You’ve been having trouble with your Mom lately, so you decided to write to your favorite nationally syndicated column, “Dear Mountaineer.” Your letter was published today! Check it out…
Dear Mountaineer,
My Mom says I’m too old to live in her house anymore. I’m forty-four. My Dad’s dead so it’s not like she doesn’t need a man around. Why is she being such an asshole?
-Mama’s Boy
Dear Mama’s Boy,
Your Mom is experiencing what we mountaineers call “Altitude Sickness.” Hope this helped.
-The Mountaineer.
The great thing about the Mountaineer is, you can tell by his prose that he really does hope he helped. If he didn’t, it’s a shame because the mountaineer has a strict policy of cutting people off after a single correspondence. You can’t be weighed down with a lot of letters when you’ve got the summit in sight.
Happy Dear Mountaineer Day!
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Monday, June 04, 2007
Blood In The Barbecue Sauce Day!
At the State Fair last night, you lost the Boldest Baddest Best BBQ Sauce Contest to Louie Watkins. Today you’re going to take his life.
“I knew you’d come,” he’ll say from behind his grill.
“It’s not fair,” you’ll say. “Your sauce tastes like assholes.”
Louie will turn off a pork shank. It will sizzle.
“The people have spoken,” he’ll say.
“I have a rebuttal,” you’ll say to Louie. Then you’ll shoot him twice in the chest. A cloud of red will form on his apron, blotting out the “If You Don’t Like My Ribs, SUCK THE BONE!” decal. Louie’s young daughter will go to her daddy and hold his hand while he dies. She’ll look up at you.
“I have to raise you now,” you’ll say.
“I don’t want you to raise me,” Louie’s daughter will say.
“It’s the way things are done,” you’ll say. “It’s in the sauce.”
You’ll snatch Louie’s daughter and the two of you will take off for Kansas City where you’ll build a BBQ empire with a brand new sauce recipe. Your sauce will put Louie’s daughter through Harvard. It will buy her and her husband a house. It will fill the space under her Christmas tree with presents for her grandkids. After many years she’ll visit your sauce factory and find several small glass tanks of blood labeled, “Louie’s Blood. Add One Small Drop per Fifty Vats.”
Suddenly she’ll realize her entire life of luxury has been built from her father’s murder. She’ll want to throw everything away in honor of her father, but can she? And did she know all along? Couldn’t she have guessed when you chose the slogan, “Sauce So Good You’ll Think I Murdered My Daughter’s Biological Pappi!” Yes, she probably could have guessed. That slogan is very obvious and she probably could have guessed.
Happy Blood In The Barbecue Sauce Day!
“I knew you’d come,” he’ll say from behind his grill.
“It’s not fair,” you’ll say. “Your sauce tastes like assholes.”
Louie will turn off a pork shank. It will sizzle.
“The people have spoken,” he’ll say.
“I have a rebuttal,” you’ll say to Louie. Then you’ll shoot him twice in the chest. A cloud of red will form on his apron, blotting out the “If You Don’t Like My Ribs, SUCK THE BONE!” decal. Louie’s young daughter will go to her daddy and hold his hand while he dies. She’ll look up at you.
“I have to raise you now,” you’ll say.
“I don’t want you to raise me,” Louie’s daughter will say.
“It’s the way things are done,” you’ll say. “It’s in the sauce.”
You’ll snatch Louie’s daughter and the two of you will take off for Kansas City where you’ll build a BBQ empire with a brand new sauce recipe. Your sauce will put Louie’s daughter through Harvard. It will buy her and her husband a house. It will fill the space under her Christmas tree with presents for her grandkids. After many years she’ll visit your sauce factory and find several small glass tanks of blood labeled, “Louie’s Blood. Add One Small Drop per Fifty Vats.”
Suddenly she’ll realize her entire life of luxury has been built from her father’s murder. She’ll want to throw everything away in honor of her father, but can she? And did she know all along? Couldn’t she have guessed when you chose the slogan, “Sauce So Good You’ll Think I Murdered My Daughter’s Biological Pappi!” Yes, she probably could have guessed. That slogan is very obvious and she probably could have guessed.
Happy Blood In The Barbecue Sauce Day!
Friday, June 01, 2007
Guess Who’s Back Day!
Your Mom’s back and she’s sitting on your couch. She ran off on you and your Dad when you were seven. You’re seventeen now, and you’re not doing so well.
“Your Dad still suck?” she asks.
“He’s making do,” you say. “He wasted a lot of time wondering where you’d gone and what he could have done to make you stay.”
“He used to tell the worst jokes and he snored,” your mom says.
You don’t say anything.
"His breath stunk too. I’m just saying. I had my reasons.”
You don’t say anything.
“If you’re just gonna sit there and not say anything, maybe I shouldn’t have come back at all.”
You ask your Mom, “Why did you come back?”
“I wanted to see how tall you got,” she says.
You stand up against the door-frame where they used to mark your height. The last mark is only three feet from the ground. Your mom marks the wood at over six feet.
“Those are my genes you know,” she says. “Your Dad and his whole family are real short. Fat too.”
“Is it your genes that are making me fail out of school and break into houses so that I can buy drugs?” you ask. “Or am I just doing that because my Mom ran off when I was seven?”
“Sorry kid,” you Mom will say. “But I’m betting it’s because you’ve been living with your Dad all these years. I mean, man does he suck.”
Just then your Dad walks into the house. He farts while chewing with his mouth open then he says something racist and makes a phone call to his real estate company to tell them to make a business deal that leaves thousands of low income families without a place to live. He’s bleeding from someplace on his body and he’s tracking blood on the carpet.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he says when he sees your Mom.
Your Mom takes off. After she’s gone, your Dad tries to clean up the blood with a rag that he wet with grape juice. It upsets you, but admitting that he’s doing something sucky would be siding with the mother who ran off on you all those years ago. So you get down on your hands and knees and help him rub grape juice into the carpet. While you’re down there, your Dad gets angry and hits you.
Happy Guess Who’s Back Day!
“Your Dad still suck?” she asks.
“He’s making do,” you say. “He wasted a lot of time wondering where you’d gone and what he could have done to make you stay.”
“He used to tell the worst jokes and he snored,” your mom says.
You don’t say anything.
"His breath stunk too. I’m just saying. I had my reasons.”
You don’t say anything.
“If you’re just gonna sit there and not say anything, maybe I shouldn’t have come back at all.”
You ask your Mom, “Why did you come back?”
“I wanted to see how tall you got,” she says.
You stand up against the door-frame where they used to mark your height. The last mark is only three feet from the ground. Your mom marks the wood at over six feet.
“Those are my genes you know,” she says. “Your Dad and his whole family are real short. Fat too.”
“Is it your genes that are making me fail out of school and break into houses so that I can buy drugs?” you ask. “Or am I just doing that because my Mom ran off when I was seven?”
“Sorry kid,” you Mom will say. “But I’m betting it’s because you’ve been living with your Dad all these years. I mean, man does he suck.”
Just then your Dad walks into the house. He farts while chewing with his mouth open then he says something racist and makes a phone call to his real estate company to tell them to make a business deal that leaves thousands of low income families without a place to live. He’s bleeding from someplace on his body and he’s tracking blood on the carpet.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he says when he sees your Mom.
Your Mom takes off. After she’s gone, your Dad tries to clean up the blood with a rag that he wet with grape juice. It upsets you, but admitting that he’s doing something sucky would be siding with the mother who ran off on you all those years ago. So you get down on your hands and knees and help him rub grape juice into the carpet. While you’re down there, your Dad gets angry and hits you.
Happy Guess Who’s Back Day!
Friday, April 20, 2007
Satellites Falling All Over The Beach Day!
Today all of the satellites are going to fall out of the sky and land on the beach. You’ll run to and fro trying to dodge the giant metal beasts, but there will be just so many.
“Over here!” someone will shout. You’ll discover a man hiding in the doorway to the men’s room structure near the entrance to the beach. You normally don’t go near the men’s room because ever since you were a kid it was well known that the men’s room at the beach was where gay guys had sex with each other and you wanted nothing to do with that.
“This is pretty weird right?” you’ll ask the guy who called you over. “Think this means we’ve finally screwed up our atmosphere beyond repair? Think this is the end?”
“That stall’s free,” he’ll reply, nodding towards a stall where two men are walking out towards the sinks, aglow.
“Sorry, I just came here for safety,” you’ll say. “You guys don’t ever quit do you? I mean, the world looks like it’s coming to an end right now.”
He’ll shrug. “Hey, when you finally decide to go to a public restroom and have sex with a stranger while hovering over a dirty toilet seat, it’s hard to shift your focus to current events. You sure you’re not up for it? I mean, like you just said, it’s the end of the world.”
He’s got a point.
“If not now…”
“When?” you’ll say. Then you’ll take his hand.
Happy Satellites Falling All Over The Beach Day!
“Over here!” someone will shout. You’ll discover a man hiding in the doorway to the men’s room structure near the entrance to the beach. You normally don’t go near the men’s room because ever since you were a kid it was well known that the men’s room at the beach was where gay guys had sex with each other and you wanted nothing to do with that.
“This is pretty weird right?” you’ll ask the guy who called you over. “Think this means we’ve finally screwed up our atmosphere beyond repair? Think this is the end?”
“That stall’s free,” he’ll reply, nodding towards a stall where two men are walking out towards the sinks, aglow.
“Sorry, I just came here for safety,” you’ll say. “You guys don’t ever quit do you? I mean, the world looks like it’s coming to an end right now.”
He’ll shrug. “Hey, when you finally decide to go to a public restroom and have sex with a stranger while hovering over a dirty toilet seat, it’s hard to shift your focus to current events. You sure you’re not up for it? I mean, like you just said, it’s the end of the world.”
He’s got a point.
“If not now…”
“When?” you’ll say. Then you’ll take his hand.
Happy Satellites Falling All Over The Beach Day!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The Cute New Gas Station Attendant Day!
Today after the cute new gas station attendant fills up your car with gas, he’ll come around to your window and ask, “Why are you crying, lady?”
Tell him, “Because I came here to seduce you. But then I heard you just now on your cell phone talking about how you saw the movie TMNT. My high school age son saw that too. I’m ashamed of myself. I never thought that at this point in my life I would find myself in special undergarments at the gas station with the intent of making love to a gas station attendant who is the same age as my son.”
The gas station attendant will say, “TMNT was awesome. If you saw it, it might make you cry a little less.”
Tell him, “It’s not that I need to see an exciting children’s movie. It’s that I’ve hit such a bottom that even though I’m here and I’m admitting how terrible I feel about all this, I still hope that I’ll get to make love to you in the back of my car today.”
Later, after having brief terrible sex with the gas station attendant in your car, you’ll return him to the gas station and he’ll say, “I can fill you back up with the gas you burned driving to the park and back. On the house?”
You’ll nod and the gas station attendant will go to the tank and squeeze once on the nozzle, sending one sixteenth of a gallon into your car. It’s a nice gesture. He’s a nice boy. Tonight you’ll want to ask your son whether he makes a point of doing nice things for the desperate older ladies who pull up beside him on his way home from school and seduce him, but you’ll keep your trap shut.
Happy The Cute New Gas Station Attendant Day!
Tell him, “Because I came here to seduce you. But then I heard you just now on your cell phone talking about how you saw the movie TMNT. My high school age son saw that too. I’m ashamed of myself. I never thought that at this point in my life I would find myself in special undergarments at the gas station with the intent of making love to a gas station attendant who is the same age as my son.”
The gas station attendant will say, “TMNT was awesome. If you saw it, it might make you cry a little less.”
Tell him, “It’s not that I need to see an exciting children’s movie. It’s that I’ve hit such a bottom that even though I’m here and I’m admitting how terrible I feel about all this, I still hope that I’ll get to make love to you in the back of my car today.”
Later, after having brief terrible sex with the gas station attendant in your car, you’ll return him to the gas station and he’ll say, “I can fill you back up with the gas you burned driving to the park and back. On the house?”
You’ll nod and the gas station attendant will go to the tank and squeeze once on the nozzle, sending one sixteenth of a gallon into your car. It’s a nice gesture. He’s a nice boy. Tonight you’ll want to ask your son whether he makes a point of doing nice things for the desperate older ladies who pull up beside him on his way home from school and seduce him, but you’ll keep your trap shut.
Happy The Cute New Gas Station Attendant Day!
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
They’re All Either Married Gay or Crazy Day!
Today you’re going to meet four men and they’re all either married, gay, or crazy. The first man is Carl the 92-year old. Have you guessed what Carl is yet? That’s right, he’s both gay and crazy. He’s been slowly losing his mind for a decade now. Thinks he’s in the war. The next man is Louis, the osteopath. You guessed right. Louis is married. The next man is Kevin, the Wendy’s manager. You guessed wrong, Kevin is married, not crazy. The last man is Julian, the racecar driver. You guessed wrong, Julian is both gay and married, just like you.
You guessed two right, so you can keep two of your fingers on each hand. The thumb and the index finger are recommended. With those two, you can still be “OK.”
Happy They’re All Either Married Gay or Crazy Day!
You guessed two right, so you can keep two of your fingers on each hand. The thumb and the index finger are recommended. With those two, you can still be “OK.”
Happy They’re All Either Married Gay or Crazy Day!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Laptop Switchup Day!
Coming through security at the airport, you accidentally picked up the wrong laptop. It looked like yours, but once you got on the plane and opened it, the wallpaper was of a little girl, somebody’s daughter probably, and not a secretly captured “upskirt shot” of a strange woman in a park. You cursed your luck and hoped that you would be able to get your own laptop returned to you. Then you started poking around the directories until you found a document called “My Top Secret Recipe For Mustard.”
When you got home you mixed up a batch according to the recipe and darn if it wasn’t the best damn mustard you ever had. So you patented it, got funding and today your brand new revolutionary brand of delicious golden mustard hits grocery store shelves.
You never did get your laptop back. The mustard chef never bothered to come looking for you, not even when news got out about the new mustard on the market. Apparently, he so enjoyed the thousands of secretly captured “upskirt shots” of strange women in parks that you had on your computer (it’s your hobby) that he was willing to give up the recipe in order to hang onto them. Everybody wins.
Happy Laptop Switchup Day!
When you got home you mixed up a batch according to the recipe and darn if it wasn’t the best damn mustard you ever had. So you patented it, got funding and today your brand new revolutionary brand of delicious golden mustard hits grocery store shelves.
You never did get your laptop back. The mustard chef never bothered to come looking for you, not even when news got out about the new mustard on the market. Apparently, he so enjoyed the thousands of secretly captured “upskirt shots” of strange women in parks that you had on your computer (it’s your hobby) that he was willing to give up the recipe in order to hang onto them. Everybody wins.
Happy Laptop Switchup Day!
Monday, April 16, 2007
A Visit To The Optometrist Day!
Over the weekend you got mixed up in a pretty bad misunderstanding and you ended up putting your own eyes out.
“Lemme guess,” your optometrist will say.
“Please don’t,” you’ll say. “Is there anything you can do?”
“Since you were smart enough to heat up the knives beforehand, the wound is already pretty solid so I don’t have to sew anything up. That was good thinking.”
You’ll feel good about yourself. You’ve always been known for planning ahead. It’s what your Dad used to praise you for before you murdered him Saturday.
“I can give you some color contacts so you won’t look so gross.”
“Can you make my eyes blue? My Dad had blue eyes so…”
“So you figure your mom is into blue-eyed men?”
You’ll feel bad about yourself.
“Hey,” your optometrist will say. “I’m an optometrist. We don’t ask questions. And we don’t judge!”
He’ll plug some blue contacts over your dead eyes. They’ll look sort of like a burnt charcoal gray because of the deep black of the wounds on your eyeballs.
“You look handsome,” your optometrist will say. “Go get her.”
You’ll pay your co-pay and feel your way out the door.
Happy A Visit To The Optometrist Day!
“Lemme guess,” your optometrist will say.
“Please don’t,” you’ll say. “Is there anything you can do?”
“Since you were smart enough to heat up the knives beforehand, the wound is already pretty solid so I don’t have to sew anything up. That was good thinking.”
You’ll feel good about yourself. You’ve always been known for planning ahead. It’s what your Dad used to praise you for before you murdered him Saturday.
“I can give you some color contacts so you won’t look so gross.”
“Can you make my eyes blue? My Dad had blue eyes so…”
“So you figure your mom is into blue-eyed men?”
You’ll feel bad about yourself.
“Hey,” your optometrist will say. “I’m an optometrist. We don’t ask questions. And we don’t judge!”
He’ll plug some blue contacts over your dead eyes. They’ll look sort of like a burnt charcoal gray because of the deep black of the wounds on your eyeballs.
“You look handsome,” your optometrist will say. “Go get her.”
You’ll pay your co-pay and feel your way out the door.
Happy A Visit To The Optometrist Day!
Friday, April 13, 2007
Sportsmanship Day!
Today when you lose the big game because you throw like a girl, tell the other team’s star player that you only lost because you don’t really care about sports. Tell him you think books and being with family is far more important.
“I think you’re full of it,” he’ll say. “You would give up everything, even your ability to read, if you could be me for a day.”
Tell him he’s wrong. But that you are relatively certain the opposite is correct. Tell him you believe that he wishes there was more to his character than just being able to throw a ball. Tell him you believe he would like to be respected for something other than a physical talent. In short, tell him that you think he wishes that he could be you. During the pummeling that will ensue, tell him that his every punch confirms your suspicion, then quiet down and just admire his athletic prowess as the fists fly.
Tomorrow when the two of you wake up you’ll have switched bodies. You’ll be really good at sports (you’ll find out when a jock shoots a spitball at you and you duck out of the way really fast) and he’ll be really good at academics. You’ll both agree that this is exactly what you’ve both always wanted and you’ll do nothing to try and switch back. In the end, he’ll go off to Harvard and you’ll win the Homecoming game, then you’ll stay stuck in this dead-end town for the rest of your life with nothing more than a beer gut and a couple of kids to show for yourself.
Happy Sportsmanship Day!
“I think you’re full of it,” he’ll say. “You would give up everything, even your ability to read, if you could be me for a day.”
Tell him he’s wrong. But that you are relatively certain the opposite is correct. Tell him you believe that he wishes there was more to his character than just being able to throw a ball. Tell him you believe he would like to be respected for something other than a physical talent. In short, tell him that you think he wishes that he could be you. During the pummeling that will ensue, tell him that his every punch confirms your suspicion, then quiet down and just admire his athletic prowess as the fists fly.
Tomorrow when the two of you wake up you’ll have switched bodies. You’ll be really good at sports (you’ll find out when a jock shoots a spitball at you and you duck out of the way really fast) and he’ll be really good at academics. You’ll both agree that this is exactly what you’ve both always wanted and you’ll do nothing to try and switch back. In the end, he’ll go off to Harvard and you’ll win the Homecoming game, then you’ll stay stuck in this dead-end town for the rest of your life with nothing more than a beer gut and a couple of kids to show for yourself.
Happy Sportsmanship Day!
Thursday, April 12, 2007
In Loving Memory Of Ray Ray Day!
You used to be in a street gang in the fifties. You were called “The Rough Stuffs.” You wore that on the back of your leather jackets and it let everyone in town know that if they messed with you guys, they were in for some rough stuff.
You got into lots of rumbles in your day. You’d rumble over which gang gets to hang out at the soda fountain in the afternoon, which gang gets to park their Thunderbirds in the senior parking lot at school, and which gang gets to occupy the dance floor during the sock hop. With every successive rumble the fighting seemed to get a little more violent with the stakes raised a little higher.
Eventually, you all started fighting with knives. Things came to a head when Ray Ray got killed. You were rumbling with a rival gang, The Bad News Paperboys, over which gang gets to sit in the back row at the movie house. The Bad News Paperboys cornered Ray Ray during the rumble and they used their switchblades to pry his eyes out of his skull, then they stabbed him in the belly twelve times. When he fell over, they stuffed a knife in his anus.
But you won the rumble. And today, like you do every year on this date, you’re going to take your 67-year-old self back to that movie house and take your seat in the back row. And if you see any members of the Bad News Paperboys, you’re going to shoot them in the face with the revolver in your front pocket. This rumble isn’t over as long as Ray Ray’s still dead.
Only problem is that old movie house is a Best Buy now, so instead of sitting in the back row, your turf is now the Mobile Devices section. Browse with your head held high Rough Stuffer!
Happy In Loving Memory Of Ray Ray Day!
You got into lots of rumbles in your day. You’d rumble over which gang gets to hang out at the soda fountain in the afternoon, which gang gets to park their Thunderbirds in the senior parking lot at school, and which gang gets to occupy the dance floor during the sock hop. With every successive rumble the fighting seemed to get a little more violent with the stakes raised a little higher.
Eventually, you all started fighting with knives. Things came to a head when Ray Ray got killed. You were rumbling with a rival gang, The Bad News Paperboys, over which gang gets to sit in the back row at the movie house. The Bad News Paperboys cornered Ray Ray during the rumble and they used their switchblades to pry his eyes out of his skull, then they stabbed him in the belly twelve times. When he fell over, they stuffed a knife in his anus.
But you won the rumble. And today, like you do every year on this date, you’re going to take your 67-year-old self back to that movie house and take your seat in the back row. And if you see any members of the Bad News Paperboys, you’re going to shoot them in the face with the revolver in your front pocket. This rumble isn’t over as long as Ray Ray’s still dead.
Only problem is that old movie house is a Best Buy now, so instead of sitting in the back row, your turf is now the Mobile Devices section. Browse with your head held high Rough Stuffer!
Happy In Loving Memory Of Ray Ray Day!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Dramamine Day!
You and your new bride both got real sick on your honeymoon cruise and you both took lots of Dramamine which fucked you both up and made you see stuff.
“What’d you see?” you’ll ask three years into your marriage.
“You first,” she’ll say.
Tell her, “I saw the world in your face. It was a world of peace and beauty.”
She’ll say, “I saw bugs everywhere.”
Admit to her, “Yeah me too. I was just trying to protect you.”
She’ll ask if you really think those bugs are real and you’ll say, “Don’t you?” Then the two of you will run to the shower and scrub at each other with metal brushes under scalding hot water.
“I wanted to do this to you the day we were married,” you’ll say. She’ll smile and you’ll kiss her bloody teeth. Then she’ll scream for you to keep scrubbing, and you’ll scream just to keep vigilant.
Happy Dramamine Day!
“What’d you see?” you’ll ask three years into your marriage.
“You first,” she’ll say.
Tell her, “I saw the world in your face. It was a world of peace and beauty.”
She’ll say, “I saw bugs everywhere.”
Admit to her, “Yeah me too. I was just trying to protect you.”
She’ll ask if you really think those bugs are real and you’ll say, “Don’t you?” Then the two of you will run to the shower and scrub at each other with metal brushes under scalding hot water.
“I wanted to do this to you the day we were married,” you’ll say. She’ll smile and you’ll kiss her bloody teeth. Then she’ll scream for you to keep scrubbing, and you’ll scream just to keep vigilant.
Happy Dramamine Day!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Your Thirteen Year Old Son Got His Dick Caught In One Of The Mousetraps Day!
You placed them throughout the house in various nooks and corners. It’d be absolutely impossible, even by accident, for anyone to get his penis anywhere near one of those traps. Unless he was really curious.
“You’re not in trouble,” you’ll tell your son after you set him free. “But can you just tell me if you have any…questions? About anything?”
Your son will burst into tears and scream, “I’m not dirty! NOT NOT NOT DIRTY!” Then he’ll run away. Nice going.
Happy Your Thirteen Year Old Son Got His Dick Caught In One Of The Mousetraps Day!
“You’re not in trouble,” you’ll tell your son after you set him free. “But can you just tell me if you have any…questions? About anything?”
Your son will burst into tears and scream, “I’m not dirty! NOT NOT NOT DIRTY!” Then he’ll run away. Nice going.
Happy Your Thirteen Year Old Son Got His Dick Caught In One Of The Mousetraps Day!
Monday, April 09, 2007
The Restaurant Where You Wait Tables Is On Fire Day!
You can only lead one person to safety. You’re in the weeds tonight. There are forty covers waiting to not burn to death, including the older divorcee who has been a regular of yours for years who loves to chat you up for a half hour or more before you even take her order, but there’s also a birthday party crowded with six year olds, but there’s also a two-top of newly-weds, but then again, there’s also a man who says he just found the cure for cancer and before he tells anybody about it he wanted to celebrate with a nice dinner.
“I choose to rescue the new waitress whom I have not tried to sleep with yet,” you say. Then you lead her out to the sidewalk where she tells you that she has a boyfriend just before the roof collapses on the screaming patrons.
Happy The Restaurant Where You Wait Tables Is On Fire Day!
“I choose to rescue the new waitress whom I have not tried to sleep with yet,” you say. Then you lead her out to the sidewalk where she tells you that she has a boyfriend just before the roof collapses on the screaming patrons.
Happy The Restaurant Where You Wait Tables Is On Fire Day!
Friday, April 06, 2007
You Make Your Mortgage Payments In Quarters Day!
Your mortgage payment is due today. Just like you’ve done every month for the past twelve years, you’re going to go down to the bank with a giant burlap sack containing $1121.56 in quarters (and six pennies) and thump it onto the desk in front of Jeff Blugard, the bank manager.
“God you're an asshole,” Jeff will say.
“Fuck you Jeff, now mark it paid,” you’ll say.
“Gotta count it first don’t I, you cock,” Jeff will say.
“I’ll wait for my receipt,” you’ll say.
“Fucker.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fucker.”
“Fuck you, Jeff.”
Jeff will shove the bag off his desk so that it drops into the little red wagon he bought especially for your mortgage payments.
“Fucker,” he’ll say once more before wheeling your mortgage payment into the back to start pouring it into the change counter. He’ll come back an hour and a half later with your receipt.
“Here you go fuckdick,” Jeff will say. “See you next month, ass.”
“You wanna get lunch?”
Jeff will shrug and the two of you will go to Quizno’s. You’re still angry that Jeff had an affair with your wife, but the mortgage payments are vengeance enough. And ever since she passed, you feel the need to keep Jeff around. You like having the company of someone who came close to knowing just how wonderful she was.
Happy You Make Your Mortgage Payments In Quarters Day!
“God you're an asshole,” Jeff will say.
“Fuck you Jeff, now mark it paid,” you’ll say.
“Gotta count it first don’t I, you cock,” Jeff will say.
“I’ll wait for my receipt,” you’ll say.
“Fucker.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fucker.”
“Fuck you, Jeff.”
Jeff will shove the bag off his desk so that it drops into the little red wagon he bought especially for your mortgage payments.
“Fucker,” he’ll say once more before wheeling your mortgage payment into the back to start pouring it into the change counter. He’ll come back an hour and a half later with your receipt.
“Here you go fuckdick,” Jeff will say. “See you next month, ass.”
“You wanna get lunch?”
Jeff will shrug and the two of you will go to Quizno’s. You’re still angry that Jeff had an affair with your wife, but the mortgage payments are vengeance enough. And ever since she passed, you feel the need to keep Jeff around. You like having the company of someone who came close to knowing just how wonderful she was.
Happy You Make Your Mortgage Payments In Quarters Day!
Thursday, April 05, 2007
At The Bottom Of Every Bottle Of Bourbon, There’s A Prize Day!
Today, as encouragement to get people to drink all of their bourbon, there’s going to be a prize at the bottom of every bottle. Some of the prizes will be too small and if you drink your bourbon too fast you’ll swallow your little plastic toy. Many will experience damage to the esophagus. Scraping. Many others will drink the toy without realizing it and they’ll think they are very unlucky, or they’ll assume they were ripped off and demand refunds.
Some of the prizes will be too large, which is where the slogan “When The Bottle’s Dry, Smash It On the Curb and See What’s Inside!” came from. This will result in a city covered in glass and many gnarled bloody hands clenched around little plastic toys. Hospitals will be overrun.
Some of the toys will be just right, and when you take the last sip of that perfect bottle of bourbon, your toy will come rushing out just as you close your lips and it’ll give you a little kiss and land in your hand. Then you’ll unwrap the plastic and you’ll see that because you drank your whole bottle of bourbon, you just won a whistle. Congratulations, special drinker.
Happy At The Bottom Of Every Bottle Of Bourbon, There’s A Prize Day!
Some of the prizes will be too large, which is where the slogan “When The Bottle’s Dry, Smash It On the Curb and See What’s Inside!” came from. This will result in a city covered in glass and many gnarled bloody hands clenched around little plastic toys. Hospitals will be overrun.
Some of the toys will be just right, and when you take the last sip of that perfect bottle of bourbon, your toy will come rushing out just as you close your lips and it’ll give you a little kiss and land in your hand. Then you’ll unwrap the plastic and you’ll see that because you drank your whole bottle of bourbon, you just won a whistle. Congratulations, special drinker.
Happy At The Bottom Of Every Bottle Of Bourbon, There’s A Prize Day!
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
And Then The Plane Crashes Gently Into The Sea Day!
You wish you could die in a plane crash with the sound turned off. There will be no screaming and no unearthly sound of metal being wrenched from metal. And when the flames fill the cabin, they won’t actually incinerate anybody, the fire will simply erase, or rather, displace the passengers and the cabin they were in. As the fire slowly floods the cabin, one second there will be a passenger staring at a thick wall of approaching flames, and the next, the flames will have extended into that passenger’s space and that passenger and his chair and his magazine will be gone, like magic.
And then the plane crashes gently into the sea. It looks like a cardboard cut-out of a plane on fire. You can see the pilot in the cockpit flying like he always does with two eyes and a mouth. The people who haven’t already been replaced by fire can be seen through the windows breathing from their airmasks. There are waves in the ocean and the moon is bright and when the plane hits the ocean in two big pieces, that’s the end. The plane is in the ocean after that. The passengers don’t all die in specific ways and at specific times like drowning at 10:02 or fire displacement at 10:01. It’s as if all of the passengers and the plane itself are one giant living thing that dies when it crashes gently into the sea. After that, when the plane goes under the water, everyone stays in their seats and everyone is plastic. And the people who were displaced by fire are back because the fire is gone. They stay like that forever. Parents can swim down and look at them.
Happy And Then The Plane Crashes Gently Into The Sea Day!
And then the plane crashes gently into the sea. It looks like a cardboard cut-out of a plane on fire. You can see the pilot in the cockpit flying like he always does with two eyes and a mouth. The people who haven’t already been replaced by fire can be seen through the windows breathing from their airmasks. There are waves in the ocean and the moon is bright and when the plane hits the ocean in two big pieces, that’s the end. The plane is in the ocean after that. The passengers don’t all die in specific ways and at specific times like drowning at 10:02 or fire displacement at 10:01. It’s as if all of the passengers and the plane itself are one giant living thing that dies when it crashes gently into the sea. After that, when the plane goes under the water, everyone stays in their seats and everyone is plastic. And the people who were displaced by fire are back because the fire is gone. They stay like that forever. Parents can swim down and look at them.
Happy And Then The Plane Crashes Gently Into The Sea Day!
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Hang Onto Your Spot At The Mall Day!
Today at the mall, you’ll find that the bench in front of the Superpretzel will be completely empty. Run to it and take a seat, putting your Kohl’s bag on the other half of the bench so that no one else will sit with you.
That bench is the best spot in the entire mall. Always has been, ever since you first started hanging out at that mall in 1981. It’s got perfect sun from the skylight, and it’s right near the overhang so you can lean over the edge and look down shirts. You still remember when you sat your wife there to make out with her in public back when she was just your high school sweetheart. The spot is never available and when you caught it empty that day with your high school sweetheart you knew she was the one for you always.
Here comes your wife now.
“We gotta go,” she’ll say.
“Can’t,” tell her. “I got the spot. Not gonna let it go.”
Your wife will stare at you. You have a great deal of mental illness in your family and you can see her sometimes watching you for any manifestations. Then she’ll look at the bench and remember.
“Oh this is where we used to kiss! How cute. But seriously, we gotta get to my sister’s.”
“I’m staying,” tell her. “Got the spot. Not gonna let it go until I know why.”
Your wife will stare again. She’ll wish she were a violent person.
“Let’s go,” she'll say.
“Anytime this spot comes empty for me, it’s for a reason. It was empty the day I knew you were the one for me. It was empty the day my father died and I didn’t know it yet. It was empty when I came here after I didn’t get my promotion. Remember that?”
She remembers.
“And it was empty the day Robbie got kidnapped,” you’ll say. Robbie is your son and he’s been missing for a year. It hasn’t been easy.
“It’s the best spot in the mall and I need to know why it’s empty today. I need to wait.”
Your wife will reach for the bag at the end of the bench.
“No!” you’ll say. “I need to sit here alone. Leave the bag.”
“But my sister’s present,” she’ll say.
“Buy another one,” tell her. Then throw your credit card at her.
She’ll go, and you’ll sit and wait. You’ll sit all day, not minding waiting because you’re in the spot and everyone in the mall who sees you knows you’re on the cusp of enlightenment and they're jealous of you. They shove their kids along, or tussle with their classmates, wondering when they’ll get their day in the spot.
Today is your day, and at the end of it, when you stand up and lift your bag, you’ll see carved into the wood, “Robbie wuz here, 2/12/07. U Just Sat In Hiz Fartz.”
It’s your son’s work, there’s no doubt. He was alive and walking the mall as recently as a month and a half ago. He must be one of those kidnapped kids who just live with his abductors in the same town as his parents without trying to run away, the way kids like to do these days. You son is alive, and you just sat in his fartz.
Happy Hang Onto Your Spot At The Mall Day!
That bench is the best spot in the entire mall. Always has been, ever since you first started hanging out at that mall in 1981. It’s got perfect sun from the skylight, and it’s right near the overhang so you can lean over the edge and look down shirts. You still remember when you sat your wife there to make out with her in public back when she was just your high school sweetheart. The spot is never available and when you caught it empty that day with your high school sweetheart you knew she was the one for you always.
Here comes your wife now.
“We gotta go,” she’ll say.
“Can’t,” tell her. “I got the spot. Not gonna let it go.”
Your wife will stare at you. You have a great deal of mental illness in your family and you can see her sometimes watching you for any manifestations. Then she’ll look at the bench and remember.
“Oh this is where we used to kiss! How cute. But seriously, we gotta get to my sister’s.”
“I’m staying,” tell her. “Got the spot. Not gonna let it go until I know why.”
Your wife will stare again. She’ll wish she were a violent person.
“Let’s go,” she'll say.
“Anytime this spot comes empty for me, it’s for a reason. It was empty the day I knew you were the one for me. It was empty the day my father died and I didn’t know it yet. It was empty when I came here after I didn’t get my promotion. Remember that?”
She remembers.
“And it was empty the day Robbie got kidnapped,” you’ll say. Robbie is your son and he’s been missing for a year. It hasn’t been easy.
“It’s the best spot in the mall and I need to know why it’s empty today. I need to wait.”
Your wife will reach for the bag at the end of the bench.
“No!” you’ll say. “I need to sit here alone. Leave the bag.”
“But my sister’s present,” she’ll say.
“Buy another one,” tell her. Then throw your credit card at her.
She’ll go, and you’ll sit and wait. You’ll sit all day, not minding waiting because you’re in the spot and everyone in the mall who sees you knows you’re on the cusp of enlightenment and they're jealous of you. They shove their kids along, or tussle with their classmates, wondering when they’ll get their day in the spot.
Today is your day, and at the end of it, when you stand up and lift your bag, you’ll see carved into the wood, “Robbie wuz here, 2/12/07. U Just Sat In Hiz Fartz.”
It’s your son’s work, there’s no doubt. He was alive and walking the mall as recently as a month and a half ago. He must be one of those kidnapped kids who just live with his abductors in the same town as his parents without trying to run away, the way kids like to do these days. You son is alive, and you just sat in his fartz.
Happy Hang Onto Your Spot At The Mall Day!
Monday, April 02, 2007
Animals Can See Your Homosexuality Just Like It Was A Hostile Ghost Day!
You know how animals can see ghosts that humans can’t see? Like when a ghost enters a room, the first thing that happens is a dog will start barking or a cat will raise its fur and hiss, and the owner will ask “What’s wrong boy?” right before books start flying off the shelves or the TV reception gets sucky? The same thing happens anytime you pay a visit to one of your pet-owner friends and their dogs or cats get a look at your denied homosexuality, which is so obvious and blatant it almost takes the form of a glittery glow constantly hovering just off your right shoulder, and yet you still somehow manage to pretend it isn’t there.
“So I asked out Julia at work,” you’ll say. “I think she could be the one.”
“What’s wrong boy?” your friend will ask his dog, who is now barking and snarling at your denied homosexuality.
“She’s got the most divine gazongas,” you’ll say.
Your friend’s dog will snarl even more now. Foam will sputter from his snout.
“I think I might take her to the Clay Aiken concert. She’s that special to me,” you’ll say. Your friend’s dog will then bury his front half under the couch and whimper in fear.
“Boy what got his boxer-briefs in a bunch?” you’ll ask.
“Beats me,” your friend will say. “So I heard you’re learning to make your own sorbet."
Happy Animals Can See Your Homosexuality Just Like It Was A Hostile Ghost Day!
“So I asked out Julia at work,” you’ll say. “I think she could be the one.”
“What’s wrong boy?” your friend will ask his dog, who is now barking and snarling at your denied homosexuality.
“She’s got the most divine gazongas,” you’ll say.
Your friend’s dog will snarl even more now. Foam will sputter from his snout.
“I think I might take her to the Clay Aiken concert. She’s that special to me,” you’ll say. Your friend’s dog will then bury his front half under the couch and whimper in fear.
“Boy what got his boxer-briefs in a bunch?” you’ll ask.
“Beats me,” your friend will say. “So I heard you’re learning to make your own sorbet."
Happy Animals Can See Your Homosexuality Just Like It Was A Hostile Ghost Day!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Jigsaw Puzzle Day!
You found the box with the jigsaw puzzle pieces deep in the back of the closet, and you don’t remember putting it there. You wondered whether this might be one of those jigsaw puzzles where it ends up depicting you, in the room you’re sitting in, doing a jigsaw puzzle, except in the puzzle there’s a face in the window. Sure enough, when you read the front of the box it says “500 Pcs Jigsaw Puzzle Depicting You, In The Room You’re Sitting In, Doing A Jigsaw Puzzle, Except In The Puzzle There’s A Face In The Window.”
You sit down and do the jigsaw puzzle. As you put more and more pieces together, your spine tingles when you see the room you’re sitting in appear with almost photographic precision on the table before you. After several hours, you hold the final piece in your hand, the piece that will surely fill in the window directly across from where you’re sitting. You can’t look up. You and only look at the puzzle. You place the final piece in place and there in the window puzzle-piece window you see the face of Anthony Geary, the guy who played Luke of Luke and Laura on General Hospital, your favorite soap opera when you were young.
You look up at the window across the room, excited to see a celebrity, but no one is there.
“What a gyp!” you say into the silence.
That’s when you hear a car pull up. A car door slams but the engine keeps running. You hear footsteps outside. The sound makes you break into a sweat. Someone is coming. You watch the window, it’s pure blackness. Then with a flash, Anthony Geary steps in front of the window and stares straight at you.
Wave.
Anthony Geary will shoot his finger your way, then he’ll walk back down the hill away from your house. You’ll go to the window to watch him get back into his cab and pull away down the dark and stormy road. You now remember buying the jigsaw puzzle, and you understand why it cost you $4500.
Happy Jigsaw Puzzle Day!
You sit down and do the jigsaw puzzle. As you put more and more pieces together, your spine tingles when you see the room you’re sitting in appear with almost photographic precision on the table before you. After several hours, you hold the final piece in your hand, the piece that will surely fill in the window directly across from where you’re sitting. You can’t look up. You and only look at the puzzle. You place the final piece in place and there in the window puzzle-piece window you see the face of Anthony Geary, the guy who played Luke of Luke and Laura on General Hospital, your favorite soap opera when you were young.
You look up at the window across the room, excited to see a celebrity, but no one is there.
“What a gyp!” you say into the silence.
That’s when you hear a car pull up. A car door slams but the engine keeps running. You hear footsteps outside. The sound makes you break into a sweat. Someone is coming. You watch the window, it’s pure blackness. Then with a flash, Anthony Geary steps in front of the window and stares straight at you.
Wave.
Anthony Geary will shoot his finger your way, then he’ll walk back down the hill away from your house. You’ll go to the window to watch him get back into his cab and pull away down the dark and stormy road. You now remember buying the jigsaw puzzle, and you understand why it cost you $4500.
Happy Jigsaw Puzzle Day!
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Teach The Kids What’s Right And Wrong Day!
Today you’re going to be walking down an alley looking for someone to party with when you'll spot two kids who have trapped a skinny gray cat in a corner. You’ll hang back for a second just to see if they’re gonna do anything funny to the cat, then you’ll be horrified when they take out a book of matches and a hairspray can. One of the kids will light a match, then he’ll send a stream of hairspray through the flame trying to make a blow torch aimed at the cat. Luckily the spray will just blow out the flame and end up spraying the cat’s fur with hairspray. You’ll run over to stop them.
“Hey kids,” say. “Setting cats on fire is wrong!”
One of the kids will ask, “Why is your head bleeding?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The other kid will ask, “Oh my God are you gonna die?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The kids will look at you for another second, scared. Then they’ll look at each other and run away. You’ll drop to your knees in front of the cat, woozy. You’ll touch your fingers to your head and feel the blood pouring down from your scalp. You’ll try to remember if you got into a fight or got jumped, but nothing will come. Then everything will go black and you’ll fall forward onto the ground. The stray cat will step across your back and walk away, its fur held perfectly in place.
Happy Teach The Kids What’s Right And Wrong Day!
“Hey kids,” say. “Setting cats on fire is wrong!”
One of the kids will ask, “Why is your head bleeding?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The other kid will ask, “Oh my God are you gonna die?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The kids will look at you for another second, scared. Then they’ll look at each other and run away. You’ll drop to your knees in front of the cat, woozy. You’ll touch your fingers to your head and feel the blood pouring down from your scalp. You’ll try to remember if you got into a fight or got jumped, but nothing will come. Then everything will go black and you’ll fall forward onto the ground. The stray cat will step across your back and walk away, its fur held perfectly in place.
Happy Teach The Kids What’s Right And Wrong Day!
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