her, that underneath your hard-partying demeanor is a really nurturing soul.

That will bring a tear to your eye, and you'll agree to do it. When you meet Gladys's son, he'll knife you in the leg and you'll never walk without a limp again, but then the two of you will find common ground and he'll win a spelling bee or something.

Happy Your Sister's Cellmate Day!

Phil Cartwright Day!

Phil Cartwright is outside your house screaming your daughter's name.

"You're 18 now," tell her. "You can do what you want with whomever you want, regardless of how long they've been in my employ as a Vice President of Northeastern Regional Promotion."

Your daughter will thank you for respecting her autonomy.

"But you're still my dad," she'll say. "And I'd like your advice."

Tell her what the former Mrs. Cartwright told you about Phil back when you and she were having an affair, that Phil only wants a woman to stand witness to his failure as a man.

"He only seduces women so they'll one day leave him," tell your daughter. "The way Phil's mother left Phil and his Dad when Phil was seven."

Your daughter will listen to Phil shout her name again. You'll see her flinch, like she wants to run to the window but she's afraid to in front of you.

"But women are drawn to him," tell her. "Because they all wanna be the one to prove mama wrong."

Your daughter will look at you, and she'll see the blessing in your smile.

"What about college?" she'll ask.

Tell her college can wait. Love's a little more impatient.

"I'm sure I can get a refund on your first semester's tuition," tell her. "Go."

Your daughter will kiss your cheek, say thanks daddy, then run out the door and into Phil Cartwright's big puffy arms. When they're done kissing, Phil will see you watching from the window, and he'll wave up at you.

"I'm almost done with the Hobart & Heinz presentation," Phil will say. "It's really gonna knock their socks off Monday morning."

"Now one thing I won't abide is you wasting my daughter's time talking shop," say to Phil. "You two go home and be with each other. And I mean completely!"

Phil will make a pistol with his hands and shoot you a "no sweat." He'll pick up your daughter the way you used to when she was just a little girl, he'll put her in his Camry, and you'll watch their taillights disappear.

Happy Phil Cartwright Day!

Michigan Day!

She said Michigan.

"No," say.

She won't stop packing her suitcase.

"No, I said." Pick up her suitcase and throw it against the wall. Her clothes will spill out all over the floor. She won't even blink. She'll just bend her knees and start gathering up her things, right the suitcase, and continue readying her leave.

"It's called Jack and Nina's Auto Body."

"I'll pay for the cost of a new sign."

Tell her you don't want a new sign. Tell her you don't want to fix cars without her. Tell her it's gonna be cold there.

"You knew I'd go back," she'll say. "You had to know."

Storm out. You'll spend the next few months telling customers that Nina's visiting family. One morning, a man you've only seen in pictures will come to the counter and hand you twelve hundred dollars.

"Take my wife's name off your sign," he'll say.

Take the money and ask him how long he thinks he'll be able to hang onto her this time, how long he'll be able to keep her name on his auto body shop's sign, before she goes and finds someone new to fall in love and open a new auto body shop with.

He'll offer his hand for you to shake.

"You know Nina," he'll say. "You know as well as I a woman like that don't hang around nobody forever. But until she leaves, her name ain't gonna be on no other man's auto body shop sign."

Shake his hand and wish him luck. When you let go, you'll know for sure that she's never coming back to you. She might not stay with her husband, but she's never coming back to you.

Happy Michigan Day!

That Guy Has A Boat Too Day!

Your wife thinks you should just sail over and talk to him.

"No, he's probably busy," you'll say. "I'd just be bugging him."

Your wife thinks that he'd probably enjoy talking to another guy who has a boat.

"It's something you have in common. You can ask him how he got so much money that he decided he'd better throw some away on a boat, then you can tell him about how you made a killing buying out underwater mortgages from families who'd been bodily removed from their homes by sheriffs."

You know your wife won't get off your back about this until you finally break down and talk to the guy, so you sail your boat next to his and you shout over to him, "Hi! I see you have a boat."

The guy will fall all over himself to engage you.

"Yeah, you too huh? How about that?" he'll say. "How much money do you have?"

Tell him exactly how much money you have, including assets and long-term investments. Tell him how much your house would sell for if you put it on the market today.

"Wow," he'll say. "We, like, almost have the exact same amount of money!"

He'll start to cry and you won't have to ask why. He feels what you feel. Relief, that finally, at long last, there's someone out there who is able to buy just as much stuff as him.

"I once sailed around the world," say to him. "I did it looking to have a conversation just like this one. Sailed around the world, and here I didn't even have to leave the marina."

Later tonight, you and the other guy with a boat will go below deck on his boat to drink some really fucking expensive brandy and talk about the most disgusting/astonishing acts you ever paid human beings to perform for your sexual arousal. Congratulations on making a brand new friend at age 51.

Happy That Guy Has A Boat Too Day!

Die Buddy Day!

Everyone attending a public high school gets to pick their Die Buddy today. Sometime between first period and the closing bell, you have to kiss someone on the mouth, and whomever you kiss, that's your Die Buddy, the person who will die on the same day as you, someday in the unknowable future.

"Does this mean we'll die together? Will we die in each other's arms, or at least, will we die in the same prison camp, side-by-side before the same firing squad?" you ask.

The answer is not necessarily. You and your Die Buddy could die on opposite sides of the world, one of you dying of natural causes while the other dies from a live hand grenade stuffed into his mouth. The only thing certain is that you will die during the same 24-hour period (Greenwich Mean Time, in case the two of you are in different time zones).

However, many Die Buddies do end up dying together, simply because as Die Buddies you'll feel an urge to stay in touch, to find out if this Die Buddy program is legit (it is), and that will keep you in each other's orbit. The bond of knowing you're going to die during the same 24 hour period can often be misinterpreted as a bond of affection or mutual attraction so you might strike up a romance. Keep in mind that many Die Buddies who become romantically involved find that when the day of passing arrives, they realize that their bond was nothing more than a shared anticipation for the final moment. They regret having given their companionship to a Die Buddy. They regret having never tried to love someone for the way they lived.

"What happens if I don't kiss someone and don't pick my die buddy today?" you ask.

The answer is that you will lose your eyesight.

Happy Die Buddy Day!

He Drinks Tea Now Day!

Your Dad's back.

"Yeah, back in town. Looking for a way to stay out of trouble," he'll tell you at the coffee shop where you agreed to meet.

Tell him you won't let him see his grandchildren, and that after this afternoon you would appreciate if he'd never contact you directly again until someone handling his estate reaches you to tell you how much of his debt you've just inherited because he died by setting himself on fire in bed or driving through the front door of a school or one of the many other horrible ways in which everyone has always assumed he'd leave this earth.

"Tea," he'll say to the waitress when she appears to take your orders. "Chamomile if you have it."

Ask him when he switched from coffee to tea, then tell him never mind, you don't care, and then show him the scar on your arm.

"I'd take my own life if it would take that mark off your skin," he'll say.

Watch him sip his tea and tell him you're not buying it. That just because he's holding a little teacup in between the small of his index finger and thumb, it doesn't shorten Mom's prison sentence.

"I never asked her to take the rap for me," he'll say.

"But she did," tell him.

Your Dad will suggest that maybe the two of you should make the most of your mother's sacrifice, and keep the family together in her absence.

"Tea," say to him. Say it as a question.

Leave feeling like you really gave him the business, but in a few months you're going to invite him to your home for Sunday dinner with his grandkids, and a week or two after that the two of you will go and visit your Mom together, then finally he'll die pulling one of your kids out of the way of a speeding car, and you'll cry for him at his funeral, and none of it would ever come to pass had he ordered coffee today.

Happy He Drinks Tea Now Day!

That Hammering Day!

Go next door to find out what all that hammering is.

"What's all that hammering?"

You won't recognize the woman holding the hammer. She moved in last week and she's divorced.

"Divorced and ready to make up for lost time," she'll say, the hammer clutched in her soft palms.

You and the divorced woman will make love amongst the unpacked boxes.

"My husband never did it like that," she'll say. "He was too busy messing around with other women."

You'll tell her that you understand where she's coming from, that your wife cheated on you not all that long ago, and that it tore a hole in your heart.

"I guess I might have been getting back at her today," you'll say. "But now I feel kind of awful."

"Help me unpack," she'll say.

You'll start to help her unpack. Eventually you'll come upon a box of photos and you'll see a picture of a man you recognize. A man you've seen in pictures given to you by the private detective you hired to tail your wife. The man who met your wife in a motel room every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon for fourteen months.

"Wow small world," you'll say.

"Not so small," the divorced woman will say. "I purposely bought this house next to you. Your wife lured my man away from me. It's only right that I make love to hers. Didn't realize all it would take was a little hammering. I should have rented."

Happy That Hammering Day!

The President's Son Is A Car Thief Day!

You are the President of the United States and you can't stop bringing up the irony of you being the leader of the free world with a son who makes a living stealing cars.

"It should be a lesson to the people of this country," you've said in, like, six State of the Union speeches already. "No matter how powerful you are, you can still end up with some part of your life running astray, creeping off into the night, hotwiring Lexuses and driving them onto Russian freighters for a quick eighteen grand, just for the jazz of it. Think about that America."

Your advisers have warned you that the people are getting sick of hearing about your car thief son, and they're all pretty sure that you're proud of him.

"Why not talk about your daughter at Brandeis?"

You shrug. "What's there to talk about? The president's daughter gets good grades. Stop the fucking presses."

Your advisers tell you that the people think you wish you could have been a bad boy like your son, and they're afraid that you might try to fulfill that wish through policy.

"Yeah, right," you say. "Like a subclause in a jobs bill is really going to give me the same adrenaline rush my son probably gets when he jacks a Lincoln."

Your advisers will say that the people are worried that you don't like being president, and that you wish you had the freedom and devil-may-care lifestyle that your son has.

"Tell the people they're right on the damn money," you say.

This afternoon your son is going to appear on TV in another high speed freeway chase, this time he'll be driving a car carrier full of Benzes. You'll be the only one in the country rooting for your son to get away. Everyone else just wants him to go to jail so their president can finally learn that crime doesn't pay, that when you break the law you're eventually going to have the pay the price with your freedom. Lucky for you, he'll make it across state lines just before the police catch up to him, and since you enacted that "No, Seriously, The Cross State Lines And You Can't Get Arrested Anymore Law Is For Real From Now On" law last year solely to help your son stay free, you're not going to have to learn a damn thing today.

Happy The President's Son Is A Car Thief Day!

You're Just Not Going To Get Anything Done Until You Have Sex With Jordan Day!

Call him.

"Jordan look I need this," say. "I've got a big month ahead of me but ever since you started temping at the office I've kind of become obsessed with you being inside me. What are you doing tomorrow at like 7 PM so we can make that happen?"

Jordan will ask who you are and how he knows you again.

"Cut the shit!" shout.

He'll remember now how he knows you since you scolded him on his first day for drinking out of your tea cup.

"Anyway. You. Inside me. Capiche? This is already taking too long and kind of fucking up my night."

Jordan will tell you that he's getting over a lovely ex of his named Karen and--

"Fine call me Karen then. Jesus. I'll wear a nametag. Tell me how she squealed and I'll make the same noise. Do you realize how many presentations I have to get ready in the next couple of weeks?"

Jordan will think about it.

"Okay," he'll say. "But just promise me you won't--"

Hang up on Jordan. Then send him an email telling him what time you want him to get inside you, and explain that you hung up on him because he already wasted enough of your time with his yappy mouth. Everyone hopes you get this Jordan being inside you thing taken care of because everyone is counting on you to do a great job. You sell soda machines to bus stations.

Happy You're Just Not Going To Get Anything Done Until You Have Sex With Jordan Day!

Assassin Priest Day!

Today you are a priest who makes money for your church and affiliated orphanage by being an assassin for hire. You got into the line of work a long time ago, back when it looked like the city was going to shut your church down (cities do that!) and all the orphans in your orphanage would be thrown into child protection programs and the foster care system. You had to do something!

"So I did what I promised myself I'd never do," you tell the Archbishop. "I followed in the footsteps of my father."

Your father was a special ops asset during the cold war, and he was the best there was.

"I only take jobs where I can be sure the target is a sinner, through and through, one who is beyond redemption."

"No sinner is beyond redemption," the Archbishop says. "You're assuming the role of God in your killings."

"Only by assuming the role of God can I get the money to continue doing God's work," you tell the Archbishop. "If it weren't for my contract killings, my church would be no more."

"Fine," the Archbishop says. "If you insist on lying to yourself, do what you have to do."

You raise your pistol and fire two rounds into the Archbishop's chest, and a third round into his forehead. You'd better head downtown to report the job done. No longer will your city have an Archbishop who uses his frock to shield a network of drug running, human trafficking, and arms dealing.

And most importantly, the orphanage is saved!

Happy Assassin Priest Day!

Sam The Guy Your Daughter Married Once Day!

Today you'll be having a nice lunch in a nice restaurant when you'll be visited at your table by the restaurant manager. It will be Sam, the guy your daughter married once.

"Can you tell your daughter I'm manager here now?" Sam will ask. "She ended it because she said I'd never follow through on my dreams of managing a high-end restaurant like this one. Seeing as you eat here, you clearly agree that this place is pretty boss. Can you tell her? Can you tell your daughter I made it?"

"No," tell Sam. Then explain that your daughter cut you out of her life after you pressured her to divorce Sam.

"I'm the one who convinced her to leave you, son," tell him. "I told her she's better than you. I told her you were never going to be more than you were."

Sam's voice will be choked with rage. "Then you are duty-bound to tell her you were wrong!"

"She already knows, son," tell Sam. "But she's remarried to a man she doesn't love, and she has two young children who don't impress her, but she says she's stuck with them, all because I told her you weren't good enough. She told me it was all my fault and she said that's the last I'd hear from her."

"I could go to her," Sam will say. "I could destroy her family and we could finally live out the happy life I know we were supposed to share"

"It's the only way she'll ever speak to me again," say to Sam. "I'll fund the operation and get you the manpower."

And that's how you and Sam will join forces and gather an eclectic crew in a high-stakes caper to break up your daughter's home!

Happy Sam The Guy Your Daughter Married Once Day!

Cigarette Day!

When Jenny asks you for a cigarette today she'll only be asking you for it because she thinks you look absolutely breathtaking with a cigarette in between your big pink lips and she wants to look like that too.

"I want boys to want me the way they want you," Jenny will say.

Tell her, "Oh then you need the cigarette, definitely."

Explain to Jenny that before you started smoking boys never gave you the time of day. After you started smoking, you were stunned.

"Do you know how many poets go to this school? The minute I started smoking about nine boys started writing the most glorious verse about me. They'd rip the poems out of their notebooks, bloody the back of the pages and stick them to my locker for me to find after 5th period."

Jenny will be hanging on your every word. She'll be ready to strangle you just to get one of those cigarettes in her mouth.

"After you smoke this," tell Jenny. "You should get a day planner. And start telling your parents where you go and who you're with every time you leave the house. Some boys kidnap. Their parents have cabins in the woods and they try to take me up there and lock me away with them so no one else can have me. Boys don't like to share when they find the beauty they believe will save them."

"Oh my God," Jenny will say. "Give me one of those Marlboro reds right now or I think I'll explode."

Hand Jenny her cigarette and tell her, "We have something to celebrate anyway."

Light both of the cigarettes. Let Jenny inhale and feel her life change. Then...

"I'm pregnant and I'm not keeping it!" tell Jenny.

The two of you should jump up and down screaming and smoking.

Happy Cigarette Day!

Dads Are Sitting In Their Cars Listening To The Radios Day!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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

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!

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.

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

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!

Tara's Home Day!

Tara's home. It's 8 AM and she wants to come in.

"Come on Jeff! Open the door!"

"Not again Tara! That was the last time!"

Every night your neighbor Tara leaves the house to go out and get her drink on and maybe a few dudes, and every morning she shows up home again demanding that her boyfriend buzz her in. She stopped carrying keys because she always loses them.

"Jeff! It's cold!"

"I can't Tara! I owe it to myself to not let you in!"

You threw away your alarm clock a long time ago. A few months after moving into your new place you learned you can always count on Tara's shrill, newly sober voice and Jeff's weak-kneed heartbreak would be there every morning at 8 AM to shake you awake and send you to the shower. Occasionally you push the snooze button and wait for Tara to walk down to the corner deli to buy a loose cigarette, then come back and put the icing on the cake.

"Jeff! I love you! Please don't do this!"

"I swear to God Tara, this is the last time."

Buzzzzzzz!

Good morning!

Happy Tara's Home Day!

Elder Army Day!

You and the other women in your nursing home are sick of sitting around all day doing nothing.

"Let's form an army," say to them.

"What?" one will ask.

"An army," you'll repeat, louder into her good ear.

All of the other residents will look at each other for arguments against, then they'll all shrug and nod.

"Which one of your sons can get us weapons?" ask them.

Four of the women will raise their hands. Their sons are all members of domestic terrorist groups who are worried about health care reform.

"Who will be the target of our first assault?" one of the residents will ask.

Spin the rocking recliner in which you're seated slowly on its base so that you're facing all of them in such a position that the buzzing florescents above light your face in the most sinister manner.

Tell them, "Whoever gets in our way."

When an orderly shows up to give you all medication, strangle him to death with your catheter and flee.

Happy Elder Army Day!

Airplane Stripper Day!

You're an airplane stripper on a wealthy industrial titan's private jet and today the wealthy industrial titan seems distracted.

"Don't like what you see, Jeff?" you ask.

"Alice, how long have we known each other," Jeff says.

"Eleven days," you say.

"Eleven days," he repeats. "Then you're the only one I can trust."

He asks you to put your clothes back on and sit down next to him. Then he shows you a spreadsheet he's created listing the names of people who worked at the World Trade Center who called in sick on 9-11, and showing how many of them are descended from Masons.

"You've cracked it wide open," you say, convincingly.

"I've burned this to a disc for you to keep. If anything should happen to me, make sure this gets out."

"Of course," you say.

After the plane lands you'll tell your Plane Stripping agency you don't want to dance on Jeff's plane anymore. A few days later, Jeff will be killed by the Masons and you'll find out that he left you his entire fortune in his will, with a note that reads, "You'll need every dime of this money because you're going to be on the run for the rest of your life. GO NOW!"

You'll get on Jeff's plane, yours now, and you'll introduce yourself to the stripper already dancing for you. She'll tell you her name's Judith and you'll tell her to take a seat because the two of you have a lot of ground to cover if the truth is ever going to get out.

Happy Airplane Stripper Day!

Tell A Kid He Should Be Thankful For What He's Got Day!

Walking down the street today you'll see a little boy staring into the window of a toy store, pointing at a train set and crying. You'll overhear his father say, "No, it's too expensive." The little boy will say, "I hate you! I hate you!" The father will say, "I'm going over to look in that men's clothing store window. You just stay here and cry." Then the father will walk two stores down to stare into his own window.

Walk up to the boy and say, "You shouldn't say that to your Dad."

"But I want the train," the boy will say.

"Trains aren't everything," tell him.

"But I want it," the boy will say.

"You should be thankful you have a father who's willing to not buy you trains," tell him.

"Oh I'm sorry," the boy will say. "Your dad is dead?"

"No," tell him. "Or, maybe he is. He sold me. So I don't really know who he is."

"Fathers can sell their kids?" the boy will ask.

Nod yes.

The boy will run to his father, wrap his arms around his father's legs and beg him not to sell him. The father will ask who told the boy that kids can be sold and the boy will point towards you so you'd better be gone by then.

Happy Tell A Kid He Should Be Thankful For What He's Got Day!

You Got Bit By The Love Raccoon Day!

Cleaning out your garage last night, you disturbed a raccoon that was apparently living behind some empty paint cans. It jumped out at you, scratched at your cheeks and bit you several times on the forehead. When you came out of your garage, a woman pulled over in front of your house holding a map. She wanted directions to a local college. You fell in love with her instantly.

You got bit by The Love Raccoon.

"The what?" you'll ask your doctor.

"Love raccoon," he'll repeat. "Very dangerous and likely rabid. Their saliva makes people fall in love almost instantly. It also makes them foam at the mouth and turn extremely feverish. I'd better give you about 50 shots."

"But I've never been in love," you'll say.

"Well if I don't give you these shots you're gonna turn into a drooling mad fool."

"Is it worth it?" you'll ask.

The doctor will let his mind drift to the day he met his wife Ellen, when she stepped off of that ferry in the warm summer breeze, looking like an angel sent only to make him realize just how beautiful God's creation can be.

"Doc, is it worth it?" you'll ask.

He'll smile. "It is."

You'll shake his hand. Then you'll double over and begin throwing up.

"That's gonna last for the next week or so. Then you'll break out in hives and go blind sometimes. If your throat constricts, give someone a piece of paper telling them to call me. Now go after her!"

You'll run out of the examination room and pass out in a puddle of your own sweat on the waiting room floor.

Happy You Got Bit By The Love Raccoon Day!

Stumbling Into An Elementary School Cafeteria Day!

Your three-day bender is about to come to a close. All of your friends have either gotten thrown in jail, beaten up by bouncers, or they've gone sober. You're alone. You're cold. You want something to eat.

I smell...tater tots, you think.

You follow the scent to a large non-descript building that looks kind of familiar, and you shove your way through the double doors into an elementary school cafeteria.

Shit, you think. That line is huge.

The line of kids will stretch thirty lengths, but one glimpse towards the yellow-lit heat trays and you'll see crispy brown tater tots numbering in the hundreds, piled high and glistening.

You'll limp to the back of the line (you sprained your ankle crawling under a fence a day or two ago). The kids will giggle at the grown man joining them for lunchtime. You'll try to control your temper.

"He looks like somebody's dad," one kid will say and everyone will laugh.

"He's acting like my dad when he comes home from watching football," another kid will say, to less laughter.

You'll make it to the front of the line and you'll order five orders of tater tots. It will cost you $7.50. After discarding the piles of "ButtBucks" you got from a local strip club, you'll find the appropriate legal tender and pay.

"Dad?" you'll hear. You'll turn around and there will be your son, staring up at you. It's his school.

"Hey," you'll say. "Came here to...uh...have lunch with you."

Your son's face will light up. You haven't been allowed to see him until the legal proceedings were finalized and your restraint order was lifted. He considers this a special treat.

While all the other kids laugh, you and your son sit at a table by yourselves. He tells you how he's doing at school while you eat your tater tots. Only after your third tray of tots will you realize your son hasn't ordered any food.

"Eat up," you'll say, shoving one of the trays of tots in his direction. He'll smile and begin devouring the delicious potato morsels. Then you'll continue talking and laughing together until the vice principal arrives with a security guard to ask you to leave quietly.

Happy Stumbling Into An Elementary School Cafeteria Day!

You And Your Husband Want To Marry Other People Day!

You've been married for a month already and frankly, the fact that you don't have any weddings planned is making the future look less than awesome.

"Let's marry other people," your husband will say.

"That's classic!" you'll reply.

You and your husband will go out to the bars and woo prospective second spouses until you each find that extra-special second someone who won't ask too many questions. You'll drink enough to get engaged then you'll each meet your second fiance's parents and start planning the big day.

"Isn't this fun?" you'll whisper when you call your husband in the middle of the night.

"We should just keep getting married to people for the rest of our lives," he'll whisper back. "Oops, I think Cheryl's waking up! Make sure you get your ceremony videotaped. I wanna see it."

After you both get married to other people you'll break the news that you only did it for the wedding, and once everyone stops yelling at you and breaking your faces, you and your husband will reunite and tell each other all about your respective weddings.

"We had shrimp," your husband will say.

"We had a caviar station," you'll say.

Then you'll tell your husband that he needs to get a better job because you spent a good hunk of your savings on your wedding.

"My parents weren't going to pay for another one," you'll explain.

"That's fine. On your weddings days, everything should be perfect," your husband will say. Then you'll hug him and the two of you will go to the bedroom and do to each other all the stuff you each learned on your wedding nights with that bride and groom who are presently crying their eyes out someplace. You two should introduce them, maybe they'd hit it off.

Happy You And Your Husband Want To Marry Other People Day!

Save Your Family Day!

Today some crazy people with guns who wear masks that don't have any eyeholes are going to come into your house and announce, "We're going to rape and kill all of you right here in the middle of dinner. It's what we do for fun. Who's first?"

Everyone in your family will say, "Aw man! I wanted to finish dinner." Then they'll accept their fates and they'll form a single file line.

Everyone except you.

"I don't think so you guys," you'll say.

The masked rapists/killers will all laugh.

"But you're only seven!"

"Yup," you'll say. "But I'm REAL unstable."

That's when you'll light the firecrackers you had been planning to shove up the cat's butt and you'll throw them at the rapists/killers who will fire their weapons in the air in the confusion.

Then you'll take the lighter fluid you had been planning to drench the dog with and you'll spray it all over the rapists/killers masks, and you'll light the masks on fire just like you had been planning to do with the dog and your sister's gerbil if you had enough lighter fluid which you probably would have.

The rapists/killers will fall to the ground trying to get their burning masks off but soon they'll all just pass out with their eyes ruined forever. Just to add insult to injury, you'll take some of the live ants you keep in your pants pocket and you'll shove them up the rapists/killers masks to feed on their charred faces.

Your family will be so happy that you saved them, then they'll be upset when they realize you've crapped on one of the rapists/killers and now you're playing with the crap, kind of exploring it with your hands and murmuring something, a little story that's playing out in your head.

Your family will forever be grateful to, and terrified of, you. You'll have your first inpatient stay at a mental hospital before you turn twelve.

Happy Save Your Family Day!

She's Leaving You* Day!

Your girlfriend is walking out on you today.

"I've fallen in love with something."

"Something?" you'll say.

She'll nod.

"Not a person?"

"No. God no."

"Then...what?"

She'll shake her head. "I can't. It's so..."

"Embarrassing?"

"New. I'm afraid of jinxing it."

You'll put your hand on hers. "I don't want you to pass up real love. No one should. If it will make you happy, you should leave me for this...soft object?"

She'll shake her head.

"Shiny item that is larger than a breadbox?"

She'll shake her head.

"Um...taxidermied--"

"God no."

"Is it a purse?"

"Look, I gotta go."

As she's leaving you'll shout at her back, "Just tell me!"

She'll slam the door behind her. Six months from now you'll see her at brunch sitting across the table from a bucket of rags, looking happier than she ever was with you.

She's Leaving You* Day!



*for a bucket of rags

You Want To Lick His Digital Watch Day!

He's got a digital watch on his wrist and you wanna know how it tastes. You've been watching him all afternoon, sitting at his desk trying to make it through this defensive driving class without falling asleep, and you can't help but stare at the jet black plastic band wrapped around his snow white wrist. You want to slip your tongue underneath that band and have him tighten it, restraining your tongue against his skin, making a permanent imprint of the little rectangles of the band on the top of your tongue, and the hairs of his wrist on the bottom of your tongue.

"Are you looking at my fucking watch Grandma?" he's shouting. You can't hear him. You're mesmerized.

"Please stop looking at his watch ma'am. You're far too old to be behaving like this," the defensive driving teacher is saying now. Not that you can hear anything but the occasional beep emitted by his watch when another quarter-hour passes.

"I think she might be touching herself," the guy behind you is saying, as if any words that came out of his mouth mattered in your universe.

"No wait. I think she's setting something on fire!" someone sitting next to you is shouting.

In the chaos of everyone running from the blaze you've set, grab your digital watch wearing Adonis and slam his head against the wall three times hard, knocking him unconscious. Then lock the door and hold him in your arms and check the time on his digital watch just before the roof caves in on top of the two of you. That is the time of your death as an unlicensed driver in love.

Happy You Want To Lick His Digital Watch Day!

Don't Commit A Felony Day!

Apologies for all those whose big bank heist or matricide was planned for today. It sucks when you have something on your schedule for weeks in advance and then something comes along at the last minute and you're forced to cancel. Unfortunately though, today's Don't Commit a Felony Day. So if you were planning to steal a car, shoot a liquor store owner in the face, or set a hospital on fire, it will have to wait until tomorrow.

Please consult your local criminal code to determine what constitutes a felony in your state. Remember, anal is legal in Texas now, so you're cool.

Happy Don't Commit A Felony Day!

Maxed Out Credit Cards Guy Day!

Today you're maxed out credit cards guy. You're going to go from store to store, ringing up hundreds of dollars of items, then you'll hand over one of your maxed out credit cards for payment and wait for the big reveal.

"Try it again!" you'll shout.

The cashier will tell you the card is simply not being accepted. So you'll give her another.

"I'm sorry sir but that one is also being declined."

Say this is ridiculous and give her your next card, telling her, "I never use this one so it has to work."

That one won't work, as you know, and you'll give her the next one to try, which also won't work, as you know.

After she's tried all 50 of the maxed out credit cards in your wallet, sit in the middle of the floor with your head in your hands and weep. After about twenty minutes, get up and go across the street to repeat the whole process with that store's cashier.

Happy Maxed Out Credit Cards Guy Day!

Your Rescue From A Basement After Many Many Years, Sponsored By Wendy's Day!

Today you're going to be freed from the basement where you've been held captive for several years. The darkness and silence has turned you mad, and you'll have trouble grasping onto your sense of self. The emptiness of the basement robbed you of your ability to distinguish your own personhood from the surrounding environment, and so when people ask you questions you don't know that you're being addressed. Other people's voice are indistinguishable from your own thoughts. Physical pain inflicted on your body is understood as "the way the world is now." You have no idea that you exist.

"Bet you're ready for a tasty Baconator," a man in a suit will say as he holds a large burger covered in bacon in front of your face.

"This man is from Wendy's," the policeman will say. "They sponsored your rescue. Take a bite of that hamburger while the camera is filming you, then we'll take you to the hospital."

You'll howl wordlessly.

"Just put the Baconator in your mouth and your rape kit's paid for," the man from Wendy's will say.

You'll jerk one of your arms in the air, with no intent.

"We fought tooth and nail to win the chance to sponsor this rescue," the man from Wendy's will whisper in your ear. "The whole world's waiting to see you freed and rejoin society. Just bite into the Baconator and give a thumbs up."

You'll open your mouth to bite him in the face, but he knows how these rescues usually go down, and he'll take that split-second opportunity to shove the burger in your mouth and then work your jaw to chew.

The burger will taste delicious. This is the way the world is now. It's bacon-y.

After the man from Wendy's forces one of your thumbs into the air, you'll be rushed to the hospital where the unimaginable truth of your horrific 3-year ordeal will finally be revealed, sponsored by Wendy's.

Happy Your Rescue From A Basement After Many Many Years, Sponsored By Wendy's Day!

No Karate Class Day!

When you go back to pick up little Susan and Jesse from Karate class, you'll find all the kids sitting still on the mats, just as you left them. Except they'll all be looking down into their laps, the expressions on their faces far too morose for children so young.

"Where's Sensei?" you'll ask.

Susan will look up at you, her eyes puffy, and she'll shake her head slowly.

"Jesse?" you'll ask.

Jesse will get up and stand by you. "We told him not to go and confront them," he'll say. "We told him it was a fool's errand. But he refused to back down."

"You're a damn mule!" one of the other kids will shout at the sky.

"What did you have to prove? Why couldn't you have just let it go?" another little girl will shout, pounding her fist into the mat beneath her.

After some seconds of silence, Jesse will try and explain.

"It's a battle that's lasted centuries, spanning back to a cow stolen from Sensei's great great great grandfather's land in Okinawa. Two families, pitted together for life. Apparently, the descendant of one of those families opened an Arby's over in Eastville. Sensei said he had to honor the blood flowing through his veins and settle this once and for all."

"And he didn't come back," Susan said.

You take both your kids' hands and say, "I'm sure he's okay." Then you lead them out to the car, mentally calculating the number of classes you've already paid for and the refund you should be due if the Sensei died for his ancestral feud. At least around $170 for Pete's sake.

As you pull out of the parking lot you see smoke on the horizon.

"The Arbys," Susan and Jesse will sing in unison. They'll have hope in their voices. Perhaps their Sensei was triumphant after all.

Happy No Karate Class Day!

Misquote That Movie "Tobey Maguire" Day!

Today you should misquote that Tom Cruise movie about the talent agent who wants to see money. So when you see someone with money, shout at them "Let me see your money!" When you love someone and you want them to know it, say to them, "I wasn't done, but thanks to you, I'm all set. Ding!" And if you just want someone to shut up, say, "I was sick of you when we first met." Finally, when you want someone to help you help them, say, "Hey, you need help. I need help. Let's go find someone to help us, but let's carpool." Jonathan Kenicky is still alive, BTW.

Happy Misquote That Movie "Tobey Maguire" Day!

Grocery Shopping All By Your Lonesome Day!

Get past the pears with your eyes closed. She liked pears. Ate one every day.

She hated cereal and she hated the sound of you eating it. Now when you eat it, it's deafening. You can see what she meant. Skip the cereal and switch to toast.

Don't buy any milk. Milk was her thing. In her coffee. You don't need it anymore. Before she moved in the only milk you ever had in your fridge was sour. You'd buy it and forget you had it until it started to stink. You have to prove that her leaving won't make your fridge stink. If she wanted to go, fine. She'd better not think that now that she's gone your fridge is going to stink again, because it's not. Your fridge will smell just fine.

No eggs either. Long story. Long funny story. You two laughed like idiots that morning.

You're out of light bulbs which is fine because two are burned out and you'd like to wait for the other two to go so that you won't have to see your life without her. You're out of paper towels but it doesn't matter because cleaning up will only get rid of the evidence that she was a part of your life and you want to hang onto every speck of her dirt and dust. You're out of salt.

You actually ran out of salt. The tub with the girl with the umbrella that you bought ten years ago, the one that survived two moves, is empty. Is that why she left? When the salt runs out, it's time to reevaluate things, see where you're at, whether you should stay or go to grad school in Richmond.

"You can cut in front of me," the woman with two carts full of meats and cookies says. "If all you have is that one microwave burrito and those three six packs of Magic Hat."

Happy Grocery Shopping All By Your Lonesome Day!

Your Video Masturbation Subscription List Is Bored Day!

Back in '67 you started a subscription-based club for people who wanted to receive a drawing of you masturbating once every month. You promised that the drawing was a true representation of one of your masturbation sessions that took place during the month prior (or an amalgam of several, if you felt there was too much going on that month to limit it to one position/setting).

In the 1980's, with the rise of the VCR, your subscribers demanded videotape and you conceded. You saw a big dropoff in subscriptions since you were pushing 40 by that time and the camera doesn't lie.

Now with the rise of the internet, you distribute your videos online. You still stick to the once a month schedule, but that doesn't make it easier on you. Since you're in your sixties now, you often have to schedule several shoot days before you finally get a take that doesn't end with you letting go of your flacid member and throwing your hands up, saying into the camera, "Maybe next time."

Your subscriber base (now down to just four people, one of them being your ex-wife (long story)) have been complaining that they've been seeing the same man masturbate for decades now and they feel like they should know more about him. So today you're going to tape yourself masturbating with one hand while showing off your baseball card collection with the other.

You won't get too in depth about the collection, since you really need to concentrate to masturbate. You're just going to flip the pages of your card binder, then wave your hand a little, as if you were a game show girl showing off the next prize. You hope that shuts everyone up, because you really don't want to have to masturbate while telling the camera about the first time you saw a dead body when you were seven.

Happy Your Video Masturbation Subscription List Is Bored Day!

He Controls The Rain Day!

"I control the rain," he said.

You had no reason not to believe him.

"So when you're on an elevator and someone asks if you ordered all this rain you say yes?"

"I try to keep it a secret in order to keep from being abducted by governments."

You were smitten.

"He controls the rain," you said.

"What's that pay?" your Dad asked.

You forwarded this question to him.

"It pays nothing. It's simply a power with which I have been cursed. Every once in a while I must keep the water levels at a manageable mark and so I have no choice but to ruin people's hair and outfits," he said.

"I like the rain," your Dad said. "So you have my blessing. Tell him he kind of overdid this year though. Except for in the southwest."

"Oh I don't control the rain in the Southwest region. That's this guy Max's turf. I'm strictly mid-Atlantic," he says. But you already knew that.

"So we can get married?" he asks.

You nod and cry. He touches one of your tears.

"I wish I could control the rain that falls from your eyes," he says. "I would institute of a drought that would last for decades."

You almost tell him that Max, the guy who controls the Southwest rainfall and who you actually dated for a while, was able to keep you from crying for months on end. He used kindness. But you don't want him to be threatened.

"Can you make it sunny on our wedding day?" you ask.

He tells you not to ask him about work, then you kiss, even though you didn't like his answer.

Happy He Controls The Rain Day!

Too High To Play Lotto Day!

You only had one thing on your to-do list today but you got too high to do it. You were going to play your Mom's lotto numbers then bring the tickets over to her house, but you started panicking that since the lotto is run by the government you'd be added to some kind of list for special observation and eventually, when the other shoe falls, you'd be shipped off to help build the undersea cities once the solid ground becomes uninhabitable. Anyway, your Mom's numbers will come up today and she would have won 5200 dollars had you not gotten too high to play them. She won't say anything about it though. Since you didn't give her her tickets, she'll know you either forgot or "those cigarettes" got in your way again. Your visits are important to her and she doesn't want to spend them fighting over money.

Happy Too High To Play Lotto Day!