Magic Mirror Day!

Hang your magic mirror on the wall, turn around so the back of your head appears in it, then say three times, "Cillian Murphy and me are friends, but he's kind of a liar."

Then poof! Cillian Murphy will call you up and tell you how glad he is to talk to you, his old buddy. You'll tell him you're glad to talk to him too, then he'll say that he just found out he's related to Bill Clinton.

"Not like first cousins or anything, but we do share an ancestry," he'll say.

You won't challenge him, because really, how do you challenge something like that? And seeing as he's already a movie star, why would he feel the need to lie about being related to Bill Clinton? All the same, you don't really believe Cillian Murphy, and it makes it hard to be friends with him even though you only just became friends thanks to your magic mirror.

The big question: was Cillian Murphy kind of a liar before you bought the magic mirror, or did you make him into a liar when you intoned your spell before the magic mirror's reflection?

The even bigger question: Why doesn't your magic mirror do anything else?

Happy Magic Mirror Day!

Tell Your Best Friend You Never Liked Her Husband Day!

Tell her as soon as she's done dialing consulates.

"I know I'm supposed to wait before I say this," tell her. "That couples always end up getting back together and they remember everyone who took sides when they were split up. But I can't help it. You deserved better than him."

Your friend will be thrown, but just keep hitting her with the truth. She'll tell you she doesn't have time for your bullshit right now, and that she has to figure out which embassy to contact.

"He kind of made the two of you live out his dreams, you know?"

Your friend won't want to hear this, but that's only because deep down she agrees with you. She's just going to keep trying to find someone on the phone who understands prosecution procedure in Indonesia.

"I know it doesn't feel this way yet, but you're going to have a great life now that he's gone. The life you were meant to have."

Your friend will tell you that she really needs you to shut up. Her husband isn't gone, she'll say. He got scammed into transporting someone else's bag through customs and it was full of heroin, and now he is at risk of spending the rest of his life rotting in a jail cell on the other side of the planet.

"I know someone who would be great for you," tell her. "He works in marketing. A little young for you, but I bet you two would hit it off."

Your friend will try to shut you out while she tallies her savings to figure out if she has enough for a plane ticket, lodging, and the cost of a lawyer who'll stick with a case that could drag on for months if not years.

"Screw it, let's get trashed! Girls night!"

Your friend will realize she doesn't even know where Indonesia is. She'll google it, then she'll collapse into a sobbing mess beside her desk chair. Put "Irreplaceable" by Beyonce on the stereo and see if the two of you aren't dancing with empowerment by the second verse.

Happy Tell Your Best Friend You Never Liked Her Husband Day!

Your Husband Was In The Movie Krush Groove Day!

"Thought that was gonna work out to be something bigger for me," he said to you on your first date. "A lot of the cast used Krush Groove as kind of a launching pad for whatever else it was they were working on. I just couldn't get my shit together like they could."

You were staring at a high-rise where there used to stand a warehouse, which had been used as a location in Krush Groove.

"The roof of the warehouse," he told you. "I was one of the guys dancing on it."

You asked him whether he was still in touch with any of the other cast-members of Krush Groove, and he just shook his head. "Hurts too much."

You leaned over the gear shift and gave him a kiss on his cheek. You told him that you're glad he didn't go on to become a movie star after Krush Groove. "If you had, you might not have given me the time of day. And I wouldn't be having the wonderful time I'm having with you right now."

He said, "Guess that's one thing I can be glad about. I'm having a great time too."

You kissed some more, then you said, "Krush Groove is a stupid movie anyway."

He pulled away and drove you home in silence, angry that you would talk that way about Krush Groove.

A few weeks later he realized he had a shot at something pretty good with you, and maybe it was time to get over the whole Krush Groove thing anyway. He showed up at your door with a signed DVD of the movie Krush Groove. He stuck it into your DVD player and showed you his scene, then he said he'd never watch it again, if you would take his hand in marriage.

That was twelve years ago today. Happy Anniversary you two!

Happy Your Husband Was In The Movie Krush Groove Day!

Babies Having Babies Day!

At six months old, you are the first baby to ever get pregnant. The press has three big questions for you:

1. Are you going to keep it?

2. If you do decide to keep it, since you're only a little bit larger than the average newborn, will the presence of a developing fetus inside your tiny body kill you?

3. Who's the father?

The answer to the first and second questions is yes. The answer to the third question is one you'll take to your grave, since the father is none other than Rookie Of The Year star Daniel Stern!

"We were in love," you would perhaps tell reporters one day if a gestating baby wasn't going to tear your body into pieces in a few weeks. "He was afraid that I was too young to make love, but I told him that love has no age. I made a vow to keep my relationship with Daniel a secret, as I knew if it got out that he had had an affair with a toddler, his career as a star of family entertainment might be jeopardized."

Not only will your baby somehow survive, he will lead a long healthy life, and Daniel Stern will send him $5000 per month under the condition that the baby never try to contact him, and that his paternity never be made public. So good news, your baby won't have to temp.

Happy Babies Having Babies Day!

Rob Your Ex-Wife Day!

Russel's going to be the last one lingering at the end of your backyard party, he'll be standing by the honeysuckle bush, sipping his O'Douls and looking like he's not waiting around to pitch you on a new score.

"You know how much cash those Pitch N Putts take in on a Saturday?"

"You wanna rob a Pitch N' Putt?"

He'll shake his head no, then he'll hold up three fingers.

"Three Pitch N Putts. You're out of your mind."

He'll name them. The Putt Putt. The Putt N Pitch. And the Pitch And Putt out on Route 40. All three owned by--

"Our ex-wife Clarise."

You and Russel were both married to Clarise. She divorced you to marry him in fact. It put a strain on your criminal collaborations, but after the wounds healed and you started dating again, you found you were able to forgive Russel. Once Clarise divorced him as well, Russel kind of forced his friendship on you again, and you decided it wasn't worth it to refuse.

"I'm over Clarise," tell Russel. "Long over her, in fact. It's still too soon for you to be making decisions like this. You're robbing with your heart, not your head."

Russel will jiggle the fake beer in his bottle. You'll start cleaning up the plates.

"Guess me and Keith'll just have to plan a robbery of three Pitch N Putts on our own, then," Russel will say.

"Why would Keith rob from his own wife?" you'll ask.

Russel will hold up the gossip page from the Pennysaver. The headline will read, Pitch N Putt Titan Drops Husband Number 3.

"Ex-wife," Russel will correct you.

Reading that headline, all the old humiliations will come rushing back at you. Your wife leaving you was one thing. Leaving to marry your partner, that made it even worse. Now she's left a third guy in the dust, making the three of you into a laughing stock. The three stooges. Clarise's castoffs. It's time to make her pay.

"How many guys you think we're gonna need to pull this off," you'll ask Russel.

"Thirty Seven," Russel will say. "Maybe thirty-eight. And guys we trust too."

Happy Rob Your Ex-Wife Day!

The End Of Joey Day!

Today is the end of Joey. He's going to lock himself inside his kitchen and turn on the oven and breathe in a bunch of gas or something. He hasn't planned it out very well but he IS going to die today so you should start planning the "Joey's Gone" party and invite Joey's friends, neighbors, and all the police who used to love the way Joey would make them laugh when they'd arrest him for ruining everything in various situations (parades, funerals for Joey's parents and step-parents, this one party that Joey's boss threw for him when he was about to promote Joey but instead Joey showed up with some unloaded guns and a dog). A lot of people are going to want to claim that they always "got" Joey so if you send out the first evite, you'll get the jump on them. Best of luck and don't serve shrimp. Joey loved shrimp and he was very vocal about it so if you refuse to serve it, everyone will ask why no shrimp and you can say, "Didn't you know that was just a put-on?" Remember, when someone takes his own life, it's up to the people he left behind to profit off of the loss socially.

Happy The End Of Joey Day!

Nude Pete Day!

You're Nude Pete and you just woke up in an empty hospital that looks like the aftermath of a bloody battle. When you walk out into the hall, you'll find that people have written stuff from the bible in red paint on the walls, and there's trash all over the place and doors torn off their hinges. Looks like you're the only man who survived some kind of war between the living and the walking dead.

"Wonder if I still love being nude with no one alive to see me," you'll think.

Just to get a sense of yourself, you'll put on some clothes you find in one of the closets of a neighboring hospital room. A sweater and some slacks. The sweater will be a little big, but the slacks will fit okay. Head out into the hall and see how it feels.

"Hm. Gotta say, I'm not really feeling the urge to nude out, seeing as there's no one to take a gander," you'll think. "Is it really the case that all these years, I've gravitated toward nudity solely for the thrill of being seen by others. Am I really that dependent on the other?"

You'll go outside into the ruined and blood-soaked street and stare out at the still glowing embers of burned buildings and cars.

"So everything about my sense of self, it was all based in the reaction I got from witnesses. What a thing to learn about myself. I'm a small, small man," you'll think.

Sitting there in the hospital parking lot, you'll be delighted to discover another living human stumbling toward you. You'll quickly disrobe.

"Thank goodness," you'll say to the man, who appears to be coughing. "I just realized that I've kind of defined myself according to the gasps and titters I drew from others with my nakedness," you'll continue. "I was kind of worried there that with no other people around, I'd have to come up with a whole new 'thing.'"

The man will continue approaching you, and you'll see his eyes turn black and his limbs become stiff. You'll note a profound change in everything about the man. He no longer sees you as a person who just took off all his clothes. He, or rather, it can now only see you as a source of sustenance.

"Wow," you'll think. "Just like that, I couldn't give a crap about being nude in front of this guy. A little zombification and the jazz goes out the window."

You'll slip back into your clothes and then behead the undead man with one swing of a jagged shaft of steel you'll find nearby.

Ultimately, you'll find an empty apartment on the high floor of a building in which to hide. Zombies can't read, so outside the building you'll post a sign that reads, "If you're reading this, you haven't changed yet. I am on the eighteenth floor of this building and I want to show you my body." And that's how the surviving army of humanity will be marshaled together in a lone city apartment by you, Nude Pete, a man who just wants to live in a world where there are still cognizant human beings who will avert their eyes from the unexpected appearance of your naked sack.

Happy Nude Pete Day!

Mom's Cigarettes Day!

The old wive's tale goes, every time you smoke one of Mom's cigarettes, Dad considers leaving wherever he is and coming home to live with you and Mom again. Which means you have to really smoke a lot of Mom's cigarettes to keep the thought going through Dad's head, making him think about you and your Mom so much that eventually he thinks, "Well, they've been on my mind a lot lately. Guess maybe I miss them or something. Is it worth my time to go back and live in that house full of awful again?"

Since Mom gets angry when her cigarettes go missing, you're going to have to space out the cigarettes you steal. Do one in the morning, one around lunch, and one right after she goes to bed. Making your Dad think about coming home three times a day is a pretty good frequency. Unfortunately, your Mom has gotten the sense that you feel like you need a father-figure in your life, so she's been keeping a close eye on her cigarettes.

"I don't want that fucker back here," she'll tell you when she discovers some of her cigarettes gone. "Stop putting us into his head."

Scream, "You drove him away!"

"Damn right," she'll say. Then she'll throw a carton at you. "Bought you your own."

Tell her you only want to smoke hers, but she'll tell you that she's not going to let hers out of her sight from now on, so if you want a cigarette, you're going to have to smoke one of the carton she bought you. You'll tell her you only started smoking to get Dad to come back so she can keep the carton. Five minutes later, you'll crave every cigarette inside that carton so you'll rip it open and start smoking, the smooth, delicate nicotine high making you feel pretty okay with not having a Dad around. Anti-smoking researchers find that more children become smokers to get their dads to come home than peer pressure and youth-targeted advertising combined.

Happy Mom's Cigarettes Day!

Rocket Dance Day!

Tonight is the big dance on your rocketship. You're going to go with Captain Landry but you really wish you were going with the humanoid who is programmed to provide sexual simulations (basically sex but to not make it sound like you all rape robots, they call it simulations) upon request, but you were too shy to ask it to go with you. Lieutenant Grace is going with the humanoid instead.

At the dance Lieutenant Grace is going to order the humanoid to strip and dance lasciviously for everyone. The humanoid will comply and while everyone will cheer it on, you'll feel like something terrible is happening. You'll wonder if a human race that can treat it's humanoid friends in such a manner is really worth spit. Even though you know it's unpopular and you'll only get ragged on by the other astronauts, you'll run into the circle to cover up the humanoid with your jacket and protect the humanoid's honor. Unfortunately, the humanoid will interpret this act of chivalry as nothing more than your effort to thwart it from carrying out an order given by a military officer, basically an act of aggression, and the humanoid will tear you in two at the waist. The other astronauts will open fire on the humanoid, but the other humanoids will come to their fellow humanoid's defense. When all of the astronauts are dead, your rocket ship will be the first to be piloted by humanoids in the great Humanoid Against Real Human war that will lead to the end of the human race by next March.

Once all humans are dead the humanoids will direct their humanoid scientists to learn how to make humans. They'll eventually succeed and these wars will just keep happening on and on because it's what you do when you have opposable thumbs on planet earth. You try to make something that can destroy you.

Happy Rocket Dance Day!

In The Tunnels Day!

You got a job digging a tunnel for the city, so you spend all your days underground feeling rats and Native American spirits scurry over your shoes. When the tunnel’s path cuts through one of the already existing tunnels down there, lots of mole people end up getting displaced. That’s when you’ll bump into your old buddy Danny.

“So this is where you been hiding,” you’ll say, once you recognize Danny’s eyes peeking out from the mask of black soot.

“Yeah,” Danny says. “I could tell you the whole story, but like everything else in life, it takes a whole lot of boring little steps before you finally find yourself living in an old abandoned subway shaft. Anyway, how you been?”

You’ll shrug. “Been better. Been worse.”

You’ll kick at some garbage on the ground. Danny will move his eyes about the ceiling. Both of you not wanting to bring her up.

“Heard from any of the old Northwestern gang?” Danny will ask.

You’ll nod. “All of em,” you’ll say. “There’s this web thing called Facebook. It put everyone back in touch.”

Danny will say, “Pretty cool.”

It’s stupid to pretend you can ignore it.

“We got married Danny,” tell him.

Danny won’t look at you. He’ll keep his eyes on a hamburger wrapper in the corner, wrapper’s turned pale, probably fifteen years old.

“We have a daughter now too,” say. “And I love her Danny. But the fucking truth of it is she doesn’t love me. She never stopped loving you Danny.”

He’s not letting you see those white eyes of his. He’s not letting on that he’s hearing a word.

“I’d like to crack open your head and drag you up to the surface just so she can see once and for all that you’re gone,” you’ll say to him. “Pretty neat trick. Disappear without a word of goodbye or why, and make sure someone out there keeps on loving you no matter how deep a hole you end up dying in.”

“I didn’t tell nobody what to feel for me,” Danny will say.

Step around and get your eyes in front of his. “That’s the thing about feelings Danny,” say. “People just go ahead and have em whether you want em to or not.”

Danny will bend his knees and crouch to the ground. It looks like he might feel sick.

“I gotta go get back to work,” say to him. “I gotta make money to keep a roof over the head of the love of your life. I’d tell her I saw you but my daughter don’t need her mommy running away to live underground with a son of a bitch.”

Danny’s on all fours by now. Tell him he has ten days before demolition comes in and blows the ceiling to the floor, then turn around and leave him there on his hands and knees.

Happy In The Tunnels Day!

Dollhouse Moment Day!

Tell your boss you're sorry but you're having a dollhouse moment and he should get away from you.

It's one of those moments when you're suddenly a little girl again on your knees on the bedroom carpet staring into the windows of your second-hand dollhouse wondering whether you'll ever live somewhere quite so idyllic. Wondering whether your hair will be as blond as that doll's, and whether your kitchen will be as spacious as the one you see through those windows. She's fixing a pot roast for her husband, who's out making money as a salesman. You can see her right now. You can almost touch her hair.

You reach out to touch the doll's hair, stroking your fingers against nothing. Your boss takes slow, measured steps in reverse toward his office.

"She had so many copper molds," you say. "They were shaped like fish and Christmas trees and hearts. They hung on the walls. She could have spent the rest of her life making meals with those molds."

Your boss has his hand on his doorknob by now. He'll wait for the right moment to turn the knob and slip inside. One step too soon and he'll rattle you, and you'll turn wild.

"I hated her then and I hate her now," you say. "I was a little girl who wished sadness upon her dolls. When I played with the dollhouse, I'd have her husband come home and tell her he lost his job, and that they had to sell the dollhouse. Then I'd take the dolls from the house and I'd leave the house empty for weeks. Other times the husband doll wouldn't come home. That blond doll would sit at her beautiful kitchen table and wait. I'd keep the light on while I slept, knowing that while I was dreaming in my bed, she was awake, wondering how she could have such a beautiful house and such beautiful blond hair and a husband who doesn't come home at night."

Your boss made it. He's in his office, the door locked, the phone to his ear. Your phone's going to ring in a moment.

"But now when I see it, I can't touch it. I can't make the husband stay away. I can't take them out of their beautiful house. She won. She gets to live in that house forever, and all I can do is sit behind my desk and watch."

Pick up your ringing phone and hear your boss say, "You're having a dollhouse moment. You told me to call you from a safe distance when this happened and to tell you this isn't real. Push the tip of a pen through the skin of your leg and tell me what you feel."

You do as he says. "I feel pain."

"Do you know where you are now?"

Say yes and thank him. He'll put down the script you typed for him and he'll tell you that when you come back from the bathroom in a half hour, he'll again go over today's assignments with you. Before you hang up, he'll tell you that he thinks you and he are getting better control over these moments, and that he's proud of you.

Happy Dollhouse Moment Day!

Card Shark Day!

He's a card shark mama. He can pull into town and rob every table blind and they don't know what hit em until he's already on the train. He once left a table with seventeen thousand dollars in his pocket, all won through dishonest means. He's got suits with more pockets than I got pores on my skin. He's been shot at twice, strung up to be hanged once even but his Mexican compadre at the time rode in and saved the day with the swipe of a hatchet. He can bluff his way into heaven and out of hell, I swear to you mama. And he wants to marry me. Me! Oh mama, I know he seems all flash and pin stripes, but once you get to know him you'll see that it's only to throw off the stink of poverty he's carried with him ever since his childhood working on the river. He's just trying to make a better life for himself mama. Isn't that what we're all trying to do? He just happens to make his by dealing from the bottom of the deck and shoving jacks inside the double lining on his jacket. Is that so much different from you or me?

"It's very different from you or me," Mama will say. "You made a better life for yourself by starting your own new media advertising firm specializing in pharma. And I made a better life for myself by being Lynn L Elsenhans, President, Chairman and CEO of Sunoco."

He said you'd react this way mama. He said you'd tell me all about what a different class of man he is than you or me. He said you'd say your full name like I hadn't heard it over and over again on 60 Minutes. But he gave me something that don't care about class Mama. He gave me a gift that don't care about banner ads for drug companies or oil company fortunes. He gave me a child. I'm pregnant mama. I'm pregnant with his baby and it's a boy. A Boy mama! I'm gonna have a card shark's son, and there's nothing you or Daddy can do about it.

"Like hell," Mama will say. "I am Lynn L Elsenhans, President, Chairman and CEO of fucking Sunoco! And you, young lady, are going to get an abortion! Guards!"

Mama's guards will grab you by the arms and drag you to the abortion clinic in the basement of the Sunoco building. As you're dragged away, Mama will mutter under her breath, "Lynn L fuckin Elsenhans. President, Chairman, and goddamn CEO. Mother-in-law to a goddamn card shark? Pish."

Happy Card Shark Day!

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!