Your Ex-Boyfriend's Band Made It Big Day!

You broke up with him because you didn't think he had any talent and you thought that there was no way in heck his band would go anywhere. Now that his videos are being played on Fuse and The Box, it's time for you to go see him in concert tonight and tell him that you'll be his girlfriend again.

Your ex-boyfriend is the lead singer. When you were dating, you thought his voice came across as not much more than a graceless monotone. But now that his band has switched their musical style from rap-rock to a more dancey kind of post-punk (think Franz Ferdinand meets the Killers with a little touch of Erasure, except really gay), his monotone sounds seductive and almost sinister.

All of the teens around you will be making the most of whatever hips they've got as they dance until the sweat pastes their hair to their foreheads. You'll dance right along with them in spite of yourself. You'll have attended his concert to take him back because he's successful now. You won't necessarily be ready to concede that his music is actually good.

You won't have a choice in the matter when your ex-boyfriend spots you in the crowd, doing that horrible dance where you flip your long hair left and right (at a wedding once you caught a guy's cigarette in your hair and you ended up burning a big patch of your hair before your ex-boyfriend swatted the butt from your tangled strands).

He'll signal his band to stop playing and the song will peter out until the only beat left to dance to will be the grumbling from the crowd.

'We have a special guest in the audience tonight,' your ex will say. You'll nearly throw up when he points his finger at you. 'Ladies and gentleman, I'd like you to meet my ex-girlfriend Rhonda.'

The crowd will cheer for you. Those closest to you will pat your shoulders in a friendly way. You'll stand frozen, as if there was a gun aimed at your head.

Someone near the front will bellow, 'What happened between you two?' in the same voice he was using to shout out requested song titles a few minutes earlier.

'What happened was Rhonda broke up with me,' he'll say.

The crowd will erupt in booing and shouts of 'What an asshole!'

'She broke up with me,' he'll say. 'Because she didn't think my band was any good!!!'

The crowd will boo even louder. Some of them shouting, 'Lemme at 'er!' You'll worry for your safety.

'Tell them when I broke up with you!' you'll shout back.

Your ex will be thrown. He'll have assumed, since he is on the stage with the microphone and the throng of adoring fans surrounding him, that he would be controlling the exchange. He'll be nonetheless cocky with his reply, however.

'I'll tell you when she broke up with me. It was right after our first EP came out. Temperamental Breakfast. Can you believe that?'

The crowd will boo you again, but this time with far less ferocity. You'll notice more than a few of them shrug at each other as if to say, 'That EP really didn't bespeak of what would come later. I can't say I would have stuck around if my boyfriend were responsible for that kind of frat rock. I'm behind our singer 100% in this, but I can't say as I don't see her side of things here.'

'That record sucked!' someone will shout at the front. A few 'Yeahs' will follow and your ex will be sufficiently rattled.

He'll luckily be rescued by a representative of his more devout fans. 'But any great artist goes through an initial progression before he finally finds his voice. You can't judge a musician by his first foray into the medium. I mean sure, the EP sucked''

'It wasn't that bad,' your ex will whine. The crowd will erupt with shouts of 'Oh come on!'

'And the following full-length LP may have been even worse,' your ex's defender will continue. 'But anyone who really cared about him should have been able to see the potential he had. She should have been able to see what's in his soul. She should have believed in him.'

'Yeah!' your ex will shout, finally glad to be off the topic of how bad his early albums were.

'No matter how bad his early albums were,' his defender will conclude, much to your ex's dismay. 'She didn't deserve him. And she doesn't deserve to be here now.'

The crowd will rally behind your ex's defender and begin to grab at you and lift you above their heads, presumably to tear you apart limb from limb in the name of their favorite band (Ann Jillian Dollar Baby. That's the name of your ex's band).

'Wait a minute! Wait a minute!' you're ex will shout into the mic. The crowd will stop tugging your arms from your sockets to listen to their master.

'Why are you here Rhonda?' he'll ask.

It will be hard to speak loudly because the crowd will have already managed to knock the wind out of you when they hoisted you above their heads. But you'll manage to shout, 'I came to tell you I'd be willing to take you back.'

The crowd will groan. Your ex will chuckle a bit. 'Now that I'm famous and successful you mean,' he'll say.

Say, 'Yes.'

The crowd will start to pull on your arms and legs again. Shout, 'Wait! Let me explain!' before they manage to dismember you.

They'll loosen their grip and you'll notice that the room will be strangely silent. Even your ex will be waiting for what you have to say.

'It's true,' say. 'I stopped believing in you. But I had already been burned several times by people I'd believed in. I'd been cheated on, stolen from, and humiliated. When I met you I was done with believing in men and hoping that things turn out well. I wanted someone to believe in me.'

The crowd won't react immediately. Then someone at the front will shout at your ex, 'Didn't you believe in her?!' still using that same bellow they use to request song titles.

'Sure I did,' your ex will say. 'I mean, she was paying the rent and everything. And the studio space.'

Someone will shout, 'Jesus!'

'But it's not like it was all for nothing. We got a deal! And we released Temperamental Breakfast! And then she split!'

Someone else from the crowd will shout, 'If I had paid for the studio space that led to the release of Temperamental Breakfast, I would have left you on principal, just to deprive myself of companionship as punishment for subjecting the music-buying public to such a miserable pile of Limp Bizkit date rape rock.' Someone else will shout, 'Seriously dude, that EP sucked ass. You need to buy back all the copies and burn them. It makes me a little embarrassed to be here at your concert right now even. Whenever I listen to you guys, I have to forget that that early stuff is out there or I get a little sick.'

Finally, someone else will shout, 'Just take her back, dude.'

The crowd will still hold you aloft, but gently, the way they would their favorite rock idol. They'll start to chant, 'Take! Her! Back! Take! Her! Back!' until you correct them.

'I broke up with him though. I'm the one who wants to take him back.'

'Oh yeah,' the crowd will say in unison. 'Go! Back! To! Her! Go! Back! To! Her!'

The band will pound at their instruments to provide a beat for the chant. Finally, humbled and broken, your ex will say, 'Fine. If I come back to you, do you promise to always believe in me?'

Say, 'Until you start to suck.'

The crowd will shout, 'Seriously, watch yourself,' and 'If you ever start to sound like your early stuff again we swear to God we'll fucking kill you!'

'Fine! Fine!' he'll shout. 'Let's get back together.'

The crowd will cheer and pass you to the stage on their palms. When you get there, you and your ex will be reunited with a kiss, causing the band to burst into their top-rated hit ('Dance With The Boys, Evelyn Rae') and your ex will hold you in his arms and sing the entire song directly to you. You'll find the song to be just okay, but you'll be happy that the crowd seems to be enjoying it.

Your Ex-Boyfriend's Band Made It Big Day!

The Stupid Hostages Got Released Day!

You met Sandy at the police barricade in front of the bank robbery. She told you she couldn't see, so you stepped aside and let her squeeze in front of you at your place at the barricade.

'Think they'll start throwing out bodies?' she asked you.

'I just hope they don't throw any at me,' you said. She laughed.

As the hours passed with no progress made in the hostage negotiation, the crowd behind you and Sandy grew too large to be contained behind that barricade. It seemed like the whole city was pouring out onto the sidewalk across from that bank, waiting to see if it all ends in a shootout. All of the shoving and pressing forward pinned you up against Sandy's back. You continued talking though, as if there was nothing at all odd about your bodies being pasted together within hours of speaking your first words to each other.

'I don't think this is going to end well,' she said, staring at the bank.

'But we just met,' you said.

Sandy turned around and faced you so that her front was pasted up to your front and she had to lift her face up to yours to keep from talking into your chest.

'I mean the hostages,' she said. 'I don't think they're going to make it.'

'I don't either,' you said, staring down into her blue eyes.

You never spoke again after that. She kept her face turned up to yours and you closed your eyes and leaned down to kiss her. Then the stupid hostages got released. The doors flung open and all these dumb, ugly, smelly hostages came running out with their arms in the air screaming don't shoot. Then the hostage-takers came out with their hands in the air and they got tackled by the police. The crowd went crazy and rushed the barricade. Sandy got torn away from you and within seconds there was a street full of people between the two of you. You never saw her again, and you never made it to her lips.

Now you're watching the news for crowd scenes, hoping to get a look at her again. You're flipping from channel to channel, scanning the faces, wishing that the gunmen had simply opened fire so you and Sandy could have fallen to the street together for cover. Instead, they had to be wussies and set everyone free and drag her away from you. Are all those lives really worth you staying alone for who knows how many more years?

'Stupid hostages,' you'll mutter to the TV, quiet enough to not wake your mother who is sleeping on the couch next to you.

Happy The Stupid Hostages Got Released Day!

Lightning Strikes Twice Day!

Today you are going to get struck by lightning again and you'll be restored with your sense of taste, which was taken away from you after your first lightning strike.

'This tastes fantastic!' you'll tell your wife after your first bite of her meatloaf tonight.

'I prayed for this day,' she'll say. 'It's been so lonely to cook for a man who interprets your food as nothing but mass and texture.'

'You taste good,' you'll say after kissing her on the mouth.

'I'm so glad you were struck by lighting again and everything is back to normal,' your wife will say.

Just then your eyelashes will suddenly grow three feet long and come alive. They will lift a candlestick and bash you in the head with it until you're dead. Your eyelashes will then be free of your will, though they will still have to drag your rotting corpse around while they unleash their lighting-fueled hell unto the populace. This won't be too difficult for them since your eyelashes will have the strength of a stadium of men. As they drag your dead body towards your wife, grabbing at a steak knife and a rolling pin along the way, she'll cower in the corner waiting to be torn apart and she'll say, 'I take it back. This blows.'

Happy Lightning Strikes Twice Day!

Your Girlfriend's Car Is For Sale Day!

Her Nissan can be purchased for $2800, according to the price tag scrawled in white across the windshield. You didn't know she was planning to buy a new car. But there it is in the used car lot that you pass every day on your way home. Same license plate. And they didn't even take off the Boston University frame around the plate before parking it with the nose facing the intersection. When you hit a red light you'll call her cell.

'Hey,' you'll say to her voicemail. 'You sold your car? What'd you do win the lottery? Give me a call if you want anything from the store on the way home.'

When you get home, you'll find that she packed up all her things and took off while you were at work. According to her note, she ran away with someone she met in AA. They're taking his car, so she sold hers for the cash. You'll feel like an idiot, not just because you didn't see it coming, but because you left her that message about the car and asking her if she wanted anything from the store. You'll wonder if she played it for him.

'Hey,' you'll say to her voicemail. 'Ignore that last message. I know why your car was for sale now. I got your note. I just want to say that I gave my all for you. I waited for you to get cleaned up and I helped you get your life back on track, and you repaid me by running off with the first loser with a 30-day chip. And I have to find out when I see your car parked at Joey's Used Wrecks? If you could delete that last message and let this one be my goodbye message to you, that'd be great. And don't play that last message for the guy you're with and laugh at me, okay? Just give me that, you fucking lush. Please? You owe me that much.'

She probably won't delete the first message, so you should leave five more rage-filled ones just to cancel that first one out. You could leave one where you hold the phone up to your ass while you take a loud shit on some photos of her that she left behind, though you'd have to narrate that one. You could also leave one where you keep the phone on while you have sex with someone new, or at least while you watch a sexy movie. Alone. Or you could leave one where you beg her to come back and tell her that you'll be whomever she needs you to be. That she can even drink again if she wants to, just as long as she comes back.

Just start dialing.

Happy Your Girlfriend's Car Is For Sale Day!

Don't Bail Your Son Out Of Jail Day!

You've always gone way too easy on your son in the discipline department and it's turned him into someone who doesn't think his actions will yield any consequences. So when he calls you tonight and tells you that he's been arrested for human trafficking and is being held at the police station, tell him you're not going to bail him out.

'You need to learn a lesson,' say.

Your son will explain that he probably won't be given a shot at bail. He got in trouble for helping to bring young girls over the border from Mexico and transport them to a whorehouse where they would be held captive and forced into prostitution for several years.

"One of the girls died,' he'll say 'It was long after she arrived at the house, but they might try to get me for accessory to murder since I provided the van that brought her there." Then he'll start to cry.

'Don't try to soften me up with those tears,' say. 'It's about time you learned the difference between right and wrong. I'm sorry kiddo, but a night in jail will do you some good. Now you rest up in that cell and think about what you did.'

Your son will say that he's not trying to get you to bail him out. He'll say that he doesn't think he can do the time a murder rap will bring him, and he wants to say goodbye to you.

'Goodbye,' say. Then hang up and go to bed feeling good about being a dad for once. Tomorrow when you go to the jail, you'll find that your son is on suicide watch after trying to take his own life because he was too scared to go to jail for a decade. This will make you upset because he will have clearly not learned what it means to be responsible, so to teach him another lesson you should leave the copies of Maxim that you brought for him out in the car. But tell him that you were planning on bringing them to him. Say, 'You'll get your magazines when I think you're mature enough to deserve to have a magazine to read.' He won't say anything because he'll have bruised his larynx pretty bad the night before.

Happy Don't Bail Your Son Out Of Jail Day!

Make Today's Focus Group All About Your Breakup Day!

Today you're going to take part in a focus group testing consumers' reactions to a new brand of bath soap called SCRUB. You signed up because you need the seventy-five dollars and because none of your friends are willing to listen to you anymore since all you'll talk about is Michelle. But in the focus group, you are required to speak freely and openly about all of your reactions and associations. Give them what they want!

When they ask for your initial reaction to the product name and description, say, 'Sharon used soap. Not this brand, but she used it. Guess she's using it right now to wash away all evidence of me. WHY!'

When you're given a bar of soap to smell, say, 'It smells like Sharon after she just got out of the shower. I mean, she didn't smell like this soap. She smelled like the soap that she used to use. But she'd smell soapy. WHY!'

When you're asked what you don't like about bar soap, say, 'When I used to soap up Sharon, I had trouble hanging onto it as I'd slide the bar down her wet naked body. It was because I wanted my fingers to touch her while the soap lathered her skin, but it was easier just grip the bar of soap and rub it onto her without ever really touching her with my fingertips. I'd have to kind of cup the bar in my palm as I washed her, and it would inevitably slip free into the tub. They should make a bar soap in a shape that is easier to manipulate when you want to wash the skin of a vicious sociopath who doesn't care about who she hurts. WHY!'

And when you're asked whether you would buy SCRUB before you'd buy DIAL, say, 'She's never coming back is she? Oh my God I just realized that she's probably never going to come back to me. AW GOD. WHY!'

You should get out with full pay after only around fifteen minutes, which will give you enough time to make it to the Dark Chocolate Flavored COMBOS focus group. You'll feel it on your way there: The people at the Dark Chocolate Flavored COMBOS focus group are going to help you forget all about her. Run to them.

Happy Make Today's Focus Group All About Your Breakup Day!

Jump Your Motorcycle Over Some Stuff Day!

Today you're going to be riding your new motorcycle around the neighborhood, proving once and for all to everyone who sees you that you like girls. Some kids who are killing a stray cat with a bottle will see you pass and they'll stop what they're doing to ask you, 'Can you jump stuff?'

Laugh like that's a stupid question. 'Of course I can jump stuff. It's a motorcycle duh.'

The kids will hastily assemble a ramp in front of a trashcan and just because they like to, they'll set the trash inside the trashcan on fire.

'Jump that,' they'll say. 'If you don't, you like boys.'

The trashcan won't be all that high. Even though you haven't been riding the motorcycle for very long, jumping that can shouldn't be too difficult for anyone who is used to steering a bike steady and working the clutch. Nonetheless, your bike will tumble from the ramp into the trashcan and your leg will catch fire. You'll run down the street looking for some water to dip your leg in, leaving the bike behind while the kids laugh at you and call you queer.

You'll never go back for the bike. You'll know that what came to pass when you crashed off that ramp can't be undone. From that point on, everyone in the neighborhood will believe that you like boys. And the sudden lightness you'll feel in your heart will make you wonder if you crashed the bike on purpose. Announcing that you're gay simply by crashing a motorcycle into a burning trash can while some unsupervised urchins giggle on the sidewalk is a hell of a lot easier than saying the words out loud.

Happy Jump Your Motorcycle Over Some Stuff Day!

Earn A Little Money For Drinks Later Day!

You love to go out for drinks with your friends and you can't wait to meet them tonight. The trouble is, you only have four dollars.

You became homeless about two months ago when everything suddenly came crashing down (bad investments, whore addiction, ebay). You've been sleeping in abandoned cars and abandoned buildings and the only reason you don't smell yet is because your gym membership is still active for two more months, so you're still able to shower (you paid for eight months in advance back when you still had a job and a home).

Your friends would help, but you're too proud to let on how far you've fallen. You'd rather just go out and have fun like everything's the same as always. But how will you raise the money for at least two $8 caipirinhas, not to mention the $2 tip per drink? (You and your friends go to the sort of places where no one would split the two bucks change from a ten.)

If you don't eat at all today, you'll still need sixteen more dollars. The only place to get that kind of money is the local drug pusher.

Just go to the street where the drug pusher has his car parked. You'll find him leaning against his passenger side door and he'll be surrounded by women and men who laugh at everything he says in the hopes that he'll keep on selling them drugs instead of beating them on the eyes with the handle of his gun.

Approach him slowly, so he'll know you're friendly, and explain the situation.

'I need some money,' tell the drug pusher. 'Sixteen dollars.'

'I got lots of money,' the drug pusher will say. 'Why should I be giving any of it to you?'

Shrug. 'I could be your helper.'

The drug pusher will think about it. 'I never had a helper before,' he'll say. 'Tell you what. Lemme try you out for a day, have you run some errands. If I'm happy with your work, I'll pay you the sixteen dollars you need.'

'Will it be hard work?' ask the drug dealer.

He'll say, 'Just three errands. Not too hard. Do we have a deal?'

With a big smile, shake the drug pusher's hand and say, 'Deal!' Then get into the drug pusher's car.

For the first errand, the drug pusher will have you go to Crate and Barrel and return an ottoman he's unhappy with. For the second errand, the drug pusher will take you up to his bathroom and have you saw apart the six dead bodies lying in his bathtub. For the third errand, you'll do the drug pusher's laundry.

At the end of the day, the drug pusher will give you the sixteen dollars, as promised.

'Thanks!' you'll say, counting out the money in your hand.

'You're a hard worker,' the drug pusher will say. 'I see a little bit of myself in you.'

You'll blush and the drug dealer will muss your hair.

'I kind of feel like if someone had given me a chance the way I gave you one today, maybe I would have found a different line of work. One where I don't sell poison to my community.'

You'll say, 'It's never too late. Anyway, gotta go meet my friends now. Maybe I'll come back and work for you tomorrow?'

'Yeah, sure,' the drug pusher will say. But he'll sound distant. You won't notice because you'll only hear those caipirinhas calling. At drinks, you'll tell your friends all about your new job, except instead of telling them that you run errands for a drug pusher for sixteen dollars a day, you'll tell them that you're a stock broker. You'll have a grand old time spending all your money, knowing that there's more to be earned tomorrow.

But when you go to where the drug pusher parks his car tomorrow, the spot will be empty. The drug pusher will be gone. He'll be registering for continuing ed classes someplace, and you'll find yourself once again penniless with nothing to do but beg. All because you had to set your stupid example of being a good worker and convince the drug dealer to turn it all around for himself. How are you gonna eat tonight then, Mr. Hard Work? How are you gonna keep from getting killed in a vacant lot tonight, Mr. Do A Good Job?

How?

Happy Earn A Little Money For Drinks Later Day!

Last Splash Day!

Today, while you are luxuriating in your beautiful clawfoot bathtub, an assassin will step casually into the bathroom and stand over you. He'll be wearing a black hip-length leather jacket and black slacks. He'll have greasy black hair, like Alec Baldwin.

'I know why you're here,' say to him. 'I've been waiting for you.'

'In the tub?' the assassin will ask. 'You sure you know why I'm here?'

'The tub is my favorite place,' tell him. 'When I realized that I had no way out of my situation and that I would soon be come for, I calculated how long it would be before I was staring down the barrel of my killer's gun. When the time came, I got into the tub and waited.'

'Were your calculations correct?' the killer will ask.

'What time is it?' ask him.

The killer will look at his watch and tell you it's 4 PM.

'I was off by two days,' tell him. 'I'm really starting to pickle.'

Show the killer your wrinkled palms. He'll laugh and so will you.

'I guess if I could choose where I'd buy my ticket, the tub would be pretty high up on my list,' your assassin will say. 'It's just so nice to lay back and let everything float away with the bubbles.'

You and the killer will both look down at the small island of bubbles resting on the water just above your groin, effectively shielding your privates from his eyes.

'Also,' you'll add, 'No blood to clean up.'

Your killer will shake his head. 'Actually, you'd be surprised how much back spray can spurt out of a bullet hole. Sometimes it's clean, sure. But a lot of the time it's like I just stabbed a shaken up soda can. You'll probably get some on the wall there by your head.'

You'll look at the wall and remember what a nice day you had with your wife when you painted it.

Your assassin will say, 'Anyway, I hate to rush this but I gotta get going.'

'Right, right,' you'll say. Splash a little bit of the warm water on your face and shoulders. Then say to the killer, 'Sorry to hold you up. Go to it.'

The killer will shoot you twice in the chest and just like he said, a messy burst of red will spray out along the wall by the tub. You'll die instantly and your body will slide down into the water. The reason you have to die in the first place is because you know way too much about this bullshit story that's being force-fed to the American people by the 9-11 commission.

Happy Last Splash Day!

Get Your Temp To Fall Out Of Love With You Day!

Brian is the first temp they've ever sent you who knows how to fix your Excel spreadsheets so that they don't print all of those blank pages at the end. He was working out perfectly. Then he fell madly in love with you and his work went straight down the shitter. You don't want to get rid of him, but you can't deal with a temp making goo-goo eyes at you all day. So you're going to have to do some horrible stuff to make him fall out of love with you and get back to work.

Remember what they taught you in business school. Getting a temp to fall out of love with you is easy as pie if you follow eight simple steps:

1. Pretend to be kind of gummy. Rub a watery, odorless lotion on your palms and make sure to touch Brian a lot, smearing the lotion on his skin and clothes. He'll assume it came from your sweaty palms, but it won't dry up so he'll think that you excrete something from your pours that's like sweat, but is kind of weird. Something kind of gummy. He won't be sure.

2. Pretend to be racist. When you pass Brian's desk today and he jumps from his chair to tell you that he showed up early to shine your staplers, say to him, 'Man, am I ever racist!' Then say some really terrible things about people of different ethnicities than yours.

3. Pretend to be callous. Show Brian a picture of a starving child. He'll ask if that's a child that you're sponsoring. Tell him that you actually arranged it so that you would sponsor two other children, on the condition that the child in the photo is deprived of food. 'They don't have enough food for everybody and they know it,' tell him. 'I just wanted to be the one to choose which child doesn't eat. If I have to feed two other kids to gain that privilege, so be it. I can afford to skip the two cups of coffee a day.'

4. Pretend to be addicted to cocaine. When you pass Brian's desk today and he jumps from his chair to tell you that he stayed late yesterday to top off your white-out bottles, say to him, 'Man, am I ever addicted to cocaine!' Then say some really nice things about cocaine. Then slam his head into his desk while accusing him of holding out on you

5. Pretend to be way into Christ. Unless he's way into Christ too. If he is, skip to number 6. But if he's not, it's just the bestest religion to pretend to be crazy about if you want to make someone fall out of love with you. Most dudes will take a racist over a Jesus-freak any day of the week.

6. Pretend to be his real mom. Tell him you put him up for adoption and you've been tracking him down for years. When you found out who his temp agency was, you requested him specifically just so you could spend your days with him. After a storm of emotion sends him home to accuse his mother of keeping the truth from him all these years and she tells him his supervisor is just pulling his chain, he'll come back and ask what the fuck. Explain to him that you're not his mother, but you wanted to get that idea in his head so he wouldn't think about you in a naked way anymore and he could get back to work. NOTE: It's not guaranteed he won't ask his temp agency to reassign him to a different company after this.

7. Pretend to unattractive. I know this sounds impossible for you, you sizzling piece of sex-poo. But it's important. Grow hair all over your face and neck.

8. Pretend to love him back. He just wants to chase what he can never catch. It's The Way Of The Temp.

If none of the above works, you're going to have to dive headfirst into a relationship with the boy. Even if it clicks with you two, love fades. Eventually, he'll be bored with you and he'll be ready to get back to work.

Happy Get Your Temp To Fall Out Of Love With You Day!

Your Son's Gonna Get His Heart Broken Day!

Today your nine-year-old son and his little nine-year-old girlfriend are going to be riding their bikes around the neighborhood and having a sweet little time. His girlfriend will say, 'Race you to the end of the block. If you win, I'm still your girlfriend. If I win, you're not my boyfriend anymore.' Then she'll take off before your son has the chance to renegotiate the terms of the race. He'll chase after her, but she'll win, ultimately. When he catches his breath, she'll say, 'I win. That means you're not my boyfriend anymore. We're broken up now.' Then she'll ride off a single girl.

Your son will come home and tell you all about how he lost the race and how he just wishes he were a little faster because he would have still had his girlfriend if he was.

'She probably wanted out,' tell him. 'It's like when me and your mother split up. She told me to tell her whether I'd ever been with anybody else and she told me to be honest. Thing is, she had proof that I had something on the side. She had my cell phone bill with all these calls. And she knew I'd lie about it. She just wanted to create this situation so she could get out.'

'But didn't she leave because you were seeing someone else?' your son will ask.

Just walk away from him. He obviously doesn't want to be comforted.

Happy Your Son's Gonna Get His Heart Broken Day!

They Used To Call You 'Captain Kegstand' Day!

At 10:30 PM tonight, in a terrible motel room off of Route 40, two naked women will hold stock still on a bed, a double-ended dildo connecting them at the genitals. The women, like the fourteen men surrounding them crowded together in the twelve by eighteen foot room, will stare with their mouths gaping open at a forty-seven year old father of two whose shirt will be pulled up above his nipples and whose eyes won't be open and whose neck will look to be bent at an impossible angle. You're him, the one they'll be staring at. A moment before you'll have shouted 'Let me show you why they used to call me Captain Kegstand!' But only a few people will have heard you over the sound of The Eagles blasting from a cheap boombox. After moving the keg closer to the wall, with both hands gripping the handles on the rim, you'll throw yourself from your feet to flip up through the air and slam your entire 207 pounds upside down and backwards against the wall. A few cheers will erupt from those who are watching, and Martin, the only one in the room who went to high school with you, will grapple with the tap to get it into your mouth before you tumble.

He won't make it. Your flip up to the wall will look almost graceful, like you were seventeen all over again, but the tumble back down will happen so fast it will look like you just got shot. No one will move. The only sound will be that of The Eagles, continuing to blast from the boombox. Finally your nephew, whose bachelor party it is, will run to you on the floor and he'll listen to your chest and then he'll shake you, causing your head to jostle about freely at the top of your rubbery neck. One of the naked girls will detach herself from the dildo so that she can pull her legs up to her chest and cry in shock when she sees how loose your head is on its neck.

Martin will shut the boombox off. Before anyone can shout for an ambulance or run or assign blame, before you've officially been declared dead, and long before your open-casket funeral, he'll make sure that everyone present bestows upon you the honor you deserve.

'Raise your glasses,' Martin will shout. Everyone in the room will hesitantly lift their plastic cups half-full of Miller Light.

'They called him Captain Kegstand,' Martin will say. 'He died in the line of duty.'

Everyone will exchange a glance, and then they'll follow Martin's lead and down the contents of their cups. Some beer will spill on the carpet underneath you, which will already be damp since the motel will have been flooded just the week before.

Happy They Used To Call You 'Captain Kegstand' Day!

There Is No 'I Won't Fuck My Boss' In TEAM Day!

Productivity is way down, and your refusal to have sex with your boss is way up. Coincidence?

Your coworkers don't think so. Ever since you got hired they've been having trouble getting through to him because he's too busy thinking about how great it would be to be inside you. They'll be trying to get his approval on a particular proposal or sorting out a break in team vision that threatens to stall an entire initiative, and when they pause and allow him to weigh in, hopefully with the kind of leadership that can put everybody back on track, all he'll offer is something like, 'Did you see the waistband of her panties poking up from her slacks today? Wow!' Or in his more despondent moments, 'Dear God what will it take to prove to this woman that I am her boss and she should do as I say?!'

Frankly, your coworkers can't believe how selfish you're being. It's like you believe that you are more important than the stability of the office, a stability that can be brought about with five frantic minutes in the supplies closet. They're going to approach you today with their concerns. Listen to them, for they are only interested in making this company the greatest child safety car seat manufacturer in the land. They'll make the case plain and clear: If their leader is distracted, faulty assemblage will go unchecked and babies will be thrown from their car seats and die. All because you think you're too special to give the man just a little bit of your affection. 'There is no 'I won't fuck my boss' in TEAM' they'll tell you. But there could be some 'I didn't realize my stuck-up attitude would kill your child' in 'Oh dear God how can I ever live with myself for the pain I've caused to millions of grieving parents?'

You make the choice. Are you a team player? Or a baby killer? Think about it.

Happy There Is No 'I Won't Fuck My Boss' In TEAM Day!

Everyone's Pretty Sure You're The Reason All The Kids Are Going Missing Around Here Day!

It's because you never married. When kids start going missing in a town, everyone goes hunting for the dude who was too boring/smelly to ever get married. They assume that any man who doesn't have a wife is probably so sick of TV dinners that eventually he's just gonna start eating kids. It's a dumb way to think, sure, but it's the way it is. Anyway, everyone in town is on their way to your house. You better come up with something fast.

'What can I do you all for?' ask them when they arrive at your front step.

One of them will shout back, 'Give us back our kids, or whatever parts of our kids that you haven't eaten.' Everyone else will shout, 'Yeah!'

Say, 'I haven't eaten any of your kids. I'm sorry if you lost track of them, but it doesn't have anything to do with me.'

Someone will shout, 'Of course he's eaten them. He looks bloated!'

Someone else will shout, 'Yeah, he looks really fat with my Stanley.'

Someone else will shout, 'And my Colin! He looks huge, like my Colin!'

Then everyone else will shout their kids' names, asserting that the child must be in your stomach because you're so obese.

You have let yourself go recently and it hurts to hear people point it out, but now's not the time for hurt feelings. You gotta get out of this before they carve open your stomach to try and get their kids' Nikes back.

'I suppose I have put on a little weight,' tell them. 'Must be all that wedding cake!'

Everyone will murmur the words 'wedding cake' the way crowds do when they're slightly surprised by something they've just heard. That's when you should bring out the hooker.

'Fellow neighbors, I'd like you all to meet my new bride.' The hooker that you hired will step out on the porch, just like you instructed, and she'll wrap her arms around you and kiss you on the lips.

'You're married?!' someone will ask.

'I know it's all of a sudden,' say to them, 'but the fever kind of took hold of us over the weekend and today we headed down to city hall and took care of the job.'

Kiss the hooker, then smile out at the crowd. They'll start to lower their sticks and hand grenades to their sides. Someone will shout, 'He still could have eaten our kids before he got married!' but no one will go for it. Everyone knows that the unmarried are not, by definition, kiddie-eaters. It's the people who have never married and never will marry for whatever unspeakable reason that are perceived to be capable of eating all the children in a town. With the deception created by you and the hooker that you paid double to rush right over, you'll have sent the town away to follow their secondary suspicions.

'Come on!' someone will shout. 'Let's go to that new tanning salon and start asking some questions.'

After the population of your town goes away, you and the hooker will go back in the house and negotiate her fee for living with you indefinitely, until the children either return to the town or are found to have been eaten by some other loner freak. The hooker will of course be much more beautiful and intelligent than most hookers and by the time the mystery of the missing children is solved, you and she really will have fallen in love. You and she will marry and have a child who will one day be eaten by a 46-year old man who lives in a basement apartment by himself and who has a mustache.

Happy Everyone's Pretty Sure You're The Reason All The Kids Are Going Missing Around Here Day!

You Kill Pigs Day!

It's not everyone who gets paid to do what they love, and you love your job at the slaughterhouse. Unfortunately, it's sentenced you to a rather lonely life because you really don't have any other interests outside of murdering pigs. So when you meet a woman you like, it isn't long before the conversation spooks her.

Sample conversation with a woman you might meet at a tavern or a flea market:

You: I just bought a new Captive Bolt Pistol. Wanna see it?

Woman: What's a Captive Bolt Pistol.

You: I use it to stun the pigs in preparation for slaughter. It basically fires a rod into the skull of the pig, destroying the cerebrum and some of the cerebellum. The concussion causes the pig to lose consciousness. No pain.

Woman: No. I don't want to see your Captive Bolt Pistol.

(Woman walks away quickly)

You: (under your breath) Lesbo.

End of sample conversation with a woman you might meet at a tavern or a flea market.

You've only made love to one woman in the past five years. She cared for you. You courted her and she responded to your gestures and listened attentively to your bloody accounts of what happened at the office that day. You and she spent four glorious months together before she went back to prison (she violated her parole when she was picked up trying to buy some cocaine from an undercover cop at a bluegrass concert). You were willing to wait until she got out again, but her sentence was extended when she got caught setting fire to her cellmate back in 2002.

You wish you could just talk to the pigs. They'd understand you better than any of the women in your town. But you just can't demand that they listen to your problems right before you slice them apart. 'This is their day,' you like to say of the pigs corralled for a day's slaughter.

Tonight, the loneliness is going to be too overwhelming and you're going to force yourself to head out to some bars and try and meet someone new. You've even got a new opening line. It's, 'Someone call the police because you're making my heart beat so fast it needs to be pulled over for speeding. I slaughter pigs for money.'

Happy You Kill Pigs Day!

Be The Trapeze Artist That Just Can't Say No Day!

Today you are a beautiful trapeze artist who has spent her life in the circus, living, loving, and flying around on ropes. The thing you fear most is a day off, so you jump from circus troupe to circus troupe every time one closes up shop for a season. Trouble is, any time you're about to leave one circus troupe for another, someone proposes and you can't help but say yes and consent to being married by the lion tamer (recognized in some states as a legal officiator). As of your latest wedding five days ago, you now have eight husbands in eight different circus troupes, all of them traveling from state to state in their own little freakish world, waiting for the season when you'll return.

It's the closed-off nature of the traveling circus society that makes you feel like this is not all that strange. Jumping troupes is like switching worlds. You can start over with a new troupe, forgetting all about who you might have wronged or longed for on the last tour. It's understood that people aren't going to ask too many questions, since folks in a traveling circus usually don't have too many nice memories from their lives before they joined. With all this being in play, it's been very easy for you to have several husbands all over the place. And you love each one of them equally (though the sword-swallower in the Eastern Asia troupe was becoming something of a bore by the time you hopped back to the States).

But tonight it's all going to come crashing down. Literally. Because tonight you're playing Minneapolis and your husband from the Canadian troupe (elephant wrangler) is going to be in the stands, checking out the operation in case he wants to join up in order to be closer to you. He won't have told you about his visit because he knows that you'd only be made nervous. But you'll catch sight of him when you're flying around on your trapeze. It will have been right after you smacked high-fives with a stilt-walker, and the MC will have announced to the crowd that you and the stilt-walker are five-day newlyweds. You'll see the heartbreak in your elephant wrangler's eyes and it will of course make you miss your grab, fall to the floor and die. The booking company will send out eight letters to eight different troupes, as per your next-of-kin instructions. You'll always be remembered in the circus world as a cautionary tale of what can happen when you walk into big-top tent with wide open heart.

Happy Be The Trapeze Artist That Just Can't Say No Day!

Glory Hole Day!

Today you're going to stick your dick in a glory hole but nothing will happen. You'll pull your dick back out and put your ear to the hole. The guy on the other end of the hole will be crying. Ask him what's wrong.

'Nothing,' he'll say. 'Just...Is this all there is?'

You'll know exactly what he means and you'll say so. All these nights spent hunting down the next sexual liaison, each more anonymous than the next. To the point where here the two of you are, choosing to forego the face and the torso and the arms and the legs, so that only what is necessary to the sex act is brought into play. A member and a mouth.

'And you know, I sometimes find myself complaining that I can't meet the right guy,' you'll say.

'What's wrong with us are we crazy?' the guy on the other end of the hole will ask, giggling.

'Seriously, what are we doing? This is nuts!' you'll shout from your side of the hole.

'It's like, afraid of intimacy much?' the guy on the other end of the hole will giggle even more.

'Yeah it's like, gee, maybe I know why I feel so alone all the time,' you'll laugh.

The two of you will laugh and laugh until the men waiting in line behind you to use the hole tell you both to go get a room someplace. You'll invite the guy on the other end of the hole to have a drink with you. He'll tell you he'd like that.

When you both see each other at the bar, neither of you will think the other is very attractive initially, but you'll fall in love and stay together forever. When people ask you two what brought you together, you'll tell them that you fell in love when you laughed together on either end of a dark and empty hole.

Happy Glory Hole Day!

You're Too Handsome To Remain Sheltered Day!

Even though you're one of the most attractive men anyone's ever seen ever, you've had a really rough year and you're presently penniless. Your old high school friend Marcus was nice enough to let you crash at his place until you get on your feet. Unfortunately though, Marcus has a girlfriend that he really loves and today after Marcus goes to work she's going to sneak onto your couch with you and try to have sex with you.

'No!' you'll say in a way that makes you even more adorable.

'Come on!' Marcus' girlfriend will shout as she pins both of your arms behind your head with one of her hands, using the other to pull your shorts down. Marcus' girlfriend is really strong and dexterous.

'Marcus is my good friend,' you'll say. 'He's been so nice. I couldn't do this to him. Please let me go I think I'm bruising.'

She will be just millimeters away from a kiss when she whispers into your mouth, 'Well I have to have you. So I guess I'll have to wait until you and Marcus aren't friends anymore.'

That won't sound too good, but you won't have time to think about it for too long because when she lets you go you'll run into the kitchen to ice up your wrists. This afternoon she'll steal Marcus' high school class ring from his jewelry case and take it to a nearby pawn shop, where she'll get thirty bucks for it. She'll stuff the thirty bucks under your mattress, and when Marcus comes home she'll tell him that she saw you in his room and then happened past a pawn shop and saw his ring in the window. Marcus will go and check the pawn shop before he comes back and confronts you.

'How'd the ring get there, buddy?' he'll say. 'And how'd that cash end up under your bed? You haven't had a dime to your name for the last two weeks. I can't believe you could steal the Golden Elk for a lousy thirty bucks.' The Golden Elk was the unofficial nickname for your high school's class rings since they all were designed with a large elk carved into the gold, the elk being your high school's mascot. The elk served to make the rings rather hideous and they tended to dominate the design.

You won't have it in you to tell Marcus that his girlfriend made a pass at you, and that she most likely framed you to destroy your friendship and ultimately sleep with you. So you'll just apologize and gather your things in a trash bag and go.

You're going to be living on the streets for a little while until your luck picks up. But the good news is you'll get to have sex with Marcus' girlfriend a lot (albeit only in public restrooms) since you and Marcus won't be friends anymore. On a scale of one to ten, you'll rate the sex with Marcus' girlfriend a five because you're a romantic and you never rate sex without love any higher than a five.

Happy You're Too Handsome To Remain Sheltered Day!

You're Afraid To Get Out Of Bed Day!

One morning about six weeks ago, you decided not to get out of bed. You stayed in bed all day long, and it felt so much better than going out and speaking to people that you did the same thing the next day too. Since then, you've left the bed only when you absolutely had to, like when you had to go to the bathroom or to the pharmacy. It's nice under the sheets. There's no one under there who'll look at you in a way that says they know what a joke of a life you lead, like that shop clerk did six weeks and one day ago.

Today you'll be compelled to get out of bed when you hear someone pounding on your bedroom wall and shouting 'Please! Please! Someone help before she comes back.'

You won't want to help, because that would mean getting out of bed, so you'll just knock on the wall a couple of times to let the guy know he's not alone.

That'll just end up setting him off. 'Oh God, hello?! Is someone there?! Please, call the police!'

You'll do as he says, thinking you'll be getting off easy. But after the police show up and set the man free, they'll come to your apartment to interview you about what you heard. They'll write things in their notebooks and you'll assume that they're writing 'Ugly Loser' with arrows pointing to a stick figure drawing of you.

'Thanks for your help ma'am,' one of the policemen will say. 'You really made our job much easier.'

When you go back to bed you'll imagine them laughing about how ugly they thought you were and how glad they are that they aren't you. You'll feel validated in your decision to stay in bed all these weeks.

Late tonight, there will be another knock on your door. You'll summon all the strength you have to get out of bed and endure the repulsed reaction of yet another stranger. When you open up, you'll see a very attractive man. 'Thank you for saving me,' he'll say.

You'll be curious enough about what he went through that you'll invite him in. The man will explain that he likes to get naked and let people lock him up in a cage like a stray dog. But he never expected when he answered the Craigs List ad of the married couple next door that they'd keep him locked up for days on end.

'I missed work,' he'll tell you. 'I think they intended to keep me in there until I died. They're Dangerous Tops.'

He'll tell you how lucky he was that you were in bed when he pulled his cage to the wall and started knocking. Then he'll notice your pajamas. 'You're still in bed,' he'll say. 'Are you sick?'

Say, 'Are you sick? You like to get locked up in cages.'

He'll say, 'It's just what I'm into.'

Say, 'Well, staying in bed all day is what I'm into. And you can stop looking at me like you think I'm gross.'

He'll say, 'Actually, I think you have nice eyes.'

You'll spend the rest of the night relating to each other about how nice it is to feel cordoned off from the rest of the world.

'Under my sheets, I can really be me,' tell him.

'In my cage, I am free,' he'll reply.

The next evening he'll arrive with a Man With A Van who will help him bring his cage upstairs. The cage will be placed right by your bed and you'll lock him in it before curling up underneath your sheets again. He'll spend the night whimpering like a dog while you fart silently. When you fall asleep for twelve minutes late in the night, it will be the best sleep you'll have had in weeks.

Happy You're Afraid To Get Out Of Bed Day!

Big Tipper Day!

This morning you'll be served by a new waitress (Laura will have demanded that she switch stations to avoid you). When, Carol, the new waitress comes back to your table after picking up your bill and she asks you where's the tip, you'll say to her, 'Here's a tip. Don't stand under a tree in a lightnin' storm. Good luck to ya, toots.' Then as you leave the diner, Carol will give you the finger to your back.

Later today Carol and her fiance will get caught in a thunderstorm while picnicking on her lunch break in a local park. They will seek refuge under a large maple tree and they'll watch as lightning strikes the landscape all around them. Her fiance will marvel at the storm as if it were a fireworks display. But Carol will remember your tip, and she'll suddenly wonder if maybe you are a tad more generous with the help than she originally thought.

'We gotta get out from under this tree,' she'll tell her fiance.

'What!' her fiance will exclaim. 'Are you crazy?'

The waitress will tell him it's not safe. 'We gotta get out of here,' she'll say. 'We're in danger.'

The fiance will look up at the tree above him. 'That old wive's tale? You're kidding me. I'm not going back out in that rain!' he'll yell.

Carol won't be able to wait any longer. She'll step out from under the cover of the trees and demand that her fiance follow her. 'If you don't step out from under that tree, I swear to you I will not marry you. Now take my hand and lets run underneath that footbridge there.'

The fiance will see how serious she is, and he'll finally run to her and take her outstretched hand. They won't run ten paces before they hear a loud crack behind them. When they turn to look, they'll see the maple tree has exploded into flames from the lightning, and they'll watch it crash to the ground that they were standing on.

Tonight, when you return to the diner for dinner (you're a lonely old man who can see the point in the future where people's lives could be irreparably destroyed and you rarely speak to anyone but waitresses and retail sales staff members) the waitress and her fiance will come to your table and recount their exciting tale. Carol will thank you for the tip you gave her. 'Had that not been in my head, we might have stayed under that tree. We'd be dead by now if it wasn't for you.'

You'll nod. Carol will elbow her fiance and he'll say, 'Yeah thanks. Look, I gotta go meet Brian.' Carol will kiss her fiance goodbye, then she'll take your order.

At the end of your dinner, when Carol brings you your check, she'll wait by your table while you count out your money. You'll look up and she'll have anticipation in her eyes.

'I'm sorry,' she'll say. 'Just...Any tip for me today?'

You'll stand up and pull your coat on, then you'll say, 'Always make sure that when your fiance puts on a condom, he doesn't forget to pinch the nub. Good luck to ya' toots.'

You'll walk to the door and Carol will shout at your back, 'But I'm on the pill!'

She won't mention your tip to her fiance tonight, but it would have been too late anyway because when he said he was going to see his friend Brian, he was actually going to visit Brenda, the ex-girlfriend he's been cheating on Carol with. The condom will break and Brenda will get pregnant. Brenda will have the baby, but she'll run off afterwards and Carol's husband will ask Carol to raise Brenda's son as her own. The waitress will agree, and every time that boy gives her a hard time, she'll look in his eyes and remember what a really great tipper you were.

Happy Big Tipper Day!

Lost Earring Day!

Today you and Kat, the girl you've been dating, will be making out in the back of a taxicab. Your left hand will be planted on the seat for balance, and when it slips down into crook where the back cushion meets the seat, something down there will prick your fingertip. You'll yank your hand out and a junky turquoise earring will be hanging from it.

Kat will look at the earring hanging from your finger and she'll scream and cover her eyes. The cabdriver will slam on his brakes and he'll start screaming, 'What is wrong?! What is wrong with your friend?!'

'Nothing!' you'll shout.

Kat will say, 'I got broken up with in this cab.'

You'll say, 'What?'

The cabdriver will shout, 'I knew you looked familiar! You cried and cried!'

'That's my earring,' she'll say. 'I lost it six months ago, the night Jeremy broke up with me. In this cab.'

'Give her back her earring!' the cabdriver will shout.

You'll pull the earring out of your finger and drop it into her palm. She'll caress it and she'll start to cry.

'Have you talked to him since that night?' the cabdriver will ask.

'He called me last night,' Kat will say.

'What?' you'll ask.

'This is a sign,' Kat will say. 'The night after he said he wants me back I found the earring I lost the night we broke up.'

'It has to be!' the cabdriver will shout. 'My God it has all come full circle. And all these months I was driving my cab, waiting for this night when you would get in it again so that I could deliver you to your fate.'

'You can't deny that this seems like it's meant to be. Right?' Kat will ask.

'It's a big coincidence, there's no doubt about it,' you'll tell her.

'I have to go find him,' she'll say.

The cabdriver will shout, 'Go! Run!'

Kat will kiss you on your cheek and she'll thank you. 'You're the best,' she'll say.

You'll pull the door shut and you'll tell the cabdriver to continue on to your apartment.

'That was a very wonderful thing,' the cabdriver will say. 'She was very sad when Jeremy said goodbye.'

Tell him, 'He cheated on her.'

'We all hurt each other,' the cabdriver will say. 'I am sorry you had to be hurt tonight.'

Say it's all right.

'Try to lose something,' the cabdriver will say. 'Maybe you get back in my cab in six months and find it, things will be all right for you. I tell you my taxi is driven by the hand of God!'

Happy Lost Earring Day!

Unearth An Ancient Potion That Makes You Irresistible To Women Day!

You'll find it when you go digging in the woods behind your house to unearth the remains of your dachshund, Motorhead, who passed two years ago (you recently discovered some things about Motorhead that made you realize his life with you was a lie and you no longer wish to provide for him a peaceful grave within your property line). The grave lost its marker during the winter and in your first hour of digging, you'll break ground in three different places without finding any dog bones. But in your third dig, your shovel will clank against a gold and jewel-encrusted flask. You're familiar with your town's local history and you know that more than one practicing wizard used to operate in the area back in the old days (1945-80). The pawn shops are full of ornate looking canisters and no-longer-magic staffs that neighbors inevitably find when they start to renovate their properties.

You'll open the flask and take a whiff. It will smell bad enough that you'll know not to drink. The smell will make you jerk the flask away from your nose and you'll end up spilling a bit on your shirt. When you get back home, you'll discover that the flask must contain some sort of magical pheromone juice because your wife, who has not been attracted to you since 9-11, will come running at you with her skirt lifted up to her belly after just one whiff. This will make you think that you're the luckiest man on earth because you have the long-dreamed-about potion that makes girls want some. But things will take a turn for the worse when your daughter comes home and she starts ripping off her school uniform and running around the house growling for the man who is wearing the scent. When she bursts into the room, your wife will react like a wild animal fighting off beasts who might try to steal the food she's killed for. Your wife will pull herself off of you and with a growl she'll whip around at your daughter and slash at her face with her fingernails. Your daughter will dodge the fingernails and she'll throw herself at your wife and the two of them will roll around on the floor punching and scratching at each other's eyes. You'll see some blood has already been drawn before you make a run for it out of the bedroom.

Downstairs a female UPS carrier will be pounding on the doorbell and when you open the door she'll rip off her uniform and take you. But soon after that, a female meter reader from the electric company will come in through the open door and slit the UPS carrier's throat so that she can have you. Then two female police officers will burst in and shoot the meter reader in the back eight times while you're still inside her. The cops will pull the meter reader off of you and begin to have sex with your blood-soaked body. Upstairs your daughter will have killed your wife and she'll come running down to find you. But before she sees you with the police officers, she'll spy all the members of a neighborhood book club running through your yard ripping off their blouses. Your daughter will find you and she'll grab a pistol from the tossed-aside holster of one of the cops. After she shoots both cops dead (you'll be stuck under the weight of one of them) she'll set up a position by the door, a bad spot for when the book club, already naked, starts crashing through the windows of the dining room and kitchen. A bloody hellish mayhem will ensue as your daughter and the book club clash over who gets to have sex with you next, and you'll realize that you really should figure out what's in the potion and market it as a kind of men's spray. You could name it 'axe' after the weapon that is used by the triumphant book club member who slays seven naked women (including your beautiful daughter) in just a few moments before she throws you onto the ground and has you all to herself.

Happy Unearth An Ancient Potion That Makes You Irresistible To Women Day!

You're On TV Day!

Today you're going to make your TV debut on a new series from HBO documentary programming called, American Visions: Homeless People Getting Set On Fire. The show uses hidden cameras to capture people when they sneak up on homeless people while they're sleeping and set them on fire. You appear midway through the show. You're seen creeping up on a homeless mother and her two young sons (six and eight) underneath an overpass. There's a young woman with you (not your wife). You're both in evening attire and you're holding a can of barbecue lighter fluid. The narrator explains that it's three AM and you appear to have just finished a night on the town, but before you and your companion (again, not your wife, everyone can tell) retire for the evening, you decided to visit the dark, unused road underneath an overpass to see if there are any homeless people that you can set on fire.

You and your companion giggle while you spray the lighter fluid on the family of three. When you toss the match and the flames explode all over them, the mother and one of the sons will jump to their feet and start running around screaming. The other son will stay on the ground, not moving, which will indicate that the boy already died in the night but his mother doesn't even know it yet because she's on fire.

You'll be laughing hysterically while they run around trying to put out the flames. It will look really bad for you, as you have several office spaces to show tomorrow (you are a real estate broker for office plazas and other business holdings). Your clients will all recognize you and they'll tell you that you came off really horribly on that show and that they won't be able to bring your proposal to their investors because some of them might be offended by the fact that you set homeless families, some with dead children, on fire. You'll explain that you tried to get them to pull the clip, but the law apparently doesn't protect the privacy of people who commit unspeakable acts of senseless violence, especially against dead children. You'll add, 'But what about the HBO cameramen? Why don't they stop anybody from setting the fires? All they do is watch.' Your client will wish you good luck and you'll lose another sale. It's going to be rough going until HBO stops running your episode and people forget all about your appearance. Until then, be thankful you've got that nest-egg of savings to fall back on. It's important to save money because you never know when you're going to get caught on TV setting a family of three (one already deceased at the age of six) on fire.

Happy You're On TV Day!

Some Binder Clips, A Three-Hole Punch, And One Man's Ring Finger Day!

Today when you start rooting through the desk at the job where you're temping, in the bottom left-hand drawer you'll find some binder clips, a three-hole punch, and one man's ring finger with a wedding band still on it. You'll take out some binder clips because that's what you were looking for in order to bind together the printouts of the Powerpoint presentation that your supervisor will be delivering at three today.

Once the three o-clock meeting starts, the floor will be almost completely deserted and you'll have nothing to do but wait for the phone to ring and occasionally take a peek at the man's ring finger lying at the bottom of your desk drawer. It won't look discolored, except the caked and dried blood at the knuckle will look black. But it definitely will look to have been recently severed.

Your concern will be whether or not to tell someone about what you found. If you were to ask your temp agency, they would recommend that you keep quiet. This firm has some heavy temp traffic and you don't want to be labled as a Nosey Nadeen and risk them not bringing you back for fear of you searching every desk they seat you at for severed appendages. Just stay mum and split at five. It's only a one-day assignment.

Or so you'll think. Tonight you'll get a call that they'd like you to come back for another day. You've been dead broke ever since your ex-boyfriend used your credit card to play out his online gambling downward spiral (he shot himself with a rifle) so you need the assignment. Trouble is, tomorrow, when you finally look into the drawer the finger will be gone. In its place will be a single-panel Dilbert cartoon. In the cartoon, Dilbert will have gotten his hand caught in a giant bear trap after reaching into somebody's bag lunch in the community fridge. The owner of the bag lunch will be saying to Dilbert, "Considering How Long I Spent Making That Tuna Salad, I'd Say You Got Off Easy." But scrawled in red marker across the cartoon will be the message: "KEEP YOUR FILTHY TEMP NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS OR YOU'RE DEAD!"

Honestly, you've been temping for a while and you should have known better. Just get your timesheet signed and mind your beeswax.

Happy Some Binder Clips, A Three-Hole Punch, And One Man's Ring Finger Day!

Stop Having Sex With Your Frat Brother In The Frat House Kitchen Day!

Your other fraternity brothers don't know that you're gay and you're not sure how well they'll take the news. Best not to break it to them by letting them walk in on you bent over the sink with Stevie, the frat brother you have sex with, half-way up your spine. Even Stevie refuses to admit that he's gay. The minute you slip out of his mouth he always warns you that he'll kill you if you tell anyone about how you and he like to 'horse around.' It's safe to say that if you and Stevie get caught, Stevie will do everything he can to shift the blame onto you. And depending on what position they walk in on, he might be able to pull it off (you know how good straights are at believing stuff).

Just try the attic, or the basement. Hell, even the pantry has a door you can shut behind you. I know Stevie refuses to do it anywhere else, but that's just because he feels like if he switches rooms he's actually seeking out the sex and that would make him gay. So he always 'just happens to bump into you' every night at 3:45 am. This lets him pretend it's just a spontaneous thing and you and he are just 'horsing around.' Except you're the one who's not going to deny digging cock if you get caught, so you're the one in the most danger.

Tonight, when Stevie 'bumps into you' and starts panting and ripping at your boxer shorts, push him up against the fridge and tell him that if he wants some of your ass, he's got to take you downstairs to the dark area of the basement behind the water heater where no one can find out. If that's too much for him to handle, then he can just go upstairs and start knocking on all the other bedroom doors to see if anyone has some cock they want to float his way.

Stevie will take a swing at you. If he manages to connect, just make sure you hit back. It'll make the sex hotter than hell if you hit back. Stevie's that type.

Happy Stop Having Sex With Your Frat Brother In The Frat House Kitchen Day!

Guest Book Day!

You arrived at your lake house yesterday and you're excited for a couple of weeks of peace. You rent the house out for most of the summer, reserving just a couple of weeks to yourself and your family (they're joining you next weekend). The money from the rentals is lucrative, but you are always afraid of coming back and finding the place looted or destroyed. One nightmare you always have is where you come back to find that the most recent renter is a psychopath who is convinced that the house is his house and you are the intruder. This hasn't happened for reals yet.

This morning you'll go through the house inspecting all of the bedrooms and bathrooms for signs of theft or broken fixtures. Everything will look to be in place, except for a barrette sitting on the bathroom sink that a renter must have left behind. The barrette will look familiar, like a barrette that belonged to someone who used to come to that house with you. It will give you chills to see it and you'll take it out on the deck and throw it into the lake.

Once the inspection is complete, you'll pour a cup of coffee and sit down for a look through the guest book. This is your favorite part of the return, when you get to read the notes left behind by all of your renters. Some of them are nothing but a log of complaints (Bad TV reception! Too drafty!). Most are effusive notes of thanks and appreciation for the beautiful house and the idyllic lakefront setting.

When you open the book, you'll see eight new pages have been filled in. The first will be a concise note of thanks and a brief log of their hikes and their lake activities. The second will be completely illegible. The third will be a long love letter to the house, speaking to the house in the second person even ('You kept us warm, you held us tight in the night.') The fourth one will be written on a page that is sopping wet with ice cold water. The words written there will suck the air out of your lungs.

Hello D,

The house is as beautiful as ever.

Sarah.

Sarah was the beautiful young women with lung cancer that you lured into your church and convinced to forego medical treatment and instead put her trust in the lord. She did whatever you asked of her, including being born again, because she fell in love with you. You would have her meet you up here at the lake house to reduce the chance of your wife spotting either of you. One night she came up alone after having seen a doctor behind your back. The doctor told her that since she refused treatment, the cancer had spread and he could only give her a few weeks to live. She called and begged you to come up and pray with her for Jesus' healing love, but your daughter had an oboe recital that night. So Sarah threw herself into the lake.

You came up the next morning and found her note on the bed. You hastily gathered all her personal effects into a small wooden smoke box, and you paddled out into the middle of the lake and dropped the box to the bottom. That's where you recognize the barrette on the sink from. Sarah must have recovered it so that she could fix her hair before her haunting. And if you turn around right now, you'll see Sarah's pastel blue face smiling at you, her seaweed covered arms outstretched for your embrace. There will be a crustacean crawling along her neck bone.

Say, 'Good Lord.'

Sarah will bubble some lake water from her lips and she'll say, 'There's nothing good about him.' Then she'll step across the living room for a hug.

Happy Guest Book Day!

The Bus Driver Just Took Off Day!

It's the risk you take when you decide not to spring for Amtrak or regional rail. If you ride a bus, at some point the bus driver might pull over to the side of the road, climb down to the street and just kind of start running away. A few of them might be folks who are reacting to an epiphany by dropping out and running into the woods to disappear for a while, but for most of the time it's because the bus driver just got a cell phone call warning him that State police are waiting at his destination to make him answer for a warrant.

A half hour ago, your bus driver got a cell phone call, but not to warn him about any warrant. His boss called to tell him that a full-grown man who says he's the bus driver's son is waiting at the station for him. The bus driver knew that the kid either wanted revenge against his dad for running out, or reconciliation, which would require that the bus driver be a Daddy to his boy. Neither option appealed to the bus driver, so he parked the bus on the shoulder and booked.

Now you and the other passengers are on the grassy shoulder, trying to agree on how to proceed. The majority thinks you all should wait until the bus company sends a replacement driver (which they informed you over the radio that they plan to do). You're going to have to impress upon them that waiting is not an option.

'The man I love is about to give up on me,' tell them. 'I did wrong by him and if I don't get home by dinnertime he's gonna pack his car and take off forever.'

The other passengers won't know how exactly to respond, until one of them, a red headed man, finally speaks for the group.

'What'd you do?' the passenger will ask.

'I got scared,' say. Explain that you're supposed to get married in a week, and you kind of freaked out about that particular appointment, so you called up an old boyfriend who wants you back and you got him to invite you over for the weekend. This didn't make your fianc' very happy, and he threatened to pack up and split. You begged him to give you a chance to explain, and he agreed to listen. 'Pry yourself off of his dick and get back here by dinnertime. If you're a minute late, I'm gone and you won't never be able to find me,' he said.

Another of the passengers will speak up. 'So you're really gonna try to hang onto him?'

Nod yes. 'With all of your help. Yes.'

Another will say, 'Seriously? You really think this marriage has a chance in hell of working after this?'

Say, 'It won't have any chance if my fellow passengers don't help me.'

At that, all of the other passengers will throw their hands in the air and release a groan in unison.

'You're gonna try to blame this on us?' the red-head will say. 'Please, baby. That ship has sailed. Accept this as a sign.'

Try to hold back your tears. 'I have to try,' say.

'Can't you just call him and tell him the bus driver made a run for it?' another passenger will ask.

'Would you believe me if I gave you that excuse after all I've done? I mean that only happens on one out of every hundred bus rides, but it just happened to happen on mine?'

The passengers will turn their backs on you and you'll feel that you're pretty much sunk. Then the passenger who has been quietly sitting on his Igloo cooler will speak up.

'Actually, I didn't want to be a nuisance, but I'm in a bit of a hurry as well.'

'Oh yeah?' the red-head will say. 'What's your big rush?'

The passenger will slap the side of his cooler and say, 'Kidney delivery. Kid's not gonna make it through the night unless this baby gets transplanted before dawn.'

The other passengers will all shout, 'Eww!' Then they'll all pile onto the bus and speed down the highway to get that kidney to its destination.'

At the bus station, you'll stop the man with the cooler to thank him. 'I know you had your own responsibilities, but I'm just really glad you spoke up. Now I still have the chance to hang onto the one I love.'

The man with the cooler will say, 'Everyone deserves a chance at love, little lady.' Then he'll open the cooler and pull out a bottle of Michelob. 'You care for one?' he'll ask.

'You mean'You're not'?'

He'll crack open the bottle and take a big swig. 'Everyone deserves a chance at love, little lady,' he'll say. 'Good luck, and don't screw up no more.'

You'll watch the man with the cooler walk across the bus station to where a smiling woman and a little girl will greet him with open arms. You'll wish you could thank him again, but you have a fianc' to catch.

Happy The Bus Driver Just Took Off Day!

Cover Your Mouth At The Wishing Well Day!

Today you're going to be arrested for the murder you did two months ago, the one with the woman you saw at the Superfresh who you decided was mocking you by the way she bagged groceries and by the way she continued to live. You might have gotten away with it had you had more faith in your planning and in the care you took to dispose of the body and the murder weapon. But you were so nervous about getting caught, you felt the need to go to a local wishing well and toss a penny into it and make a wish to stay free. Fool!

Hasn't anyone ever told you that deaf people gather at wishing wells so that they can pass the day reading peoples' lips while they make their wishes? While it invalidates the wish to let anyone hear it, most people like to mouth the words of their wishes, maybe with a faint whisper so that no one else can hear. They want to make their wishes carefully, choosing the right words so as not to allow for any loopholes (like when you say, 'I want to be rich' and you are suddenly turned into a guy who made a whole lot of money creating a website called www.adultlittlefriendfinder.com where pederasts can go to meet little kids who are looking for some nice pederasts to date).

The deaf just eat that shit up, getting a secret view into the hopes and dreams of total strangers all day long. Except usually it's a whole lot of 'please let me get this promotion' and 'please let my wife come back to me.' Very rarely is it 'please let no one find out that I killed that woman from the Superfresh, the one everyone is looking for whose disappearance is all over the papers. Please let no one find her at my house, and just so you remember which house not to send the police to, Wishing Well, I live at 9595 Grandview Boulevard. Please make sure not to send the police to the coal storage room at the back of my basement, Wishing Well. Thanks for listening, Wishing Well. Your water is pretty.'

Like four deaf guys ran from their benches to grab a policeman. A little more confidence in your work next time, Killer. Maybe take up a severe psychosis so you can blabber away to a stray dog or the little gremlin in your head instead of a giant bird toilet full of pennies.

Happy Cover Your Mouth At The Wishing Well Day!

You're Evicted Day!

When you come home from work today, you'll find an eviction notice taped to your front door. When you call your landlord to ask if it's because you have X-ray vision, he'll tell you that as a matter of fact, several of your neighbors have complained about it. Make a stink.

'SO I AM BEING PERSECUTED FOR BEING DIFFERENT FROM MY NEIGHBORS!' exclaim.

Your landlord will suggest that since having X-ray vision doesn't make you smell differently and it doesn't make you make any noises or anything, perhaps you could have refrained from telling everyone you met that you have it.

'SO I SHOULD HIDE WHO I AM IN A CLOSET?' ask, using a very loud voice. 'WOULD YOU ASK A MASTER PIANIST TO KEEP HIS TALENT HIDDEN FROM THE WORLD? OR AN EXCELLENT COOK?'

Your landlord will say that when people find out that a man is a pianist or a cook, they don't automatically want to run from his line of vision because they know he can see through their clothes.

'They think you're watching them through their walls and doors,' your landlord will say.

Reply, loudly, 'OF COURSE I AM!'

Your landlord will say that people like their privacy, then he'll ask what color the walls are in 2B.

'PERIWINKLE!' exclaim.

'I told that bastard not to paint,' your landlord will say. 'Sorry freak. You gotta get out by the end of the month.'

'YOUR DICK IS UGLY,' exclaim.

Happy You're Evicted Day!

Stop Falling In Love With The International Spies Who Sleep With You In Order To Steal State Secrets Day!

Before you pick up the phone and order those flowers, remember how embarrassed you were the last time this happened, when Natasha sent you the chocolates back with a note that read, 'I'm sorry if I led you on, but I only wanted the launch codes. Thanks for the launch codes.' You didn't leave your bed for a month you were so heartbroken.

Now why do you think it will be any different with Annabelle? She lured you into bed, and then after the sex when you said that you think you might really be falling for her, she told you that she thinks she could fall for you too. Then she asked you to tell her what the proposed targets would be in the upcoming bombing raid on Iran. You told her immediately, and then in the same breath you asked her what she was like when she was a little girl. She stuck a syringe into your neck and sedated you for fourteen hours. When you woke up, she was gone.

That's when the phone calls started. 'Hello, I'm calling for one of your spies, Annabelle. Oh well can you tell her I called?' And then came the endless letters. 'I know you were only doing your job, but I feel like we had a connection that broke through all the espionage and the truth serum, don't you think?' And now you're starting in with the flowers already?

A relationship can't work if there isn't a mutual respect at play. How can she respect you if she's already tricked you into compromising your country's national security? The best way to deal with an international spy you've got the hots for is to play it cool. You have to make her think that you don't care if she never tries to pull state secrets out of you by sleeping with you again. Best thing for you is to behave as if she doesn't exist. If she sees you out with some other international spy, like someone hired by Chavez or something, and she sees you pouring all your confidential information out to her, she'll come running faster than a surface to air missile aimed at a motorcade.

Happy Stop Falling In Love With The International Spies Who Sleep With You In Order To Steal State Secrets Day!

The Chip You Implanted Into Your Killer Monkey's Brain Is Going To Go On The Fritz Day!

As you've heard from countless billionaire megalomaniacs, a killer monkey is worthless unless he's been implanted with a Jordanna Inc B.E.H. 3030 behavioral modification cranial chip, or the generic equivalent. You bought your team of Killer Monkeys eleven months ago but your schedule has been so crazy that you were only able to arrange the chip to be implanted into the brain of just one (his name is Wrinkles). Since then, you've been impressed to no end by what an efficient and adorable killer Wrinkles has proven to be. He's been invaluable in those special situations when you've had to eliminate an enemy and only a monkey could possibly get close enough to do the job (he's killed one lion tamer and three bellhop uniform salesmen). And unlike your team of killer monkeys without any chips in their brains, the one that has a chip in his brain is far more predictable. In short, the difference between a killer monkey with a chip in his brain and your basic, run-of-the-mill killer monkey is the difference between a monkey who kills the people that you want to die when you want them to die, and a monkey that just kills the shit out of everything it sees. You've never been so satisfied with a purchase.

Until today. Today the chip in Wrinkles' brain is going to go on the fritz, making him both hyper-intelligent and hyper-aggressive. He will immediately shave himself and go forth into the streets masquerading as a man (albeit with the physical strength of a monkey, which is a lot of physical strength). His chip malfunction will give him the ability to be really cheesed at the fact that his every move and thought has been controlled by you all these weeks. Wrinkles will want revenge, and he'll plan on getting it not by tearing your arms, legs and genitals from your body. Instead, he's going to take over your criminal empire, and once he does, he's going to tear your legs arms and genitals from your body. Then of course, he'll buy out Jordanna Inc and install the malfunctioning B.E.H. 3030 chip into every monkey he can get into his fold. Soon, the hyper-intelligent monkey army will wage war against the world, but you will already have had your arms, legs and genitals torn from your body, so what'll you care?

Happy The Chip You Implanted Into Your Killer Monkey's Brain Is Going To Go On The Fritz Day!

Tiara's Got A Black Eye Day!

Tiara got a black eye last night because she started dancing with a rough girl's boyfriend. Tiara let him take her out back into the alley with the promise of some kisses and some squeeze. Tiara wanted a boyfriend so bad, she ignored all of the warnings she'd heard over the years about how some rough girls who like to fight will use their pretty boyfriends to set up lonely girls. The boyfriends respond to the lonely girls' signals and take them someplace for kisses and squeeze. The rough girl then interrupts the act with several of her rough girl friends in tow and the gang of them beat on the lonely girl and take all of her money. This makes the lonely girl feel even more lonely. Especially when she has to walk back into the bar or the dance in order to grab her coat or her friends and she invariably sees the rough girl on the lap of her pretty boyfriend with all of their rough girl friends surrounding them, the tabletop blanketed by drinks that were bought with the lonely girl's money.

Tiara saw them there, all of them laughing while the rough girl and her pretty boyfriend shared kisses and squeeze. Tiara risked another beating when she stopped and tried to catch the pretty boyfriend's eye. She didn't care whether she got hit again; she was already ugly. But the things the pretty boyfriend said and the way he looked at her out in the alley, it couldn't have all been an act now could it? In the middle of making out with his rough girl, he looked up with one eye at Tiara and she couldn't tell what she saw in that look. Maybe it was pity or maybe it was just a warning, but some of the rough girls spotted her and Tiara made a run for it before they started in on her other eye.

'I just wanted someone so pretty to want me!' Tiara will cry into your arms today.

Try telling her there's someone out there for her and she's just got to wait for him to walk up and say hi.

'You can't fall into these traps,' tell her. 'The rough girls run this city. It's too dangerous.'

Tiara's phone will ring. She'll answer.

'It's him!' Tiara will tell you. 'The pretty boyfriend from the other night!'

Try to keep from jumping up and down.

Tiara will listen and say yes a lot and an occasional 'I liked it when you squeezed that too.' Then she'll ask you for some advice.

'He wants to see me!' she'll say. 'What should I do?'

Tell her to say that she really likes him and she'd like to see him too, but it has to be in a public place, somewhere where there's a lot of people, like a corporate plaza at lunchtime. 'Tell him if you see one rough girl he'll be sorry he was ever born,' say.

'Whenever's convenient for you,' Tiara will say. Then she'll hang up and throw herself into your arms, crying tears of joy.

'He wants to pick me up in his car and park under a bridge!' she'll scream. Then she'll start dancing.

'I'm so happy for you Tiara,' tell her. And you really will be. This just proves that no matter how powerful the rough girls get, they still can't scare away love. Still, give Tiara a butterfly knife to keep in the back of her underpants.

Happy Tiara's Got A Black Eye Day!

Bizarre Love Triangle Day!

Martin and Bartholomew finally found out that you were dating both of them at the same time, so they went off alone to determine who would be the one to keep you by his side. You've been waiting at home for hours, wondering which boy would win your hand. You're about to hear a knock on your door, and when you open it you'll see Martin there with a bouquet of roses in his hand.

'Martin!' you'll shout. 'You defeated Bartholomew and won my hand. Oh what sort of gruesome duel did you two gentleman choose to serve as your battleground?'

Martin will say, 'We decided to settle it with a game of Frisbee golf.'

'Frisbee golf?' you'll ask.

Martin will then explain to you the object of Frisbee golf, which basically amounts to throwing a Frisbee at a bunch of trees.

'But that game's real boring, so we gave up before we finished.'

'You left the game unfinished? Then how did you decide who would be the sole recipient of my affections?'

'Uno,' Martin will say. 'But Uno sucks unless there's at least three or four people. So we had to play with my Mom and Bartholomew's other girlfriend Leslie.'

'And you defeated them all!' you'll shout.

'Naaah,' Martin will grumble. 'Couldn't win a hand. Neither could Bartholomew. My Mom took two hands and my Mom's boyfriend Steve sat in on a hand and he took that one. Got sick of it after that.'

'Oh but I'm on pins and needles,' you'll say. 'What sort of challenge did you engage in next?'

'Jenga. Then Clue. Then we put on some porn and we both masturbated at a steady pace to see who could go the longest without coming. We tied that one. Then'did you ever do Sudoku?'

'No!' you'll exclaim. 'But I've heard so many wonderful things about it! Is that how you won my love?'

Martin will say, 'Naaah. I just did a bunch of them while I was waiting for Bartholomew to come up with some more ideas. I got so wrapped up in those number puzzles, I didn't even notice him leave. He left you this note. I'm gonna watch 'Deal Or No Deal.''

Martin will hand you the note from Bartholomew and then he'll go into the living room to watch 'Deal Or No Deal.' The note will read as follows:

My Dearest,

I loved you. But I'm just so tired of playing games.

-Bartholomew

As you fold up the letter, you'll feel a little heartbroken that Bartholomew would let you go this way. Then you'll hear Martin gasp at the TV. A contestant on 'Deal Or No Deal' will have just decided to make a telephone call to an accountant. You'll cuddle up on the couch next to Martin, and you'll be glad he's the one you ended up with. If Bartholomew had won, you might never have been able to find out what plan of action the accountant will recommend. In short, you would be lost.

Happy Bizarre Love Triangle Day!

Dandruff Day!

As the old saying goes, 'You don't cut off your head to get rid of dandruff.' What this means is dandruff is a reflection of fallen morals and lack of education, and cutting off your head might drench your shoulders in all that gushing red blood and wash away those hideous gales of white flakes, but your friends and family will still remember you as a perverted fool who always got swindled by amputee hookers (your 'thing') because you weren't bright enough to handle cash transactions.

If you want to get rid of dandruff, you're going to have to do it the old fashioned way. Studying! Also, you'll have to give up the prostitutes and stop videotaping up women's skirts in public parks. At first, you won't see any dissipation in the flakes, and you'll want to throw your books into a public toilet and then pull them back out and have sex with the mound of wet pages. Don't! It's working! It just takes time.

Dandruff doesn't go away until it becomes clear that you really are on the road becoming a smarter, less disgusting person. Dandruff has seen too many people like you try and fail to turn their backs on vice and ignorance. Show dandruff that you mean business. Get that GED, cancel your weekly appointment at the 'cheaper pleasure dungeon' off of Route 5, and before you know it wearing black shirts out in public will feel as natural as the fact that sometimes you just have to swallow Astroglide.

Happy Dandruff Day!

You're Going To Fall In Love With The First Girl You Talk To Today Day!

It's going to happen on your commute into work. If you ride the train or bus, she'll spill some coffee on your knee, not so much that you'll get angry the way that you can sometimes when you've already been dating someone for a while, but enough that you'll have to speak to her and address the situation.

If you drive to work alone every day, you'll meet her after your car breaks down and you're forced to hitchhike a ride. She'll pick you up in her car, and you'll talk to each other at a rapid pace so that you can make it clear that you're not the kind of man who kills girls and she can make it clear that she's the kind of girl who doesn't want to die. Then she'll spill coffee on your knee and you'll be forced to address it.

'I'm so sorry!' she'll say.

'I hated these pants anyway. What do you do for a living?' you'll ask.

'I own and operate a company that designs and manufactures highly sensitive landmines. My customers are mostly warlords and insurgents in countries thrown into chaos,' she'll say.

You'll ask, 'Aren't there a lot of groups campaigning to put a stop to the use of landmines because they kill so many civilians and aid workers?'

"Bunch of crybabies," she'll say.

Then you'll look into her eyes and you'll just know.

Happy You're Going To Fall In Love With The First Girl You Talk To Today Day!

The Cancer Kid Can Help You With Your Girl Problems Day!

You're a hot-shot Chief of Surgery at a big city hospital. You're also very handsome and you make a habit of having brief yet firey flings with doctors and nurses on your surgical staff. None of them ever left a deep mark on you. Not until you met Doctor Maria Bedoya.

'Just let me explain,' you'll say to Dr Maria Bedoya from across the Cancer Kid's bed. This will have been the first time you've ever seen the Cancer Kid. He's Maria's patient. But you'll know he has cancer because he'll give off that tragically sunny vibe that only big-hearted kids with cancer give off. The one that says, 'I may only have five days left and I can't get out of bed, but do you wanna hear a knock-knock joke?'

Maria will be checking the Cancer Kid's pulse. 'I'm sure it can wait until later,' she'll say absently.

'But it can't,' you'll tell her. 'I need to get this out now. I'm going to go crazy if you don't listen to me.'

'I'm on my rounds,' she'll say. And after making a note on the Cancer Kid's chart, she'll walk out of the room without even looking at you.

'Goddammit Maria you come back here!' you'll shout.

The Cancer Kid will say, 'That's not how you're gonna get her back.'

Say, 'What do you know about it? You have cancer.'

'That's right,' he'll say. 'But I have a better chance of beating my cancer than you have of winning her back if you're gonna behave the way you are. And trust me pal, I have no chance of beating this cancer.'

The Cancer Kid will laugh really hard at his own joke. Most people usually start to cry when they hear him laugh so good-naturedly, but you've been a doctor a long time so you'll just wait for him to get to the point.

'Okay baldy,' tell him. 'What's the secret?'

'First,' he'll start, but he'll begin to cough a lot and then he'll throw up into a basin before he can speak again. This will take twelve minutes.

'Yes?!' you'll say impatiently.

'First,' the Cancer Kid will say, 'You have to show her that she means more to you than all the others. I've seen a lot of doctors in my years of battle against the Big C and when I see one who reels in a lot of action, I can tell. So can she, I'm sure. She probably expects to be tossed aside as soon as the next crop of interns shows up.'

'So how do I let her know that I used to only think about myself, but lately I can't think about anyone but her?'

'You could start by telling her just that,' the Cancer Kid will say.

'Hey, you're really on to something,' you'll say. 'You got any other tips?'

The Cancer Kid will open up his sketch-book and rip a page out for you. 'Give her this,' he'll say.

On the sheet of drawing paper will be a pastel sketch of himself in his hospital gown, still with no hair on his head, but he'll be flying over the city with a pretty girl flying next to him. On the bottom he'll have written the caption, 'My Dream.'

'Tell her you asked me to draw it for you so you could give it to her,' he'll say. 'She'll break down crying when she sees it. You should pretend to cry too and the two of you can bond over what a sweet little soldier I am. No way you'll lose that action tonight.'

'You're really good at this,' tell him.

'You have to learn to be manipulative when you're interviewing to get into experimental medication trials,' he'll explain. 'Now go get that ass, Doc.'

Say, 'I won't let you down.'

The Cancer Kid will say, 'I know you won't. Not like God did.'

Happy The Cancer Kid Can Help You With Your Girl Problems Day!

Poets Fucking By The Side Of The Highway Day!

Mile 93 on Interstate 12, just off the right hand shoulder, Emily Lubbock can be seen getting fucked by Lowell Kint. They're both minor American poets, Emily is tenured, Lowell has several books in print. They're standing, Lowell behind Emily, Emily's hands on the trunk of her Nissan, her light blue floral print skirt hoisted up above her waist. Lowell's pants and underwear are down around his knees. He bounces himself against Emily's ass in quick thrusts. They go all day. They don't stop if it rains. If you honk when you drive by, Lowell will wave with one hand.

Happy Poets Fucking By The Side Of The Highway Day!

Build A Spaceship Day!

You've been in love with your best friend ever since you two met in high school, but she's always had boyfriends that were athletic and angry. You wish you could tell her how you feel, but you're afraid that she'll be scared away from you and then not only will she refuse to be your girlfriend, but she'll stop being your best friend too. You're going to have to make her fall for you on her own. You're going to have to build a spaceship.

Girls choose their guys based on who is more likely to be able to protect them should fiery beasts rise up from the earth's core and lay waste to the sunlit land. If you have a spaceship, you'll be more attractive than the rich guys with the private planes because eventually those planes will run out of gas and will have to return to the earth's surface. But if you can get into outer space, you don't need gas to keep floating. You just need oxygen to keep breathing. Tell any girls who ask that you have enough oxygen to survive up there for fifty years. Don't tell them that you only have enough for 20 hours.

Lots of girls will come running when they see your spaceship. They'll put on bikinis and pound on the hatch to be let in. But your best friend will calmly wait at the back of the crowd, admiring your achievement and marveling at all the women who suddenly want your hotness in their hands. You'll be able to tell from the look on her face that she's kind of upset that she might not be number one on your list anymore. Let her see you date other women for three months before you finally tell her that you built the spaceship for you and her to get away from the resurrected gargantu-worms, should they ever rise to the surface. After she kisses you, tell her the spaceship doesn't work because you're not "gadgety." She'll understand because she loves you now.

Happy Build A Spaceship Day!

Orgasm Contest Day!

You're going to lose your orgasm contest today because competition will commence right after you get a call from your catsitter telling you that your cat must have died in the middle of the night because when she showed up he was lying there on the living room floor with some bubbles coming out of his mouth. You hired the catsitter to take care of your cat while you were in San Francisco for the competition. Once you find out that your cat died, you'll feel sort of selfish not having been there for him on his last days just so you could prove to the world that you can have more orgasms in a short period of time than anybody. Since you'll be in mourning, you'll only come five times. Not even enough to get you into the winners' circle. You're gonna go home a failure and everyone's gonna say "I told you so" again, except this time you don't even have a cat to love.

Happy Orgasm Contest Day!

Your Hitler Raft Day!

Everyone at the pool party is going to be jealous of you when you set yourself afloat in your new inflatable two-man hitler raft. It's a six foot long by three and a half foot wide raft that has a black and white picture of Hitler superimposed over a colorful cartoonish painting of some starfish swimming in the ocean. Hitler only covers the right half of the raft, so that you can either lay over top of him completely if you're worried that someone just approached the pool who might not want to see Hitler right now (ie: someone who is sick of seeing Hitler at pools), or you can lay right next to him so that it looks like you're just chilling in the pool with Hitler all day, just a couple of pals who can lay in a raft together without it being gay because one of you is dead. Have fun, kid.

Happy Your Hitler Raft Day!

Golf Caddy Sex Day!

Ask him, "You wanna make a big tip?"

He'll say, "Yes ma'am!"

Explain to him that sixty-four percent of your high school's graduating class lost their virginity on the local golf course since that course's greens would often play host to your classmates' many keg parties held after dark.

"I was never invited to the keg parties," tell the eighteen year old. "Because I had braces."

Tell the kid that you've recently become rich and you're making up for lost time. He'll cut you off and say, "Sure thing, I'll have sex with you on the golf course."

Correct him. "No way, Jose. I want you to get your girlfriend out here and do it in those woods while I watch. I like to watch."

He'll take out his phone and dial his girlfriend. While it's ringing he'll ask, "How much?"

Pretend to think about it, then say, "Seventy bucks each."

Just as his girlfriend picks up, he'll shout, "EACH?!" Then he'll say, "Oh hey Holly. You're never gonna believe this. Get over here right away. We're about to be ROLLING IN IT!!!"

Happy Golf Caddy Sex Day!