Harbor The Ex Day!

She’s on the run after an anti-war protest gone wrong (a bystander got burned bad) so you want to let her stay in your basement until the heat dies down. Tell her that if your wife asks, the sex you two had was awful.

“But it was the best sex of my life,” your ex will say.

“Mine too. By a mile. But my wife has to think you were awful in bed in order for you to stay in our basement and hide from the Feds.”

Your ex won’t like it. “Lying about lovers isn’t my style.”

“She’ll report you,” tell your ex. “She’ll have you thrown in jail just to make sure we never have sex again.”

Your ex will ask if she should just open the conversation with a false evaluation of the sex you two shared, or should she wait until the topic comes up organically.

“Just be ready,” tell her. “I’m going to go upstairs and tell my wife that you’re down here. When she comes down, she’s probably going to try and get a sense of the sexual connection is between you and I. She’ll probably just talk to you, and watch you talk to me, to see if there’s any spark. Just put all thoughts of sex out of your mind. Try to forget we were ever anything but good friends.”

“That’s impossible,” your ex will say.

“I know,” tell her. “But just try. My wife is very perceptive. She has ways of figuring out the connections between people. If she wants to know what our sexual chemistry is, trust me, she’ll find a way to figure it out.”

Your ex will agree to do her best. Go upstairs and tell your wife about her. After about ten minutes, you and your wife will come downstairs so you can introduce your wife to your ex.

“I want to watch the two of you fuck,” your wife will say to your ex.

Neither of you will move an inch.

“Take off your clothes and have intercourse,” your wife will say. “I want to know what the sexual kinship is between the two of you, and there’s no other way to do that but to watch you be entered by my husband. Have sex while I watch or I’ll call the police.”

“Told you she’d figure out a way,” you tell your ex as you take off your pants.

“You’re good,” your ex will say to your wife.

“The best,” your wife will say while watching your ex get naked.

“We’ll see about that,” your ex will say. She’ll climb atop you while your wife opens a Diet Pepsi and makes herself comfortable in an armchair.

Happy Harbor The Ex Day!

You’re The Town Breakup Memorialist Day!

You get people to tell you their stories about when and where they break up and what the major malfunction was that sent their relationship into a tailspin, and then you go to those locations and install little plaques without permission. The people of your town love looking under the tables at their diners to find a plaque that reads, “Jeffrey and Chitra. Broken up on these grounds December 5th, 2006. Jeffrey wanted kids. Chitra was looking for more of a cowboy type.” A lot of your plaques get removed, especially when you put them on park benches or other stuff owned by the town, but for the most part people are cool with it. Your town doesn’t really have any kind of historical society, so your obsession with relationship wreckage is the closest they get to a record of the life that’s being lived in your little hamlet.

Today you’re going to attach a plaque to a bus shelter that reads, “Alan and Olivia, May 16th, 2012. Alan cheated. Olivia inherited some money and it gave her a new perspective on what was available to her.” Alan will appear behind you and tap you on the shoulder and say, “You might not want to put that there. I’m going to get her back.”

Tell Alan, “You still broke up here. Even if you get back together.”

Alan will take a swing at you. Let him hit you. They always hit you. When they’re the ones who wish their name wasn’t on the plaque, they always hit you.

“Why do you do this?” Alan will shout down at you as you test the flow of blood from your nose.

Point to the plaque on the fence by the community garden. The one with your name on it, and the name Sylvia. The one dated October 12, 1991. “Thought he could do better. Not a day goes by when he isn’t stunned by how wrong he was,” it says.

“It’s important to me,” tell Alan. “These breakups can’t just be lost to time.”

“Some of us want to forget,” Alan will say.

Tell him he can forget what he wants. The town needs to remember.

“Love died in this town. Love died in this bus shelter. We can’t just sweep that under the rug.”

Alan will read his plaque, touching a finger to it and staining it with your blood. He’ll help you up and hand you your screwdriver. Then he’ll open his car door for you. You have three more plaques to put up before dinner. You’d better let him give you a ride.

Happy You’re The Town Breakup Memorialist Day!

Alan Goes To Jail Tomorrow Day!

Alan goes to jail for involuntary manslaughter and you totally ruined his goodbye party. A going-to-jail goodbye party is supposed to be a wild night full of drinks, prostitutes, running around under bridges shouting retorts at the traffic noise above, maybe a gay moment depending on the mood/weather, a big dinner followed by a separate trip to one of those new out of the way bakeries for dessert, a violent confrontation with the convicted’s accomplice who made a deal with the DA, the exchange of gifts and then bedtime. But your going-away-to-jail party was at a restaurant known for their slow service for large parties, which made the prostitutes sleepy from waiting for you, the dessert place was closed, and the accomplice ended up throwing himself off the back of a ferry before he could be confronted. All you were left with was the gay moment (which was really lovely, but does not a good going-away-to-jail party make).

“I’m sorry I ruined your party,” you tell Alan while he holds you in his arms. “I wanted it to be perfect and overthought things.”

“The fact that you tried to throw me a party,” Alan says. “That you tried to celebrate me, that’s all the party I need.”

Fall asleep for as long as the bridge traffic up above allows, then take Alan for some French Toast. Don’t try to make it perfect by going to a hard-to-get-into brunch place. It’s his last French Toast on the outside with his best friend, so no matter what it tastes like, it’s going to be delicious.

Happy Alan Goes To Jail Tomorrow Day!

Get Out Of Having To Pay Your Speeding Ticket Day!

You got a speeding ticket for doing 87 in a 15 MPH school zone but don’t worry, getting out of paying a speeding ticket is easy. All you have to do is challenge it in court and if the ticketing officer doesn’t show up, it gets thrown out. The key is making sure he doesn’t show up. So on the day of your court appearance, call the police station a half hour before the hearing time and tell them the officer’s wife has been in a horrible accident and she’s in the hospital. The officer will rush to the hospital while you have your hearing. By the time he finds out it was all a hoax, you’ll be watching your ticket get thrown in the garbage!

If you get a lot of speeding tickets, your local police might catch on to the hoaxes so you’ll have to start kidnapping and taking photographs of the policemen’s wives wearing ornate bear-trap looking contraptions like in the Saw movies and send the photos to the police with notes saying they have 15 minutes to solve a puzzle to get the bear trap off or something. The police will rush to wherever you tell them to go and they’ll find they’re able to just pull the bear trap off without any big to-do, but you’ll have already gotten your speeding ticket ripped up so problem solved.

If you really love speeding and you hate paying tickets, you’ll have to start abducting the ticketing policemen themselves. They’ll eventually get wise to you and start hiding their wives every time you get a ticket, so you’ll have to just snatch up the policemen and bury them alive while you’re at your court date, then come back and set them free and ask them if there’s no hard feelings.

Tune in next year to find out how to get points removed from your license using nothing more than a blow torch and an inability to be affected by the sound of human screams.

Happy Get Out Of Having To Pay Your Speeding Ticket Day!

Water Your Downstairs Neighbor’s Plants Day!

While watering your downstairs neighbor’s plants you’ll find a photograph on one of his shelves of your downstairs neighbor with his arms around your shoulders. The memories will come flooding back. Your downstairs neighbor will come out of the closet where he was hiding.

“I thought you were on vacation!”

“I wasn’t. And I’m not your downstairs neighbor. I’m–”

“My husband,” tell him.

“Yes,” he’ll say, smiling. “I got you the apartment above me after you started having spontaneous amnesia not long after our wedding.”

“Because I was so certain it was a mistake that we got married!” you’ll say, crying now because your memories have returned and you finally know who you are again.

“That’s right,” he’ll say, also crying because he’s so glad to have you back, if only briefly.

You and your husband will use your brief window of lucidity to talk about the old times, how he pressured you into marriage, how you agreed to settle for him but soon found it all too disappointing a reality to tolerate so your mind began tricking you into thinking your husband doesn’t even exist.

“I thought about just granting you a divorce,” he’ll say. “If that would cure you. But you didn’t remember ever having been married so no court would grant us one unless you could agree you that were in a marriage that you wanted to dissolve. So I bought the apartment above us. So you could lead your own life until the amnesia has set you free, and I could continue to keep an eye on you and care for you.”

“You did all that for me?” ask him. “You went through all that trouble for me?”

“Yes my sweet,” he’ll say. “Does knowing how much I’ve cared for you make you more accepting of the fact that I’m the man you married? Is it any more tolerable a reality knowing all of this? Do you think your memory might stick around for a while?”

Say to him, “I thought you were on vacation. Why are we sitting on the floor. You’re gross. I’m going back upstairs to my apartment.”

Happy Water Your Downstairs Neighbor’s Plants Day!

Find The Right Porn Day!

Keep searching until you find the right porn clip. The clip should feature two to five participants, it should be obviously consensual yet playfully violent, there should be a political message about economic inequity and also a dustbuster should work its way into the sex pile at some point, the photos on the walls of the set should be mysterious and they should call to mind your own grandparents in that picture taken just after they disembarked at Ellis Island and someone should drink semen from a juice glass, and also it should have Batman in it. Actually skip all the rest just put Batman in it.

Happy Find The Right Porn Day!

Look Out The Window Of Your 60th Floor Corner Office And Wonder If There’s Someone Out There Who’ll Love You For Your Money Day!

You’re sick of dating guys who only want women who are sexually present and emotionally open. You’ve worked hard to amass the kind of assets you have. It’s about time you met a man who will stop caring about trust and spiritual connections and mutually erotic understanding and who’ll realize that you being loaded is enough.

“Are you out there?” you whisper to your God’s eye view of Central Park. “Do you exist, my Prince?”

You decided long ago to stop working on your personality so you could work on climbing the corporate ladder. Dammit, you destroyed a lot of promising careers to get where you are today, and you should be able to celebrate with a man who doesn’t expect you to make conversation with him at dinner or remember what his cat’s name is.

You deserve a man who loves you for what you can buy, not who you are.

“Are you out there?”

“Ma'am, will you need anything else?”

You didn’t realize your pregnant assistant was in the room. She observed you in a moment of weakness so you’ll have to fire her immediately.

“Pack your things, Grace,” tell her.

As your assistant sobs into a cardboard box, try to squint to make out the men on the streets below. Any one of them could be the one who doesn’t care what kind of person you are inside. It could be Grace’s husband even.

“Leave the picture of your husband, Grace,” tell Grace.

When Grace is gone, masturbate to the picture of her husband, then call HR and ask for her spouse’s number so you can call and ask him if he’d like to hear about a way he can support his soon-to-be-born child now that his wife is unemployed. You deserve a man like Grace’s husband.

Happy Look Out The Window Of Your 60th Floor Corner Office And Wonder If There’s Someone Out There Who’ll Love You For Your Money Day!

Win A Husband And Some Kids Day!

Go on a game show called Wife And Mother for your chance to win a husband and some kids as well as a lifetime wardrobe for each provided by Kohl’s. The husband is guaranteed to be moderately giving in bed, mildly expressive emotionally, and he’ll only hit you twice over your thirty plus years of marriage, the second time sending him into AA. Your kids are guaranteed to be B students with manageable depression, though the genetic trail shows there is a small chance that one of them could grow up to be a serial killer. If you don’t like your husband or any of your kids, just whisper the word “disemploy” into the offending family member’s ear and he or she will take their own life in as sanitary a manner possible (not chargeable as murder in every state but Georgia). If any of your kids shows signs of being a serial killer do not go to the police. Call Dr. Sohlzenyetzn immediately and leave a recording of all warning signs currently being exhibited. Your husband will be guaranteed to be faithful under penalty of termination. If the sensors under his skin detect his presence inside another woman or man, his heartbeat will slow, gradually depriving blood to his brain, sending him into a coma, then death. Your children will not have gluten allergies, peanut allergies, nor will they have any strong leanings politically. One finger on the left hand of each child will be a weapon prototype in beta testing. Your husband and children will not be robots. They will be real humans according to the definition agreed upon by eleven scientists. Their modifications are minor improvements and no one will be able to deny them the equal rights afforded to all humans under American law.

“Do you understand your potential prize as I’ve explained it to you?” host Jack Slacks will ask you when the wheel stops spinning.

“Yes I do, Jack,” tell him. “And I’m ready to go for ALL THE MARBLES!”

Happy Win A Husband And Some Kids Day!

Your Ropes Are Loose Enough For You Two To Kiss Day!

You can hear the screams of the man who gave you the ride in his truck being hacked to death upstairs. You only have a few minutes before the men in the burlap masks come downstairs for you.

“These ropes have some give,” you’ll say.

“But not enough for us to wriggle free,” Jeff will say.

But they do have enough give for you two to kiss, and you both know it. You and Jeff came out to these woods for a camping trip before you move away to the west coast. You’ve been platonic friends since college and everyone has been waiting for the two of you to finally just do it already to see whether you two doing it is the right thing to do.

“Maybe if we shimmy around under these ropes we’ll loosen them in time to make a run for it,” Jeff will say.

“But what if we don’t loosen them in time?”

Just kiss for God’s sake. The inbred backwoods killers who abducted you when you asked for directions could come downstairs and chop you up for soup any second now. If you spend all your time trying to escape and you’re not successful, you could end up dying a will-they won’t-they couple who never bothered to find out whether you will or won’t. Use what little wiggle room you have in those ropes to kiss and you’ll at least die knowing whether you found the one.

“Wait,” Jeff will say. “There’s something I think we should do.”

“I think we should too,” tell him.

Bend your neck around the pole and stretch against the ropes and put your lips on Jeff’s. You’ll feel a dim current pulse through your chest, and when you both begin moving your lips for a second kiss, and a third, that dim current will turn to a lightning bolt.

It was him all along.

It was you all along.

Your friend was your love and your love is your friend. The ropes won’t let you embrace, but you don’t need to hold each other. The grip of your newly-discovered love is stronger than any embrace you could create with your bodies.

“Now we know,” Jeff will say.

You’ll kiss away a tear that fell from your eye onto his lip.

“Now we know,” you’ll say.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jeff will say.

With the strength of your love, you and Jeff will wriggle and push at the ropes for a few seconds, but you’ll be interrupted when the killers come downstairs and untie you both to bring you upstairs and lay you down on their butcher table so you can be hacked to death, side-by-side, both of you screaming in agony and delirious in the throes of magical, wonderful, brand new love.

Happy Your Ropes Are Loose Enough For You Two To Kiss Day!

Sick Buddy Day!

Got a sick buddy? Go to his sick bed and tell him about you and his wife. Tell him about the cheating, the sneaking around, the hiding in his closet when he came home early. Even if nothing happened, tell him what you wish would have happened had his wife been attracted to you in the slightest. Tell him about the fantasies, the Facebook pictures you’d print out and tape up in your shower, the undergarments you stole from her dresser when you slipped away during his dinner parties. Your buddy will appreciate your honesty, and if he survives this mild cold, your friendship will be the better for it.

Happy Sick Buddy Day!

Sleeping In The Same Bed As Another Person Day!

Get nude then go under the covers feet first.

Put your hands on your favorite part of the other person. If you are okay with kissing (most aren’t) kiss.

Ask each other about each other’s tattoos. Say one of yours has something to do with a friend who died. Cry a little.

Yank or punch your least favorite part of the other person. They should be doing the same to you. Tell each other what disgusts you about each other. It’s time to break out the smoothies.

Smoothies are a treat for people who are performing well in bed so if your partner isn’t performing satisfactorily, withhold their smoothie.

Turn on an action movie at full volume then penetrate each other in some fashion (Google the ways) screaming as loud as you like because of the action movie.

When you both stop screaming, pull yourselves apart and turn off the action movie unless it’s “Heat.”

Load and cock your handguns and stuff them under your respective pillows. Turn on the video camera and turn off the light. Tell each other something nice so you each dream about nice things (kittens, health insurance).

Fall asleep. When you wake up review the video recording to see if any wraiths entered the room to try and steal your fingernails while you were asleep again. Don’t speak to each other in the morning. You’ll only give voice to your shame.

Happy Sleeping In The Same Bed As Another Person Day!

What To Do At Your Boyfriend’s Funeral Day!

1. Arrive late so everyone’s wondering if it was just too much for you. Not so late that they start without you, but late enough that the church is full enough for people to start talking.

2. What you wear is important. If you plan to make a big, shocking announcement about how you never loved him and the honest thing to do would have been to break up with him but you didn’t so he died loving a liar, wear jeans and a tee shirt and make sure you show up wet from the rain. If it’s nice out, walk through a car wash. But don’t tell anyone you walked through a car wash if they ask why you’re all wet. Tell them, “I felt dirty so I stood under the shower for a while.” If you did love him and you don’t plan to make a big shocking announcement, black dress?

3. Who you show up with is important too. If he and your Dad fought a lot, show up on your Dad’s arm. If you slept with his best friend last night because you wanted to be close to someone who loved him just as much as you did, show up on your Dad’s arm anyway. His best friend will be upset that you didn’t want to show up to the funeral with him. At the reception, his best friend will tell you last night was very important to him because he always secretly loved you and he wants you two to try to make it happen. Tell him, “You’re not [DEAD BOYFRIEND’S NAME].”

4. Where to sit in the church: Pew 6, stage left, three seats from the aisle. No one will see it coming.

5. You need to decide ahead of time are you a big cryer, a medium cryer, or are you one of those girls who just sits there like a rock as everyone in the church keeps glancing over at you wondering when the fuck is she going to cry already? “I took a sick day! Cry!” We suggest just below medium if you want to make his colleagues and not-very-close friends feel less excluded. If you’re crying really hard they might think it’s a funeral for longtime fans of the deceased only and it’s weird that they showed.

6. You should show up sober unless you think you could have prevented his death. Alcohol’s fine if this was your fault. Why didn’t you do something?

7. Not sure what to do with the holy water basin by the entrance, but no one is. Maybe just dip the tip of your index finger then suck the water off it.

8. At the burial, don’t jump into the grave onto the casket. You’re better than this.

9. As the coffin is being lowered into the ground, kiss your fingertips and touch them to the wood. You’ll feel something kiss back. It’s not him. You’re just letting it hit you now. No matter how horrible you are, he touched your life and you just touched his coffin. You’re feeling it now.

10. You’re not horrible. Or at least you’re no more horrible than anyone else riding in the cars back to the reception. Nothing you feel is incorrect. Hopefully you made him happy sometimes while he was alive. Don’t play with the moon roof.

Happy What To Do At Your Boyfriend’s Funeral Day!

Jeff Day!

Jeff masturbated with you for most of eighth grade and he’s got some insurance he’d like to sell you.

“Jeff, come on, I don’t need any insurance.

Jeff says that’s not how it works. Jeff says same-sex heterosexual sex exploration like that is a bond you take to the grave. You owe it to Jeff to at least buy a flood policy

"Look Jeff, I value what we had. You’re tainting it.”

Jeff says he understands but these years are tough.

“Come on, that one time I even rubbed you out.”

“No,” tell him. “I took care of you.”

Jeff will try to think back. Then he’ll remember.

“I begged you,” tell him. “You hit me afterwards.”

Jeff will remember. And he’ll stop trying to sell you his stupid flood insurance.

Happy Jeff Day!

He’s A Musician Day!

“Write a song about me,” tell him. “Write a song about my eyes. About how you only want to see what they see. It should be about my skin too and about a question I asked you that made you afraid. You should address my ass but make it vague, but not so vague that people won’t know you’re talking about my ass. Remember the dress I wore to brunch two weeks ago. The song should include a verse about how the dress made you feel. We’ve never talked about spirituality, and I’m not spiritual but I’d like you to be just for the sake of this one verse in the song where we sing the words of the ancients or some shit which is another way of saying we come at the same time. Other topics that need to be addressed include my hair, my brown boots with the laces, your car, my pussy, and my bedroom window. No rain, no politics.”

He’ll get it all down, put it to a catchy beat and play it for you.

“It’s called ‘Mop Up That Booty (With A Dishrag),’” he’ll say.

You love it already.

Happy He’s A Musician Day!

You’re Really Good At Getting Women Golfers To Mail You Their Golf Caps Day!

They respect your honesty. While others would go on and on about being a big fan who just wants something personal from their favorite golfer, you make clear that you don’t even like golf.

“I just like the way the cap makes your skull so perfectly ovoid. I like watching your sweat leak out from under the rim. And I like masturbating into the cap, mixing your sweat with my semen, and then rubbing the mixture on my torso, leaving it to dry while I watch television (not golf).”

Today you’re going to receive a gray Top Flite cap worn by Jenna Daniels. She’ll include a note that reads, “Get Messy! Jenna Daniels."

After you go to Wikipedia to remind yourself who Jenna Daniels is, you’ll finish the soup you were eating and then retire to your garage to sit in the backseat of your Datsun (it’s where it has to happen for you) and masturbate into her sweat-stained cap. It’ll be just okay, and when you’re done coating yourself you’ll toss her cap into the trash and spend your evening drying in front of a Sons Of Anarchy marathon you Netflixed.

Happy You’re Really Good At Getting Women Golfers To Mail You Their Golf Caps Day!

You Once Had Sex In An Abandoned Refrigerator Day!

You had to keep your sex hidden from your families and friends because it was interracial sex and back then no one would approve so you found a refrigerator and crawled inside. The people who had thrown out the refrigerator hadn’t taken the door off its hinges, which was irresponsible and dangerous but lucky for you since the door provided privacy. You pulled it shut, making sure to prop the latch so it didn’t lock, and then you proceeded to have an afternoon of ribald, interracial, inside-a-refrigerator sex. It was magical, forbidden, and cramped. The passion unfortunately got the better of you because upon finishing, when you went to open the door, you discovered the latch had slipped shut and you were locked in.

“We’ll die in here,” you said.

“Because the world wouldn’t let us love,” he said.

You decided that if you were going to die, you might as well die having all the sex you’ll never be able to have again. So you used the remaining oxygen and what little space you had at your disposal to have interracial sex in as many positions as you could bend yourselves into. When neither of you had another orgasm left to enjoy and the last of the oxygen was almost gone, some delinquent kids who were setting cats on fire in the area wandered by and pulled the refrigerator door open. They then laughed and hit you with sticks while you scurried out of the fridge and back into your clothes.

You never saw each other again. The connection you made in that refrigerator, pretzeled together in the throes of death, was too strong, the intimacy too deep. You knew if you continued your relationship together you’d just race to the nearest abandoned refrigerator to try and recapture that feeling, risking your lives all over again. So you parted ways, for your own safety.

“And that’s why you should always take the doors off refrigerators before you throw them away,” you conclude at the end of your seventeen-minute TEDTalk, Sex, Racial Politics, and the Looming Threat of Discarded Appliances.

Happy You Once Had Sex In An Abandoned Refrigerator Day!

Back For Hannah Day!

You told her you’d come right back for her once you were settled in the big city and you had a place for you and her to stay. That was seventeen years ago.

“So you just think you can waltz right back in here and throw all your rotten money around and all those years will disappear?” Hannah will ask.

Hannah’s bouncing a four-year-old on her knee. Her seven and nine-year-old are tugging at the hem of her dress.

Tell her you know it was wrong of you to wait this long. But you fell into a bad crowd in New York City.

“Performance art was still kind of big when I got into town,” explain. “Lots of onstage nudity, lots of dance studies, lots of poems rattled off in poetry slam cadence.”

You didn’t want Hannah to see how you’d fallen prey to them. You didn’t want her to be corrupted by their questionable artistic focus the way you had been.

“The shows were just insufferable,” tell her.

“Did you do stuff with your penis onstage then?” Hannah will ask.

“I’m not proud to say that I did,” tell her. “Penis puppetry, glow-in-the-dark light sabering, and I did one entire solo show where I delivered a 45 minute scolding to my naked junk. Won an Obie for that one.”

And now that you’re big and famous, a monologist who’s crossed over into supporting roles in films, she’s just supposed to pick up and follow you to the city? What’s to stop you from veering off again into some new scene like Storytelling?

“I can’t promise anything,” tell her.

Hannah will tell you how her husband Johnny nursed her back from heartbreak after you never returned for her. He convinced her to accept his love even if she couldn’t love him back, and he filled her with the children you never gave her. And now that things are convenient for you to come back for her, she’s just supposed to toss him aside?

“Pretty much,” tell her. Then show her the apartment you bought for you and her and her kids with all your rotten money.

“Let me just write him a note,” Hannah will say, before packing a few things from her ramshackle home and following you back to the big time.

Happy Back For Hannah Day!

Lose Everything Day!

Whether it’s in a high stakes poker game, a mudslide, or a gaslight situation where for some reason everyone you love and all of your colleagues pretend they’ve never met you before, today’s the day you lose everything and start over from scratch. Maybe you could finally be a fireman like you’ve always wanted? Or one of those guys who rubs the new billboards over the old ones? Just whatever you do, don’t gravitate right back into your career as a child psychologist because puke!

Happy Lose Everything Day!

You Have Four And A Half Hours Until You Reach Your Destination Day!

He’ll say, “This is going to sound weird but–” and you’ll cut him off and say, “I was thinking the same thing.” He’ll say, “So you remember?” Say, “I think we’re even in the same row.”

It was a flight from New York to Los Angeles. It was around ten years ago. And you never forgot him.

“I never forgot you, you know,” he’ll say.

Tell him on that flight you were on your way to move in with your boyfriend, now husband, following him for his job, and you remember he was moving closer to his new wife’s parents who had fallen ill.

“They’ve since died,” he’ll say.

“I remember all of it,” tell him. “Because whenever I’m feeling unsure about things I remember how well you and I got along, how I felt sitting next to you.”

You remember his smell. You remember your forearm against his on the armrest. You remember his Leon Uris book.

He’ll say that sometimes he sees your face when he makes love to his wife. You’ll say you once drove to the airport, just to think, but also to watch the people walking out of arrivals, just to see.

“And now we’re on a plane together again ten years on,” say.

“I don’t believe in signs,” he’ll say. “But if I did, I’d assume this was one.”

“I’m dying,” tell him.

You are. You have four months. And this is cruel because putting you back in this seat next to him it’s like you’re being given proof that you haven’t lived the life you wanted, that you should never have said goodbye when the plane landed that day.

“It’s rotten,” he’ll say. “We could–”

“I have a daughter,” tell him. “I could be selfish and leave my husband to cram as much of you into my last four months as possible, but I couldn’t do that to my little girl.”

“Then what do we have?” he’ll ask.

“We have four and a half hours until we reach our destination…” the Captain will say over the loudspeaker.

Happy You Have Four And A Half Hours Until You Reach Your Destination Day!

You Miss Larry Day!

Call his widow. Tell her you dug him too. She’ll be into it. He talked about you. Enough for it to upset her.

“Hated you from 1995 to 1998,” she’ll laugh.

Tell her about when Larry got you pregnant. You aborted without discussing it with him and when you told him you aborted he cried.

“He was smart,” say. “It got him out of any kind of discussion of whether he wanted a say or was glad to not have a say. He cried and we got naked and that was the end.”

His widow (Carol) will say that Larry cried a lot to get out of stuff. “I stopped picking fights because it was so hard to watch.”

Carol will cry now. Cry with her. Tell her there’ve been many since Larry, sweeter men, better men, but he’s the one you miss.

Carol will whisper, “I know what you mean. I love my husband, but since Larry killed himself I just…”

Ask her if she has any of Larry’s clothes and if she makes her current husband wear them.

“I tell him I bought them new for him,” she’ll confess. She’ll ask you about the CK One.

“I still have the bottle he left here,” tell her. “I sprinkle it on the pillow every couple days.”

Ask her about the Yosemite Sam tattoo.

“I made my husband get one,” Carol will say. “He doesn’t know why. But I couldn’t sleep with him if Larry’s tattoo wasn’t on his chest.”

Tell her about the bodies. The parts that you’ve hacked from abducted men and sewn together to try to make the perfect Larry replica. She’ll be into it. Tell her you need a neck and a left calf and foot. You’re so close. Ask her if she knows any men who would make a perfect involuntary donor.

“I’ll share it with you,” tell her. “We can have something approximating Larry again.”

“How soon?” Carol will ask.

Let her hear the smile in your voice as you stare at the accumulated man on the slab before you.

“Soon,” tell her. “Very soon.”

Happy You Miss Larry Day!

This Is How You Beg Someone To Take You Back Day!

You show up all sweaty from all the running you did because that shows his taking you back is so imperative that you just had to sprint to make sure it goes down as soon as possible, then you burst through the big doors into the fancy event (either his wedding or a wedding for his sister or some kind of Christening or something) and then you pull out your assault rifle and you kill every last son of a bitch who might be able to convince him that he’s better off without you. Then you go to him and take his hands in yours.

“I’ve changed,” tell him.

“You just murdered my whole family,” he’ll say.

“Because that’s how much I need you,” tell him. “I couldn’t risk their influencing you against taking a second chance on our love.”

“And my friends. You murdered my friends. And a couple of my coworkers.”

Look him in his eyes. “Don’t you see how important you are? I will take the life of anyone who might try to tell you that I'm—”

You stop talking and open fire when you see his cousin walk out of the men’s room. His cousin’s head explodes like a popped balloon.

“I’m the girl for you,” tell him. “You know it. And you know that no amount of bloodshed is too much if it means you and I being together again.”

He’ll look around at the puddles of red on the floor, then he’ll smile and his face will turn even redder with a blush.

“No one’s ever killed for me before,” he’ll say.

Drop your assault rifle so you can grab him around the neck and kiss him. He’s yours again. Don’t do anything to make him remember why he left. Just get the hell outside without slipping in the blood and you two better book it to your apartment because you’re about to have the kind of makeup sex that only a love-fueled mass murder could inspire.

Happy This Is How You Beg Someone To Take You Back Day!

The Waitress’s Waiter Day!

In the middle of taking your order your waitress will drop her pad and pen on the table then she’ll scream, “Fuck no.”

“Fuck yes,” the waiter by the door will scream back.

The waitress will take three steps to her left, trying to put some tables between her and the waiter by the door.

“Thought you were dead,” the waitress will say.

“Faked it,” the waiter will say back. “Bills.”

The waitress will untie the apron from her waist. The waiter will kick off both his shoes.

“You been true?” the waiter will ask.

“Truth’s subjective,” the waitress will answer, tugging her stockings down from under her skirt.

“I ain’t had nobody else but you,” he’ll say, tearing his tuxedo shirt off his body. “Since my last shift here, when we did it in the walk-in, I might as well have not even existed sexually. That’s truth.”

“Then I been a little false,” the waitress will say, down to her bra and skirt now, panties already down and still wrapped around one ankle. “But it was in mourning. I let Pat pump you outta me a little.”

The waiter will nod in the busboy’s direction. “I thank you for taking care of my girl, Pat,” the waiter will say, fully-nude now. “But she’s off-limits again.”

Pat will put down his tray of glasses and hold up his hands, waving them palms out, as if to say, “Yup, hands off.”

Your waitress will apologize to you for the wait for your drink order, but she has to make love briefly.

“It’ll just be ten minutes,” she’ll say, fully naked, not even looking at you. Not looking anywhere but at the naked waiter by the door.

No one breathes while the waitress and the waiter size up each other’s naked bodies like two feral cats waiting to let loose with the hair-trigger pounce. The people sitting at the tables between them get up and move to the walls.

“Danny.”

“Betty.”

They leap through the air and land on the four-top in the middle of the room sending water glasses and silverware crashing to the floor. It’s like they didn’t even have to move, like the universe suddenly contracted and eliminated the space separating their genitals. They embrace each other, race in and out of each other, consume each other in a wild hurry. Your waitress is taken and your waitress takes.

When they are finished, they fall asleep in each other’s arms, stretched out on the tables in the middle of the room. The hostess tiptoes around the room and in a whisper encourages you and the other diners to go to the kitchen and tell the chefs what you’d like to eat, but please do it quietly so as not to disturb Danny and Betty. They need their rest.

Happy The Waitress’s Waiter Day!

You’re The Funny Drunk Day!

You’re the funny drunk and people love to see you do funny things when you’re drunk which is how you lost your hand. You were drunk while working at the grocery store and your co-workers were like, “Hey funny drunk, do a handstand on the meat slicer.” You did, but you accidentally turned the meat slicer on while you were getting situated, so bye bye hand.

Yesterday one of your friends shouted, “Hey funny drunk, go call Sharon and tell her you don’t love her anymore.” You said you had to drink on it. Sharon is the girl you love more than anything in the world. She’s stood by you through the years, even as you did things like losing your hand to a meat slicer handstand and whatnot. You don’t want to be without her, but you also don’t want to disappoint everyone who loves how funny you are when you’re drunk.

Your shrink says you should either quit drinking altogether, or you should break it off with Sharon. Not just because it would be really funny, but she deserves better.

You decide to tell your friend that you’ll do anything else. Anything but that. Anything funny that he can think of.

“Sorry,” he’ll say. “But it has to be the phone call.”

You decide then and there to quit drinking. Your friend will get pissed and tell you that he is in love with Sharon and he was trying to trick you into freeing her up and now he’s furious so he’ll throw a punch which is why they call him the angry drunk. You’ll take the punch and later you’ll want a drink but you won’t get one because you’ve made a decision. Everything will feel kind of blank from now on, and since you’ll be sober you’ll finally be able to mourn the hand you lost.

Happy You’re The Funny Drunk Day!

Crowded Airplane Day!

Crowded Airplane is tired.

“So many people,” Crowded Airplane sighs.

“What?” you say from your seat (18D).

“You heard that?” Crowded Airplane says.

“Yes is that you, the airplane I’m on?”

Crowded Airplane starts to cry.

“No one’s ever heard me before,” it says. “No one’s ever listened.”

“I’m listening,” you tell Crowded Airplane. “And the battery ran out on my Kindle so if you have anything you want to get off your chest, I’m all ears.”

Crowded Airplane will thank you, then it will spend the next three hours and forty-five minutes talking about eugenics.

Happy Crowded Airplane Day!

Your Haiku About The Day Your Dad Died Is Terrible Day!

It’s just a bunch of short, straightforward statements about what the sky looked like above your house as the ambulance pulled away with no siren. Great, thanks for the introspection Weather Dot Com (that’s your nickname because of this Haiku). So you matched up the syllable count (thanks to one contraction). Big deal. It’s not going to bring your Dad back so try a rewrite until you come up with a haiku that does because that’s what this is all about, right? Getting him back?

Happy Your Haiku About The Day Your Dad Died Is Terrible Day!

In This Town Day!

You ended up here, you after doing some good things in magazines, him after giving all he could to the financial services industry. Both of you had ideas and plans and predictions and this town never entered into any of those things.

“That’s what makes it seem so fated,” he says through a bed sheet.

In this bed, in this apartment, on this street, in this town of all places, “Every choice we made brought us here,” he insists.

“So did every mistake, every accident, every time we decided to say fuck it I don’t care anymore we let ourselves get swept a little closer together.”

You say you’re just refuse that happened to get whisked into the same dustpan but he says you’re star-crossed lovers and the universe applauds every time you kiss, but the arguing doesn’t change the fact that you’re in this bed, you’re in this town, whether you searched for it or tumbled blind from the trunk of a speeding car on Main Street, whether you finally arrived or this is just where you ended up, you’re both here and your plans and predictions say you’ll both stay here till the end. And it doesn’t really matter if that’s just because neither of you has anyplace else to go.

Happy In This Town Day!

Oops All Alone Now Day!

7:43 am - Jeffrey Bixby walks with Heather Moran down a lovely street in Chicago when Heather leans over for a kiss not noticing the manhole underneath her next step leaving Jeffrey oops all alone now

9:20 am - Pamela Oliver jogs alongside her dog Jamiroquai three blocks from her home in Memphis, TN when Jamiroquai starts barking at a squirrel dragging Pamela into the street just as a piano truck turns the corner leaving Jamiroquai oops all alone now

12:41 pm - Tracy Mets is sitting at home with her father who recently had stents put in his heart. Taking care of her father is the first thing Tracy has done in her life that’s made her feel like her existence is making a difference somehow. When her father gets up to go to the bathroom, Tracy asks if he needs help. He says nope, goes inside the bathroom and catches sight of himself in the mirror, so he blows himself a kiss with the last gust of air he’ll ever expel, and he falls on the floor of the bathroom with a thump that tells Tracy she’s oops all alone now

4:10 pm - One fish is named Lou and the other fish is named Dobbs and Dobbs just stopped swimming and started floating so guess what Lou you’re oops all alone now

6:12 pm - Jennifer Tisch has a gun pointed at her head by her ex-boyfriend Max. “You weren’t good to me but you were the only one I’ve ever wanted,” Max tells Jennifer. “I can’t just go on like this if you won’t let me have you.” Jennifer begs Max to think this through and Max thinks it through for a sec then pulls the gun away from Jennifer and fires into his own head leaving Jennifer oops hooray all alone now

Happy Oops All Alone Now Day!

Beer Commercial For The Sad Day!

They love your pitch for the beer commercial where the guy is trying to drink his beer but he’s crying too hard so he says to himself, “Get it together Kevin.” Then he takes some deep, pained breaths, and finally manages to stop crying long enough to take a sip, but he’s cried into his beer so much that it tastes salty, so he throws the bottle across the room and it shatters all over a photograph of a dog. He picks up the photograph, bleeding now from having touched the shattered glass, the blood mixed with the beer, and he whispers, “Here’s to you Caspar. You were a heck of a pal.” From his fingertip he licks a drop of the mixture of blood, beer and tears and finally, his grief is sated.

“We love it,” the account reps say. “Now which Black Keys song do you want to use for the music?”

Happy Beer Commercial For The Sad Day!

Own Snakes Day!

Time for you to start owning snakes. You have to own at least two snakes by midnight tonight.

“I have a funeral today,” you say.

Pet store closes at 9. More than enough time to get there after the funeral.

“People are flying in from all over. Friends I haven’t seen since college. The guy who died was really popular and we need to spend some time trying to figure out why he killed himself,” you say.

He killed himself?

“Yeah,” you say.

Tough. Get some snakes.

“I’d really like to–”

Stop it. Get some snakes. You have until midnight.

“Maybe I can sneak away. Just so broken up about Arthur. I mean, why? Why now?”

No one gives a shit. Fuck your dead friend. Get some snakes or God help you.

Happy Own Snakes Day!

Your Real Dad Owns A Cigar Lounge Day!

Show up and tell the weird middle-aged dudes smoking cigars, “Out.”

Then proceed to smash up the shop with a baseball bat. Your real dad will try to stop you. Knock him out and throw him onto the sidewalk. Then set fire to the cigar lounge.

When your real dad wakes up say, “I’m your real son. I couldn’t establish a relationship until the cigar lounge was gone. Sorry, but I couldn’t live a life as the son of a guy who owns a cigar lounge. Just a thing for me. Anyway, mom died and she asked me on her deathbed to forgive you for running out on us. I’m doing that, but no more cigar lounge, dig?”

He’ll dig.

Happy Your Real Dad Owns A Cigar Lounge Day!

The Severed Heads In Your Date’s Freezer Are More Handsome Than You Day!

You didn’t mean to pry. You just went looking for some ice. Then you found yourself staring at a half-dozen of the handsomest severed heads you’ve ever seen.

“That was when I was really into looks,” your date will say.

You’ll feign being hurt to hide how hurt you actually are.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she’ll say. “I mean, there’s a lot more going on with you than just your looks. There’s so much to you. I sometimes worry I’ll never get enough.”

Ask her if she got enough of the guys in the freezer.

“More than enough,” she’ll say.

Ask her, “Did this just get serious between us?”

She’ll cross the kitchen to where you’re leaning against the freezer door and kiss you on the lips. As real as the kiss feels, you think you can hear the heads in the freezer laughing at you. They’re laughing at your saggy jawline, your pinched eyes. They’re laughing at your hairline. Heads like that have always laughed at you.

“Good luck measuring up to us,” you hear them say.

At that moment, with her kiss on your lips, you almost believe that you can.

Happy The Severed Heads In Your Date’s Freezer Are More Handsome Than You Day!

You And Your Mom Are Dating Again Day!

No you’re not dating each other, thank goodness. It just so happens that at age 29 you just got divorced from your wife of 3 years, and your mom at age 55 just got divorced from your dad (he’s in Europe with the new wife). So you and your mom are hitting the dating scene at the exact same moment. Neither of you feels like you have any skill at this kind of thing, so tonight you’re going to use the novelty of a mother and a son going to a singles bar together to see what kind of ass you can reel in.

The women who approach you will be especially mannered in an effort to win approval from your mother. The men who approach your mother will make a point of rubbing your head and calling you sport to try to appear as a potential father figure to you. One man named Steve will offer to buy you a moped.

At the end of the night you’ll go home to your apartment with a girl named Shannon, and your mother will go home to her house with Steve.

The next day you and your mom will call each other to compare notes. She’ll say she enjoyed Steve but all he seemed to do was talk about you and about how he had a son who died drunk driving on prom night who looked like you. You’ll laugh because Shannon couldn’t stop talking about how great it is that you’re so close to your mom, since hers ran off when she was six.

You and your mom agree to throw away your respective partners’ phone numbers and hit a different bar tonight so your mom can help you reel in all that puss in need of someone maternal in their lives, and you can help score your mom some of that “always wanted a son” dick.

Happy You And Your Mom Are Dating Again Day!

Your Hug Buddy Wants To Go A Little Further Day!

You and your friend Laura are Hug Buddies. It’s like fuck buddies, except you don’t have intercourse. Occasionally when you’re lonely you call each other up and say, “Wanna hug for a while? No strings attached.” Then you meet up and hug for a few hours but you never go any further and you both agree it means nothing.

Today mid-hug Laura’s going to decide she wants to go a little further.

“Tit-fuck me,” Laura’s going to say.

“But I thought we were just Hug Buddies,” tell her. “That sounds like something people in a relationship might do, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

Laura will argue that it doesn’t have to mean anything serious. “It’s just two friends hanging out with the one friend’s dick in between the other friend’s tits. Love has nothing to do with it.”

You and Laura shake on it and then Laura will take off her shirt and bra and you’ll tit-fuck until you climax on her chest.

“See,” Laura will say. “No big deal! Why are you crying?”

Tell Laura you started to feel something after the thirtieth rub of your dick against her cleavage.

“We shouldn’t have let my dick get so close to your heart!” tell her. “Now I’m falling for you!”

Tell her you’re crying because now that you have feelings for her, you not only lost a Tit-Fuck Buddy, but you lost that Hug Buddy you so enjoyed. Both of them were murdered by the half-naked gooey-chested girl you just fell in love with.

Happy Your Hug Buddy Wants To Go A Little Further Day!

March For Maurice Day!

You’re Maurice and today millions of people are holding a march to increase awareness of how much you miss your ex-girlfriend Diane, who broke up with you seven weeks ago. They’re waving banners that read, “She Was Just So Sweet To Him And Then All Of A Sudden She’s Gone?” They’ll carry signs with photos of Diane that say, “He’s Just Supposed To Forget This Face?” They’ll chant, “Hey Hey, Ho Ho. Maurice Misses Diane Because She Let Him Go!”

While many people will be made aware of your heartbreak from this march, it won’t affect Diane in the slightest since she is traveling in India for the next four months. But still, it’s just nice to know that millions of people bothered to get the permits required to shut down thoroughfares so they can peacefully but vocally announce to the world that they know what you’re going through.

Happy March For Maurice Day!

Ricky Rocket The Fireworks Guy Day!

You’re Ricky Rocket The Fireworks Guy and you just lost your left foot. So that makes it your entire right hand, three fingers off your left hand, a chunk out of your right calf and two of your right toes, an ear, one nipple, a melted-closed nostril, the hair on the front of your scalp, and now your left foot.

It’s time to start replacing your body parts with fireworks so you can become an evil villain who wants to exact revenge on the people for enjoying the explosive entertainment you provided without caring in the slightest about how it was eating away at you piece by piece.

Implant roman candle and bottle rocket launchers into the sockets where your fingers and toes used to be. You should replace your foot with the “Grand Ole Flag Finale Blaster,” a rocket launcher that shoots an unholy hell fire of patriotic explosives ideal for the big finish of any fireworks display. Your other gashes can be used as storage for firecrackers, smoke bombs, and maybe a few snakes.

It’s time to show the kids what happens when you play with fireworks. This 4th of July, it’s time for the big finale.

Happy Ricky Rocket The Fireworks Guy Day!

Death At Panda Express Express Day!

Today is the grand opening of the Panda Express Express, the new no-frills branch of Panda Express where you can get your delicious Panda Express food without all the fancy hoopla. You’ve been saving for years to get the money to open this franchise and now the big day has finally come and you want everything to go perfectly. At the ribbon cutting, the panda you rented will lose control and open your throat and you’ll die. Corporate will take over your branch and turn it into just a regular Panda Express. Your dream will wash away with the mop-water used to sop up all your blood.

Happy Death At Panda Express Express Day!

Give Your Buddy Arthur Twelve Dollars Day!

Got a buddy named Arthur? Today, give him twelve dollars. When he asks, “What are you giving me twelve dollars for,” tell him it’s because you can’t make it to the movies so you wanna pay him to entertain you. He’ll look at the money in his hand and ask,  "Are you serious?“ Tell him, "I paid good money for some diverting amusement from you and so far you suck. Pick up the pace okay? I wanna see some heart. I wanna see a boy trying to be a man and a man trying to recapture how he felt when he was a boy. I wanna see a lady trying not to make the wrong choice even though it feels so right. I wanna see someone fight city hall and win for once. I wanna see a family reunited only to burst apart again. I wanna see my life up on that screen. Also I wanna see two aliens fuck like they did in The Avatars.”

When Arthur refuses and tries to give you a refund, you beat him. You beat him good for wasting your time. You beat him to teach him a lesson about entertainment.

“The audience votes with their feet,” say as you stomp your foot on Arthur’s face.

Happy Give Your Buddy Arthur Twelve Dollars Day!

We Used To Be Rich Day!

You and your dad will be gyrating shirtless in front of a webcam for the entertainment of viewers at jeffandhisadultsondancesuggestively.com. The viewers have to electronically “tip” $20 at a time to keep the two of you dancing. When the tips stop coming and the webcam pauses its broadcast you’ll stop dancing and say to your dad, “Wait we used to be rich. What happened?”

Your Dad will say, only, “Karen.”

You forgot about the robot woman your dad spent six years trying to build and date. She was lovely, but she ran off.

A new tip will come in. The webcam will come to life, and you and your Dad will begin one of your trademark numbers, a kind of Jitterbug Tango combination you call “Don’t Forget Your Lunchbox.”

Happy We Used To Be Rich Day!

You’re Henry And You Wax Straight Guys’ Balls Day!

You’re trying to get your own business going and you figured, what’s real big right now? Manscaping, right? Guys shaving their balls so the ladies don’t have to see nothing wild and dirty when they go down yonder. Now the ladies, they been doing it for a while now, and they have professionals wax their stuff off for em. So you figured, why can’t we have that kinda thing for guys? So you opened up “Henry’s Ball Waxers” advertising skilled and careful waxing of balls for straight men only. “So It’s Not A Gay Thing” it says on your sign.

You’ve had a few guys call up and ask you what the process is like. You’ll start to explain that first they undress, then you come in and slather warm wax onto their balls, and that’s when they hang up. You’re hoping they just realized that your answer was pretty much what they assumed so they didn’t need to hear the rest, but so far no one’s come in yet.

Today to ease people’s worries, you posted a video demonstration of you waxing someone’s balls. You hired a male model off of Craigslist and videotaped yourself waxing his scrotum and pelvis, moving his penis around with your hand while you applied the wax and then pulled it off to reveal his clean, bare genitals. The model unfortunately became aroused during taping, but you were fine with that. You just looked into the camera and said, “Hey it’s okay if this happens. Because this isn’t a gay thing! And look, the penis is easier for me to move around this way because it’s not so floppy.” So far the video has gotten 30,000 views and has been reposted to a lot of male-oriented websites so you think this should do the trick.

Happy You’re Henry And You Wax Straight Guys’ Balls Day!

You Fuck Food Day!

You fuck food on camera and upload it to the internet. You fuck a different food every day, and you’ve been doing it for 18 months now. The idea came to you in your third month of collecting unemployment after getting laid off from your job as an investment banker. “I’ve gotta start giving back,” you thought as you stared at your morning oatmeal. “What is it that I love more than anything, and how can I make money by sharing that love with others?” The answer was food, and since you don’t know how to cook and even if you did restaurants are a very risky investment, you decided the next obvious solution was to video record yourself fucking food and uploading it so that people who enjoy watching food get fucked lovingly can share the moment with you. Since that first video when you sloshed your cock in and out of a bowl of oatmeal, you’ve fucked hundreds of different kinds of food, from salmon to eggplant parmigiana to Mattar Paneer. This week is Cajun Week. Yesterday you fucked a bowl of gumbo. Today you’re going to fuck a plate of Étouffée. Tomorrow you’re going to stick your dick in between a bunch of crawdads. Your videos average 83 views per, but that number is dropping.

Happy You Fuck Food Day!

Say Goodbye To The Super 8 Day!

She remembers the room because she spent enough time there. You were 16 months old at the time, and your parents were supposedly taking a trip to the Grand Canyon. But after they pulled into this Super 8 in Flagstaff, your mom took you to the pool, and your dad said he was going to take a nap. When your mom came back to the room, your Dad was gone.

“Lived here for three weeks,” she says. “Just you and me, taking turns crying.”

The room was on his credit card so she just stayed there with you, waiting, hoping that he’d change his mind. You examine the space. It’s a white box with a window and a desk and a closet. It’s definitely been updated in the last 20 years, but not with much.

“What made you finally check out?"

"The manager told me our room was reserved for a convention. He offered to move us, but I took it as a sign that we should move on. What are you looking for?”

You’re not sure. You’re peeking into the closet, lifting drawers to see what’s been written underneath, pulling at the edge of the carpet. You want a clue.

“Guess I just wanted to check one last time to see if he left us any note.”

“One last time?” your mom will ask.

Open the curtain to show her the tractor.

“Bought this Super 8,” tell your mom. “Gonna keep it in operation, every room except this one. I’m wrecking this room and leaving the space flat. I’m wiping all evidence of him being my father off the face of the earth.”

Your Mom will say, “But even if you destroy the room won’t he still be out there somewhere living his life?”

Say, “Not for long.”

Your Mom will make out the Lincoln Towncar in the parking lot, and the man gagged in the backseat. He’ll be watching the tractor as it starts its engine and moves toward your room.

“We’d better go, Mom,” tell her.

She’ll grab your face in her hands, overjoyed to have instilled in you such a strong family bond that you’ll murder those who try to violate it.

Happy Say Goodbye To The Super 8 Day!

Breakfast Club At Turnpike High Day!

Your mother and many other mothers in the area no longer trusted your school district to not teach you about homosexuality or science, so she pulled you out of it. She considered Home Schooling, but your mother worried that while you were at home a visiting mailman or UPS delivery carrier might ring the doorbell and tell you that gay love is okay or that there’s physics. So your mom joined together with some other mothers to start a school in the woods bordering the New Jersey Turnpike between exits 7A and 8.

Today you and some other kids are in the woods for Saturday detention because your teacher caught you reading a Time Magazine, which is on the pornography list in your library. There are five of you, all from different cliques. Kevin is a jock and an anti-abortionist. Maria’s the prom queen and she loathes evolution. Peter’s the nerd who hates that the travel of gays isn’t trackable by embedded GPS chips. Patty is the weirdo who hopes that one day her vagina is declared illegal. And Arthur’s the badass who wants to one day build a prayer-only hospital.

You’ll start off the day feeling standoffish with each other, but by the end of the day you’ll realize you all have something in common: all of you start the day by throwing up on your own genitals to curb the urge to masturbate.

But will you say hi to each other when you see each other in the New Jersey Turnpike woods on Monday? Or will you be afraid of what your friends will think? I think we all know the answer. Hey look, Arthur just punched his fist into the air as he walks up the off-ramp for exit 8.

Happy Breakfast Club At Turnpike High Day!

Steve And Esther Day!

Today you’re Esther and your ex-boyfriend has kidnapped your current boyfriend, threatening to kill him if you don’t break up with him.

“I’m sorry Steve,” tell your current boyfriend over the phone. Your ex is holding it up to his ear. “I like you too much to ever break up with you.”

Steve will beg you to break up with him. Tell him the feelings you have for him are too strong to disavow them just because some shitty ex-boyfriend is threatening his life.

“But my feelings aren’t that strong for you!” he’ll shout into the phone. “Please!”

Explain that it’s natural for one party of a relationship to be more deeply in love than the other.

“Oh my God I said the L-word!” say. “Wow. Guess I really feel it.”

Steve will beg you one last time to break up with him. Tell him it’s okay because your love will live on beyond this world. Then you’ll hear the gunshot.

Now mourn Steve. If you date anyone else, try not to let your ex know about it.

Happy Steve And Esther Day!

You’re One Of Those Ghosts Who Lives In Someone’s TV Day!

When you live in a person’s TV, occasionally popping out to haunt but mostly just hanging around inside the TV, you have to pick a channel to live on. You picked A&E when you arrived in the TV three years ago, and you’re kind of bummed because you have to watch A&E all the time, it’s all over the place, and unfortunately A&E just can’t quite settle on an entertaining, cohesive lineup. When you live on a channel you can never not be viewing that channel, even when you’re asleep, so you’re sick of waiting for A&E to commit to an identity and you want to switch channels. You put in for a transfer.

“We don’t take these requests lightly,” the administrator of channel assignments will shriek when you meet with him today for an interview. “We can’t have ghosts switching channel spaces all the time. You sure you want to leave A&E?”

Shriek, “Yes.”

The administrator will glare at his assignment sheet.

“ESPN?” he’ll shriek. “Sports?”

Shriek, “I’ve always wanted to get interested in sports.”

The administrator will maul your shoulder.

“Hope this one works out,” he’ll shriek.

Go home and move your stuff from A&E to ESPN. There’s some running happening at ESPN. Good luck haunting a new channel.

You’re One Of Those Ghosts Who Lives In Someone’s TV Day!

Your Mother’s Underwear Day!

You and your dad are fighting over your mother’s underpants. Your mother’s in the hospital and she said she needs some more pairs of underpants. You went home and asked your dad where she keeps them.

“There maybe?” like he either wasn’t sure which drawer is your mom’s underwear drawer, or he feels like it’s polite to pretend not to be sure about underwear drawers.

You opened it and found one pair of beige granny panties. It’s appropriate to call them granny panties because your mother is also a grandmother, and her panties are fucking huge.

Your Dad flipped out. “How can she only have one pair left!”

You said it’s okay. She must have brought a bunch to the hospital and they’re all in the wash. You’ll just go buy her some more if she needs.

“But how!” your dad shouted, holding the underwear in his ruined fist.

You reminded him of the Gap Body right near the hospital.

“We have to call the girls!” he shouted, meaning your sisters, because in his mind only a woman is allowed by law to purchase a women’s undergarment. You could have begun to explain to him that times have changed and these days everyone is buying and wearing different kinds of underwear just for the thrills, but he was hysterical and it wasn’t the time.

“Let’s just take this pair to her and we can worry about getting more later,” you said.

You reached for the panties. He pulled them away.

You reached again and got some of the fabric in your grasp. He tugged. You pulled.

You’re pulling. He’s pulling back. You’re having a tug-of-war with your father for possession of your mother’s underwear. It’s all come down to this.

Your father yanks backward, trying to regain full possession. You don’t let go, your grip far stronger than his. He politely but impatiently says your name, trying not to call attention to what you both know is happening. A battle. The battle. The one you always knew was brewing since you were a boy but you never knew would come. You’re going to win this.

It’s kind of sad how inevitable your win ultimately is. You give one final hard tug, freeing the underwear from your father’s tired fist, then you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him because he looks like he might lose his balance. Then the two of you quietly head out to the car.

You drive your father to see his wife. Neither of you say a word, both of you knowing the truth. The battle is over. Your mom’s underpants are in your jacket pocket. You’ve done it. You’ve finally won.

Happy Your Mother’s Underwear Day!

Spraypaint A Couch Day!

You check Craigslist every morning for “curb alerts” of couches people are abandoning if anyone wants to pick it up, then you race to the couch and spraypaint a confession onto its cushions. It’s kind of mean to anyone who might need or who could use the couch, but you don’t care. Everyone has that thing they’ve decided they need to do in order to keep bother to not open their wrists, this one’s yours.

Today you’re going to find a Crate and Barrel sectional on the corner of 6th and Pine. Sectionals give you the space to really unload. In red paint you’re going to spraypaint onto it, “Lied about where I was on 9/11 three times. Once said I was in the lobby of Tower 1 but got a bad feeling and decided to turn around. Another time said I was in France and all the waiters at a cafe started holding me and crying. Third time said I was in the airport arguing with a ticketing agent that she had to get me a seat on United 93, but the agent refused. Really, I was asleep in California.”

Happy Spraypaint A Couch Day!

Your Tanning Consultant Fell In Love With Your Stubbler Day!

You’re super-loaded and one problem with being super-loaded is when people on your staff show up in your study and remind you that they’re human and they have hearts and humans with hearts sometimes fall in love with each other.

“But I have rules about this,” tell them. “I can’t have two people in love working here. You’ll get distracted.”

Your tanning consultant will say that he would never let a thing like love come between him and giving you the right shade.

Your stubbler will add that there’s absolutely nothing she cares about more than maintaining your face stubble.

“Except for Alan,” tell her.

Alan’s your tanning consultant. Just saying his name will make her blush.

“I’m sorry,” say to them. “One of you has to quit.”

Your tanning consultant and your stubbler will tell you that neither of them can make the other quit, so they’re both going to quit.

They passed.

“I wanted to be sure your love is real. If one of you could live with the other quitting, it wouldn’t have been meant to be. You can both stay. I’ll only allow people who are truly in love to work on my staff.”

They’ll hug each other, and then they’ll hug you. Order them to have sex in front of you now or you’ll dock their pay. Staff members in love have the best sex.

Happy Your Tanning Consultant Fell In Love With Your Stubbler Day!

Help Sally Run Away From Her Husband Day!

She’ll knock on the back door while you’re eating dinner. Invite her in and she’ll explain the situation and ask you to drive her out of state.

“Just across state lines,” she’ll say. “You can’t take love across state lines.”

You’ll argue that it’s Sunday and you shouldn’t have to break up people’s marriages on Sunday, even if you’re the best.

“Her husband sucks,” your wife will say. “You just have to get her to the eastern border of the state. Then he can’t follow her. Them’s the rules.”

Say okay. Give your wife a kiss goodbye, then you and Sally hop into the truck and start driving fast to the border.

“Think he’s looking for me?” Sally will ask.

Just then a pair of headlights will swerve onto the road behind you.

“That’s affirmative,” you’ll say, stepping on the gas.

You know the way. You’ve gotten three friends out of marriages before, and this old truck knows how to keep an unwanted spouse in the dust. Now’s the time to get some taste of the meat of what you’re doing today.

“So…” you’ll say after making a hard right down a narrow alley.

“I was disappointed,” she’ll tell you. “He gave me a lot of talk about how he’d turn out but he turned out to be nothing special.”

“That’s enough for a wife to take off?” you’ll ask her.

She’ll look at you and she’ll nod. There will be an apology in her eyes.

The state lines are just up ahead but you’re not speeding for them anymore. The car behind you could gain on you easily, but he’s not even trying. You pull across the border and come to a stop.

“When’d she put you up to it?”

Sally will say, “It’s been in the works for months.”

The driver of the follower car will get out and come walking up to your window. It’s not Sally’s husband. It’s Pamela, your wife’s friend from way back in high school.

“Sorry,” Pamela will say. “Come on Sally. I’ll drive you home.”

You’ll shift into gear and head back to your house, knowing full well that it’s empty. Your wife wouldn’t have had to drive very fast to get herself across the western border. With you headed east like a bat out of hell, she might have even taken the time to write you a note. Maybe it’s waiting for you back there, which is why you should take your time, maybe a few days, before heading home again.

Happy Help Sally Run Away From Her Husband Day!

You’re The Saddest Rock Star Day!

Your thing is you cry through all your songs. You started crying during your very first song and it sold millions so you’ve had to cry on every song ever since, and throughout every interview, and in every paparazzi photo. Basically, if you’re ever happy your career will be shot.

“Hi,” a woman will say to you. Her smile will make you feel like there’s hope.

Run in the other direction to the nearest yes-kill animal shelter so you can watch unclaimed pets being put down. Your fans are counting on you.

Happy You’re The Saddest Rock Star Day!

Ghosts On Craigslist Day!

Lots of the posts on Craigslist are posted by ghosts who lure people with the promise of cheap bicycles or lurid sex into the place where they’re haunting solely to trap the people there so they can ask them to resolve stuff for them. Today you’re going to fall into this trap. You’ll answer an ad that claims to be from a woman who wants to hurt a man by sitting on his face and since your plans fell through you’ll figure what the hey. When you get to the apartment it will be empty. Then the fridge magnet poetry will start to move apparently of its own will and it will spell out the sentences, “Tell Derrick It Wasn’t Darcy. It Was Rita. Tell Derrick Now.” You can do as the fridge magnets suggest and track down this Derrick guy, but the better plan is just to get the hell out of there. Resolving stuff for ghosts can take forever and it’s often stuff that the ghost should really be cool with letting go unresolved. If you feel bad, don’t. It’s likely that two or three more guys will show up right after you and at least one of them will be a softie and go for it. Sorry you won’t get your face sat on tonight.

Happy Ghosts On Craigslist Day!

Flasher Day!

Today you’re going to flash your ex-wife. You won’t realize it’s her at first. You’ll just see a silhouette you like and you’ll run up and open yourself up to show her the fun.

“Karen?” you’ll say as her mouth hangs open, staring at that which she’s seen so many times before.

You’ll get lunch. She’ll tell you that she’s remarried, to an art history professor, and she’s very happy. They’re planning to adopt.

You’ll tell her how flashing’s been going, about the arrests, the beatings, the cold drafts.

You’ll laugh and you’ll share and when you finally say goodbye you’ll be shocked at how painful it was when she said goodbye the last time, and how joyful it was to meet her all over again. You’ll exchange numbers and say you’ll call and even though neither of you will (she’s got a big trip to Milan planned and you’ve got the Susan G Komen For The Cure Walk to flash), the gesture is enough. At your age, with the history you two have, a gesture can communicate volumes.

Happy Flasher Day!

Cave Tour Day!

You give tours of caves. Today you lost two kids.

Tell the parents, “They ran away.”

The parents will say they don’t believe you. Show them the note you forged. It should read:

“We ran away. Goodbye you guys. Love, The Kids.”

The parents will be convinced and they’ll send out a search party to find the kids. One group will head off to Hollywood to intercept them there in case they got on a bus hoping to become stars. Another group will head down to Florida since fucked up kids always seem to end up there somehow. A third group will set traps. Food in boxes rigged to close when they start eating the food, that kind of thing.

You’ll go back into the cave to track down the kids you lost and you’ll hit your head on a stalactite and die there. The two kids will come out the rear entrance of the cave around 90 minutes after the search party started. In the excitement of getting lost they’ll have fallen in love with each other and secretly eloped, even though they’re only 12. They’ll wonder why there are so many choppers hovering.

Happy Cave Tour Day!

Time To Track Down Your Biological Parents Day!

Your adoptive parents are worried but they’ll have to deal.

“I need to do this,” tell them.

The time has come. It’s been long enough. It’s time to track down your biological parents, introduce yourself to them, and kill them.

“You’re the reason I exist,” tell them. “For that you deserve to die.”

“But we thought you just wanted to know more about where you came from,” they’ll say.

Tell them, “I know enough. Someone has to pay for me being brought into being. All the people I hurt. Everyone I’ve made to regret ever having crossed paths with me. Someone needs to be held responsible for all that I’ve done.”

“Why not you?” they’ll ask.

Say, “That’s like fighting the war on drugs by taking out the street level dealers. I’m going after the supplier.”

When you’re done murdering them, go home to your adoptive parents and reassure them that you’re happy with the life they gave you. They’re going to feel a little vulnerable for a while, so just do what you can to reassure them.

Happy Time To Track Down Your Biological Parents Day!

Hot Air Balloon Full Of Money Day!

You were having a romantic picnic in the park when you you started following the hot air balloon as it hovered over the woods. You told Gina to wait for you to come back. She’s used to waiting. She’s been waiting for you to propose for over five years now. You’ve been waiting for some way to earn enough money to not just pay for a wedding but provide for the life you know she deserves.

It caught your attention when you heard it brush against the tree-tops. Something was wrong. It finally landed in the middle of Palmer Field, the wind dragging it across the grass for about 500 feet before it finally held still long enough for you to climb in and find seventy thousand dollars in cash and two dead bodies, the basket of the balloon riddled with bullet holes. Someone shot them from the ground.

Someone’s shooting at you right now. You’re going to have to either ditch the balloon and leave the money, or fly away far enough to get out of range of their gunfire so you can keep that $70K to marry your love once and for all. Grab the fuel tug and fire that baby back up. If you can get high enough you should be able to clear the tree tops before they nope you got shot.

Shame. You could have just eloped too. Gina didn’t want money. She just wanted you.

Happy Hot Air Balloon Full Of Money Day!

Dance Lessons Day!

Today at your first dance class you’re going to be asked why you’re taking lessons. The others will say they’re learning for their wedding, or to meet single men, or to be more confident at parties. When it comes to you, tell the truth.

“I want to dance on my father’s grave,” tell them.

Explain that your father is very ill, and that you’ve been sitting by his hospital bed whispering that you’re going to dance on his grave every week when he dies. And he’s just been laughing, saying that you’d never do such a thing because you’re a terrible dancer. So you said that you’d take lessons. And your father said lessons cost money and you’re too cheap. So you said you’d save up. And your father said you’re terrible at saving and that you only spend your money on ridiculous gadgets and overpriced meals. So you’ve been showing up every week with your bank statement and waving it over your father’s hospital bed so he could see how much you were saving. Then when you finally had enough you showed him your enrollment forms for dance class. Then you showed him your dance shoes and dance belt.

“Now I want to perform for him the dance I am going to do on his grave,” tell the class. “Before he dies, I want him to know what will shake the soil onto his coffin, what joyous number underneath which he will rot.”

The teacher will say, “You sound like you hate your father very much.”

Say, “He made me the man I am today, and I’ll never forgive him.”

The next student will say, “I’m taking this class because people keep shooting at my feet.”

Happy Dance Lessons Day!

How To Tell Your Brother He Ruined Everything Day!

Your brother is the one who told your mom that your dad was cheating, and so your mom kicked your dad out and he moved in with the woman he was cheating with. So basically your brother destroyed your family. The only way to let him know he ruined everything is by jumping off a bridge with the words “Your Fault Kevin” sharpied on your torso. Do it now! Your dad will probably see it on the news and realize you were the cool son that he should have bothered to father.

Happy How To Tell Your Brother He Ruined Everything Day!

You Used To Date A Picture Frame Photo Model Day!

She broke your heart, but you still have to see her every time you go to the drug store. She’s staring out from dozens of frames. She’s hugging her fake model son; she’s sitting in a field of yellow flowers; she’s standing on a beach staring at the ocean. You know where the beach one was taken. You were dating then. She called you from the shoot and told you she wished you were there with her. So it’s like the drug store is displaying a photo from your life. You missed her so much that the act of buying a picture frame became unbelievably painful, so you learned how to make your own frames and today you’re opening your own frame shop so congrats.

Happy You Used To Date A Picture Frame Photo Model Day!

Ghostess Day!

You’re the new hostess at Applebee’s and you’re really excited to be working again after the baby. Training is about over but the manager has one last thing to tell you.

“This hostess podium is haunted by a ghostess.”

“A ghostess?”

“Ghost of a hostess,” he’ll say. “It’s not that hard to figure out.”

Apparently many years ago, back when this place was a Fuddruckers, a hostess fell in love with one of her married customers. They would make love by the dumpsters and after lots of pressure he finally agreed to break it off with his wife so they could marry.

“He told her he would go and tell his wife, then pick her up at the end of her shift and propose. But he never showed. The wife shot him.”

The hostess wouldn’t believe he was dead. And she refused to quit or move to any other position but hostess. She was determined to remain at her podium until her man came to claim her like he said he would.

“She died while seating a six-top. And ever since her spirit has lingered around this podium, waiting for her man to return, waiting ever after as the Old Spinster Ghostess Of Applebees.”

You’ll chuckle nervously at the story because you don’t believe in that ghost stuff. Then your very first table for two will arrive and you’ll be embarrassed because just then the Ghostess will cause the menus to start bleeding.

Happy Ghostess Day!

Rescue Your Son From The Charity Stud Auction Day!

Your favorite movie is Taken and you wish you could be Liam Neeson’s character from that movie. Unfortunately you’re a middle-aged mom who is a corporate attorney. No CIA experience of any kind. But tonight your adult son is participating in a Charity Stud Auction to raise money for breast cancer research. Women will bid to “purchase” your son for a platonic evening together. It’s all in good fun, but it’s as close to your child being abducted by a human trafficking ring as you’re going to get. So tonight you’re going to burst into the auction with a toy handgun and order one of the women to bid on your son until she wins the auction. Then you’re going to stick the toy gun in her ribs and tell her to take you to where she picks your son up. Unfortunately, the event’s henchmen will also be excited about being able to live out a scene from the movie Taken, and they’ll clock you in the back of the head and string you up from a pipe in the boiler room. Since you don’t have a set of skills that you’ve acquired over a very long career, you won’t be able to escape from the boiler room and the henchmen will murder you while you’re dangling from a pipe. Once you die, the henchmen will be pissed because you were supposed to escape and the Taken scene will be totally ruined. Also, they’ll be jailed for murder. Since your son is the one who entered the auction even though he knew how much you love Taken he’ll spend the rest of his life drowning his guilt in drink.

Happy Rescue Your Son From The Charity Stud Auction Day!

Call Someone You Cut Out Of Your Life For Vague Reasons, But Don’t Say Anything Day!

That list is pretty long by now. You cut Jeff out of your life because you detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice when he made that toast at that one dinner (can’t remember what the dinner or the toast was about). You cut Sharon out of your life for moving on and finding love three years after you broke up with her. And you cut Eddie out of your life because he cheated on his wife and they got a divorce, which affected you in no real way except that you thought he deserved a punishment he never received.

It gets lonely excusing so many people from your acquaintance. Ease the loneliness by calling one of them during dinner and not saying anything. Just listen to the silence of their family as they ask repeatedly that you identify yourself. When they finally say, “George if thats you I really miss you,” hang up. But they never say that so just hang up whenever. You’re George FYI.

Happy Call Someone You Cut Out Of Your Life For Vague Reasons, But Don’t Say Anything Day!

You’re Lorraine Of Lorraine’s Beauty Shop And Today’s The Day You Kill Day!

You knew the day was going to come eventually, the day when Karradine rolled back into town and made like you were still his bride.

“You ran off,” say.

“Twelve years ago and two days,” Karradine will say, leaning against the radiator cover with both hands.

You tell him you didn’t count the days. He’ll say you did, but you didn’t. You didn’t! You didn’t know that you could go ten seconds without Karradine, let alone over twelve years, back when he first roped you in. He was able to convince a young, scared girl like you to join his corral of fake wives. Brides. But it turns out you were so young he was just the first of many sideshows you’d throw a passing glance.

That’s where you have the advantage over Karradine. He doesn’t know how quick you fell in with another crowd, even more destructive than his, but that was nothing compared to the crowd that came after that, and after that, and after that. Karradine doesn’t know that he was essentially just another nobody in your world. In a sea of nobodies. He was the first nobody, the very first, the one who took your belief in goodness away, but just because he was the first that doesn’t make him something special. If you’ve had a life of nightmares, that doesn’t mean the first one is more powerful than the 145th. Karradine doesn’t know he’s not that big a deal to you, so you can just go ahead and look him in the eye and tell him he doesn’t barely merit a flutter of your eyelids. Tell Karradine he’s a nobody, nothing of consequence to you, and send him on his way.

“So,” Karradine will say, his hands still gripping the radiator cover, holding up his weight. “You ready to come home?”

Your answer comes in a blur. You pick up a decorative, Mexican, hard-glass egg and you wheel it over your head and down once, twice into his. You dig it down hard enough to smash a skull to pieces, not just a fatal crack, but to pieces in his sack of skin. The first nightmare is the first and you can’t have any others until you have your first, so it has to die for all the others to go away. The first is important. Karradine has to say goodbye.

Happy You’re Lorraine Of Lorraine’s Beauty Shop And Today’s The Day You Kill Day!

Famous Corpse Day!

You’re the world’s most famous corpse thanks to a sex tape that was released featuring a necrophiliac movie star having sex with your preserved cadaver (he paid a morgue to ship you to him on ice). Extra and Access Hollywood are fighting each other to score the first interview with your lifeless husk. Various branding managers are trying to get you to launch a clothing line with them, envisioning your dead body modeling gorgeous ready-to-wear items that twenty-something girls will be dying to be caught dead in. Meanwhile, parenting groups are accusing your corpse of setting a bad example for their daughters, now that there are reports of teenage girls drawing up their living wills to guarantee that their bodies get preserved and donated to the right morgue in the hope that their bodies will be sexed by someone famous once their souls have passed on. Though your memory is being scandalized, the money from the clothing line, book deal, and reality show (Stiff Livin’ on E!) is going straight into your kids’ college funds, so looks like that car accident wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The celebrity who had sex with your corpse was Adrien Brody.

Happy Famous Corpse Day!

You Can’t Remember Which Framed Painting Of Your Dick The Wall-Safe With All Your Money Is Behind Day!

Is it the painting of your dick wearing a mustache at the Lynyrd Skynyrd concert? Or the painting of your dick waving a flame-thower at some school kids? Or is it behind the painting where your dick is painting a painting of your dick? There’s 70 thousand dollars in cash in a wall safe behind one of those paintings of your dick. The way you set it up for you to remember is that you would look at all the paintings of your dick and you’d decide which one reminded you of your father the most. Behind that painting is a wall-safe full of money. So take a look around. Which painting of your dick reminds you of your father the most?

Happy You Can’t Remember Which Framed Painting Of Your Dick The Wall-Safe With All Your Money Is Behind Day!

Masked Dating Day!

There’s a terrible new dating site called Masked Dating that you’re trying out. You meet someone online and you two wear masks all night long. You can even strap one of those things to your throat to change your voice if you want. The site also recommends an assortment of poorly lit bars far away from both parties’ respective neighborhoods so neither of you has to worry about anyone who recognizes you walking up to your table and revealing personal details about you. Basically, you can go on a date with someone and not have to worry about the person you’re on the date with finding out you’re you. There’ve been two murders already, and the rest of the dates are with people in WitPro. Tonight, you’re going out with former mob rat Henry Hill!

Happy Masked Dating Day!

It’s An Epidemic Day!

Today people are dropping like flies and you’re scared because you just heard your husband sneeze.

“It wasn’t a sneeze,” he’ll say.

“I believe you,” tell him.

Don’t believe him. You know he’s got the Fatal Sniffles and you know it’s because he wasn’t careful. You know it’s because he saw her again. He probably went to say goodbye to her, knowing the quarantine would send her across the country away from him. He got infected because he was untrue and now he brings this home to you?

“Ahchoo!”

Smile calmly.

“It’s dusty in here.”

“I’m going for a walk,” tell him.

There’s kerosene in the garage. Bolt the door behind you so he’s trapped inside and spray the kerosene around the perimeter of the house then light a match. He brought this on himself, and on you. If this is how careless he is with your life, you should have no regard for his. Light the match and get to the Northeast 3 camp. There’s still room in that quarantine for people who want to stay alive.

Happy It’s An Epidemic Day!

You’re A Businessman Day!

“Sell,” you shout sometimes. “We need to get that to the mail room ASAP,” you also shout sometimes. “I don’t give a fuck about rain forests,” you’re shouting into the phone right now.

“But sir,” some nobody crybaby responds. “So many pelicans will die.”

“I like money and cheating on my wife with the secretaries!” you shout before slamming the phone down. Then you go to the restaurant and spend $75,000 on lunch because today you’re a businessman. Tomorrow you’ll be a surgeon.

Happy You’re A Businessman Day!

Make Movies About Girls Day!

Today make movies about girls who fall in love with ex-convicts who are trying to go straight but the criminal element keeps calling, and the only thing keeping them on the level is girls. Make movies about girls who love boys who are trying to overthrow fascist governments even though they’d rather just spend their time overthrowing girls. Make movies about girls who set boys on fire in protest against boys who cheat on them with girls who look just like them, and who beat boys to death in protest against boys who cheat with girls who look nothing like them. Make movies about girls who own pet shops, girls who own parking garages, and girls who own other girls. Make a movie about the first all-girl civil war army, the first all-girl major American city, and the first all-girl boy. You have six weeks.

Happy Make Movies About Girls Day!

Tips On Kisses Day!

It’s time for Tips On Kisses, the only place where you can get all the kisses tips you’ll ever need.

First things first, go find yourself someone to kiss.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

Not her.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

Not him.

Keep looking.

Not that.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

What is that? No, put that down you’ll get arrested.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

That’s my Dad.

Keep looking.

She looks inebriated. Ma'am have you been drinking? Then no. Keep looking.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

Found someone? Great!

Okay Tip #2, point your toes at her toes.

Tip #3. Start breathing through your nose. If you have to blow your nose to clear those nostrils, do it now. You’re going to need to be able to breathe through your nose during the kiss, because your mouth will be on hers, your tongues touching, mixing your saliva with her saliva and that includes remnants of everything she’s eaten. You need to be able to breathe through your nose while you do all that, so make sure you’re all clear.

Tip #4. Look her in the eye but not angrily. Look at her like you’re thinking, “I wanna put it in my mouth. I wanna put it in my mouth and keep it. I wanna sneak it into a movie theater in my mouth then sit down in my seat and pull it out of my mouth, then I wanna put it in my mouth again.”

Tip #5. Say I love you.

Tip #6. Grab her by both of her hands, then spin her around like a ballerina. Girls need to feel like ballerinas. Don’t spin her too many times. 30 times and that’s it.

Tip #7. Start to lean in for the big moment but stop and say, “Wait, do you hear something?” Then run into the bushes and make scary animal sounds like you’re being attacked. Slice your own face open with a knife you should already have, then walk back out and say, “That bear won’t be bothering you ever again.” Girls need to feel like protected ballerinas.

Tip #8. By now she’s topless of her own volition unless you did something wrong. It’s time to ask her who she’s working for. Say, “I’m not a fool. You’re clearly just trying to get information out of me. No woman as beautiful as you would be interested in me unless you wanted to know what I know.” She’ll insist that she’s just into it and nothing more, but she’ll be happy because girls need to feel like protected ballerinas who are beautiful enough to be international spies.

Tip #9. Pull out your penis and waggle it. Explain, “It will get longer later. I promise.” If she agrees to believe your promise, shake hands. Note, don’t make this promise unless it’s the truth but it probably is.

Tip #10. Now is when you exchange hand-made presents. Dreamcatchers and lanyards are good first kiss gifts. No ashtrays. Even if she’s a smoker, you shouldn’t encourage that.

Tip #11. Tell your families that you’d both like to be excused from the dinner table. Your families will continue getting to know each other while the two of you go someplace private.

Tip #12. Follow the rose petals you should have already laid out as a path to your kiss tub. Get completely naked, climb into the tub together, and have intercourse.

Tip #13. Continue having intercourse for several months, maybe as many as a year, before you decide to move in together. Do so, but make sure you put the stuff that doesn’t fit in the apartment into storage in case things don’t work out.

Tip #14. Marry and have three children. It’s going to be a rough rocky road, and sometimes you’ll wonder if you two are even going to make it to your first kiss without splitting up, but you will.

Tip #15. Help each other through a difficult illness, the development of a differently abled child, and the death of both your parents. Be there for her when she needs you. Girls who are about to be kissed need to feel like beautiful, protected ballerinas who know that they can count on you through the tough times, so the sweet times will be that much sweeter.

Tip #16. Deal with an infidelity, yours or hers. It happens. Your love is stronger than that, the kiss you’re about to enjoy way too important.

Tip #17. Relish the time with your grandchildren. Marvel that you’ve raised such fine adults.

Tip #18. Receive a diagnosis that says you don’t have much longer together. It’s time to buy the pills.

Tip #19. Lie down, eat the pills, and pull the large plastic bag over your heads.

Tip #20. Lean in and slowly, gently, finally, give her the kiss she’s been waiting for, your first and only. Press your lips to hers and feel her mouth against yours as the pills slow your systems and the oxygen in the bag depletes and you calmly, quietly leave this world and carry each other into nothingness on the wings of your very first kiss.

Happy Tips On Kisses Day!

Home Invasions Count Day!

Today you’re going to experience a home invasion when two men knock on your door then burst in, tying you up, waving a gun in your face, and stealing all of your electronics and valuables before pistol whipping you and leaving. Though you’ve never seen them before and will never see them again, you’re going to count the whole ordeal as an evening of entertaining at home, something you haven’t done in the eleven years since your wife died (your wife cultivated most of the friendships in your marriage and people lost touch with you after she passed). You’re not going to call the police because you don’t want to remember this as a home invasion. You want to remember it as having had company over.

“See that Pam? I can still make friends without you,” you’ll shout at the sky. Then you’ll fall over on your side because you’re still tied to a chair. The paperboy will untie you two days from now.

Happy Home Invasions Count Day!

We Aren’t What You Ordered But We Are Who You Want Day!

You ordered a blonde prostitute but when the doorbell rings you’ll see three guys with dyed black hair in half shirts and Vans. “You aren’t what I ordered,” you’ll say. “But we’re who you want,” they’ll say. “Based on the questionnaire.” You did fill out a questionnaire and you answered the questions honestly. Invite the gentlemen in and don’t be surprised if you don’t find that the algorithm has landed you in the greatest solicited sexual arrangement you’ve ever enjoyed. Learn about yourself, Daryl (your name’s Daryl also).

Happy We Aren’t What You Ordered But We Are Who You Want Day!