Toss A Pumice Stone Through The Window Of Your Undesirable Neighbors' House Day

Toss A Pumice Stone Through The Window Of Your Undesirable Neighbors' House Day!

Write on the pumice stone in magic marker, "TAKE CARE OF THOSE CALLUSES OR GET OUT."

The lady of the house will read the pumice stone and say, "That's a big pumice stone."

The man of the house will say, "Told you not to wear Tevas to the block party. Those calluses are disgusting."

The lady of the house will say, "How can you not support me at a time like this? When the whole neighborhood is demanding that I mutilate my own body just to fit in with their neatly manicured lawns and culture of hidden alcoholism."

The man of the house will say, "I'm just thinking of the children. They're being teased at school."

The lady of the house will say, "You'll dare accuse me of not considering my children?"

The man of the house will say, "For Christ's sake just get a fucking pedicure. Our house is being vandalized."

They'll divorce.

Happy Toss A Pumice Stone Through The Window Of Your Undesirable Neighbors' House Day!

Your High School Girlfriend Is Now An Ass Model Day

Your High School Girlfriend Is Now An Ass Model Day!

Write to her via Popshot Posters, the poster publishing company that prints and distributes the poster in which you found her. Something like…

Dear Popshot Posters,

I've recently noticed that an old acquaintance of mine is featured in one of your posters. The poster I am speaking of features four women in thong bikinis bent over like animals who've spotted prey with their rear-ends raised and perched atop the closed gate of a bright yellow flat-bed truck. Two bearded, obese gentlemen are hanging out of the truck's driver and passenger side doors. The caption to the poster reads, "Fatso's Butt Truck. Free Delivery. Fort Lauderdale." The model with whom I am acquainted is the third from the left, in the blue thong bikini. Her name is Tamara Hull. We had a thing.

I haven't seen her since prom and I was hoping you'd be able to forward this note along to her. Let her know that I said, "It's Dave! Dave Jesser! I'm good. I'm good. Congratulations on the whole poster thing. That's so great. That's so great. That's so, so great."

Let Tamara know that I'm still in Township Falls and I see her parents around a lot. I never visit Fort Lauderdale but I've always meant to, and if Tammy ever wants to get together and catch up (I'd love to hear about the modeling and what it's like to ride in a truck!), she should send me along her contact info and I'll be in touch. I'm single and my brother died this year.

Thanks Popshot Posters!

Happy Your High School Girlfriend Is Now An Ass Model Day!

She Likes To Play Tricks On People Day

She Likes To Play Tricks On People Day!

Thirteen year old Jezebel Gooding is being escorted away by some police officers. She made your eleven year old, Maria, believe that she had killed Jezebel when they were playing. Maria was about ready to go on the lam. Jezebel and Maria had been playing "Kiss Me Deadly" in your garage. Jezebel told Maria that if you kiss someone long enough and hard enough, you'll kill them.

"No," Maria said. "That can't be right."

Jezebel kissed Maria on the mouth, sucking the air from their mouths in between her barely parted lips. She held the kiss for as long as a minute before Maria jerked away and panted some breath into her lungs.

"See, if we kissed for any longer we'd be dead."

"Can anyone do that?" Maria asked.

Jezebel nodded and puckered her lips. Maria put her mouth to Jezebel's and sucked the air as Jezebel had. After perhaps fifty seconds, Jezebel fell to the ground of the garage.

Maria laughed. Then Maria announced that it wasn't funny. Then Maria shook Jezebel by her shoulders. Then Maria cried. Then Maria got a shovel.

She dragged Jezebel to the dirt path behind her garage and began to dig. Jezebel remained motionless. Maria dug a grave no more than a foot deep, then pulled Jezebel into it and just barely covered her in the dirt. Jezebel was smart not to throw herself up out of the grave at Maria because she knew Maria might have reacted by opening up her head with the shovel. So she just lay there, trying not to laugh at Maria's eulogy.

" I just wanted you to think I was as cool as I thought you were.
I didn't listen to you when you told me how dangerous it would be.
I'll never kiss again.
Goodbye pretty princess."

Then she kissed her palm and laid it on the mound of dirt.

Maria went up to her room and cried, and Jezebel crawled from her very shallow grave to the base of Maria's trellis. She climbed up to the window and tapped at the glass.

When Maria saw Jezebel's filthy face in the glass, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Jezebel lifted her arms like a monster, but she lost her grip and slid down the slanted roof and fell in the bushes below.

You rushed to your daughter's room and your husband went outside to help Jezebel into the house, making sure to keep her filthy body away from the couch.

Maria explained what happened and what she thought had happened. Jezebel explained that it was for fun. You just wanted to call Jezebel's mother, but your husband knew that the kind of people who would raise someone like Jezebel might be the kind of people who would sue him for whatever they could get. So he involved the police.

Now the police are taking Jezebel home to her mother. And you have to convince Maria that Jezebel's not a good friend to have. She's not gonna buy it. Plus, she's tired from all the crying. Let her go to bed. You stay up and worry.

Happy She Likes To Play Tricks On People Day!

Sell Yourself To A Businessman Day

Sell Yourself To A Businessman Day!

Today you are going to turn over control of yourself to a wealthy businessman, the sort of man who is overweight and wears suits.

Start the negotiations with some aggression. Say, "Check this. How much do you think it would take for you to bring this home and call it "my baby."

The businessman will lowball you. Call him on it.

Say, "You cocksmoking Godhole. I'll kill you with this razor." Then pull out your straight razor.

The businessman will say, "You know your way around the table. I like that. I'll throw in 7 million more and the promise to adopt a Southeast Asian baby by 2009."

Remember, this is a "Negotiation."

Say, "2008 and a half."

The businessman will curl his mouth up at the corner, then he'll break out in a smile.

"Deal," he'll say. "Now get in the trunk."

Get in the trunk.

Happy Sell Yourself To A Businessman Day!

Mount Fun Day

Mount Fun Day!

Mount Fun got its name because at its peak is the world's highest altitude Chuck E Cheese. Many of the world's wealthiest and most adventurous children have contracted the Chuck E Cheese at the top of Mount Fun for their birthday parties, but only a rare few have ever made it to the top to blow out the candles. Mount Fun's slopes and crags are littered with the bones of outdoorsy children and their Sherpas.

The staff of the Mount Fun Chuck E Cheese live on premises, and they are all certified in either medicine or nursing. You're the newest hire, filling the vacancy of Bunny Rabbit/Orthopaedic Surgeon. You are required to show up to work only when the bell is rung in the Chuck E Cheese watchtower, alerting all in the camp that a birthday celebration nears, and the warm blankets and various roots should be readied for however many of the children have survived. This is also the signal for the generator to be charged in the medical barracks.

On average, the staff of the Mount Fun Chuck E Cheese works a total of six weeks out of the year, rarely hosting more than one or two parties. Which is pretty sweet. But each birthday party is preceded by a three to four week convalescence. The most challenging part of the job is that all staff-members must wear their animal costumes at all times, even during the amputations.

Tonight, the bell will ring for the first time this year. The first time in your tenure. You're going to have to prove to them that they made the right decision in hiring you. Get ready to sing some funny covers of fifties rock songs and teach some children how to maneuver their prosthetics.

Happy Mount Fun Day!

.W.A.T. At First Sight Day

S.W.A.T. At First Sight Day!

Today, while rappelling 38 stories down the side of a high-rise in anticipation of crashing through the windows of a known drug-running operation, you'll spy a pair of eyes possessed of such magic, such depth of tenderness that you fear you might fill your night vision goggles with a torrent of tears.

You'll stop still and stare through the glass. She'll be on her couch, a remote control in her hand, her elegant stare holding you hostage.

Lift your night vision goggles to your forehead and place your hand flat on the pane of glass. She'll rise and walk to the window. Her legs will be bare, but she'll be wearing a long men's dress shirt over her underwear.

A men's dress shirt. She has a lover. Perhaps, she's a visitor to this apartment.
Or perhaps she has a husband.

When she places her bare palm against the silhouette of your black-gloved hand on the glass, you'll feel as if you've both tumbled naked onto a honeymoon suite mattress. You know that whatever her situation might be in regards to that men's dress shirt, it's just been changed irrevocably.

The swirling wind around you carries the shouts of "Go! Go! Go!" belted out from your fellow team members below. There's a crash of glass. You smile at her and she smiles back. You let yourself free-fall the remaining nine floors. And when you crash through the glass and release the contents of your AK-47 into as many chests as you can hold in your rifle site, you won't hear a thing except for what's singing through your head.

17th floor. She's on the 17th floor. Just up there. On the 17th floor.

Happy S.W.A.T. At First Sight Day!

Roar Of The Crowd Day!

In the new world, you and your wife are forced to make love in front of a stadium full of bloodthirsty fans who like to watch people have sex while they wait for their blood.

At first, you and your wife didn't like the idea of having to fornicate for the entertainment of tens of thousands, but once you got over the initial terror, you discovered what a deep connection you can establish with a crowd when you have intercourse in front of them. In short, you're good at what you do.

You two have a following now. Though you're slaves, people in the highest posts of industry have been seen in your audience. In the old world, you were just an anthropology professor, and your wife practiced law. Neither of you felt that you'd answered your true calling. Not until you bent your wife over the rear bumper of a burning overturned VW Bug and entered her to the cheers of a populace.

You have three performances tonight. Afterward, you've been invited to a party at a Consulate. You and your wife will be attending in the company of your owners. At the party, you'll meet a Swiss couple who have been wowing them with public sex in one of the new colonies to the East. The Minister of Energy will propose a wager.

"Ours against yours," he'll say.

Winning the fuckbattle against the Swiss will send a rush of pride through your city. But it will also, ultimately, mean war. Losing, however, means your heads.

Happy Roar Of The Crowd Day!

The Only Thing Keeping Me From Showing Those Kids My Asshole Is You And Our Beautiful Daughter Day

The Only Thing Keeping Me From Showing Those Kids My Asshole Is You And Our Beautiful Daughter Day!

He loves you as much as he hates being a high school math teacher. Every day it's getting worse at that school. The overgrown punks just so determined to send their lives down the toilet. They ignore your husband. They laugh at your husband. Every day your husband comes closer to doing something that will kick him out of that school and never let him come near it again.

And every night he comes home and he sees your beautiful eyes echoed in the face of that adorable little girl under a blanket in her crib. One smile from you, one nuzzle of his daughter's cheek, and he remembers what he's doing it for. To keep his family happy. To be the man they're counting on him to be.

"You listen to me," he'll say to you after dinner tonight when the baby's asleep. "You listen to me go on and on and I'm sorry. But I swear to God when they start mouthing off in that classroom sometimes I just wanna yank down my pants and spread my cheeks so the craggly brown crust of my asshole is staring them in the eyes and I'll tell him what they can mouth off into if they want. I'll tell em to lick it clean till it's as white the chalk on that chalkboard up there."

Take his head to your bosom and say, "Shhh."

"I hate teaching," he'll say.

Caress his hair and say, "Shhh."

"I swear to God," he'll say. "The only thing keeping me from showing those kids my asshole is you and that little girl upstairs."

Just hold him tight. He'll feel better in a little while. Then both of you should go upstairs and watch your daughter sleep.

Happy The Only Thing Keeping Me From Showing Those Kids My Asshole Is You And Our Beautiful Daughter Day!

Shoehorn Day

Shoehorn Day!

You pay strange women to come to your home and make you gag by pressing down on your tongue with your own shoehorn. Today, after about seven minutes of being gagged nearly to vomiting down the woman's wrist, her boyfriend will burst through the front door and shout, "Jessica!"

She'll have told you her name was Amber.

"I swear I don't have sex with him," Jessica will shout.

"What the hell are you talking about? He's in his underwear!"

Not exactly. You'll be wearing black rubber trunks.

"But it never goes further than this," Jessica will shout. "He just pays me to hold this shoehorn on his tongue until he throws up a bunch of times. Then he falls panting to the floor and tells me to root through his trousers for my cash."

The boyfriend will look like he's trying to find the downside.

"If you needed the money…"

Jessica will smile. "I was saving up to buy you an iPod for my birthday."

"Oh baby," the boyfriend will say. "I can't listen to an iPod. I've been letting this old guy fuck my ear for fifty dollars a shot. My doctor says all that semen has permanently damaged my ear drums."

"Oh my God," Jessica says. "If holding a shoehorn down on this guy's tongue had left me unable to play a PSP, this would totally be like 'Gift of the Magi!'"

Jessica and her boyfriend run off to be happy together, but not before her boyfriend beats you into a coma and steals everything in your home that looks like it might be worth something.

Happy Shoehorn Day!

Corncob Pipe Day

Corncob Pipe Day!

Today, when you're emptying out your Dad's house because he's dead and someone bought the house where he raised you and your brothers, you're going to find a corncob pipe. It's the pipe your dad would shove into the heads of all those snowmen that you and him used to make together. Before you got kidnapped.

You were held captive in the basement from fall into the winter of 1989, and you watched those first few snowfalls through the basement window and you thought, "No corncob pipes on the snowmen this winter. Sorry I can't be there Dad."

When you got rescued and the policemen drove you to your house, you saw through the window that the snowman in the front yard had the corncob pipe sticking out of his head. You were so furious that as soon as they let you out of the car, you ran away from home. Before your parents got to hug you even. It would be another three days before you were located and brought home. And you didn't speak to your Dad until the end of the winter.

He tried to apologize once. He said, "It was to show that the kidnappers hadn't stolen your spirit from us. But you knew the truth. He just always hated that you got to shove the pipe into the snowman's head just because you were the kid and he was the dad.

Happy Corncob Pipe Day!

One Of Your Neighbors Discovered Your System Of Underground Tunnels Day

One Of Your Neighbors Discovered Your System Of Underground Tunnels Day!

Luckily, he slipped on an unstable slope and hit his head, leaving him unconscious there to be found by you later tonight. It's Dave Jorgensen, the guy who walks his poodle in his bathrobe in the morning. You never thought he'd be the kind of guy who might fiddle with the basement wall behind his water heater, but apparently old Dave got curious and started his way down your dark maze. He made it as far as just underneath the Blumenfelds when he slipped on a muddy patch and cracked his head on the sharp poke of brick down there.

He's not dead, but he's got a concussion. And he'll still be unconscious when you find him. And that's when you'll find out what you're made of. A true Lord of the Beneath would do the honorable thing and pummel Mr. Jorgensen's head until it has the consistency of the mud that was his demise, then bury him in the 3X7' intersection of tunnels between the Holts' and the Baughans' lots. This would be the act of a man who built a sub-suburban land with the intent of creating a kingdom.

And then there's the coward. The man who has never seen the whites of another man's eyes. The frightened rodent who dug into the dirt of his own home so as to find a place to hide from his sunlit fears. He would simply bury Mr. Jorgensen in his unconscious state, with the faith that a lack of air would take his life as surely as three certain hits to bone. But if you choose this cowardly path, poetry would dictate that in days' or weeks' time you'll be on the street trying to conduct yourself as if you were one of the men who wave to you from their passing cars when Mr. Jorgensen claws his way through the loose soil of the rosebushes lain across the Holts' and the Baughans' dividing line. Whether he is truly undead or simply crazed from his time spent in a wet grave, you won't have the chance to determine before he sinks his teeth into the meat of your spine.

Take no chances. Demonstrate your rule.

Happy One Of Your Neighbors Discovered Your System Of Underground Tunnels Day!

Watch A Little Boob Tube Day

Watch A Little Boob Tube Day!

Your ex-boyfriend is being led across his office plaza with his hands cuffed behind his back and his suit jacket over his head. It's a live feed and when the suit jacket falls off, you can see that it's Scott.

"Scott," you mutter out loud. You sound a little stupid when you say it because your mouth is full of ice cream.

The newscaster says that Scott looted the company of two million dollars. A good hunk of the money paid rent on the apartment where he housed his stripper girlfriend.

"God that was a fun night," you say out loud, again sounding like a retard because there's even more ice cream weighing down your tongue this time. The night you're referring to is the night Scott brought you to the Spearmint Rhino in London, seemingly on "a whim," and he bought a half hour in a private lounge for a dancer to writhe all over you while he watched. At the hotel later, you and Scott had sex until dawn. You don't remember whether the sex was especially good or bad, you just remember that it went on for a while.

You do remember that dancer though. "God she was so fucking hot," you say, barely intelligible as you try to keep from freezing your nasal passages with the ice cream too mountainous to swallow.

You stopped seeing Scott a month after London when he showed up to your apartment on coke and was a dick to your roommate. You've never dated anyone rich since (not by choice).

His image there on the TV screen is your first sight of him in two and a half years. The newscaster mentions his wife and six year old daughter, which means he must have been married while he was seeing you. You didn't know that.

You put some more ice cream in your mouth and you say out loud, again in that stupid sounding mouth-full-of-ice-cream voice, "God I love ice cream."

Happy Watch A Little Boob Tube Day!

Buy A Rowboat Day

Buy A Rowboat Day!

Show it to your wife and tell her that it's the first step towards buying that lake house she's always dreamed of. Tell her today you're going to start saving.

She'll say, "Just let me go back inside and pack and I'll be out of your hair."

Point to the rowboat and say, "But the rowboat."

"Mmm," she'll say. Then she'll go back into the house to pack her two suitcases full of everything she can fit. Follow her into the bedroom.

"It's taking longer than I thought," she'll say. "I'm just trying to think of everything I might need so I won't have to come back here for as long as possible. Maybe never."

Try once more. "The rowboat?"

"I'm not into it," she'll say. "Too many mistakes. Sorry. Nice boat though."

About an hour and a half later she'll be gone. You'll have a new rowboat though. Bring it into the living room and sit in it while you watch TV.

Happy Buy A Rowboat Day!

American Storefront Day

American Storefront Day!

It's decorated with a neon Miller Hi Life sign and a live girl undulating on a pedestal in a small green bikini.

"That's the wrong color green," you'll tell the reporter. "But I think we're on the right track."

The reporter will ask you what you intended to communicate to passersby when you set about decorating your storefront.

"Delicious sandwiches," you'll say.

The reporter will begin to write that, then he'll pause and look back up at you, expectant.

You'll take a second. "And freedom?"

The reporter will nod, satisfied. Behind the glass, the live girl will lose her footing and tumble off of her pedestal. You and the reporter will hear startled yelps from inside the store.

At the hospital later this evening, the doctor will declare it an ankle fracture.

You'll ask, "When will she be able to undulate in my storefront again?"

"Seven months and three weeks," he'll say.

"Seven months and three weeks?" you'll shout.

The doctor will tell you that your live girl is not only lame, she's pregnant.

"YES!" the live girl will shout.

You're either going to have to audition new live girls or you're going to have to redesign your storefront. The 4th of July is coming up.

"I think I'll audition new live girls," you'll say to the contents of your refrigerator when you're staring into it tonight at 3 AM.

Happy American Storefront Day!

Find George And Take Him Out Now Day

Find George And Take Him Out Now Day!

Nothing can continue until George is removed from the equation. Quit your job, abandon your children, forget to give your pets their medicine, nothing else matters. George must be stopped. Make it happen.

Happy Find George And Take Him Out Now Day!

The Cooler Containing Your New Liver Is Missing Day

The Cooler Containing Your New Liver Is Missing Day!

The guerillas attacked the motorcade and got their hands on the cooler. They know that if the Feds don't come through on your promised liver transplant, you won't provide the coordinates for General Garcia's bunker. They weren't able to down the chopper during your transport to the Chicago hospital (the missile took out one of the city's three most trafficked radio transmitters), and they know they won't be able to get close enough to kill you in your bed. So they had to take away the only leverage the US had for getting you to talk. The promise of a liver transplant and, in effect, twenty years added to your life.

They know you still love mother Nicaragua. But you've always been selfish. They won't put it past you to sacrifice your country in order to get that diseased mass of tissue out of your belly. They're not going to let you have that chance.

The Feds are coming in right now to lie to you. They're going to tell you the liver is on its way, that there was a traffic accident and the motorcade was diverted. They're buying more time. Who knows, they might still come through.

Happy The Cooler Containing Your New Liver Is Missing Day!

Your Foreign Exchange Student Girlfriend Day

Your Foreign Exchange Student Girlfriend Day!

She goes back to Denmark in a week so you're going to have to propose to her. You never thought you'd go into your senior year of high school a married man, but a girl like Katrine will make boys like you do what you never thought you'd do.

Katrine will protest. "I still have a boyfriend in Denmark," she'll say.

Be firm. "Break it off with him."

She'll say she's not sure whether she's ready to let him go. "His hair is blonde like mine. We look appropriate together."

"Katrine," say. "You're not like the other girls in my high school. You allowed me to touch you."

Katrine will smile. "And you're not like the boys back in Denmark."

You'll wait for her to explain how, but she'll only smile.

Ask her, "What's the difference between me and the boys back in Denmark? Besides the hair color I mean."

She'll say, "No, that's it. They have blonde hair. You don't."

You'll be starting to worry now. You didn't think this could end any other way but for the two of you to kiss and run to the internet to find out which states allow seventeen year old boys to marry seventeen year old girls with student visas, then you'd hop in a car and drive until you were both wearing wedding rings.

Say, "Is there anything I can say to keep you here with me?"

Katrine will take your hand in both of hers. "Let me go. Let me live on forever after as your foreign exchange student girlfriend. And you'll live on forever as my American boyfriend. If we marry, you'll just be a husband and I'll just be a wife."

You won't be able to argue with her, it will sound so beautiful in her accented English. Her words will glow with the promise of a wonderful future for each of you. A future full of many different lovers and marriage and children and wonderful, wonderful memories. Unfortunately though, Katrine will prove to be the last girlfriend you'll ever have, the last woman you'll ever be intimate with, in fact. You'll just never hit it off with anyone else again. It was right with her and there will not be another. Sometimes it works out that way. This is one of those times.

Happy Your Foreign Exchange Student Girlfriend Day!

Your Parents Are An Interracial Couple Day

Your Parents Are An Interracial Couple Day!

It's been a long while since you congratulated them for their bravery.

Tonight, when you've all finished dinner, and your Dad says to your mom, "Black lady, nice food."

And your mom says, "Only the best, white motherfucker."

Say to the both of them, "I hope you've saved some room for dessert."

Then give them the cake you spent all day cooking from scratch.

They'll read the writing on the cake in unison. "Courage?"

Say, "I made it in honor of you guys not being the same race but falling in love anyway. It's a strawberry shortcake."

Your Mom will burst into tears. "I didn't think you'd noticed."

"That you guys aren't the same race? Sure I did. That's what everyone's always spray-painting our house about, right?"

Now you'll see that your Dad is crying. "No," he'll say. "How hard it was to pull this off. We thought you didn't care. I mean it was really, really hard."

"I know," you'll say. You're going to start getting a little annoyed now. "That's why I made you the cake? Hello?"

Your mom will get a hold of herself. "It's just kind of like that movie about that guy. The one who struggled."

Your dad will smash his fist into the table and say that that movie sucked. They'll start fighting again and you'll run from the table and hide in your room. The fighting will turn them both on and they'll go upstairs and make forbidden love. When you come downstairs in the morning, they won't have touched the cake. But they will have conceived your future baby sister.

Happy Your Parents Are An Interracial Couple Day!

Murder Mystery Day

Murder Mystery Day!

The lights went off in the Burger King. When they came back on, a woman was lying dead right there in the middle of the dining area. You and the other five customers crowded around her, along with some of the kitchen staff. Then you heard a click.

You turned around and saw the manager had just locked the door shut tight.

"What's the big idea?" said the burly customer wearing all black.

The manager said, "We were all here when she died. So one of us must have killed her. If no one leaves, the murderer can't get away."

You all looked at each other nervously.

"But we have tickets for the Opera," said the wealthy couple.

"My mom's waiting for me," said the woman who looked to be the exact same age as the woman on the floor.

The burly man in black said, "You best step aside hamburger man."

The manager replied, "You can go. If you want to be the subject of a manhunt. Think the police won't suspect you if you make a run for it?"

The burly man looked to you.

"Quiet one, ain't ya," he said.

You're mute. You told him so by pointing to your mouth and shaking your head.

"Nice one," the manager said to the burly man. "Now let's get to the mystery solving. Did anyone see anything strange?"

It's been six hours now and the body count has gone up to three. The fry cook and the husband of the wealthy woman who complained about her opera tickets, both bludgeoned over the head when out of sight of everyone else. The manager has been blaming himself for those additional deaths, and now he's just sitting on the floor slamming the back of his head against the wall and barking at himself, "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" You don't know who to trust, but you've been feeling some pretty heavy sparks between you and the grill cook. If you get out alive, you'll probably have a date for the weekend. You just have to hope that the grill cook gets out alive too. And that the grill cook isn't the killer.

Whoops. Lights went out again.

Happy Murder Mystery Day!

Cut Yourself Out Of A Picture Day

Cut Yourself Out Of A Picture Day!

Today is a special one for any of you who might hate yourselves or any of you who are so obsessed over an ex or that you feel like you're starting to disappear. So, 94% of this website's audience, this one's for you!

The picture you use should be that iconic photo, the one that a camera would find and zoom in on real close and then fade out on if your house was on fire and there was a cameraman inside it trying to figure out why it's come to this. It's the Christmas photo, you and the best thing that ever happened to you kissing in front of a tree, all smiles, all happiness and "I'll never go away." The photo should be wrinkled and water-stained from sitting in between your sweaty fingertips for four hours a night while you drink yourself to sleep

Take the scissors and cut yourself out of the photo, but not in a healthy, "as far as I'm concerned I never even met you" kind of way (boring!). If you're not sure if you're in the right mindset, instead of using scissors try using a serrated steak knife and slice yourself out of the picture. Feel "right?" Perfect.

The mindset is the one where it's all about, "I was the problem. I sent her away. This photo of her beautiful face is ruined by my presence." You should be pleading with dark forces for relief from your pain, whispering to a voodoo God while you slice and snip, "See, I'm not crowding him. I'll pull away if you bring him back to me. No evidence of us ever having been together, so please just let us start fresh like neither of us ever screamed a warning of violence into the other's face."

Basically, you should feel that you don't deserve to have any proof that he or she ever welcomed your touch. Do it because you still believe that it's meant to be, because you still believe that if you're given a second chance you'll know how to keep from screwing things up. Do it because you haven't slept in six days and because you're on your living room floor and you can't get up and you have a very stale smell about you.

Happy Cut Yourself Out Of A Picture Day!