It's The Girls Are Pretty "Oh Dear God What Have I Done?" Week!
Looks like today's the day that Pretty Girl is sending the last few years tumbling end over end into the big black nothing. No, silly, no one's opening up any wrists. But a one way plane ticket will be redeemed and an air mattress will be inflated. Out of respect for the alcohol intake to come, Girls Are Pretty is giving you the next week's posts all at once. Don't blow your wad. Scroll to the bottom for today's and then save tomorrow's for tomorrow. Even if you have no intention of observing each day's holiday, do you really feel your life is full enough to go without reading something stupid and new on the internet for a whole week? Ration it.

Sunday, July 7, 2002

Don't Even Open Your Eyes Day!
You saw it all yesterday. Some buildings. One or two cute babies. A guy pissing on a bank. Where's the suspense? Just keep your eyes closed and pretend you live in Lavender Footie Pajama World where everyone and everything is made of pie.

Saturday, July 6, 2002

Ask That Cunt Who Runs The Lotto Machine At Friends' Tavern To Marry You Day!
Goddamnit when are you going to realize happiness isn't just gonna walk up and bite you on the ass? That cunt who runs the lotto machine at Friend's Tavern would make you a damn good wife, and frankly, she's the only woman you've spoken to since Easter Sunday. You're still holding a grudge because when the jackpot was up to 95 million and you let her pick the numbers for your 147th ticket she picked all losers but for Christ's sake perfect girls go to Hollywood. You gotta settle for what you can reach out and grab. Her name's Allison by the way.

You never know, maybe if you get married before you turn 57 some long lost uncle will die and leave you millions of dollars just like I think I saw happen in a movie once.

Friday, July 5, 2002

Don't Feed Your Kids Day
I honestly hate this day, I really do. It's actually because of this holiday that I gave custody of my daughter back to my ex last year. I just couldn't handle being so cruel. Even for the other 364 days it would haunt me. I would shower her with love, but I knew it was just me compensating for the torment to come and it started to feel like she knew too. This is just too too miserable a day for me and if there's some higher reason for it that I can't comprehend, that only proves that this universe is really the bottom of the fucking barrel.

And I'm afraid the loopholes aren't valid. The name of the day would imply that kids who can walk and talk could be taught to run out and get food for themselves. But all research suggests that, historically, people have always observed the day by literally prohibiting their children from eating. Fucking awful.

Thursday, July 4, 2002

Skinnydip. But alone. And Quietly. Day!
Today is that special summer day when everyone has to swim naked and alone just like when we weren't born yet. No splashing or rope swinging (excuse the pun) either. Just nice even strokes out into the middle of the pond, tread a bit, then back again. You can stay out there all you want but, unfortunately, this is a very sacred holiday in most parts of the US. And even if someone saw you out there and was just bursting with the need to shout, "Mind if I join you?" or "If I swim out there to you will you have sex with me?" he or she will more often than not respect the holiday and your right to celebrate it by leaving you be.

Happy Skinnydip. But alone. And Quietly. Day!

Wednesday, July 3, 2002

Policewomen Are Amazing In Bed Day!
And the awesome thing is, and a lot of people don't know this, but policewomen are in fact allowed to have sex with people who aren't policemen. They can have sex with strip club owners and restaurateurs and ex-husbands, even battered women who need a place to sleep after the shelter's already closed for the night! And underneath their hat is this unbelievable head of long brown hair wrapped up in a bun that they let cascade down when they're up for it. But be careful. If you're not good at having sex and you have sex with a policewoman, she might plant heroin on you.

Happy Policewomen Are Amazing In Bed Day!

Tuesday, July 2, 2002

Get Loaded And Tell The New Friendlier ATM Screen That It Doesn't Know Anything About You And It Can Go Fuck Itself Day!
And then pee on it. But seriously, this big money spitting fuckwad of a computer thinks it can stupid up its lingo and suddenly you two are gonna be best friends? Fuckin' fake motherfucker talkin' down to you?! When's it been there for you? Where was he when your wife was deliverin' your third daughter and you was on third shift at the dreamcatcher factory with no sick time and damn right you were gonna get canned if you split. Countin' money's where. You're buddy, Ray, that's a friend. Fuckin' bankboy ho.

Now pee on it.

Monday, July 1, 2002

DOUBT! DOUBT! DOUBT! DOUBT! DOUBT! Day!
I don't care if you have strawberry jam on your toast every morning. Today's the day to have some second thoughts. It don't matter about what. Just be uncertain. Got a gut feeling that you're doing the right thing? Well you just doubt yourself enough and that gut feeling is gonna turn into a nice debilitating yet companionable ulcer in no time. There are some bumper stickers for sale by the bathrooms, just so you know. Here's the top seller:

"You've Been Wrong Before.
Why Not Now?"

Cute huh? How 'bout this one:

"Vacillators Do It Eventually Maybe"

Make sure you pick one up for your brother-in-law who is a riot. Now go out there and tackle that Monday but please try not to do anything rash.

Happy DOUBT! DOUBT! DOUBT! DOUBT! DOUBT! Day!

Let A Taxi Driver Convince You To Stay With Your Lover, With Whom You've Been Disenchanted Of Late Day!

"That's quite a lotta bags," he'll ask after the first few blocks of you staring out the window as if your decision were standing on every street corner making rasberries at you. "You look like you packed 'em in a hurry."

It's already over. If you were pressed for time at all, you would just stop the cab and run back to your apartment so you can crumple up the note before he or she gets home. But you wouldn't have put your life in two suitcases in the trunk of a cab if you weren't stubborn. So you're just going to sit there and grimace while your resolve weakens with every click of the meter.

"I been done wrong," the cabbie starts in. Blah blah blah, but he'd give everything to have said the one thing he was too proud to say...why don't you just go back there already? Your twenty-seven year old ass is no match for the worldly wisdom of the American Cab Driver. He's been more emotionally invested in a knife fight than you are in your live-in fling with Mr. or Mrs. Graduate Student In Semiotics. Yeah, you have a lot of years ahead of you, he can tell. But he can also tell that you are far too dull to do anything with them.

"My forty-first birthday...the loneliest day of my life..." he says. But what he meant to say was, "You still here?" Jesus, exactly what in this world has given you the illusion that things could ever be better for you than they already are? Look at your driver. He expects nothing more than for you to pay your fare and to once a day feel the cold steel of a revolver against his temple. Your generation, you got joy marketed to you so you think it's yours for the buying at half off on your charge card so you can get frequent flyer miles. The American Cab Driver knows two things: the clap won't kill ya' and if you get your hands on joy for half a minute of your life you can consider yourself one of the lucky ones.

Now go home and settle.

Happy Let A Taxi Driver Convince You To Stay With Your Lover, With Whom You've Been Disenchanted Of Late Day!

Pretend Like You Just Graduated High School And One Of Your Friends Is About To Be Shipped Off To Viet Nam But You're Going To College Day!

Obviously, your friend is much wiser than you and has far more to offer but he unfortunately wasn't born with the financial advantage that you have. Also, he'll never make it to Viet Nam because he's going to die before the sun rises, probably when someone dares him to scale an electrical tower or dive into a quarry.

Now about you. You should be wistful, without really knowing why. Just kind of wonder why everything doesn't mean more. Why every footstep you take isn't weighed down with resonating import. The awesome part is you're totally gonna get laid when you and your girl/boyfriend have sex for the first and last time and it'll feel like rape. When the sun rises and you don't know that your friend just died, throw a beer can into a vast space, like the quarry (assuming your friend didn't just die there. If you're aware of your friend's death, we understand that you'll be at the hospital slapping walls or demanding information from nurses so we'll just go home). We wanna watch the beer can float into so much wide open nothing because it'll symbolize how indifferent the future is as regards you and the choices you'll soon make.

conGRADulations on Pretend Like You Just Graduated High School And One Of Your Friends Is About To Be Shipped Off To Viet Nam But You're Going To College Day!

Everything's Made of Shit And Dick Cancer (Koala Bears Excluded) Day!

A little girl from Tampa, FL named Cecilia, age 8, wrote the following adorable letter to Girls Are Pretty in reference to today's special day. Give it a read:

Dear Prettygirl,

Zebras are pretty. I like Zebras. At the zoo, I only want to see the Zebras because they are my favoritest animal in the zoo. I don't think Zebras are made of shit and dick cancer and can you please change your holiday so that everything else but Koalas and Zebras are made of shit and dick cancer? Please? Thank you Prettygirl.

--Cecilia. Age 8.

Wasn't that sweet? Sadly, I have no control over what happens on what day. I am only a conduit for this 50 foot monkey that decides on everything, even the thoughts in your head. So here's my response, Cecilia:

Dear Cecilia,

You're fucking dead.

--Prettygirl

Happy Everything's Made of Shit And Dick Cancer (Koala Bears Excluded) Day!

More Titty!!! Day!

The prevalence of titty in day to day American life has been on the wane since the Great Arizona Titty Fair And Chili Cook Off of 1996. Finger pointers wasted lots of Sunday Morning television air time pointing fingers at Cuba. In the 1999 Bestseller When Titty Was Tops, a transcript of Barbara Ehrenreich's graduation address to the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts left Gore Vidal's September, 1989 Atlantic Monthly satirical feature "George Bush And The School For Advanced Meteorology" largely in tatters, but conspicuously avoided the topic of Titty like it was plague. Was it cynicism or was it glee?

Who killed Titty?

Well today, we're going to stop looking to Congress for free lunch or at least coupons. If we want our field of vision to once again be saturated with enough titty to make us feel a little claustrophobic and wondering where that odor's coming from, we're gonna have to start at our own doorsteps. Knock on your neighbor's door and introduce yourself. Over the course of the afternoon, you and your neighbor will drink each other stupid with red wine and that's when you suggest that maybe the neighborhood could do with a little more titty here and there. I'll be damned if he or she doesn't grab your shoulders and say, "You might have a point, but who do I write to?" When you both wake up from your nap, one of you will ask "We didn't...did we?" A pair of naked and freckled shrugged shoulders will tell you you might have just gotten laid but you were too drunk to enjoy it.

All that aside, what do you say we celebrate More Titty Day by bashing in some fucking skulls? Who's with me?

How 'Bout Nobody Gather Round A Fire And Sing A Bunch Of Queer-Ass Songs Day!

This one's also known as "Let's Not And Say We Did You Dork Day." It's about refusing to participate in a warm, unifying evening of old and new friends joining together in the woods to pretend that singing "Row Row Row Your Boat" is gonna change the fact that some people's Dads come into their rooms late at night. "Kumbaya My Lord?"

No.

Look this isn't Meatballs. Chris Makepeace is not going to win any races today and Bill Murray is not going to get back together with one of the butchest love interests ever put to celluloid. The only thing any of us has in common is the fact that none of us should ever gather round in a circle to do anything ever. We're just wrong for each other. We're not in a "Gather Round A Fire And Sing Some Songs" place right now. The harder you try to force it, the more plaintive our disgust for each other will become. Oh and way to break out the acoustic guitar on How 'Bout Nobody Gather Round A Fire And Sing A Bunch Of Queer-Ass Songs Day. Good planning. (Just like when you booked the trip to Denver during Denver Blows Week last year.)

What? No I didn't say anything.

Don't Worry, You Too Will One Day Die Day! (Promise)

Sometimes it feels like life might never end. Day after day of heartache and feeling sleepy on public buses sitting too close to gangrenous men who are singing. We're all looking forward to crossing over into the dark blank. But you wonder: "What if I'm the one whose health just never crosses that line? Isn't it possible that my heart just might keep on beating? Dear Christ what if I'm the motherfucker who has to keep on living forever?!"

There's no need to sweat. Precedent indicates that you too are not long for this world. So far, in the history of humanity, no one has lived longer than like 111 years or so.

FAQ
Q: But what if there are people who are immortal but they're just hiding because they're shy?!!

A: Hmm. That's a tough one. I guess you're right. Though highly unlikely, it is possible that this misery might never end for you. Shit.

Happy Don't Worry, You Too Will One Day Die Day! (Probably)

Call A Truce In Your War Of Wits So That You And Your Arch Enemy Can Fuck Day!

Before you go to priceline to arrange for the hotel room, perhaps you might get a handle on that premature ejaculation problem. You're mad geniuses in a never-ending battle for world domination after all. When the begrudging respect you hold for each other turns to an erotic longing so palpable that you're both willing to postpone death ray construction to find out whether your coupling will make the winters boil and the summers freeze, the whole bang-bang shouldn't dribble away after a few minutes when you mutter, "Oh...uh...oops. I'll get a washcloth."

You guys should fuck on top of a mountain. In fact, you guys should fuck each other with a mountain. Time should stop but if it didn't, you guys fucking would last longer than the span of three generations. The moaning should be mistaken for a summer storm's thunder and if you get bored or sore with one particular position you should go into villages and steal some village elders and fuck each other with them.

Don't come yet.

Now stay genitally conjoined but start beating the living shit out of each other! Spit fire on each other and start talking really breathy and potty-mouthed. God that's hot. Your minions are engaged in battle at the mountain's base and they're almost all dead, just so you know. Now, one of you should ask what the other is thinking about, and the other should lie to spare feelings. Take a break to run to the deli to get some sparkling water and limes, okay? Drink up and then go at it again but lazier this time. Be playful. You have all day before you have to return to your respective secret headquarters underneath their respective riverbeds, so why not make the most of this bed. Say what you feel. There's nothing sexier than communication, you know. It's almost as sexy as searing runes into your lover's thigh with your prosthetic pinky laser.

Remember, eye contact. Happy Call A Truce In Your War Of Wits So That You And Your Arch Enemy Can Fuck Day!

Spend All Your Money And Die Day!

Start with brunch. Then go buy like a baby or something. Buy a baby and the legal rights to keep it in the refrigerator (if you spend enough money, you're allowed to do anything you want to a baby. Use your credit card). Then buy a plane and fly it into a mountain. Or buy a porsche and drive it into the ocean (but make sure the person in the passenger seat is wearing a bored expression on his or her face as you fly out into the drink). Or buy the end of the world and use it. Just spend all your money and fucking die. I'm gonna go get breakfast and if I think there's anything else you should spend your money on, I'll update this post later. But don't like stay inside all day or anything.

It's Feed Upon Our Love And You Will Never Ever Go Hungry Day!

Fatso.

Just kidding. But seriously, you are kinda hogging it aren't you? Could you maybe save some for me? Jesus, how do you breathe? You aren't even listening to me. It's like you're hypnotized, just hunched over and gorging on our love as if leaving a little bit on your plate will force your dad to rape a kid. You need to walk more.

Happy Feed Upon Our Love And You Will Never Ever Go Hungry Day! I'm starting to find you less attractive.

Confess To Your Officemate That Sometimes Even The Most Casual Physical Contact, Like A Handshake, Can Make You Wanna Set Yourself On Fire Day!

Just throw it out there, during a lull, when the two of you are bullshitting about whether the new Accounts Receivable Officer is a whore or just sleepy or whether either of you have ever known a heroin addict. When he or she is taking a bite of a sandwich, say it loud.

"I don't know. Sometimes it feels like if someone even brushes past me on the elevator I'm never gonna stop throwing up."

Your officemate might be unsure he or she heard right. Clarify.

"I just feel like people are diseased."

Why have you been shutting your officemate out for so long?

Kittens Day!

FUCK! Kittens Day can blow me.

I'm sorry but I'm out of fucking Ativan and my doctor won't let me have any more until I quit drinking. Now I have to get all sucky-fucky when all my friends call me up and ask if I wanna wish their kitten a Happy Kittens Day?! I always try to leave town this time of year but I'm broke.

I'm gonna go spraypaint curse words all over my futon. Talk to you tomorrow...

Sit On A Roof At Dusk, But Don't Bring Your Rifle Day!

I don't know about your neck of the woods and I don't really care all that much, but from where I'm sitting it's gonna be a pretty nice evening. That's why around 6:30 I'm going to climb out onto my rooftop and just kind'a soak in the twilight. Join me? We can watch the folks in their cars ease down on the clutch as they get closer to their families. We can chuckle at the Rorschach-inspired shapes of the bald spots of the boyfriends on the sidewalks, and we can wander down the cleavage of the girlfriends on the sidewalks from our bird's eye view. We can bring beverages, like a cran-apple drink or some Vodka. We can smoke marijuana. We can just lay back and get heavy-petted by the breeze and if you want to kiss, I don't know. We can talk some stuff out that we can't talk about at a lower altitude and we can spit on things or confess to crushes we have on mutual friends. And I promise not to bring my rifle this time. That was a bad idea, I'll admit it. That was my bad, yo. But how the hell does a newspaper get to print a headline like "Rush Hour Sniper Captured Before First Shot Fired" when they have no idea whether I was going to shoot anybody. As far as I know, it's legal to own a rifle and according to my lease, I have roof access. Is this Russia?

Don't Commit Adultery Unless You Just Want To Have Sex With Someone Besides Your Monogamous Partner Day!

People who commit adultery are disgusting vermin and whatever wacked out making-it-count position they use during their adulterous relationships, that's exactly how the devil's gonna fuck them for all eternity when they end up rotting in hell. Except for the ones who were just doing it for the fresh, exciting sex.

But the others, like the ones who had sex outside their monogamous relationships just to prove they're cool or the ones who nail somebody because he or she knows a lot of trivia about Hockey or the ones who need to fuck strangers to feel necessary to the world because they were molested, those ones deserve to fucking die. I mean, just because someone helps you fix a flat tire then takes his or her shirt off, it's not an excuse to betray the one you love. But if you really just want to have sex with the person, because you never have, then it's cool.

I knew this one guy. He had a wife and two daughters and one night he was on a business trip and he had sex with this cocktail waitress in a motel. But he only did it because he found out one of his daughters had Leukemia and he needed to be close to someone for the night. Anyway, while he and the waitress were asleep, someone broke into the motel room and slit both their throats.

See?

Pray To Baby Jesus To Help You Find Lots Of Money Day!

Just explain things to him. Say, "Baby Jesus, when I went to my high school reunion everyone seemed richer than me. All my old friends and enemies seemed to have found lots of money either by marrying someone who had already found some or by going to college. I wanna find lots of money and I need your help. Give me a sign that tells me where there's some money hidden. Like how about if you get a camel to lead me to an abandoned building where drug dealers who are all dead once stashed gajillions of dollars because the heat was coming around the corner? Or just put a bag of thousand dollar bills on my coffee table. Thanks Baby Jesus. I always knew you weren't a fucking asshole."

Happy Pray To Baby Jesus To Help You Find Lots Of Money Day!

Learn How To Make Poison Day!

Yes, drink Drano and you will most likely die. But how easy is it to get an impotent King to drink Drano?

There are so many poisons out there that are thousands of years old and are just truly fucking awesome when it comes to offing a dude because they were made by ancient Indian civilizations full of guys with nothing better to do than sit around all day dreaming up ways to kill a motherfucker who likes to drink beverages that are offered to him.

Well, little Mr. Unemployed, are you going to spend the day complaining about how you have no one to go see the Ya Ya Sisterhood with because all of your friends have jobs and families? Or are you going to empty out the kitchen cabinets and concoct a potion that might as well be the Grim Reaper himself if the Grim Reaper took the form of a delicious Strawberry Daiquiri? I know you well and I know there's a little Village Medicine Man inside you that's just waiting to come out. You'd look dope with a femur pierced through your nose and you'll get more ass than a place called "Assy Asstowne" whose slogan is "If It's Ass And We Don't Have It, We'll Order It!" once the neighborhood finds out that you got rid of the Town Bad Tipper when you spiked his Mochachino with a droplet full of judgement day that made him bleed something out his eyes that looked like a slurpee. Dress sharp.

Note: Use your poison-making talent for good. If you use it for evil, you're almost guaranteed to drink your own poison one day, and it'll be a poison that lets you live those few extra seconds it takes to acknowledge the irony of being undone by the very thing that made you such a badass in the first place.

Write Impassioned Letters Confessing Your Blind, Paralyzing Love For People Just To Put The Feelers Out There Day!

This dating bullshit just takes to much motherfucking time, don't it? It's just like this awkward dance to a crap song that lasts about 6 to 8 months (eating fucking dinner, going to fucking movies, fucking, fucking calling each other for no reason, wondering whether you fucking love the piece of shit and wondering whether the piece of shit is on the same fucking page then wondering whether you should fucking say so so you can finally fucking move the fuck in together so no one has to fucking run back to his or her apartment at six fucking am just to change into a clean pair of chaps before work). Then guess what? The song ends and the answer is no and you just wasted 6 to 8 months acting like a retard (that's how people act when they try to be in love with each other in the interest of getting more sleep somewhere down the line).

So let's say you think Abbott in HR could be into falling in love with you and you could maybe fall in love with him if you could get past his limp. Are you gonna start dating and maybe find out all the way after fucking Christmas if he'd be down? Fuck it. Write him a letter and tell him you've been insane with lack of sleep and appetite because you have yet to devote every ounce of your being to making his stay on this earth a pleasurable one. Or just pick some flowery way to say, "I will love you forever. You down?"

If he's down, tell him that's awesome but you didn't really mean all that shit you said in the letter. "I mean, I like you and I don't even care all that much that you're kind of crippled." But you got like six more letters out there and eight more to write but he's the first to respond so he's got dibs on a shot at you finding out if you'd be into returning his eternal love.

Sure, this makes the relationship kind of one-sided, but if you're the one writing the letter, your side's gonna win. So who's complaining? There's just gotta be a way to keep boys and girls from getting all fucking naked and sticky for half a year before they find out they never wanna see each other again. I think this is it.

Use mail merge in Word. It lets you put all the cunts you think could be into falling in love with you into a database and then you can plug their names and addresses into a mass declaration of undying "I think you're tops" and you can even make mailing labels with it too.

It's Remain Clothed While In Public Friday!

Awwwwww yeah, TGIF! Party ovuh where?!

(And all the Freelance Technical Writers shout "Party Ovuh Heeyah!!!)

Friday is an exciting time for fans of Jalapeno Poppers all over the country. But after you log off for the day and you make your functional alcoholic's sprint toward the local theme restaurant's happy hour, remember to keep an eye out for people who will demand that you remove your clothing in public.

Ladies, how many times have you been stopped at a light on your drive to Chili's when the balding man with an "I'm impotent" goattee in the '91 Tercel across the intersection starts flashing his headlights at you and miming the act of lifting up his shirt. Suddenly, you're in a quandary. "Does he just want me to show him my breasts in their bra, or is he hoping to see my bare nipples? This bra is difficult to refasten once undone, though. And how long should I remain topless in order to satisfy him? O, cursed debacle!"

No need to fret. For today is that one day of the year that you are to remain fully clothed while in public, even if someone demands that you expose your naked body!

So if you're walking down the street and a crowd of say one hundred men start shouting "SHOW US YOUR TITS!!! HURRY UP AND SHOW US YOUR FUCKING TITS!!!" you just smile and take out your pocket calendar and point to Friday, June 14th, shaking your head as if to say, "Sorry fellas." Once they remember the date they'll unhand you and help you look for some of the buttons they ripped off of your blouse and may even offer some Polysporin to help scab some of the cuts on your face and neck. Then, they'll start kicking over some trash cans.

It's a fine day of relaxation for men and women alike. The corporate sector used to be a man's kingdom. But lately, no matter what he's the VP of, a man can't even walk outside to a sandwich cart without windows flying open and women bellowing out from their offices, "WHIP OUT YOUR FUCKING COCK AND WAGGLE IT AT ME, SHITFUCKER!!!" And sure, he'll pull his penis from his pants and kind of shake it at them or slap it back and forth against his upper thighs to make a kind of CLAP-CLAP sound, but the modern ladies of today's corporate world are not easily satisfied. "NO, FUCKDICK! ERECT! WE DON'T WANNA SEE YOUR SHRIVELED LITTLE TOOL!!! MAKE IT HARD, LIKE YOU'RE READY TO FUCK US BLIND!!! OR YOU'RE DEAD!!! YOU HEAR US?! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!!!" So there he is, today's captain of industry reduced to masturbating on the sidewalk under the watchful eyes of scores of judgemental colleagues, doing all he can to achieve an erection and waggle it at the surrounding expanse of offices just so he can go and have his lunch in peace.

But not today. Today men and women alike can stride with the confidence of someone who doesn't have to disrobe in public at a stranger's demand. Because today's Remain Clothed While In Public Friday! Now who wants to go halvsies on a quesadilla?

Let's Get You Out Of These Wet Clothes Day!

Tough luck catchin' a flat in this weather. AAA says they're so backed up tonight they won't get a tow out here for at least another couple hours. But it just so happens that tonight was the night I cleaned out my freezer and so I went and cooked way too much braised lamb and basil potatoes for one person. Join me?

Oops, there go the lights. Happens like clockwork during the rainy months. Looks like we'll be dining by candlelight.

Where are my manners? You must be freezing! Here, let's get you out of these wet clothes. I have a terrycloth bathrobe that might fit. It belonged to my ex. Here, I'll turn my back and let you change.

Hm? No, sadly, not a divorce. A tragic accident. I'd have given everything to have been divorced if it meant his/her life would've been spared.

There I go again. I just...My goodness. It fits you perfectly. And, if I may be forward, until you stepped into that candlelight I had no idea just how green your eyes are. They shimmer.

Make yourself comfortable. I'll get the wine.

(Happy Let's Get You Out Of These Wet Clothes Day...Playa!)

Go Stare Deep Into The Rest Room Mirror And Sort Some Shit Out Day!

Lay your palms flat on the sink and just lean in real close, never blinking your eyes, like if you blink once you might miss it when your reflection begins to fade and fill in with gray. Kind of shake your head a little. Like: "No...Can't be...no..."

Your coworkers will come and go, patting you on the back as they pass, using the sink next to yours and asking if you watched a particular sitcom the night previous and whether you thought a certain misunderstanding was as hilarious as they did. Say nothing. Hold your eyes directly ahead as if you're waiting for God to finish a joke.

On the occasions when the rest room is empty save for your slack form, start sorting this shit out. Say it out loud:

"Who'd respect you? Why?"

Wipe your hands with a paper towel, crumple the towel and beam it into the waste basket with all the fury you can salvage from your bile-drowned spirit. Then lay your palms flat on the sink again, the filthy germ-crawling formica, and stare into those frightened eyes until they're about ready to mock you. Say it out loud:

"You're gonna let it all slip away. In the end, you'll have meant nothing."

Breathe deep. Now close your eyes. Keep 'em closed until it's time. The rest room is gonna be someplace else when you open them again. Keep 'em closed.

Open. Say it out loud:

"Can't..."

Swear In a Crowded Elevator Day!

Make it an express so you and your fellow riders have some time alone, without any doors opening or making room for new riders. During that long rise to the first stop, just stand perfectly still and let out a long, throaty "fffffuuuuuuuck..." Maybe you can punctuate it with a gust of hot breath against the back of the neck before you. Or if you want to be less mysterious and more wacky, start rifling through your bag and let loose: "SHIT PISS COCKSUCKER FUCK!FUCK!FUCK!" You're gonna put a smile on a lotta people's faces.

Buy Yourself Sumthin' Sexy Day!

It's Monday, June 10th, 2002 again. It's time to ask your extremely wealthy and condescending boy/girlfriend to make more time in his/her life for you so that he/she may slip five hundred dollars in your palm and demand that you "Buy yourself sumthin' sexy." Don't take it lightly. Buy something that will appeal to him/her and have it handy the next time he/she demands sex from you. It doesn't matter if, when the item is presented to him/her, your facial expression betrays the feelings of disgust you hold for yourself. Just make sure he/she finds the item appealing. This is a very powerful person we're talking about and no one will miss you if you disappear.

And now for a moment of silence in remembrance of those who can suck me and I mean suck me hard.

It's Throw Something At The Wall Sunday!

You could throw the alarm clock at the wall if you accidentally set it to go off and it goes off and you get angry that it went off. Or you could throw the phone when someone tells you that your last chance fell through and then they hang up. Or your shoes, though that seems misplaced. I don't know. Throw whatever you want. It's not like we know each other.

Seriously, good luck. But I got some shit to do. Happy whatever.

Pretend Your Apartment Is A Fort And Invite Friends Over So You Can Pretend They're Monsters Trying To Get In And Eat You Day!

Pile up all your pillows and couch cushions in a kind of circle and hunker down with your cordless phone and some chicken. Then call up your friends and tell them to come on over and bring some beer. When they buzz your apartment and ask to come up, tell them you know they're monsters and they're just trying to get in so they can eat you and everyone else in the building so they can start the occupation of the neighborhood. When your friend says, "What?", repeat yourself. Your friend might say something like, "Quit being a fucker. It's me, Ed. C'mon it's chilly out here." That's when you tell the monster that you know that monsters have the ability to mimic prey, and you can assume that Ed is dead and that the monster should leave because you're vengeful. Eventually all of the friends you invited over will get pissed off and go away. Then you'll be alone.

Date Someone Who's Hot And Has A Terminal Illness Day!

The great thing about hot people who are dying is they have a really great attitude. Seize the day type stuff. And you'll never be bored because they always have this long list of wild activities they wanna do while they still have the energy. You could barely get your ex to go see a movie but with a hot dying person you'll barely get through a weekend without hang-gliding through a rainbow or meeting Michael Jackson or something. The sex rules, and not just because he or she is hot. You thought you felt sexual panic the last time you went a few months without? Try filling out organ harvest consent forms and see if you wanna cross a few new positions off the list.

Once he or she starts to deteriorate, it can be a bit of a drag. But if we're talking "really hot," for the first few months you only have to worry about dark circles under the eyes and a drop in weight (which might not be bad). Eventually you'll have to put up with incontinence and night-screaming, but the big payoff is once he or she kicks it, you get to be the mourning lover which first of all is about the most erotic thing you can be and second of all you won't have to leave the house for like six months before someone accuses you of milking it. Everyone's going to pay so much attention to you, you'll start to feel like you matter to people. Also, if you're lucky and the hot dying person scored a contract with Make-A-Wish neither of you are gonna have to pay for dick while you're dating!

Conduct Yourself As You Would In The Fantasy Of Someone You Hope Is Fantasizing About You Day!

Does that make any sense? Lemme break it down.

You dig somebody. You hope he or she digs you back. You want him or her to be laying around the apartment thinking about you, wondering what you're doing, fantasizing about what you might be doing. Do that.

So basically, today you're going to fantasize about his or her fantasy about you, and you're going to act that out. This is about lurking inside the darker corners of that special someone's head and guessing where you might bunk down. It'll be a great way to kill some time.

But let's not be lazy about it. I don't wanna hear, "Gee, I bet Betsy's imagining me jerking off to ass porn right now." If you do this right, you get to spend a lot of time thinking about that hot little number you can't stop thinking about anyway, and what you end up doing will feel like it matters all that much more because you'll be imagining that someone is daydreaming about you doing that very thing while you do it.

I'll get us started by example. When I go home I am going to stand naked in front of an air conditioner to dry my freshly showered body and when I am not sipping from a beer bottle I will hold it to my right nipple and occasionally wet my finger with the condensation on the glass and smear a moist circle just below my belly button. The half-smile I wear will be a window into my naughty little mind.

I'd like to remind anyone posting a comment today that this is a family blog. Let the games begin.

Anyone Who Goes By The Name "Big George" Is Attractive Only To Those Who Can See The Inner Goodness In People Day!

Sorry, anyone who goes by the name "Big George." Tomorrow everything should be back to normal. But for today, you kind'a gross people out. Except for your mom and nuns.

Befriend A Runaway, BUT DON'T PUSH!!! Day!

Runaways ran away because they were getting molested so much they had to cut school to make time for it, am I wrong? So when they finally steal their stepdad's crank revenue and get on a bus, they take it to Hollywood usually, to become famous because if they're rich and famous then everyone will listen when they say "no." Some might go to Seattle if they wanna be rock stars instead of movie stars, or New York if they dig musical theater (Note: Just because everyone in musical theater has been molested, it does not follow that everyone who has been molested digs musical theater).

So where do you come in? You have to pick a runaway and try to keep him or her from becoming a hooker. At least for a little while. The only people who talk to runaways are pimps offering free soup. Yeah, some pimps just like to give runaways free soup, but others want to convince the runaways to have sex with strangers for money (IT'S THE FUCKING TRUTH!!!). So if you stop and talk to the runaway shivering in your bus shelter every morning, he/she will think that maybe there are people out there who are just as nice as pimps and he/she will wonder if there are more options open to him/her than being obligated to have sex with strangers for money in gratitude for free soup.

Switch things up. Offer your runaway some pie. Or show up one day with a bowl of your "World Famous Chili" and act like you're only offering it because you're so proud of the fact that you know how to cook wet beef that you make everyone you meet eat some. This way the runaway won't think you're trying to manipulate him/her at all. You're just an annoying person with few talents.

The important thing is not to push. Runaways are kind of snobby in that they think everyone wants to fuck them. So don't offer to let him/her crash at your place. He/she will think you're just like the rest. Maybe give directions to a shelter or call the police or leave little post-it notes on his/her blanket of newspapers that say "You're special and no one can take that away from you." Before you know it, you're gonna be reading your name in the dedication of a tell-all book.

Happy Befriend A Runaway, BUT DON'T PUSH!!! Day!

Don't Run From Bears Day!

If a bear walks up to you and arches up on his/her hind legs and roars like "Grrrr! I'm a rip you into like fifty pieces! Awesome!!!" don't run. When a bear wants to kill you, running away is like saying to the bear "Oh God I'm gonna die!" and the bear just gets really into it. So just sit there. Even if the bear doesn't stop roaring at you for days. Just act like you couldn't give a shit if you or your children live or die. Eventually, the bear, which is actually a naturally occurring force of existential angst, will realize that living another day is something you could take or leave. The bear will perceive that you would find your own dismemberment as disagreeable as being forced to take a lemon in your vodka tonic because the bartender is out of limes. Remember, if you are menstruating, you should bury yourself to the bellybutton in soil.

Just Fucking Drive Day!

Following are situations in which it is suggested that you shut up and just fucking drive:

--A bank robber hops into your passenger seat and points a handgun at your temple and tells you to "Moooove!" and when you're forty miles outside of town and the bank robber (who is quite attractive as it happens. Been quite a while since there was something worth looking at in that passenger seat, yes?) is trying to burn his flesh-wound into a scab with the cigarette lighter you hesitantly allow yourself to glance his way and ask, "So where are we going?"

--You've been alone for quite some time and tonight you went to a disco hoping against hope to meet somebody who would be willing to pull down your pants. After a few hours you find you've drank too much to feel desirable and are about to make your way for the door. A gorgeous man/woman has just caught his/her gorgeous boy/girlfriend in a ladies room stall speaking intimately with an ex-lover. Enraged, he/she stomps across the dance floor in an "eye-for-an-eye" mindset. You feel his/her hand grip your arm and he/she asks "Do you have a car?" You nod and he/she drags you out to the parking lot and practically leads you to your Honda. As you drive aimlessly, he/she doesn't speak, just stares out the window as if his/her eyes could set fire to everything they look upon. You say, "So should I take you home?"

--You are a school bus driver. You've long passed the last stop on your route and you're going 7 miles an hour above the speed limit to get the empty bus back to the garage in time to meet the gang at McGillicutty's for happy hour. You hear a cough. A man's cough. The bus isn't empty. You screech to a halt and turn around in your driver's seat to stare directly into the bloodied face of your former chess mentor. You say, "I thought you were extradited."

--On a dark highway, you pick up the hitchhiking ghost of a celebrity who would like you to not speak but keep driving and who has a penchant for profanity.

--Everything behind you is in cinders. Everything up ahead belongs to someone else. The only thing left is the two of you, side-by-side, and the forward momentum. The first one to speak is gonna say "Pull over." The second one to speak is gonna say "Goodbye."

Happy Just Fucking Drive Day! Remember: Stay Alert, Stay Awake, Stay Alive and shit.

Write A Letter Of Apology To Someone Who'd Forgotten All About Your Very Existence Over A Decade Ago Day!

Yeah, you ought'a get pretty loaded to pull this one off. I can't imagine you really enjoying it unless you get so drunk that you end up crying against the rest room hand-dryer because you remember back in 1989 when you were at the Dallas Airport Radisson for the Ceramics In Hospital Furnishings Conference and you saw your high school chemlab partner across the lobby but you didn't wave hello because the conference was about to begin and you wanted to get a table nearest the dais. And even though at the time it was 11 years after graduation, tonight, here in the Wichita Airport Chili's rest room you're just beside yourself with disgust at what a selfish, miserably insulated person you can be.

Well it's never too late to apologize. Who cares if he/she didn't even see you that day. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, you're still a cock. So go back to the bar and start composing a letter on bar napkins. Under better (read: "sober") circumstances, the letter could be as simple as, "I saw you many years back and I wish I'd said hello but I was in a hurry." But if you write less than thirteen pages of the most deeply confessional prose, apparently you don't really care about this person. Start with why your son stopped speaking to you. With a nice seque, you could be deep in the muck of you not crying at your mother's funeral by page five. For the big closer, confess to sleeping with his or her boy/girlfriend the summer after graduation and then turn it all around and blame him or her for the two of you losing touch after the chemistry final. Don't worry if you forget to include the part about apologizing for anything. The point is you're clearing the air once and for all.

You could wait till tomorrow to transfer the text of the bar napkins to hotel stationery, but you have a plane to catch. Just drop those napkins in an envelope and send it on its way, tonight, before last call. He/she used to live three doors down from you in high school, remember? His/her parents probably still live there and they'll forward it. Drop it in the mail and get to bed. You're gonna sleep well tonight, friend. Because today's Write A Letter Of Apology To Someone Who'd Forgotten All About Your Very Existence Over A Decade Ago Day!

Do Laundry Until You Get Fucked Day!

Not to be confused with Do Laundry Until You Fall In Love Day (that's not until October asshole).

Based on pretend surveys that were never conducted ever, this one could be over as quickly as it takes to get a throw rug mid-way through the rinse cycle, or seventeen years. Best to bring at least nine loads of laundry to just keep you there through most of the laundromat's operating hours.

First, get in the mood. Remember that hardly anyone in the place is wearing underwear. And the ones that are underwear-clad are wearing such a rank pair that they can smell their genitals waft up to their noses every time they take a step. While sex may not be in the air, genitals, at least, most decidedly are.

Second, bring something to read that isn't fucking retarded. You want someone to be able to ask you if it's a good book or say "Hey, I read that too" and no one's going to do that if you're reading How To Be A Fucking Working Actor. Bring The Corrections or The Unbearable Lightness Of Being. Even people who can't read have tried to read those and they won't be afraid to ask you about them.

Third, whilst folding, sway just so.

Fourth, if you spot someone trying to fold a blanket alone, offer your help. Folding a blanket with a stranger in a laundromat is the only situation wherein you and a stranger can open your arms wide and walk towards each other until your noses might touch. Wanna get your point across? Touch noses. If that works, rub your front up against him/her. He/she diggin it? Then kiss. He/she still not shying away? Start fucking. Right then and there. Aw man.

Fifth, if you're a dude, pick up a girl's underwear and say, "You must look so fucking hot in these." If you're a chick, pick up your underwear and say to some dude, "Dude, you wouldn't believe how totally fuckable I look in these fucking panties." Then ask each other about each other's reading materials.

Sixth, always carry a box of dryer sheets with only one dryer sheet left in the box. You can start a conversation by offering the dryer sheet to the person you want to fuck with the line, "I don't feel like carrying this box around, you want this last dryer sheet?" Or you could adopt the more agressive approach: "I used up all my dryer sheets because you've been making me so motherfucking wet. You want this last one so I don't have to carry around the box all night?"

Seventh, men, let him or her know you're in the mood by slamming the dryer door shut with your erect cock.

Eighth, if you live at home with your mom and dad and you have a washer and dryer in the house but you wanna do laundry until you get fucked, go to a laundromat anyway. I know it's a haul, but don't fuck your mom and dad.

Ninth, post a sign on the community billboard that reads, "Futon Wanted*", and below, in smaller letters, "*with you in it." This way people will think you're funny and therefore you'll like to hang out after sex and put on little origami shows with your scrotum/labia. And you can also sit in the laundromat all day and watch for who takes a number off the sign so as to screen out fatties.

Tenth, I know it's laundry day and I know you don't have any clean clothes left, but please don't wear that "It's A Child, Not A Choice!" tee shirt. It's a real drain on your pool of potentials.

Eleventh, and this is the last one and maybe the most important or maybe not, if you're gonna be doing laundry to get fucked, make sure you're doing it for the right reasons. I don't wanna see any vengeance fucking going on. And no "Hey, I Just Got Off Methadone I Think!" fucking neither. If Do Laundry Until You Get Fucked Day isn't all about the fun of getting cleaned up and naked with others then this country might as well throw in the towel before dinnertime.

You Don't Know Me Day!

You think you know me? You don't know a damn thing about me. Sitting up here on the couch you married and you think you know me? Think you can talk to me? Yeah, I ain't left yet. My choice.

You think you can talk to a man/woman you had your arms around for fifteen minutes fifteen years ago. You tell the one with the bullhorn, "Give me a few minutes with him/her." And the police clear a path for the fella/lady who can reach me. You damn right we grew in different directions. I grew out into the world and you grew six feet underground.

Yeah, I ain't left yet. Don't get a swelled head. Why let those fucks get a good night's sleep? If they wanna blow me away so bad might as well make 'em wait for it. They get to earn overtime and I get a few more minutes to tell you you can go fuck yourself. Everybody wins.

You look old. A lot older than I thought you'd look when I got into town. You got fat too. Livin' for money'll do that to ya'. I said, "Livin' for money'll do that to ya'." Make ya' fat.

Hmm? Livin' for love? Hmm.

Won't make ya' fat. Just crazy. Crazy enough to go back to where you know you ain't gonna get out alive. I took a lotta risks in my life and weighed 'em against the reward. This here is the first time the risk was certain death. And the reward's the biggest payoff I ever dreamed.

Hmm? Hmm.

I done seen you too many times in my life. Sometimes you didn't know I was there. I seen you look my way and then I seen you walk away and it messed me up every time worse than the last. Knocked me outta the game for a year at a time.

Now I get my payoff. I'm lookin' at you and you're lookin' and thinkin' about nobody else but me and I'm gonna die that way. So no one walks away from nobody. I'm gonna die with you.

Get in the corner, outta the way. Tell me something pretty. I'm gonna open the door and let 'em shoot me in the back. Just don't take your eyes off me for one goddamn second.

You knew it would happen this way, didn't ya? Back in Tulsa? You always did know me.

Because today's You Don't Know Me Day!

Get Back In The House! GET BACK IN THE FUCKING HOUSE!!!!!! Day!

Everything's fine out here honey, I'm just checking on the mail. That noise? Dunno. Yeah, suppose it did sound like a man's/woman's voice. Probably some car radio or something. Don't you worry about it. Soon as I come back in I'll set the table okay? Funny? No, I don't sound funny.

Sweetheart?

Aw God, honey no! Get back in the house! They're not gonna hurt us as long as I do what they say and we don't call the police. Just get back in the house! GET BACK IN THE FUCKING HOUSE!!!!! (Because today's Get Back In The House! GET BACK IN THE FUCKING HOUSE!!!!!! Day!) AWW GOD!

Go To Starbucks, Order A Coffee, Sit Down At A Table Where You Can Be Seen From All Angles, Remove The Shoe And Sock From One Foot And For The Next Three Hours Intermittenly Lift Your Bare Foot Up To Your Nose And Smell Day!

Don't huff it. It's not like you're sweating nitrous oxide. Just calmly drink your coffee, read your book, gaze off with your thoughts, then every five minutes or so let an inquisitive expression cross your face, like "I wonder if my foot still smells like that." Then casually lift your barefoot above your table and give it a whiff. You should then don a facial expression that says "Hmm, interesting." Then you just put your foot down, sip your coffee, and wish your neighbor a happy Go To Starbucks, Order A Coffee, Sit Down At A Table Where You Can Be Seen From All Angles, Remove The Shoe And Sock From One Foot And For The Next Three Hours Intermittenly Lift Your Bare Foot Up To Your Nose And Smell Day!

Go And Live In The Woods Day!

Don't just quit, quit big! What are you gonna do, leave your current Data Analysis position just so you can sit around for a couple of weeks before you go and take the Data Analysis position at the marketing firm across the street?

Fuck that. Go into the woods and live in the hollow of a tree until you learn to bind wood into a cabin. Stop speaking any and all established languages as well. Develop your own language. You'll find the dictionary in your bones. In case you can't though, lemme get you started:

The word for "Pussy" is now "Kana Hooo!"

There, now you have the foundation for a new society. Now go kill some animals.

Everywhere All Over The World There's One Woman Outside Who Is Screaming And You're Not Going To Go To The Window To Find Out Why Day!

Prove me wrong!

But let's face it, is your bloody mary sitting on the windowsill? No, your bloody mary is sitting on the end table just within arm's reach of your spot on the couch from where you have a perfect view of the 14th hour of A&E's 36 hour Memorial Day Weekend "The Commish" marathon. She's probably just laughing anyway. That could be a laugh. Like some people kind of scream when they laugh. There, that was definitely-- Okay that's a scream. But it sounds like she's further away now anyway.

There, she stopped.

Happy Everywhere All Over The World There's One Woman Outside Who Is Screaming And You're Not Going To Go To The Window To Find Out Why Day!

Don't Spit On Babies Day!

Okay, so this one is more of a suggestion. Like a kind of rule of thumb. But sometimes this kind'a shit should be played by ear. The important thing is that you're honest with yourself. Know your heart and you can't go wrong.

FYI: Tomorrow's observance of "Everywhere All Over The World It's Exactly 58 Degrees Outside Day!" has been cancelled due to the fact that there will probably be one or two parts of the world where it won't be 58 degrees outside tomorrow.

Use His/Her Face To Save The World Day!

Use his/her face to save the world, via network television.

First you will become a producer of network television shows, a task that should take approximately 14 months to two years. Thus, you will be the sort of powerful person whose phone calls are never refused, even by those who have told you to never ever call again.

(Your position of power will have afforded you a staff of office workers, including a secretery, perhaps two(!), who will place your phone calls for you, including those calls to those who have told you to never ever call again, allowing the phone call to be placed without really disobeying anybody, technically.)

And as a producer of network television shows, a very successful one at that, you will one day, 42 months to 4 years from now, say to the people who own the television network that you will produce a television show that will save the world.

When they ask you for a plot summary, you will explain to them that the show will amount to a single televised image of a face and anyone or anything that sees this face, even trees, will count as a section of the world that has been saved.

And inevitably, of course, since people cannot come to own television networks without asking important questions, the people who own the television network will ask you what sort of face you are planning to televise. And, with a flourish, you will pull from your briefcase a photograph of his/her face and hold it up before the people who own the television network. And the people who own the television network will look upon the photograph and the people who own the television network and the table and the walls and windows will, together, as one section of the world, have been saved and the television show will be greenlighted.

Soon after the debut of the television show, which will be called "Just Look At The Face!", headlines will appear atop newspapers declaring "World Saved!" and a photograph of his/her face will be displayed there in the body of the articles, thereby saving other parts of the world, those parts near the newspaper. And soon after most of the world is saved (sadly, the blind will remain the one fraction of the world that cannot be saved, efforts to describe the face in words being insufficient. This will confound scholars of the face, in that if a traffic light that comes in contact with the face can be saved, it would seem that a person would not need the sense of sight to be saved in kind. Studies will conclude that the blind, who are used to being excluded from those activities that require vision, will assume this "saving" will not be for them and will have built a kind of psychic wall against the face's ability to save. So an entirely saved world will not be possible until the blind are executed.), you will have your secretary place a phone call to him or her and pass along the message that using his/her face to save the world was your idea and you did it because you always knew his/her face was possessed of such a beauty that it could do the very world-saving that it has done and, "He/She would like it if you would call him/her back."

Get started. Happy Use His/Her Face To Save The World Day!

You Gotta Lotta Nerve Showin' Your Face Around Here Day!

For most folks, that state line is where Delaware meets Pennsylvania. For you, it's the line between life and death. Guess what side you're on right now.

Stacey don't need no unemployed alchoholic technical writer for a father. She needs a man to protect her, keep her safe. I'm that man. And as far as I'm concerned the minute you drove into Dover you became a threat to her safety and I ain't gonna think on nothin' until I know you done left this town or you're buried six feet under it.

She's my daughter now. Make a U-turn, Rummy. Because today's You Gotta Lotta Nerve Showin' Your Face Around Here Day!

Try To Make Shit Happen With Your Mind Day!

Want that bag of chips but don't feel like getting off the couch? Maybe you're telekinetic. It's been a while since you spent some time trying to find out (at least a week!) and you do have a few hours to kill. Go on. Try to move shit with your mind.

You know you have a lot of untapped potential in various areas (ability to play a musical instrument, hold down a job, love another) and you just need to buckle down and put in the required effort. Well isn't it possible that you could also be able to make shit happen with your mind but you just haven't gotten around to it? Like that guy/girl you always see on the bus. If you put in the hours to refine your unholy power to control people's thoughts, I'm betting you could get him/her to believe he/she shares those feelings of emotionally void sexual attraction you've been harboring for him/her all these years. You just need to practice. And there's no better time to start than tomorrow night if no one's up for going out drinking!

In observance of Try To Make Shit Happen With Your Mind Day, children under the age of twelve are encouraged to swear.

Tell Yourself For The One Hundred And Seventy Seventh Time This Week That You're Over Him Or Her Day!

Apparently, you like the sound of your own voice. So much so that you'll stay up all night lying in bed repeating the same bullshit out loud as if there was someone in the room stupid enough to believe you. Even your pets find you tiresome. Here's an idea, go look in the mirror and tell yourself that you're better off for another few hours. Hell, it sure made the weekend just fly by.

Pay someone to prescribe pills for you and shut the fuck up. Who cares if today's Tell Yourself For The One Hundred And Seventy Seventh Time This Week That You're Over Him Or Her Day? Just eat some pills and be quiet!

Sing That Song, The One That Makes Me Hit Myself Day!

You know the one. It's the one about the girl, at least I think it's a girl, and you're telling her to wake up to the rest of her life or something and it's got that big BANGBANGBANG!!! in the middle before you tell her she's too beautiful to be pretty or I mean she's too beautiful to be angry or I mean she's too beautiful to have cancer but then there's like a NAHNAHNAAAAH! before you do that awful monologue about unemployed Afghani-Americans (this is supposed to be a song about a girl, shithead) and thankfully you bring it back to the girl and you ask her to never forget the way she feels this morning because the planet needs someone to feel that way in order to keep on spinning and then you get really hooky and you list all the ways she saved a life by waking up and walking out her door for one more morning and it ends with just this kind of clatter.

Sing it. By the way, I hate your band's new album. Happy Sing That Song, The One That Makes Me Hit Myself Day!

Go Outside And Show The Neighborhood Those Unbelievable Fucking Lips Of Yours Day!

Look outside. They're all just waiting for you to come out and peruse the bookstore display window and purse up those unbelievable fucking lips of yours into that near-pucker-not-quite-a-smile little oval that makes the boys and girls start hitting each other all over again. If you're a girl you know there's a shade of lipstick that you only wear when you wanna send a news helicopter slamming into a building. Well slap that shit on. Whether you're a boy or a girl, get yourself a cigarette and light the motherfucker. No one cares if you quit, just get yourself a cigarette and light the motherfucker because you might get hit by a bus before the next Go Outside And Show The Neighborhood Those Unbelievable Fucking Lips Of Yours Day and the thought of never again seeing those unbelievable fucking lips of yours parting just so to let fly a plume of gray just made like six different cashiers break out in sobs. Good Christ I swear to God if you smile at me I'm never gonna drink again.

(oh yeah, and uh, happy Go Outside And Show The Neighborhood Those Unbelievable Fucking Lips Of Yours Day. Sorry if things got a little carried away, man. You understand.)

Experience Monotony So Fully Realized It Begins To Attain The Corporeality Of A Kind Of Warm Cloak You Can Wear In Defense Against The Cold Uncertainty Of A Decision You Chose Not To Make Day!

Let's face it, had you stepped on that boat to Caracas, who knows where you might be right now. In love? Destitute? Imprisoned for crimes of conscience? There's no TV in a Venezuelan prison is there? (Well, if there is, the reception is for shit.) No, you let that decision be made for you and that's why you get to snuggle up to the certainty of the tepid amusement to be found in the Frazier season finale. So pour yourself another glass of functional alcoholism and try not to wonder where Gabriel(le) might be today because it's Experience Monotony So Fully Realized It Begins To Attain The Corporeality Of A Kind Of Warm Cloak You Can Wear In Defense Against The Cold Uncertainty Of A Decision You Chose Not To Make Day!

Openly Weep To Avoid Invites To Happy Hour Day!

Guess what? It's Friday. That means around 4 PM you should expect a visit from Enormously Large Evelyn, the Records Receptionist in HR, and she's going to invite you to join the rest of the team at Yeasty's! for happy hour. Run to the bathroom? She'll only leave a post-it on your monitor. The best way to say no is to cut the invite off at the knees. When Evelyn peeks over your cubicle wall, make sure she sees a coworker sending an anguished peel of sobs into the phone. You might have to cry into an empty receiver until 5:30, but no one will ask if you're okay until Monday.

Happy Openly Weep To Avoid Invites To Happy Hour Day!

Write Something In Blood Day!

Because sometimes that "Drummer Wanted" sign just needs that little extra oomf to get your point across. No one's telling you what you should write or with whose blood or how the blood should be drawn even. No one can tell you what to do unless he or she is ready to pay, right? It all comes down to context. Whether you're scrawling "Pig" above somebody's headboard or you need to send a memo to tell everyone: "Budget Mtg. Moved To Conf. Rm. C," the blood you should use will make itself known to you as it will be most apropos to the situation at hand. Note to Barnard students: You're gonna need that menstrual flow when you start making signs for the "Take Back The Night" march. Don't waste it on those "don't touch" post-its you stick to your food in the dorm mini-fridge. Happy Write Something In Blood Day!

Don't Look To Drugs For The Answers Day!

Why the heck do you think they created alcohol? It's legal, it's affordable, and it can even cheer you up for a little while before the sobbing jag hits. Alcohol will always be there for you. Look at how drugs can go in and out of style. One year, everyone's doing heroin like it's a vaccine for impotence. The next year, kids are giggling at the track marks on the dorky girl in the back of the class ("she so doesn't get it!"). And remember when cocaine was cool? Neither do I.

But alcohol is always cool. Celebrities are constantly drinking themselves in and out of marriages. It's all over the Styles section. And if you drink a little alcohol, not only can you still perform sexually but the person you have sex with can seem remotely attractive. Let's see crack try that!

Just remember, if you drink enough alcohol you could die. Happy Don't Look To Drugs For The Answers Day!

Pretty Dresses Day!

"If you have adequate respect for the pretty dress, when you get to watch one be removed from a body, you feel a twinge of sadness."
-Some Guy In Prison

No matter your sexual orientation, today is the day to celebrate the existence of pretty dresses. They beautify the landscape, they make you look all that much better when you stand next to them, and yes, they make the bodies inside them look like a stick of butter melted on top of a cookie. So if you see a woman or a transgender male wearing a pretty dress, shake her or his hand and say "Thanks for wearing that dress, yo. You prettied up the ATM line for all of us."

Happy Pretty Dresses Day. Quit Cryin'.

Sit In The Corner Of Your Apartment In Your Night Clothes Staring Into Space And Turning The Lights On And Off For Like Nineteen Hours Day!

Sometimes, it's the only way we can tell you've snapped. Don't eat. Don't sleep. Gotta pee? No, no, don't get up. Just let your near limp body splay out like a corpse (complete with the dead glassy eyes!) allowing for only one working muscle, the one that squeezes the switch on the lamp cord on and off and on and off and on and off until you've devised a plan of action that'll take your loopiness out into the world where it's time for folks to pay.

Ideally, this happy funtime should take place when the one by whom you've been scorned is having the time of his or her life with his or her new lover. Also, a cord dangling from a single bulb in the ceiling is just to die for, but a more modern switch on a cord or a chain on a table lamp is okay as long as you're not in too uncomfortable a position. Yeah, you're out of your mind, but we're still talking about like nineteen hours in the same position. And please, no Clappers or dimmers.

This is gonna be fuckin' awesome.

Go Visit A Friend Who Has Cats And Roll Around With His Or Her Cats Day

As soon as you get in there, just push past your friend and grab a cat or two. Then hug and kiss and pet and roll around all over the floor with the cat(s) trying to wriggle out of your arms, barely paying attention to your friend who invited you over there to talk about his or her recent breakup. Eventually the cat(s) will bite and/or run away from you because cats are unilaterally dicks. When that happens, take it out on your friend with something like "Ya' know it's just like your cat to do that to me." Then bring up that party your friend didn't invite you to six years ago and watch the shit fly. Did you know that the suicide rate skyrockets on Go Visit A Friend Who Has Cats And Roll Around With His Or Her Cats Day?

Stop Beating Yourself Up Over A Tragedy You Could Never In A Million Years Have Averted Yet You Continue To Go Through Life Huddled And Fenced Off From Those Who Love And Care For You As If You're Protecting Them From A Similar Fate At Your Hand (Yes, I've Spoken With Your Wife/Husband And Despite Her/His Concern And Belief That You Can Snap Out Of It She/He Is A Few Hours Away From Leaving Because Life Is Just Far Too Short To Throw Away On Someone Who Wants Nothing More Than To Damn His or Herself To Nowhere), And You Can't Even See How Selfish It Is To Waste All Your Time Blaming Yourself As If You're The Only Party That Matters When Others Wish To Grieve With You And Comfort And Be Comforted By You But You Offer Nothing But This "Save Yourselves, Don't Come Any Closer" Bullshit As If You're A God Gone Rotten Day!

It happened. It's Over. Move On.

Happy Stop Beating Yourself Up Over A Tragedy You Could Never In A Million Years Have Averted Yet You Continue To Go Through Life Huddled And Fenced Off From Those Who Love And Care For You As If You're Protecting Them From A Similar Fate At Your Hand (Yes, I've Spoken With Your Wife/Husband And Despite Her/His Concern And Belief That You Can Snap Out Of It She/He Is A Few Hours Away From Leaving Because Life Is Just Far Too Short To Throw Away On Someone Who Wants Nothing More Than To Damn His or Herself To Nowhere), And You Can't Even See How Selfish It Is To Waste All Your Time Blaming Yourself As If You're The Only Party That Matters When Others Wish To Grieve With You And Comfort And Be Comforted By You But You Offer Nothing But This "Save Yourselves, Don't Come Any Closer" Bullshit As If You're A God Gone Rotten Day!

Hold It All In Day!

Boss treating you unfairly? Deli counter guy put mayo on your pastrami again? Relatively certain your wife/husband is cheating on you? Well today's the day to hold it all in!

You know what you should say and you know what you want to say and you know there's nothing worth saying until it all gets said. But hey, why make waves? Besides, that knot of frustration in your belly has been with you so long it's practically your best and possibly only friend. Why not give it a name, like Ben, and tell Ben your troubles until Ben turns into a malignant tumor? Or you could continue to have imaginary arguments while alone in your car. You always win those!

No one likes a complainer. So, whether your boy/girlfriend didn't come to your birthday party or your roommate used up all your insulin, just let it fester. Because today's Hold It All In Day!

There's Really Nothing All That Wrong Day!

No one's saying anything is even remotely right. But the way you woke up today, with that feeling of "I swear to God if I leave this bed today it's going to be to write a letter to the editor and that's it!" Settle down. You're paying bills, you haven't scared off all of your friends yet, 13% of the gender you desire finds you attractive and that percentage is a few points above average. Add it all up, and your life is going pretty smoothly.

Which is exactly why you feel so fucked. You want some drama, yes? You don't just want to absently lose touch with friends and lovers. You want to cut them off and threaten them with violence if they should dare show their face in your life again after what they did. You're not the sole target of a vast conspiracy and you want to know why for fuck's sake! What the hell does it take to get your boy/girlfriend to cuckold you with a guy/girl who is only working the angle to get his/her hands on your collection of porcelains?! And why is it that entire years have passed since someone left a cryptic note under your windshield wiper?

Sorry to say it, but everything's pretty even-keel. Perhaps you could make a few rash decisions? Or were you hoping to spend tomorrow in celebration of "Yep, Same-Old Same-Old In This Cubicle And How's About You Day!"?

Light a match.

Walk Around In Neighborhoods Where The Boy Or Girl You Have A Crush On Might Happen To Catch Sight Of You Day!

It's about giving the boy or girl a few moments to quietly and one-sidedly observe you. When someone pops up in your life out of context (ie. a coworker whom you've never seen out of the office is suddenly walking underneath your apartment window in a pair of cutoff shorts with a potted plant in his or her hands) you experience a second of disbelief and you want nothing more than to watch the person until he or she continues out of sight. No amount of witty conversation or alcohol can make a boy or girl take an interest in you like showing up where you shouldn't be and continuing about your life unaware that the boy or girl in question just saw you. You become the main character in a plot he or she must watch unfold.

So find out where the boy or girl on whom you have a crush lives or works and just walk around that area for like 7 to 9 hours. Buy something and carry it around so it looks like you're there for a reason. Don't spend too much time right in front of his or her office or apartment building or he or she might get freaked out.

The hard part is making the boy or girl you have a crush on want to touch you. It's tricky, because you can't know when you've been spotted because whenever you know he or she is around you start acting like you're fucking high. Just try to never stop being attractive. We're not saying put on a pretty dress or a slimming pair of shoes. This is about affecting a manner. Just think on a fond memory that puts a half-smile on your face that says there is something intriguing going in your head and it belongs to nobody but you. Or if you're waiting for the light to change, lean against the lamp post with a posture that says, "Man, have I been to a lot of funerals!" You need to just walk with such a pace so that when the boy or girl you have a crush on sees you pass by the coffee shop storefront window, he or she will be enthralled by your presence and will wonder what's going to happen when you turn the corner.

Masturbating While Lying Naked On A Full-Length Mirror Used To Get You Off In No Time But Lately It's Just Gotten Really Belabored Day!

Perhaps it's your diet. Or maybe your efforts to insulate yourself from intimate emotional contact with others have somehow cut you off from yourself. And wasn't it you who spent that week in bed under the impression that you are undeserving of joy? I guess what we're trying to say is, don't come whining to us when you couldn't even get over yourself long enough to come to our birthday barbecue last Sunday. Maybe you oughta take a good hard look in the mir-- Um, we mean, it's all your fault. Because today's Masturbating While Lying Naked On A Full-Length Mirror Used To Get You Off In No Time But Lately It's Just Gotten Really Belabored Day!

Don't Smile Monday!

You don't necessarily have to frown, just do not smile. If a coworker should acknowledge you by smiling as he or she passes you in the hallway, respond to the smile simply by staring at him or her until he or she looks away. Again, frowning is merely one in a vast garden of facial expressions from which you may choose to display. May this year's Don't Smile Monday bring all the blessings of the Don't Smile Season to your doorstep and to the doorsteps of those you love, those whose company you enjoy, those you don't care for but pity because they are clearly unsure of themselves, those whose boob you once accidentally cupped and it really was an accident, those who've bought you a round even though they're leaving right after this one, those who've returned CDs they've borrowed from you in a prompt manner and without the CD insert all covered in old food, those who can hang out with you but none of your other friends because they're really kind of dickish to everyone but you, those who doubt, those who can make really good chili without having to fucking brag about it all the fucking time, and of course, former New York City Mayor Rudolph Giuliani.

The Girls Are Pretty "Maybe This Is It" Weekend!

Some boys are about to come and take Pretty Girl away for 24 to 36 hours. Since automobiles have a tendency to "break down" and people can sometimes, without explanation, "just vanish" it seemed like a good idea to get both today's and tomorrow's personal regression assignments up so that no one has to spend Sunday afternoon all fetal and rocking back and forth on a hardwood floor without any pants on. Scroll past Sunday to read Saturday. It is recommended that you not read Sunday's post until Sunday! If you give yourself time to think this shit through, the spark will go out and you'll get that "What's the point" look on your face that sent him/her away in the first place. Stay frosty!

And if Monday passes without word from Pretty Girl, please tell the authorities to look for a cabin 400 miles South-Southeast of Tijuana. Send a chopper.

SUNDAY, MAY 5TH
Set Some Shit On Fire In The Middle Of Your Apartment Day!
Photographs of friends and lovers who've betrayed you are quite the cliche, but they only became a cliche because they just work so fucking well. What else are you gonna burn? A credit card bill? Ooooh!!! You're a real hellion aren't you?

If you have evidence of a murder you committed, yeah that'll work. But you had to burn that anyway. It's like you're doing chores. You need to burn something that represents a first step down a dangerous and self-destructive path. Like a letter begging for your forgiveness. Or...a fucking photograph of a guy/girl wrapped up happily in your arms!

Granted, burning a memento from the past could also signal your first step down a healthy path of spiritual renewal and self-discovery, which is really great for you but we don't wanna hear about it, okay? We're all in front of our computers one click away from checking to see if farmpics.com has a free tour so let's keep things naughty. Thanks.

As to the act of incineration itself, crosslegged in the middle of the living room floor is nice. Blinds closed, door locked, lights off, lovely. Kind of let your eyes glaze over as the flames dance in their reflection, as if something's just been resolved in the blood-drenched caverns of your mind. And let the fire burn just a little bit longer than you're comfortable with, till you're unsure that you can put it out. Whether you do put it out or let the blaze run its course until you walk calmly to the street as if you're unaware that you're just a silhouette against the raging fireball that used to be your home is up to you on Set Some Shit On Fire In The Middle Of Your Apartment Day!

SATURDAY, MAY 4TH
Tell Someone Who May Not Know How Attractive He/She Is Just How Attractive You Find Him/Her To Be Day!
The best way for this to work is if one or both of you is currently unavailable. The point is not to proposition the person, but to pay him/her a compliment that will send him/her to bed with a smile across his/her face. And the payback is that he/she is guaranteed to spend many hours envisioning how a romantic union with you might play out. Which is what you want above all anyway, right? You simply want to be thought of by someone who is in bed waiting to fall asleep. And yes, being defended when someone talks ill of you behind your back is a plus. But nothing compares to being on people's minds, yes?

However, when and if the two of you find yourselves coincidentally available again, expect he/she to come knocking. As stated above, this is the kind of shit people don't forget about, especially when they're running down the list of prospective candidates for ego-boosting rebound sex. But that's the price you pay on Tell Someone Who May Not Know How Attractive He/She Is Just How Attractive You Find Him/Her To Be Day!

Archery Finals Day!

It's early May, which means that taking place across the country today are the final scrimmages of various intramural archery programs. And I'm betting there's one near you. Perhaps at a small northeastern college? Get out there and root!

Stay In A Friend's Guest Bedroom Until You Find Out His Or Her Life Is As Fucked Up As Yours Day!

All of your friends have been inviting you to come out and stay in their homes because they're afraid you might hurt yourself if left unsupervised. Accept. But make sure to stay with the guy/girl who seems almost superhuman in his/her ability to uphold responsibility and communicate exactly what he/she needs to say without putting it in the third paragraph of a goodbye note.

It might sound like the absolute worst idea considering the state you're in, but guest bedrooms can be wonderful because within their confines you're able to put your life on pause while the lives of everyone around you have to continue buzzing along. And on that third night when your friend's spouse fails to show up for dinner (or breakfast on the fourth morning) and any questions you put forth as to the absence are deflected with a brusque "It's just a misunderstanding!" you'll start to realize you're not the only person on the planet who feels like he or she is flailing through a void and maybe you should stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Try to get out before the weekend though, because that's when your friend's spouse will come home (he or she went to his or her mother's house/old college buddy's place by the way) and you might be startled in the middle of the night to find he/she sliding into bed with you, which will be bad. If you say no, you might not be invited back come August when the lake is just gorgeous, but if you say yes, you might definitely be invited back come August when the lake is just gorgeous. It's a tough call to have to make on Stay In A Friend's Guest Bedroom Until You Find Out His Or Her Life Is As Fucked Up As Yours Day!

Join A Community Crime Watch Program In An Effort To Make Friends Day!

What have you got to lose? If you go to their weekly meeting at least you can say you only spend six nights a week alone in your apartment reading. Just join in the festivities. When someone at the meeting (if a man, he will have a beard; if a woman, she will wear a tight-fitting black turtle-neck to reveal breasts of a decidedly aggressive shape and lift) shouts with indignation "Let's show those bastards whose neighborhood this is!", make sure that when you shout "Yeah!" you gesture with your upper body broadly enough that people might notice you, but not so that they can tell you've felt so very alone for as long as you can remember. At the end of the meeting, reach out to others with questions like "What kind of batteries should I buy for my flashlight" or "You ever see any shit go down, man?" At the end of the third meeting, after the announcements about privately run self-defense classses and requests for increased coffee and donut donations, when everyone's getting into their coats, just shout out "Hey, anyone up for getting a beer?" If people say, "Maybe next time," then it's cool. Come back next week. If no one responds, as if they're pretending you didn't even speak, that'll let you know that you blew it again. They don't like you. And it's safe to assume that they're going out for a beer together and will go so far to exclude you as to walk off in separate directions and then double back to meet at McKannon's once enough time has passed to ensure that you've already gone home to your apartment. It's all part of the fun on Join A Community Crime Watch Program In An Effort To Make Friends Day!

Heatedly Debate Whether The Strokes Or The White Stripes Is The Better Band Until You Do Us All A Favor And Put A Fucking Bullet In Your Head Day!

Asshole #1: The White Stripes saved rock n' roll, man!

Asshole #2: Bullshit, the Strokes did!

Asshole #1: The Strokes sound like if Velvet Underground was hired to play at a high school sock hop!

Asshole #2: Oh yeah, well the White Stripes sound like a Led Zeppelin cover band playing nothing but Aerosmith songs.

Asshole #1: Oh please, the Strokes are a bunch of prep school poseurs!

Asshole #2: Talk about posing. At least the Strokes look good in their pose! Who'd wanna fuck a White Stripe?!

Narrator: (wearing a tan linen suit) Your handguns gentlemen.

Asshole #1: Oh yeah, thanks man.

Asshole #2: Yeah, thanks. Hey is this loaded?

(Narrator gives Asshole #2 a "look")

Asshole #1: So anyway, the White Stripes have that 70's energy. That rock n' roll swagger.

Asshole #2: Do not! The Strokes live off the smoke-filled air of Max's Kansas City.

Asshole #1: (sings) Yeah you're pretty good-lookin', for a girl...

Asshole #2: (sings louder) Laaast night, sheee said...

Narrator: (not wearing a Jeff Cap) Gentlemen. I believe it's time.

Asshole #1: Guess this is it, then.

Asshole #2: Yeah, man. It's been...I'm glad we did this, man.

SFX: Two Gunshots. Two thumps.

(Enter An Extremely Tall Man and a Midget who drag the bodies away by their ankles and argue hilariously over who has the heavier corpse to drag)

Happy Heatedly Debate Whether The Strokes Or The White Stripes Is The Better Band Until You Do Us All A Favor And Put A Fucking Bullet In Your Head Day!

Don't Go To Bed With A Boy Tonight Monday!

Girls only. If a boy wants to go to bed with a boy, that might be cool. But girls can't go to bed with any boys tonight. Okay? You can mess around, kiss and feel each other up and stuff, and handplay is allowed just as long as your pants don't go below your thighs. But no oral sex or penetration of any kind. Okay?

Sit In Abject Terror Day!

"Nothing ever happens to me," says the whiny little baby. "I sure wish I could be involved in something intriguing and momentous replete with brief erotic interludes preceding moments of sheer terror."

Did someone say terror? Well you're in luck. Because today's Sit In Abject Terror Day!

That's right, couch potatoes. For all you folks who gave up long ago on coming upon some small jostle of excitement to gently disturb your otherwise flat, static lives, today's the day to go fucking batshit with fear! And I'm not talking about that pussy anxiety crap you sob to your couples counselor about until he prescribes you a vial of anti-sissy medication. I'm talking barricade yourself in a closet because they're coming. I'm talking smother your pets now because at least by your hand they'll die a humane death. I'm talking motherfuckers in capes!

"But-- But-- But--," says the little baby girly-girl, "But how can I sit in abject terror if I can't think of any reason why anyone would even know I'm alive let alone want me dead?"

Let's just say you're a pawn in a game you didn't know was being played, and no one can make the next move until you're eliminated. Or fuck that, let's just say they're coming. Duck motherfucker.

So pull that afghan up just below your bugged-out eyes and tremble your clenched fists as you watch the door knob jiggle with increasing violence because today's Sit In Abject Terror Day!

Let's Cut Through The Bullshit And Get To The Nitty Gritty Day!

Why don't we save the song and dance for your Broadway debut, Sammy. If I wanted to hear campfire stories I'da stayed in the Girl Scouts. You can try to pretty The Truth up with a bunch of flowers and maybe some framed photographs of loved ones and deceased pets, but eventually you're gonna have to move, redecorate, or at least paint the walls, and you're gonna take all that frill and fluff off the hooks and guess what's gonna jump off the wall and tongue you on the pee flaps? THE TRUTH, that's what. It's gonna jump up on the coffee table like a giant elephant at dinner that no one wants to talk about, or like some guy's alcoholism, and it's gonna be wearin' a big ugly hat and it's gonna break vases screamin', "Why ya done hide me away like a retarded kid in a attic, Baby? Dont'cha remember when we used ta drive down the shore?" You won't remember because The Truth will be speaking figuratively. But The Truth will hold up a mirror and show you an old, old woman/man and you'll realize that all those years ago you had just one shot at honest, angry love and you tossed it in the garbage just because I wasn't brought up with a silver spoon in my mouth.

I may not have no family shield, but that's 'cause I ain't gotta hide behind nothin'. We got one shot at bein' happy. Don't throw it away.

Now, get in the van.

Tell A Stranger At A Bar Your Story Day!

Pick the spot at the bar where it seems like no matter how crowded and rowdy and young it gets all around you, your little section of stools is as solemn as a confessional. Someone is going to approach you with a pickup line, but you'll know by his or her tone that the last thing on his or her mind is getting into your pants. By the way you're sipping that scotch, s/he can almost read on your face the story you have to tell. You might be suspicious at first, but you know you got one choice. Tell your story tonight or it dies with you.

No one's saying what your story should be about, but people enjoy hearing about fires being set to things for insurance money. Unfaithful spouses and hitchhiking ghosts on highways can be quite intriguing as well. If your story involves important details like "Pilates Class Enrollment Forms" or the words "He Molested Me," embellish. After you tell the story, you should take your audience back to your place and make urgent love. Assuming, of course, that you don't die by your own hand in the restroom first. Happy Tell A Stranger At A Bar Your Story Day!

Eat Until You're Happy Day!

Do you live alone? Has it been years since you've felt that you could truly and wholly trust another? Do you feel frustrated, not only in your attempts to fulfill your creative and emotional needs with your career, but in your efforts to even know what those needs might be? Do your parents express indifference as to whether you might come and visit them once more before they die?

Well then, maybe you should eat more.

You'd be surprised how many people like yourself find temporary spiritual relief in eating. But if you just make that minimal effort to eat steadily during hours of consciousness, all that food might seep out of your belly and start to fill up that void in your soul.

FAQ
"But whenever my belly digests the food I've eaten, all the hamburger buns and microwave burritos start seeping out of the hole in my existence and into my belly to be ground up into nutrients. How do I stop the digestive process?"

Unfortunately, your body keeps digesting food until you die. That's why you must never ever stop eating so that there's always more food on the way when your heart starts to implode in on its own hollowness. Just keep it stuffed up with mashed potatoes and you'll never feel the need to look any further than your kitchen cabinet for fulfillment.

Are you eating? I bet you feel better already don't you? Because today's Eat Until You're Happy Day! Hey, who's already forgotten about their libido?

Let The Lord Jesus Christ Fill Your Heart With Love Day!

To pull this off, you're gonna have to get really high. Invite some folks over with whom you're friendly enough that they'd be up for fucking just because everyone's mutually fun to be around and it's springtime out and you're all really high. Get a bathtub sign-up sheet going too, and delegate to someone the duty of draining, cleaning and refilling the tub after every use so that everyone gets some soak time when they want it. When you think you're so very comfortable and pleasured that you might just float away on a breeze, that's when you lay back and let the Lord Jesus Christ fill your heart with love or whatever. It might feel good, but then again so does same-sex naked cuddling with a softball teammate.

Nobody Dies Day!

24 hours. We can do it. Think globally, act locally and we can keep the entire population of the earth alive for one more day. Sometime around eleven tonight, find someone old or really diseased like your dad and pound on his or her chest screaming, "You never gave up on anything in your life!!! Don't quit on me now! Not on my watch!" At midnight, shake his or her hand and say "Way to live." Then head out to the bar, which is staying open an hour later tonight since everyone's going to be running out to celebrate nobody having died. There will be mucho trim.

I'd get good and drunk though because with everyone expending so much energy trying to stay alive today, tomorrow it's gonna be a fucking bloodbath. Not a pretty site, is all I'm sayin'. But hey, it's worth it right? 'Cause today's Nobody Dies Day!

Make Out On Grass Day

I don't mean, "get high and neck." I mean go find a patch of grass, plop down and swap spit. Don't freak out about being stared at. Everyone's looking at that lesbian couple who are sunbathing topless to make a point. You'll be fine. Just try not to roll over on top of each other. Then people have no choice but to look at you and wonder "Jesus, are they gonna fuck?" Or at least wait until you're ready to leave. Let it be the finale. By the way, this is unrelated, but I've been having a lot of dreams lately where I have this gargantuan erection and I have to keep it hidden or I'll be executed by the death squads.

Go Back To Bed Day!

There's nothing out here for you. Just go back to bed. Go on.

Ask An Attractive Member Of The Service Industry If You Can Buy Him Or Her A Drink After He Or She Gets Off Work Tonight Day!

Your friends are sick of eating at this shitty whole foods restaurant every fucking day. All they sell is beets and miso soup. They're going to stop inviting you out because they know you'll steer them back to the place just so you can feed this obsession you have with that goddamn waitress/waiter (who, frankly, is not even all that attractive. And he/she is working here, in a whole foods restaurant making sixty nine dollars a shift. To stay here for this long making so little money means she/he is here for "the philosophy" of the place which is really some bad fucking news). Why don't you just-- What? No she/he isn't looking over here. Why don't you just ask him/her out?

In fact, fuck this. There are a lot of waitresses/waiters I enjoy staring at who work in restaurants that actually serve heated food. I'm out of here. And when she/he comes back to take your order, I highly recommend you suggest that you reciprocate his/her wonderful service by getting him/her a drink after his/her shift's over tonight, and I recommend you suggest a place that sells vegetable juices, and if you don't do it tonight you can forget about inviting me out for dinner ever again because we're all real sick of putting up with this shit. You broke up with Sharon/Jimmy over six months ago. It's like you're focusing on shit that you know will never work out just to avoid finally moving on. Ask him/her out and get this shit over with. Because today's Ask An Attractive Member Of The Service Industry If You Can Buy Him Or Her A Drink After He Or She Gets Off Work Tonight Day!

Be A Hero Day!

You'll need a shortwave radio or police scanner to keep an ear to the ground for anyone in distress. You should back your car into your parking space rear first so you can pull out fast and also keep your shoes and socks on so you don't have to waste any time pulling your shoes and socks on when you hear that a woman was taken hostage by three masked hoodlums at First National Bank, forcing police to stand down. Get over there and tell the pencil-pushing flat-footed pigs to let you have a crack at the scumbag punks. When you get inside, act like you're going to negotiate, then knock the gun away from the woman's head, push her out of the way, then run up a wall and do a flip through the air and knock two of the three guys unconscious with a double kick, then grab a gun that one of them tossed in the air and aim it at the third guy.

Or you could just warn someone that s/he is about to step in a pile of dogshit. Either way, you're totally gonna get laid. Because today's Be A Hero Day!

Remember The Hue And Texture Of An Ex-Lover's Skin Day!

"It could keep the neighbors awake it seemed to glow so bright."
- Edward Mangum, Seattle, WA. Pisces.

"I wanna say her ass felt like velvet, but when you're in love with a new chick, everything feels like velvet. But I used to rest my cheek on her ass, sometimes I'd fall asleep there, and it was like I could use night time as a pillow for my head."
- Lisa Colleti, Pittsburgh, PA. School Board Administrator.

"He was this beet, bright red all over except where his thighs met his crotch. That was this sick white. And he was coarse. It felt like there were several layers of skin that needed to be peeled off but he would never get around to it. Like vacuuming. His skin suited him."
- Christine Eleanor, Chatsworth, CA. 1966-2000.

"She was yellow. Like she was supposed to be beige or whatever, but her insides where made of the colour orange."
- Kevin Brown, Sheffield, UK. Hobbies include painting.

"Fucked up, yeah, but I swear his nipples were the exact same color as the surrounding skin. So, you would, I mean I would get really weirded out because he'd just have these bumps of skin with no other disparity. It looked like the way someone would design an alien in a movie."
- Chelsea Solchnikov, Plano, TX. Democrat.

Don't Press My Buttons Day!

Look, I'm not in the mood. Didja hear what I said? Do yourself a favor and just drive the car, all right Flapjacks? I don't like bein' paired up with you any more than you like havin' to sit next to me all day long. But if you wanna make it home with your ass not pulled over your head you're gonna forget all about ever seein' even a single episode of The Paper Chase. Just don't press my buttons is all.

...

Goddammit, pull over.

(because today's Don't Press My Buttons Day!)

The Girls Are Pretty "I've Had It With You" Week!

Listen Dickhead, if I have to wake up one more morning and re-teach you how to wipe your ass I'm gonna fuck a kid. Pretty Girl is taking a vacation. So then, below, in decending order, are the next six special occasions/personal regression assignments. I'm thinking descending so as not to disrupt the flow of the page and send some sad fuck to his bathtub with a bottle of bourbon and a hypodermic full of Nyquil (I don't know, either). So scroll down to the bottom of this post and you'll find out what to do Thursday, April 11th. Try not to read early about the upcoming days or you'll ruin everything and we'll all call you to tell you you're not very attractive.

TUESDAY, APRIL 16TH
Kill It!!! Day!
I think he ran up the doorframe! Get it! No, wait. Oh Christ, I just had this place sprayed for-- Fuck it's got fucking wings!!! Kill it! Kill it! Because today's Kill It!!! Day!

MONDAY, APRIL 15TH
Dance To Nothing Day!
Today, alcohol and nudity will be a big help. Privacy is a plus as well. No one's telling you what to dance to. Well, actually, we are I guess. Dance boisterously and erotically if you can muster it to absolutely nothing. Close the windows, the blinds, unplug the stereo and even the phone because that ring can provide a rhythm. Just get in front of a mirror and undulate like you want nothing more than to sway with your reflection until the Earth caves under. Look at your nipples as your arms fly up into the silence. You're pretty when you dance and that look on your face tells me I did not have to point that out to you. Because today's Dance To Nothing Day!

SUNDAY, APRIL 14TH
Call Someone You Know Is Dead Day!
A few months ago you were bored and started Googling old college buddies to see what you could find. Turns out your sophomore roommate Kelly died in a car crash, leaving behind a childless husband. Well, you have his number. Call him up and ask for Kelly. Just let him explain that she's no longer with us and apologize for the indiscretion. You'll never forget it.

SATURDAY, APRIL 13TH
Hang On To Your Wide-Eyed Innocence Day!
Don't ask what's buzzing behind all those glassy eyes you see floating by on the sidewalk. You'll make them forget their answer. You should have been broken by now. Keep your head down and wear a sweater. Don't catch cold. Don't lose hope. I bet you don't even know it's yours to lose do you?

FRIDAY, APRIL 12TH
Get Into A Fistfight Day!
No one's saying you have to win. In fact, losing might be what you're looking for. After all, who wants to hang out with the asshole who just won a fistfight? It's the guy who lost, the one who probably brought it on himself, the charming prick who's saddled up at the bar to drink his own nosebleed with another beer that you wanna talk to. Look at him, he just got the shit kicked out of him and he's laughing out loud at his girlfriend for worrying about the cut on his head.

Don't just look at him. Be him. Go walk in front of a dart game and get your ass kicked by someone who smells like fresh drywall. Because today's Get Into A Fistfight Day!

THURSDAY, APRIL 11TH
Bore Someone With Talk About Your Smoking Habits Day! !
How many years? How many packs a day? Cutting down? Picking up the pace? Does your wife want you to quit? These are the questions to which your friend does not want answers. But guess what, today you're gonna tell him anyway. Why? Because I hate your fucking friends and I hate you you fuck.

Go Buy a Shitload of Donuts Day!

Hey there. Wanna donut? Well, buy some anyway. Buy like 5 dozen donuts then put them out at work or your Learning Annex pottery class or wherever and just watch everyone go into a trance when they see that box in the middle of the room. If they had ten seconds to save their moms from being lowered into a vat of acid they'd take the time to shove a fucking donut in their mouths first. They're trying to fill a void.

It's Porpoise Day!

April 9th already?! Wow, it feels like I just took down my Porpoise Day tree. But it's that time of year again, time to celebrate Porpoises! So head on down to your local deli counter and mention Porpoise Day to get half off a prime flank Porpoise Cutlet!

You're Simply The Most Beautiful Creature I've Ever Seen Day!

Today I am in shock that someone possessed of such an otherworldly beauty would have to sully his or herself by taking a temporary word processing assignment at a marketing firm. We all need to pay the rent, but today I feel that you shouldn't have to. Today it seems that the world as a whole should say to you "You're money's no good here" in gratitude for deigning to walk the same soil as the rest of us.

This'll only last for the day, so I suggest you make the most of it. Take a few unnecessary trips past my office so you can hear me try to stifle a sigh as I wonder if someone so precious would ever allow him or herself to stoop low enough to grant me his or her attention, for just a moment perhaps. Because today's You're Simply The Most Beautiful Creature I've Ever Seen Day!

Tip A Forty For The Lost Hour Day!

That Hour always had your back. 60 minutes of pure, trusted friendship. Whether you needed a ride to the airport, some tools, or money for a partial birth abortion you knew you could count on The Hour to come through.

The Hour is dead. Tip the eight-ball, yo.

"Wash Your Fucking Body Already, Pigpen" Day!!

Are you fucking homeless or what? You smell like saliva on skin. Maybe your towel's gone bad or something. Roll down your window before we pick up Dave.

Ruin A Platonic Relationship With Sex Day!

You can tell your friend anything. If you need to call someone late at night, you know there's one person who'll pick up. If you went to prison for justified though excessive assault, you and your friend wouldn't even bother to discuss his/her assuming legal guardianship of your child(ren). The level of trust between the two of you is rivaled by few.

Well, today's the day to fuck it all goodbye! After all, the only reason you two became friends is because when you met, he/she was either unavailable or found you too unattractive to screw and you've resented him/her ever since. But guess what, if you make a pass tonight, he/she will be in the no-win situation of either rejecting you and losing your friendship or banging you and losing your friendship. Since there's at least a one in a million chance that screwing will be your first step into a romantic relationship, as opposed to the absolute certainty of dissolution if you are rejected, the sex is practically guaranteed! Though both of you will be quite giving, almost to the point of competition, your coupling will be strained and mechanical. As if you're humping away with both of your brows furrowed with a look of "...the hell?"

But so what? It's sex, isn't it?

It's Drinkin' Thursday!

Call in sick. And from the minute you wake up to the minute you pass out just never stop drinkin'. However, and this is essential, everyone must perform this annual ritual alone, in your respective apartments, sitting in a tense posture on the edge of your bed. Happy Drinkin' Thursday!

Fight Back Day!

This shit has gone way too far. Do they think you're just gonna roll over, spread your cheeks and put out a welcome mat for anyone who feels like wandering up your ass and rearranging the furniture? Why don't you put on a pot of coffee while you're at it?

Fuck that. Hit 'em back.

That said, here's a poem about women with perfect skin and stringy hair:

She's Got Perfect Skin And Stringy Hair

Give me back my wallet
She whispers
All of my credit cards and my identification are in there
She begins to pout
Did you ever think someone with such small pores
Would be beckoning up at you
She's begging you
This is the moment you've been waiting for
And all you can do is wonder
Whether she's washing her hair too much
Or too little

Give Up Day!

We're all tryin' to climb that wall, aren't we? And sometimes we take on projects that can be a bit challenging. Well today's the day you look challenge in the eye and say "Fuck this!" Whether it be an unwieldy draft of a screenplay, a savings account, or efforts towards seminal fertilization, just rip one item off your to-do list and throw it in the trash can. You'll feel quite a weight lift off your shoulders let me tell you boy.

Remember When You Hurt Somebody Day!

You think you're basically a good person. As do your friends and loved ones. Well if you are what is considered Good are we to conclude that even the good of the world are capable of destroying another human being as coldly and selfishly as you did that special someone not very long ago. He/She made the mistake only of caring for you and was repayed with soul-wrenching cruelty. There's something dark living inside you.