Plant A Shrub In Front Of Your New Neighbor's House Day!

Leave a little note in the shrub that says, "Hope you don't mind me taking up a little bit of your lawn there neighbor. Just wanted to plant a little symbol of what I hope will be our ever-growing friendship."

Then move.

Happy Plant A Shrub In Front Of Your New Neighbor's House Day!

You're Doing Fine Day!

You didn't know this, because I am very, very quiet, like a kitten who's also been trained as a spy, but I've been watching you all day today and I have only a few notes.

1. The grinding your face into the roll of toilet paper in the office bathroom stall and sobbing until you think you might lose your bearing. Someone else has to use that toilet paper you know. You couldn't just unroll a wad and kind of grind your skull into that? I'm sure all your coworkers appreciated wiping their ne'erdowells with your salty tear drops and boogies. Work on that.

2. You've been talking to yourself waaaay too much when you're in public. When you were in Toys R Us a 6 year old just stood there and listened while you moved the arms and legs of a Gandalf doll up and down and said, "Maybe I'm just fucking out of the fucking game. Fucking fuck me. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. I don't fucking care. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Gonna get tacos before I go home for fuck's sake why can't people just pick up a fucking phone and tell you what's wrong with your face? Or maybe Subway..."

Work on that.

3. Your bath towels need to be washed more regularly. That's why you always think you smell the inside of your ear. Work on that.

Otherwise, good job, yo. Now get good and drunk and go to bed. IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT!

Put Down The Mechanized Steak Knife And Kiss Me You Dick! Day!

Oh the heart is open to such poor interpretation.

You flick the switch to its highest speed and you think, "All the better to be rid of this swirl in my belly as quickly as a serrated blade can shimmy through a trachea." You take one step. Another. What are you waiting for? Take the next step, my hands are in my pockets. Go on.

Open up my throat.

Or are you starting to wonder what sort of misery might fill the gaping hole where I used to curl up and murmur. Maybe sending my blood flying up in the air like a firework isn't what'll make it all better. Maybe you wanna slice into yourself, into your past. Cut into a million ribbons whatever stupid fucking glance through a keyhole you stole when you were three that left you destined to yearn with all your being for a cocksucker like me.

You hate who you are. I hate who I am. Big fucking deal. Put down the mechanized steak knife and kiss me you dick.

If Happiness Calls, Tell It I Want My Fucking CDs Back Day!

Oh sure, a lot of people have borrowed my CDs then moved to other states or started dating my ex so I never got them back. But you'll never leave my side will you now, Happiness? Take what you want. You'll just burn them and get them right back? Take your time. Hell, I think I can go a few days without listening to Wowee Zowee for 10,000th time.

Yeah, a few days no problem. But a few months? Fuck you Happiness! You found someone else? Need your space? Trying to work some shit out about your dead dad? Boo fucking hoo, assdick! The next time I get an email from you it better be to say my copy of Begger's Banquet is sitting in my vestibule and that you'll sit in your car and watch to make sure no one steals it before I get down there to pick it up and when you see me you will simply pull the fuck away without so much as a wave goodbye, you understand. You wanted to split? Fine. You figured out a real pussy-ass way to do it. But now that you're gone, stay gone. BUT GIVE ME BACK MY MOTHERFUCKING COMPACT DISCS YOU CUNT!

My middle name isn't fucking Columbia House. By the way, I saw you the other day in the lobby of a movie theater. You looked thin. Are you okay?

You're Their Coach! Day!

Today I'm afraid you're going to have to do a little more than hand out laps around the field. For the majority of that ragtag bunch of losers (who've got more pluck than you'll find in any rich boy driving to school in a convertible, excluding of course the rich boy who is engaged in a doomed romance with a poor girl) you're the only daddy they got. You may not've asked for it, but I'm afraid you got the job.

You're their coach! They look up to you. Now one of your players' girlfriends is pregnant and he needs your advice. You tell him to convince her to have that baby and be a father to his child. Why, I don't know. Just do it!

Tell everyone else to major in auto repair.

Happy You're Their Coach! Day!

Nosebleeds Mean You Aren't A Magical Fairy Day!

So don't freak out that you've been drinking too much and dried out your nasal cavities or that you have a tumor. At least you're not some ethereal little boy-bug who flits around forests giving a shit only about whether humans are gonna be all right and not caring a damn about himself. You'd look awful if your skin had gauzey scarves attached to it. Let the blood flow.

Happy Nosebleeds Mean You Aren't A Magical Fairy Day!

Don't Change Your Address Until You're Sure No One Could Give A Shit Day!

Perspective, we're talking. Irony is always messing about, and the most overt it can get is when you have no idea what's at play.

For example, you're lying there on your undressed mattress in your 8 square feet of bedroom and everything's so static and still your pulse just stopped. Nothing will ever happen. Never again will you ever see a reason to put on black shoes (a funeral is too much too ask?). The phone is not going to ring and you will most certainly not open your front door on a rainy night to see a suitcase and a wet face you thought you never wanted to ever see again ever only to discover at that moment that all those empty hours were just you waiting for that knock on the door. And that face won't ever ask for "money. whatever you can get in cash before dawn" but if it did, you wouldn't even care. You'd see it as the price of admission for (FINALLY!) a movie of your life that's worth watching. There, on your undressed mattress, wallowing in regret over that last self-admiinistered orgasm, you know that you couldn't even get the fire department to drop by if you set the building on fire and stuck a Tot Finder sticker to your bedroom window. However...

While you're singing "Poor Poor Boring Old Me" by Pity Partridge and the Sad Boys, somewhere on some nameless interstate highway someone's got his or her thumb out over the road. The thumb casts a shadow over those lips that once spoke those four beautiful words, "You Ruined My Life." There's a rig coming down the road, and it's slowing to a stop.

I'm just saying, don't go back to Illinois yet. You never know who might drop by. Happy Don't Change Your Address Until You're Sure No One Could Give A Shit Day!

Some Dude Named Pendleton's Got Cancer Day!

Today is the day that people who wish to congregate in honor of things can come out on the streets to congregate in honor of the fact that some dude named Pendleton has cancer.

"I heard he lives in Nova Scotia," a man you've just met will say to you and some others waiting in line for coffee.

"I once dated a girl whose last name was Pendleton. She didn't have any brothers," another fellow will offer.

"Anyone hear what kind of cancer he has?" a little boy will ask. The boy is a thief and a liar and he will one day grow to be a man who will lead a crowd even larger than the one that has gathered today. He will lead that crowd to its death.

"No," you'll say. Others will shake their heads.

A selfish man might begin, "I sure hope I don't get cancer because dying of cancer really sucks the big--" and he will be silenced with shouts of "How could you be so selfish as to draw attention away from some dude named Pendleton to your own concerns and fears?!" and "What a cuntwad!" This man will remember all of your faces. Mark his words.

Anyway, after a few hours most everybody will realize it's almost time to eat and the crowd will disperse, content that they spent their Saturday afternoon doing something. And there were other people there to see it, even.

Happy Some Dude Named Pendleton's Got Cancer Day!

Smiles Are Contageous. Get Tested. Day!

I hate today as much as you. It's just a dumb joke that means nothing. Today is basically the bumper sticker stuck to the back of the stupider Gods' cars. It's a tee shirt one of the Gods bought at a boardwalk and that he still wears to parties and to other boardwalks. A lot of the Gods actually are really embarrassed by today but when they were brainstorming all of the holidays, word got out to the dumber Gods and they showed up to the bar where everything was going down and they kept shouting out shit like, "How bout 'Eat Pussy Day!'"? Then they'd high five each other. Eventually, the Gods realized they had to throw the asshole Gods a bone and include a few of their holidays so they wouldn't hurt their feelings (even though the shitlicker Gods are sort of annoying, they're still cool to go out drinking with so no one's really going to cut them off). There'll be a few of these. Whatever.

Anyway, happy uh Smiles Are Contageous. Get Tested. Day! (jesus.)

Love Me Until I Have To Tell People I Fell Down Some Stairs Day!

Love me so hard and so often and so stupid crazy that when people ask, "Why don't you have money for food?" I'll have to say, "No one I know drinks. I'm just saving up for an expensive pair of shoes."

Love me so raucously you leave bruises like bracelets round my wrists and when people ask why I wear three watches on each arm I'll just have to tell them, "Swatch is coming back in a big big way."

Love me till I leap out of my chair at loud noises shouting "No No I'm sorry I'll be quiet!" and then have to promise everyone in the conference room that I'll be switching to decaf post-haste.

Love me with a fury that makes me think I'm a filthy, filthy whore who deserves to die 'neath an overpass alone and forgotten so that I assume all human interaction is about getting the upper hand and making sure the payoff is in your fist up front so that when my friends compliment me on my outfit I stiffen and ready myself for the hustle that's sure to come and they can hear in my voice that my defenses are going up when I respond, "This old thing?"

Love me, I won't sleep.

Love me, I won't wash.

Love me 'til I'm on a bus back to my parents' house.

Love me. It's on.

Happy Love Me Until I Have To Tell People I Fell Down Some Stairs Day! Now give me my roses.

Go To A Dinner Theater Featuring A Magic Act And Ask The Magician "If You're So Fucking Magical Why Haven't You Taken Over The World Yet?" Day!

He's probably used to this kind of heckling and he'll most likely reply by lifting one eyebrow and leaning in towards you and saying, "In time..." The crowd will laugh and the magician will think he's got the upper hand. That's when you shout "YOU SUCK!"

He's probably used to this kind of heckling too and he'll most likely reply by lifting one eyebrow and leaning in towards you and saying, "Hey look pal I don't go down to the bus depot men's room where your mom works and slap the syphilitic dicks out of her mouth!" The crowd will laugh and the magician will think he's got the upper hand. That's when you shout "I'M YOUR TWIN BROTHER! THE ONE YOU THOUGHT DIED AT BIRTH! IN REALITY, OUR FATHER WAS A SCHIZOPHRENIC WHO TURNED TO RELIGIOUS FANATICISM FOR ORDER AND HE BELIEVED THAT THE CONCEPTION OF TWINS WAS THE WORK OF THE DEVIL AND THAT ONE OF US WOULD BE INFUSED WITH THE POWER OF DARKNESS! BASED ON MY EYES, HE ASSUMED IT WOULD BE ME AND SO HE SOLD ME TO A MAN IN HONG KONG WHO DEALS IN SUCH THINGS, THE BUYING AND SELLING OF CHILDREN I MEAN! BUT YOU BEING A MAGICIAN, PERHAPS OUR FATHER WAS RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING, THAT ONE OF US WAS A CONDUIT FOR THE DEVIL! BUT HE MADE THE WRONG DECISION ABOUT WHICH CHILD IT WOULD BE! ANYWAY, WE HAVE THE SAME MOTHER SO IF YOU KNOW WHICH BUS DEPOT SHE SUCKS DICK AT, PLEASE TELL ME AS I WISH TO REUINTE WITH HER! OH, AND UH, DINNER THEATER EH? YOU'VE COME A LONG WAY BRO!"

He'll most likely break down on stage and hold out his arms to embrace you. That's when you climb up on stage and accept hs embrace, to the heartened applause of the crowd. Then just as the curtain is closing, jam the shiv in his side for you are there to assassinate the man after all are you not?

Happy Go To A Dinner Theater Featuring A Magic Act And Ask The Magician "If You're So Fucking Magical Why Haven't You Taken Over The World Yet?" Day!

Curiosity Might've Killed The Cat, But Handguns Kill Six Hundred Million Americans Every Day Day!
And you know when curiosity doesn't kill the cat? When the cat gets curious about a loaded handgun lying on a bureau pointing at a woman making love to a man who is not her husband but is an employee of the gas company. Well, when that cat starts poking and sniffing around the trigger of that handgun to see if it smells like ass, guess who's meter reading is gonna yield a big fat zero (the meter of the guy who works for the gas company who actually knocked on the door to read the woman's gas meter but she suggested they "do it" instead. Or not instead, but before he reads her meter. And I don't mean "read her meter" to be read as a double entendre, even though it would've made a good one). Yep, someone's about to run outta gas (the guy who works for the gas company I mean). I know one little housewife who's about to regret not switching to oil heat (the housewife who's about to be pinned underneath the naked corpse of a gas company employee who's head has recently been caved in at the paws of a cat who's curious about that handgun everyone was talking about a few sentences ago, s'what I'm saying. Also, she'll still have him inside her when he is officially dead. It'll take more than a couple of scalding hot showers before she can wash that memory out of her vaginal canal).

So if you have a cat, be sure to aim the handgun lying on your bureau away from the bed where you and the employee of a utility company are engaged in intercourse. Six hundred million every day. This madness has to stop. Kittens are prettier than cats.

Win Something Day!
You could go for a stuffed animal at a fixed carnival game of "Shoot The Milk Bottles Down With An AK-47". Or maybe it's time you tried to win your wayward boy/girlfriend back from that society type who may know what to do with the second fork from the left but sure don't know how to turn the back seat of a chevy into a conjugal bed when they're parked in front of a moonlit reservoir. Whatever you win, you'll be disappointed because shit you win always comes with a catch or it's just cheap goods with a stain all over it that's hidden when it's hanging on a makeshift wall fifteen feet away.

For example, let's say you manage to shoot down all those milk bottles crackety crack and you get to pick any of the top shelf biggest stuffed pink bears wearing sun visors that might strike your fancy. Guaranteed, no matter what you pick, it's gonna be leaking stuffing or it'll have a stain all over it, like a water stain, that you don't notice until you give it to the little 9 year old neighbor boy who's been stirring disturbing and until now dormant feelings in your belly. Who wants to see a kid's eyes light up then get all squinty and grossed out when he realizes he was given a shit bear?

Or maybe you finally win your girlfriend back from that society type. I bet when you look closer, she'll be pregnant with the baby of some other dude you never even heard of or she'll have a stain all over her, like a water stain. And she's not even wearing a visor. Sorry, but you won fair and square.

So yeah, win something today. It's about time you learned that if you want the brass ring you gotta work for it. And if you win the lotto you might as well just kill yourself with pills right now because you are so screwed I'm actually sad.

If You're Happy You'll Probably End Up Getting Mauled By A Puma Or Something Day!

Think of it this way. If you were one day skipping down the sidewalk and you stopped in your tracks because you realized at that moment you could honestly say that you were unequivocably happy and all of a sudden a puma flies out of nowhere and mauls you until you're just some intestines and some empty skin, wouldn't your last words be, "Figures!"

Mine might be, "Heh, ain't it always the way Kash?" But that's only because I am at all times accompanied by a wise old man who goes by the name of "Kash." He was a fixture of many intellectual circles across the country and can be found in the index of many of your more entertaining volumes of memoirs. Kash has taught me more than any family of wolves raising me in the woods ever could.

So if you're unhappy, be glad that you're not being mauled by a puma. But don't be so glad that you get happy and end up getting mauled by a puma. Hold 'er steady.

Hap-- Er, I mean, Tolerable If You're Happy You'll Probably End Up Getting Mauled By A Puma Or Something Day!

If You Sit Still Enough, The Past Might Be Different Day!

If you are very, very quiet and you don't make the slightest bit of noise, all those wrong decisions that are living under your bed might think no one lives in your room anymore and they'll go away and haunt someone else who's more lively (ie. vocally sobbing). Should take about 407 days, but trust me, your past will get bored. Just stay still. Stiller. A little stiller.

Whoops, you blinked. Start over. You do have enough money in the bank to not move for 407 days, right?

You are gonna be so happy when the past disappears and you're suddenly not someone who took the money your parents gave you to pay for the SAT's and instead bought another week of electric guitar lessons.

Happy If You Sit Still Enough, The Past Might Be Different Day!

Every Minute Of Today Is Just Another Minute Of You Looking So Fucking Adorable That It's Going To Start Getting Tedious Day!
By around 3:30 today, you should probably expect people to drop by your cubicle to say, "All right! You can purse your lips in a way that makes us all melt into one giant pool of gooey, syrupy, stinkley, wrinkley, pookypookypooky pile of isn't he or she just so motherfucking adorable!!! We get it, okay? Put it in neutral, teddy bear."

Don't be insulted by this. People just get tired of too much of one thing. Even if that one thing is the shouts of "ohmijesus that's so delicious" you draw out from people's guts whenever you prance (seriously, you don't walk, you fucking prance! Even to the toilet!) past a conference room or the open doors of an overcrowded elevator. It's late summer and people are in full "Been-there" mode. Everyone just wants to go to the beach. Before I go, might I tickle you just under the chin and coo?

Pound For Pound, You're A Better Child-Murderer Than Anybody On The Streets Today Day!

I DON'T WANNA HEAR NONE O' THAT poor wittle me, I ain't no good BULLSHIT!!!

There's a hundred kid killers out there hackin' away and using tired old gags like candy out a car window or shopping cart swipin' and every last one of 'em wishes they could follow your trail of blood for just five paces. Like they'd have the wherewithall to get anything out of it.

I tell you son, I know I'm supposed to be the mentor here, but when I watch you kill kids, it's like church. I feel like I just enrolled in the best damn class my community junior college has to offer. Now put those used underoos back on your head and go get started on some kid killin! You're the best there ever was, best there ever will be.

By the way, your shift at Chuck E Cheeze started a half hour ago. Don't forget to clean the tear-drops off your giraffe costume.

Happy Pound For Pound, You're A Better Child-Murderer Than Anybody On The Streets Today Day!

Everyone's All Alone, But You Most Of All. Shit. Day!
Peek inside the coffee shop window. Just look at all those people telling their problems to their cups of decaf and deluxe gyro platters. Look how they catch your eye, how they try to hold your gaze, wondering "Why can't I just wave him or her in here. Say, 'Come in. Come in. Let's share a friendly evening together.' I've never killed anybody, and I drink and drive! People are safe with me." But inevitably, they just return to their books of Seek and Finds or their tabletop carvings of cock and ball sketches, and you're left to continue your walk. Or is it your search?

It could be said that with all these lonely people trying to find each other, no one is ever really alone. But you seem a little worse off than everyone else. Make that a lot worse. See, lonliness starts to feel like a disease when you start to think that everyone else in the world is happier and has more love in their lives than you do and they spend all their time interrupting body oil applications to share a laugh about how sad your life is. But when someone is happily in love or surrounded by trusting friends and family, all he can think about is the ones he cares about and he might remember when he was alone and he might give thanks for what he has. People who are not in his life really don't concern him. Except for you of course.

It's true, for most people the feeling of being the joke of society is all a head game played to elevate self-pity. But unfortunately, people really do laugh about you. Not laugh in a "That's so hilarious" kind of way. But like, "Holy shit this is one of those horribly tragic situations where all I can do is offer a little laugh to keep from crying." And yeah, there are a lot of people out there who are pretty lonely, but when you come to mind, it perks them up a bit. "Least I'm not that bad off," they say before turning everything around for themselves.

And no, Captain Paranoia, no one's been watching any surveillance tapes of you writhing on your bathroom floor and moaning. But we can tell you do it alot. Not by your eyes so much as by the way you wear your skin.

Happy Everyone's All Alone, But You Most Of All. Shit. Day!

At The Party Tomorrow Night, Don't Talk To Nobody Tomorrow Night, 'Cause You Got That Kinda "Gonna Fall In Love With Somebody" Look On Your Face Day!

Note: Today's Title should be read out loud with a rapid-fire delivery. The letter "T" is a "D". And Commas are brief pauses.

You look medicated is the thing. Stupid. All the "Nothing Matters But My Friends And My Memories Of Autumn" wistfulness of a good drunk without the passing out at the end of the evening. So unhappy that you would be willing to drown yourself in a pair of pretty eyes perched up above a pretty mouth that asks you "Where you been?" Plus, you're romanticizing squalor.

There's a party tomorrow night. At the party tomorrow night, just don't even talk to nobody tomorrow night. In fact, go live with your parents. Or hang around your married friends and let them coddle you ("coddle" should read "pity"). Just get the fuck out of town because you hate everything about the present so much that you're starting to pretend your life is a movie and you don't like movies where no one falls in love with nobody. If you've given up on yourself, turn to drugs. But don't fall in love with nobody. That said, I'll see you at the party tomorrow night, we'll talk at the party tomorrow night and I can't wait to meet the one you think could make everything work out all right you fucking retard.

Happy At The Party Tomorrow Night, Don't Talk To Nobody Tomorrow Night, 'Cause You Got That Kinda "Gonna Fall In Love With Somebody" Look On Your Face Day!

When The Going Gets Tough, Steal As Much Money From Your Sisters As You Can Carry, Sever All Alliances, And Get As Far Away From Your Permanent Mailing Address As You Possibly Can (Then Rebuild) Day!
I once knew this short guy who told me, "Change Is Good." All I could think was, "Yeah, shame you can't change yourself about seven inches taller, Half-pint." I hated that guy even before he got cancer (which was a way shitty move on his part) but I could tell that he had a point. Change is good. Especially when people start getting on your case about not returning DVDs or showing up to Lamaze class loaded on gin. Something's got to give!

Well, you have some sisters don't you? Take all their money (or at least a lot of it if your sister's crippled or involved in a legal battle over a laser she invented and she has to spend money on court fees. That's basically an investment in your future because if she wins the court battle then she'll be totally wealthier). All they ever use it for is pumping food inside their babies and their husbands. Meanwhile, you have some abandoning to do!

Next, send out a mass email that basically says, "Later, shits" to everyone with whom you've allied yourself. "Let's pretend the ties that bind me to you are a few thin ribbons," you might continue. "Well fuck those ribbons!" Then you might choose to reveal some secrets with which you've been trusted. "Hey Jill! Way to fuck Megan's husband in the bathroom last New Years!" This will definitely piss off Jill. And everyone else on the mass email will think, "That was a poor way to handle the situation" or "What a dick!" If you haven't updated your mailing list in a while, you'll probably receive a lot of "Undeliverable" messages in response. Don't worry. Whoever didn't get it will probably hear all about it the next time everyone gets together for a White Trash themed party (since apparently no one's allowed to throw a party anymore unless they make everyone put on a fucking mullet wig).

Next, move far away from your permanent mailing address. In case I need to elaborate on this one, it involves moving your shit to a new house. The post office includes a book of coupons with their change of address forms. Don't even read them. Redeeming those coupons just gives the government another avenue for monitoring your buying habits. Man do I hate the government.

Next, rebuild. And this one isn't just about getting laid. You should also pretend to care if other people live or die so they'll lend you power tools that you can sell.

Happy When The Going Gets Tough, Steal As Much Money From Your Sisters As You Can Carry, Sever All Alliances, And Get As Far Away From Your Permanent Mailing Address As You Possibly Can (Then Rebuild) Day!