My Love Of Booze Just Called Your Love For Your Children A Homo Day!

Just walk away. My love of booze has been drinking and is looking for a fight. Think of your children. My love of booze is holding a pool cue. Do you want your children to have to grow up without the love they receive from you just because your love for them couldn't be a man and walk away from a bar fight?

But then again, if your body dies, I would think your love for your children would live on after you. Your spouse has a good job. G'head and scrap.

But promise me this. If your love for your children has my love of booze with its head bent against the corner of the bar and a broken beer bottle pressed so hard into the flesh of my love of booze's throat that one little sneeze would shave my love of booze's head clean from the shoulders, do not, I repeat, do not be merciful. Off that fucker and get the hell outta there.

Happy My Love Of Booze Just Called Your Love For Your Children A Homo Day! I can't wait until Christmastime.

It's The Girls Are Pretty "Just A Little More Time. Oh Dear God For Just A Little More Time" Sunday And Monday!

If anything, it's getting worse not better. Scroll down for today's. You can read tomorrow's today if you want. I really don't care what happens to you.

Monday, October 21, 2002

A Little Pain In The Eyes Is The Best You Can Hope For Day!

Like someone threw a penny at your face, trying to land it in your open mouth (you were playing along), but nailed you in the right eye. Then tried again and got the left one. Then you opened a bottle of carbonated picante sauce and it sprayed all over the place. Including in your eyes. The resulting stinging, throbbing feeling is about as good as it's gonna get for you today. Someone walked out on you in the middle of the night and you don't even know it yet. Hold onto a pillow.

Sunday, October 20, 2002

Just A Little Further Day!

Feel like the indomitable strength of death itself is holding you back by your ankles but if you don't take another step some children will be tricked into drinking pee? That's because you're weak and very selfish. Just a little further and you'll be back in bed, moaning about how you never get rewarded for giving absolutely nothing back to the world. You're a terrible person.

It's The Girls Are Pretty "Two Days Go Up At Once Just In Case Shit Gets Fucked Up Tomorrow, You Understand" Friday And Saturday!

Today's Friday right? Jesus Christ, Tecate has no aftereffect whatsoever, beyond the whole "Can't remember where those scratches on my face and neck came from" thing. Anyway, as many of you know, Prettygirl leads a very dangerous lifestyle filled with psychosexual misadventures as well as heartwarming moments of "Fagging Out Big Time, Yo." This weekend is looking thick with jailtime, so you're getting both today and tomorrow today. As usual, scroll down to read today's today. If you read tomorrow's before tomorrow, you're going to die.

Saturday, October 19, 2002

At The Car Wash Day!

Go to that really big car wash with two lanes so that you can ride alongside another car during your wash. Make sure that all morning you've been feeling like things are about to come full circle. Like a chest you found in an attic is about to be opened to reveal a photograph of your mother in the arms of a strange man, the date on the back indicating the embrace to have taken place 11 months before you were born.

If you go in with this mindset, you're going to be disappointed. All that's going to happen during the car wash is you're going to look to your left and, through the suds and sheets of water, you'll be certain the person behind the wheel of the adjacent car is someone you used to date but never really dug or someone you kind of knew in high school you think. Your lane in the wash will stall for a few minutes, allowing that car to pull out and get dried and vacuumed and pull away just a second before you have the chance to verify whether the driver is who you think it is. You won't really care though.

Happy At The Car Wash Day!


Friday, October 18, 2002

Wear A Shirt You Never Ever Wear So That The Next Time You Wear It Everything That Went Down Today Will Come Flooding Back In A Gush Of Intoxicating Nostalgic Bliss, Unless You Just Got Raped Day!

To give you an idea of how it'll feel, put on that 14 year old Gap shirt that's kind of too small and rides up over your belly so you can only wear it amongst people who are close enough friends to understand how much you dig showing off your belly. I bet even before you look at yourself in the mirror, just by smelling the fabric you can't help but plop yourself right back into that Sunday night when you decided you wanted a drink so you made one phone call to one of your closer friends who happened to be on the other line with another friend you can tolerate and they were looking for something to do and so you all decided nothing sounded better than going to that one bar where the bartenders start buying back after two pints especially if it looks like everyone in your party is attractive. And then just by chance, a few cell phones were dialed and one or two folks happened to be in the area and one or two others were thinking of heading home but decided on a quick pop before making the trek and before you knew it about twelve people you'd take a bullet for were crowding into your booth and recounting stories of the first time a funeral made them cry and naturally you made out with someone you'd known for over nine years.

Now look at yourself in the mirror and I dare you to try not to undulate. Can't do it can you? You're already in the midst of a day you're going to look back on with wonder the next time you dig out that shirt and start dancing all alone in a bedroom. Today will be remembered so make sure today is a day you'd like to one day remember. I'm not saying go hold hands on a park bench or do whip-its or something. Just don't be cunty.

Note: If you just got raped, put on something that you'd wear any old time but make sure it's not a shirt that makes you look way hot since you're probably going to throw it out so you don't have anything to remember today by. Chances are you'll be wearing a paper gown all day anyway, depending on how up to date a rape kit your local hospital's got going on, so today probably won't apply to you at all anyway.

Happy Wear A Shirt You Never Ever Wear So That The Next Time You Wear It Everything That Went Down Today Will Come Flooding Back In An Gush Of Intoxicating Nostalgic Bliss, Unless You Just Got Raped Day!

Baby Lemme Smuggle Your Heart Out Of A Country That's About To Close Its Borders And Get Way Genocidal All Over Hearts That Look As Little Honey Pretty Face As That Heart Of Yours, Aw Yeah Day!

I know a guy who transports port-a-potties for a fairground near the border. The local constable thinks it's kind of funny to have him cross the border to empty out the port-a-potties, dumping the shit on the Godless infidels next door, so when there are port-a-potties that need emptying, he basically has the golden visa.

The next opportunity will be the night of the Fragenshpleisch Festival, when all and sundry will be as drunk as a European Border Guard on a night so close to the end of the world as we know it when they should be sober as judges because people of conscience are going to be trying to smuggle pouty frowny diddly legged hearts like yours in the splashing waste of port-a-potties over the border. There will be a moment when the truck appears to have been cleared and my friend will look in the rear view mirror and see the guard suddenly notice something about the truck and all of a sudden run to the truck shouting "Mop nop!" or some European word that mans "wait." And your slinky little bashful heartyhearty will be so frightened that it will gasp in a big heaping glob of European Festival Goer Piss-N-Shit, but it will turn out the guard just wanted to ask where my friend got the "Ass, Gas, Or Grass" bumper sticker.

So anyway, once over the border, I'm afraid all my friend can do is overturn the port-a-potty and let your heart seep out into the swamp of excrement polluting the beautiful soil of freedom of that neighboring nation. Then, I don't know, I guess someone should go get it. You know I love you baby.

Happy Baby Lemme Smuggle Your Heart Out Of A Country That's About To Close Its Borders And Get Way Genocidal All Over Hearts That Look As Little Honey Pretty Face As That Heart Of Yours, Aw Yeah Day!

Try To Program Yourself To Dream About Fucking Someone With Your Underwear Off Day!

There are books about programming yourself to dream about certain things. You should buy one because everyone's real skeeved by the way your sex dreams always play out. Whether we're in the dream, reminding you to show up for soccer practice tomorrow or you're off the team, or whether we just bump into you in the few hours after you've awoken from the dream and we can see on your face that you've yet to shower away the psychic residue of having dreamed about fucking somebody without bothering to remove your underwear. Yeah, panties, especially the really tired ones you're always wearing in your naughty dreams, can quite comfortably endure the crotch being slid just to the right. And your dream labia seems to have been equipped with a kind of hook and eye situation that keeps your panties from sliding out of place. And briefs and boxers come right out of the box with a gap in the front.

All this is very true and it doesn't make intercourse with your underwear still on any less unsettling. And what's with the bulky sweatshirts and unfastened brassieres? We're all so terrified of you right now because we've just never met anyone who so clearly could've starred in an all-blood relative Bukkake video you've been molested so many times. And as long as you're going to try this dream programming thing, ixnay on the Subway sandwiches and the belly punches, dig? Sex is supposed to be about trust and fluids.

Happy Try To Program Yourself To Dream About Fucking Someone With Your Underwear Off Day!

Maybe You Should Call And Get His/Her Roommate To Knock On His/Her Door Day!

You've gotten used to those calls. But you're also getting kind of sick to death of them aren't you. A whole lot of "You never liked him or her did you I could tell and you thought it was time for us to split up and I did too and that's why tomorrow I'm going to stop drinking/smoking/believing in Jesus Christ and I'm finally going to start using those paints I bought last year and I really appreciate you listening to me because sometimes I think if I didn't have you to talk to I'd end up opening my throat with this straight razor I bought on the way home from work today blahblahfuckingblah!!! How much are you supposed to put up with?

But last night it was a little different. Less hysterics, more "Just callin'...I don't know...to see what's up." Like someone who'd run out of ideas and was hoping you might be able to come up with something. And when he/she said goodbye and you said "Talk to you tomorrow," all you heard was a click. Then you unpaused your Playstation 2 and first-person-shootered the whole conversation out of your mind. Until now.

What I'm saying, and I'm sure it'll only subject you to another tirade of "When will the feelings of rejection and worthlessness go away and why do I always get thrown into the garbage for someone of a different gender than me and I've tried dating both men and women to avoid this happening again but it's always the same blahblahfuckingblah!!!", but what I'm saying is maybe you should call and get his/her roommate to knock on his/her door. And I know his/her roommate's a cock and you hate having to talk to him because he only wants to talk about the Sopranos, but maybe you should call and get his/her roommate to knock on his/her door. Because today's Maybe You Should Call And Get His/Her Roommate To Knock On His/Her Door Day! Also, your friend might have committed suicide and if so it's your fault.

Lay Down And Pee Day!

Kids getting on your case because you still haven't come through on the promise of two new puppies that you made when you kidnapped them from their mother three weeks ago because you knew she'd win custody of them in court once she brought up your two years of unemployment and your huffing addiction? And every night you can hear them whispering in the living room, no doubt conspiring to split on their own, but not before you come home from handing out coupons at the strip mall parking lot so they can steal whatever cash you manage to bring home that day as if you'd ever bring home any cash.

Fuck it. Just find yourself a nice, highly visible brick wall, lay down right up against it on your belly, and go 'head and pee. Let it all bubble up in the pockets of your pants before seeping out onto the sidewalk and forming a stream off into the street. It'll feel nice and warm and soothing at first. Then it'll get cold and people will stare. Many people will laugh quietly with each other because you will look funny. A do-gooder will call an ambulance because she will worry that you're dead but will find you too dirty to shake awake herself. Then the police will come and this whole thing will soon be over. This will soon be over.

Happy Lay Down And Pee Day!

Five Ways That Pout Of Yours Is Worth More Than Money Day!

5. It's illegal for the judge to wipe the slate clean of those 673 dollars in parking tickets in exchange for money in his pocket. But he'll do it if you scrunch up your chin and give him those "I'm cold and I'm hungry" eyes.

4. When you tell your Dad you crashed his car into a pole at the Jack in the Box drivethru and you say, "But don't get all heated up. I'll pay you back for the repairs over time. Are we out of Scotch?" he's still gonna beat you with some plyers. But if you just say sorry Daddy and scrunch up your chin and give him those "Sometimes I worry that there's bad people in the world will you protect me from them and give me maybe some Scotch?" eyes, he'll just ask if you're okay and if you were drinking. Lie.

3. When you beg your husband of twenty three years to stop it with the Zippo lighters during sex and you offer him cash in it's stead, he might think you're trying to belittle him for his wacky little quirk and retreat to a shell of self-pity or to a whorehouse for the next few years of your marriage. But not if you scrunch up your chin and give him those "I used to like to wear halter tops but I can't anymore because of all the scar tissue" eyes.

2. Two words: "ANOTHER COOKIE."

1. If you tell someone you're in love with him or her, they'll say "You couldn't pay me enough to love you back." Offer fifty dollars and they'll say sixty. But if you scrunch up your chin and give him or her those "I'll kill myself if you don't do what I want" eyes, he or she will say, "All right. Fifty five you beautiful little fool!"

Um, see?

Hysterical Blindness Is Still Hysterical Day!

Yeah, for you it's terrifying, to all of a sudden lose your vision while crossing streets or when you're in the middle of a big money hand of online blackjack. But the rest of us know your vision will come back as soon as you stop wishing you weren't gay anymore. If you don't wanna be gay anymore, you're gonna have to put in a little effort. Try drinking alcohol or paying someone to hold your head under a bathtub full of water until you're not gay anymore. Or at least marry someone of the opposite sex and have lots of children so you'll be financially obligated to live the life of a heterosexual until it starts to take. Your visual world will stop going blank as soon as you love yourself for who you're trying to be, not who you wish you could be but just can't seem to find the time to put in the necessary man-hours (pun way fucking intended) to make it happen.

Happy Hysterical Blindness Is Still Hysterical Day!

(editor's note: dear lord this is getting tiresome.)

Prescription Ointment Day!

Everything about the term "Prescription Ointment" is cause for celebration. Even "Ointment" just on it's own makes people wanna go to a backyard party on a nice fall jacket evening. In honor of Prescription Ointment Day ya'll should hold off on that trial separation for the sake of your kids. Also, if for the past few months you've seen a hungry cat wandering around the neighborhood and it looks just like a cat in one of those Missing Cat posters and it even answers to the name on the poster ("Heeere Missing Cat!") then go ahead and call the number on the poster and tell that cat owner to stop wringing those hands, Mittens lives still! Do it for Prescription Ointment Day!

And don't forget to apply your prescription ointment to your hideously disfigured skin. Did you commit a crime against Jesus to earn such a beastly mark?

Empty The Biggest Room In Your House Of All Furniture And Decoration, Then You And Your Mate Strip Naked And Sit With Your Backs Up Against Opposing Walls And Scowl At Each Other Day!

Sorry, this one's only for couples who've lived together for three years or longer. Not that those who've lived together for less than three years blow. It's just that for today you do not matter and neither does your intimacy. Wait outside. There's a truck that sells tacos outside.

Now then. For those who've stayed, I hope you've found the room you wish to use and I hope it has white walls and wood floors and two windows in one of the longer walls that pour in the soft gray light of the late afternoon autumn dim. Remove all furniture and window dressing, pictures and paintings and extension cords. Make it look the way it looked when you first saw the place and decided to call it home. Then strip.

Don't sweep the floor. When you sit, you want to feel the dirt and debris that gathers against baseboards attach itself to the skin of your ass and thighs. Even though you've never done this before, I'm sure you both chose the wall you want to sit against without any discussion.

Now just sprawl your legs out in front of you and curve your back up in a slouch so that there's enough room between you and the wall for a cat to squiggle behind each of you. The thing about this posture is no matter how much you exercise, your bellies are still going to fold in on themselves and you will look fat.

Let all muscles go loose, not with peace of mind, but with exhaustion. Like atrophy can be effortful. Now look at each other. You know that body. You know those creases of skin and those breasts and those toes and legs and testicles. You've pressed your lips against every inch. You've felt each other's goosebumps in your daydreams. That body is yours because you say so.

Now let a scowl bloom from your lips. For whatever reason, just put it there and let it settle there. Look at that face way over there across the room. There's a scowl on that face that belongs to you. It's not a bad thing. You're simply glaring at each other because sometimes faces fall ugly.

Hold it there. Just there. Keep it just there. After about fourteen hours, put on your clothes and go find food.

Happy Empty The Biggest Room In Your House Of All Furniture And Decoration, Then You And Your Mate Strip Naked And Sit With Your Backs Up Against Opposing Walls And Scowl At Each Other Day!

One More Drink And You Might Finally Deaden That Lobe Of Your Brain That Doesn't Forget A Pretty Face Day!

Gimme the keys, you're in no shape to drive. Yeah, I seen you drink and drive and you do it like a pro, without barely squinting an eyelid shut. It's not that. You just can't see street signs no more cause you can't get that goddamn face offa your mind.

I say grab that lady bartender and get her to pour you one more glass of Jameson. Your left cheek is kind of hanging off your face so I think a good majority of your brain tissue's been pretty damn well soaked hangdog with devilishly sedative drinkydrink. But you're still smiling like a 19 year old retard who just learned how to masturbate so you clearly have yet to train your sites on that lobe of your brain that lets you remember a pretty face. I think this next one might be the one.

Also, the bartender's looking like she's in the mood for a buyback. Don't fuck this up!

If you down that glass and you still feel like everything's fancy with a kickass soundtrack just because somewhere in a room someplace those eyes are sitting just above that nose poking out overtop that goddamn mouth, order one more. I bet that's the one.

Happy One More Drink And You Might Finally Deaden That Lobe Of Your Brain That Doesn't Forget A Pretty Face Day!

Take A Bath, But Make A Big Production Out Of It Day!

You called in sick. Good. But I hope you made it sound like you might have a bitch of a stomach flu coming on because the kind of bath we're talking about might keep going till Thursday if no one gets too shitty.

That's probably the most important thing, that you invite the right kind of people over. For example, one of your friends just fell in love and another one of your friends just had a death in the family. Don't invite either of these assholes because they won't get high. If they got high, they might bliss out for a little while and that would prevent them from talking on and on and motherfucking on about Little Miss/Mr. Wonderful or Dear Departed Teenage Sister, respectively. You can see it on their faces every time they walk into a room. They both have a two part agenda.

Part One: Find the whiskey.

Part Two-a: (For the one in love) Find that couple everyone looks up to as the pinnacle of a couple that's gonna make it work and go initiate a conversation about intimacy or meeting cute or whether they felt like shit changed after they moved in together, and then within two minutes of not listening to a word out of the couple's mouth launch into an endless and saccharine mooning little schoolgirl monologue about how it seemed like that special someone might never be found and then lo and behold "I'm a roly-poly pussy baby."

Part Two-b: (For the one who's just experienced a loss) Find that poor bastard who's just now managing to get over the death of someone close that happened over a year ago and claw open those just barely scabbed wounds with a tirade of unbelievably maudlin pleas for some kind of empathy and this laundry list of every emotion that everyone in the world has experienced after the untimely death of a loved one but hey, let's go through them all again because apparently you're some sort of special case aren't you? Some people of the opposite sex think suffering in silence is attractive and dignity is digable. Maybe you should try that coat on for size. We're here to watch someone take a bath you know.

So invite your friends carefully. You've stuck to your diet for over a month now and you've rounded your belly to that just right boyancy where it'll bobble adorably with every shift of the water's surface whenever you lift your arm in and out of the tub to take a hit off the pipe a friend you love is handing to you. Don't waste the effort on people who only wanna talk about their love-turned stomachs and feelings of ultimate futility and helplessness in the face of blank endings.

Before we go on, no candles. And no music either. You're not trying to pretend sex matters and you're not trying to prove to everyone in the room that you're dull as television. Turn off the Enya, Calista. You should choose your lighting carefully, however. Like, if there's two or three light sockets in your fixture, pull a bulb out or add one if you think the bathroom's been too bright lately or too dim. And tell people they're more than welcome to go out to the bedroom and play CDs if they want. The bathroom can only hold like four people (including you) comfortably anyway so the other seven people will have to hang out in the bedroom anyway sometimes.

Food. Go with Mexican. A buffet thing where everyone can build their own tacos.

Nothing will alter the mood of the bath more than the presentation of your genitals. If you normally shave or trim your pubis, you should have been letting it grow out this past month in anticipation of the big day. You want people to just hang out and get high and shoot the shit while you're naked in a tub of warm water right in front of their eyes. And shaved genitals can be distracting to some, disorienting to others. Even if everyone in the room also shaves their genitals, they will still be surprised to learn that you do the same and this will be at the front of their minds. They'll wonder if you decided to shave at the behest of a partner and whether you're worried about how this reflects on your partner's psyche. They'll wonder if you do it just because it's more comfortable. And they might even wonder whether you shaved solely because you knew you'd have an audience today and this might really freak them out. And then there's the people who've always sort of looked down on people who shave their genitals. These people get kind of angry when they encounter a shaven partner because they feel like an assumption as to role-play was made and they think it's inconsiderate to pidgeon-hole the sex act into a Daddy-and-Baby kind of deal. Also, a lot of people think shaving genitals lacks imagination. This is a matter of opinion of course. However, it is a matter of uncontested fact that shaven genitals reflects a severely lacking sense of humor.

If you have a really really big bush though, trim it to a length that isn't hideous. You don't want that shit floating out into the tub like some kind of biblical scourge of water moccasins. Just remember the last time you had sex with someone who was attractive. Go for that length.

Also, if you're pierced, take it out. For the same reason as the shaving. It reflects a flawed personality.

And if you have a blonde pubis, the kind where you can't even see the pubic hair, call the whole thing off. No one should have to look at that kind of hocus pocus.

You're almost ready. But don't forget the most important thing. Everyone's going to be in your bathroom, and they're gonna have hours and maybe even days to focus in on every little spot on the tile. Ajax that shit, Pigpen. We're not in college anymore. Everyone's 43.

Laundry Day

Pure filth. Everytime you open up your eyes onto these streets, you see nothing but disgusting, wretched filth from two feet in front of you to the horizon. It's grotesque. People just walking around without a clue as to how decrepit and rotten and sickening they really are. And they're spreading their sickness with every handshake, every hug, and every kiss.

Sure, you're probably depressed. But luckily, you're also armed. Go out and do some laundry. Because today's Laundry Day!

Sunday, October 06, 2002

OH FUCK!!! DAY!

Shit! It had to happen sometime. What with this horrifying habit of drinking myself into other people's pants. But sadly, Prettygirl has missed a day for the first time since March twentysomething, 2000andsomething. Know this, the mishap was not for naught. Babies were seated atop barstools, hearts were broken, knives were unsheathed in effort to win a love, and a pool table was dominated for over two and a half hours. Anyway, Sunday October 6th was OH FUCK!!! DAY! The day when shit was supposed to be completely neglected until exactly when it was too late to go back and make amends. Here's hoping you fucked up and I mean fucked up way!

Hope you can't even remember OH FUCK!!! DAY!

(monday's day will be posted, um, later. fuck you all. i hate you. really. i hope you all find out your dad's been fucking your mom all along.)

If You're In Love With Someone On Death Row, Sucks To Be You Day!

And I thought I've made some bad decisions! Bartender, his/her next one's on me!

Seriously, though, do you ever wonder if maybe you just want to build a melodrama around yourself? I'm not doubting your love. But you have to ask yourself why you're drawn to a rapist/murderer of retarded elderly people who got caught. Isn't it possible that you just never really found your own calling? Your own passion? Your own high school diploma? And so you put off that search for the shores of Lake You by taking on the much more clearly defined task of spearheading your lover's legal defense fund and Nationwide Anti-Capital Punishment Campus Advocacy Group (NACPCAG y'all!). By the way, does that de la Fuckya dude from Rage Against The Machine smell as bad as he looks like he would? What's King Ad Rock really like?

Have you considered getting a real estate license or learning to manufacture meth? What about modeling? Just kidding.

But seriously, we've all fallen in love with that one from the wrong side of the tracks. But most of us realize the bloom might be off the rose well before our snoogums gets caught stuffing a tennis ball into the mouth of a stripped naked retarded 80 year old to stifle the moans. Just sayin', grow up.

Happy If You're In Love With Someone On Death Row, Sucks To Be You Day!

Phew! Thank God Blue Crush Hasn't Left The Theaters Yet Day!

You made it to another Friday having put off seeing Blue Crush and thankfully there haven't been enough movies released to push it out of your local cineplex. But how long are you gonna wait? Every Thursday at around 7:30 you freak out with a "Oh shit, I still haven't seen it!" Then you run and check moviefone.com to see if it's gonna leave the theater and then when you're assured it'll be there another week you just get drunk or visit your sister in the hospital again. They're called priorities Andy Capp! You want to have kids one day don't you? Well just go see Blue Crush before you regret it for the rest of your life and your kids spend their teenage years wondering why you always go looking for your keys when they're right there in your hand.

Happy Phew! Thank God Blue Crush Hasn't Left The Theaters Yet Day!

Go Find Yourself A Pickup Game Of King Of The Hill Day!

What were you gonna do? Go down to the gym on your lunchbreak and do thirty minutes on the elliptical machine in the hopes that the sweat in your eyes will blur out the visions of "Messy Suicide" that have been keeping you going all morning? Nothing better for someone who feels like a cog in his or her own life than to get on a machine that sends your legs dancing like a bitch but don't go nowhere. Your ideas are always wrong. It's getting really dull for the four adults and one child employed to watch your every move by the architects of an all-encompassing conspiracy that reaches the highest levels of world power (something about a bauble that glows in the dark and is missing. missiles have been redirected).

If there's one thing Girls Are Pretty is good for it's being right about shit. And Girls Are Pretty has never been righter about anything than it is about the fact that you should go walk through the park until four guys and girls in business casual sitting on a small hill shout out "We need a fifth. You down yo?" You'll suddenly realize you want nothing more in this bitchfuck of an existence than to send a total stranger to the valley of a hill with a slap of your Bostonian shoesole to the neckbone. You thought you played hardcore when you were kids? Now it's a goddamn metaphor for every decision you've made since you were thirty one. Middle-management hoes'll bite straight through ankle cartiledge to send you from all fours to a screaming bellyslide.

It's gonna be a good time I said it's gonna be a good time.

First thing you should do is make sure everyone's on the same page as regards weaponry. "Strapped or clean?" you should ask. If it's strapped, anyone could be packing anything from a swiss army knife to a Tek-9 and it's all fair game. In a strapped bout of King of the Hill, you should sacrifice the first lunge up the hill and instead hop atop your opponents' backs, letting them slide out from underneath you. As that body wriggles out away you should be able to tell where they're packing what. It's about knowing your opponent.

In fact, don't try to take the hill till the fourth king has fallen. This way, pulling the cocksuckers down, you can get an idea of how they defend their crown. Do they use fingernails or teeth? What's their center of gravity? Do they have any shards of broken glass tucked into their socks waiting to open up the palm of your hand. That shit's big with motherfuckers from publishing.

Once you know who you're up against, ball's in your court. Strategy only goes so far. Eventually your just gonna have to bite someone in the twat and drag her down the hill with your goddamn teeth. Can't plan that out. Can't plan on when the shit that makes your blood flow is gonna show its face. But trust me, it's a face a grandma could fall in love with.

The game usually lasts 45 minutes, since everyone needs about seven or eight minutes each way to and from the hill to get back to work before lunch is over.

Happy Go Find Yourself A Pickup Game Of King Of The Hill Day! Fight Club is for faggots who are too scared to fuck.

Makeshift Affection Day!

Been a while since you gave a damn about anyone or anything at all in this miserable hellhole of a town? Well then, make it up. Just pick at random an adorable puppy in a window or a dad and say shit like, "I wuv you so much wittle baby puppy because, um, you're so um, small and therefore lovable. Or, I mean, wuvable." Or "I wuv you so much Dad because you...well, that whole paying for college thing. That was way cool and wy wuv woo for it."

See how it fits. Poets will tell you different, but that's why they're all raging alcoholics without a penny to their names and some of them write about race relations (eww!). But love isn't about looking into a pair of eyes and throwing up all over everything you're so happy. Love is about pretending you would care if someone else was being beaten up in the snow, but pretending so hard that you start to actually believe it. And before you know it, you forget you were pretending and you've pretty much tricked yourself into wanting the object of your makeshift affection to never ever ever die ever. Then you ask them to lay down in your bed and you start hoping one of you will become rich enough so that pretend special someone will never have to leave your bed to go to work.

Some people believe there's someone out there for everybody to pretend to give a damn about. It might take a lifetime before you find them, but the cool thing is, if that puppy or that Dad doesn't quite fit the bill, it's legal to euthanize puppies and if your Dad was incontinent, the police will usually look the other way if you smother him with a pillow.

Happy Makeshift Affection Day!

Keep Your Mom To Yourself Day!

I have a mom. Take yours home. I appreciate the thought but she's eating everything. Also, I never told you this, but I get freaked out by scars.

No, I won't show you on your mom where the bad man touched me.

I'm glad she brought other dresses but the one she's wearing is just fine. There's no need for her to change.

She's trying to get me to have a staring contest with her again. Make her stop.

Can you just take her back to the bar? My mom's gonna be home any minute and I don't wanna see them start sniffing each other's asses.

Happy Keep Your Mom To Yourself Day!