Double Date Day!

Go to a drive-in, you and your girlfriend Sarina in the front seat, Gail and her boyfriend Cooper in the back seat. Gail and Sarina are best friends, and you started dating Sarina six months ago so that you could try to get closer to Gail. Sarina is a nice girl and attractive enough, but you've been dreaming about Gail ever since you first saw her walk into homeroom. You feel bad for using Sarina this way, but when it comes to Gail common decency gets tossed out the window.

Tonight you'll be making out with Sarina and you'll be able to hear Gail in the back seat making out with Cooper. With your eyes closed you'll be able to pretend that Gail's moans and gasps are coming out of Sarina's body (who is very quiet during the whole experience). It will be the most turned on you've ever gotten with Sarina or anyone else ever (you're only sixteen). Naturally, Sarina will spoil the fun when she pulls away and says she wants to go and get some popcorn.

'I'll stay here,' you'll say. Sarina will look at you strangely. Then she'll shrug and leave you alone to listen to the half-naked couple pawing at each other in the back seat.

While Sarina is gone, you'll come upon the chance of a lifetime when you hear Gail commanding Cooper to stop. He'll clearly be forcing himself on her and this will be your moment to swoop in and be a hero. You'll get out and yank the rear door open and you'll pull Cooper out of the car by his neck. Gail and Cooper will explain that everything's all right and that they're just into role-play. You'll ask them what role-play is and they'll explain that they need to pretend to do horrible stuff to each other in order to get hot. And actually, they'll add, you jumping in and acting like a hero was a pretty naughty twist. They'll ask if you're free to burst into Cooper's parents' basement rec-room tomorrow after school.

You'll be surprised to learn that kids in your high school class can be so jaded that they have to resort to such kinks, but you've always been a little less experienced than the other kids. It will be something of a disappointment to have Gail finally take an interest in you but only if you first pretend to beat up her naked boyfriend so that she can stop the fight and tell you that there's enough of her to go around. But you're in high school and sex is sex, even if there's a guy there too. Waste not, want not. Oh and, don't forget to break up with Sarina when you drop her off after the movie.

Happy Double Date Day!

You Won't See Your New Boyfriend Naked Until You Shoot Him In The Chest Day!

You're a big city police detective in London and you've been seeing this new guy Stephen for a few months now. You've enjoyed his company, but you're trying to take it slow because your track record with men hasn't been too good. You've got a whole lot of drunks and marrieds on your bedpost, and you just want to make sure you aren't making a mistake with this one. It's been difficult keeping him at a distance because there is a palpable sexual connection between you two, and it's almost felt like a crime to deny it.

Luckily, you've been too busy to see Stephen very often anyway thanks to the big werewolf problem that everyone's freaking out about. All of your free time has been spent tracking down leads, trying to find this thing before the next full moon when he turns again. But it's hard to find a big dog when his hair's all gotten sucked back under his skin.

'I might not be able to catch the beast until the height of the full moon,' you told Stephen last week. 'But rest assured, I'll catch him. And after that, I want to see a whole lot more of you. In fact, I want to see all of you.'

Stephen said, 'Jolly good.'

The full moon is tonight, and you will make good on your promise. You will catch the werewolf when you open fire on it as it's bounding down an alley straight for your throat. And you'll finally see all of Stephen when the dead werewolf's claws recede and its fur disappears to reveal Stephen lying naked on the wet pavement, the five bullet-holes in his chest spurting blood and steam into the London night.

You'll kneel beside your dead boyfriend and you'll place your hand on his neck. To anyone else it would look like you were checking for a pulse. But you just want to feel his skin before it gets cold. You'll note that he has a birthmark just above his left hip. It looks like South America. You'll find a scar on his belly and you'll wonder whether the scrapes he endured as a werewolf would linger as scars when he turned back into a human, but it's probably just from an appendectomy.

You'll let your eyes search every inch of him in the few seconds before the squad of uniform cops come running down the alley to surround their fallen prey. When they arrive you'll stand up and you'll bark some orders around. Then you'll walk back to your car and drive out to the moors and with all the strength you have left, you'll cry for him.

Happy You Won't See Your New Boyfriend Naked Until You Shoot Him In The Chest Day!

So Long To Gay Sex With Straight Truckers Day!

You live in a really boring town where the only sex you've ever had has been gay sex with straight truckers who have been on the road so long they don't care what they have sex with, just as long as he or she or it is tender and will listen when they whisper their dreams and secrets in the back of cab. It keeps the loneliness at bay, but you can't help but think there has to be more.

'Is this all there is?' you'll say to Buzz, a Portland man sporting a wedding ring who's driving a couple hundred radios down to Tennessee. You and he will be laying together in the back of his cab on a blanket he bought in Mexico. Buzz will be absently running his fingers through the hair on your chest.

'No offense,' you'll say. 'But all you straight truckers are all the same. You buy me some pie. You put your thing in my mouth. Then you chase me around the parking lot with a tire iron. I want romance.'

'Who says I'm straight?' Buzz will say with a smile.

You'll look at his ring. 'Commitment ceremony,' Buzz will say. 'Stephen's a pharmacist, and he understands that I get lonely on the road.'

Your heart will do a little dance. 'So I just had gay sex with a gay trucker?' you'll almost sing.

Buzz will say, 'I'm gonna be driving a couple hundred thousand Pokemon cards out to New Mexico next month. You gonna be in town?'

'I'll be here,' you'll say through a big smile.

'It's a date then,' Buzz will say.

A date. A real date. With a real gay trucker. There've been so many empty experiences over so many weekends, but you knew that if you kept wearing a half shirt to the truck stop parking lot, one day your prince would come along, and he would cheat on his husband with you. Anyone who thinks romance is dead has never had a slice of pie at the The Rachel Rose Diner & Gas off of I-81.

Happy So Long To Gay Sex With Straight Truckers Day!

Be The Whore Who Knows Too Much Day!

Today you should be a beautiful prostitute who charges thousands of dollars per hour. After one of your regular clients, a powerful world leader, has really unsettling sex with you (he likes to pretend that you and he are robins), he'll start telling you government secrets (launch codes, secret medical experiements, who's queer in congress). Later tonight, the world leader will be assassinated and you'll know that you're next. It will be a harrowing and hair-raising adventure as you escape international assassins and try to turn the tables on your assailants. Luckily, after years as a whore you are very adept at using sex as a weapon, and you'll fell many an enemy using nothing more than a welcome smile and a pretty dress (and knives). When they show you that they've found the daughter you abandoned years ago, you won't be scared of them anymore because the joy at seeing your little girl again will be so great that you won't have room in your heart for any other emotions. You'll kill everyone in the building and save your daughter because motherhood conquers all.

Happy Be The Whore Who Knows Too Much Day!

Torn ACL Day!

Today you're going to tear your ACL and ruin your chance of ever getting into college on a football scholarship. Scouts have been watching your every move last year and you were pretty much guaranteed to have your pick of the top schools. Once you tear that ACL though, you'll pretty much be guaranteed to stay in your town where there's a Dairy Queen and fix cars for the rest of your life.

'Why'd God do this to me Padre?' you'll ask the nosey Priest who's going to nudge his way into your hospital room and ask if he can listen to you talk about your very private pain.

'I guess he's got some stuff he wants you to do here in town,' the Priest will say. 'I know it's a shame that you were probably going to be really rich and experience lots of carnal rubbing with girls. But apparently God figures it's more important that you fix cars.'

'Hey,' you'll say. 'Maybe one day the president will come through town and his car will break down and my fixing it will guarantee that he'll get to Washington in time to make important new laws that God wants made.'

'Yeah that'll happen,' the Priest will chuckle. Then he'll walk out of your room and tell the nurses at the front desk to get a load of what you just said to him.

As it turns out, the reason God wanted you to tear your ACL was because if you went to college you would have joined a fraternity and built a 'panty cannon,' a firearm that shoots piles of panties up in the air so that it can look like panties are raining from the sky, which is something that is beautiful. One day you would have aimed the panty cannon at the sorority house from which you stole the pairs of panties during a break-in earlier in the weekend. You would have shouted for all of the sorority sisters to come outside to get their panties back (they were looking for them). Then you would have fired the panty cannon, but the weapon would have malfunctioned and all of the panties would have caught fire and the sorority sisters would have been blanketed with a barrage of burning underwear. One of the sorority sisters in question is the woman who will one day invent a pill that restores the memories of people who are suffering from amnesia. Had you gone to college and fired that malfunctioning panty cannon, she would have looked away from the sky too late and her eyes would have been burned out of her sockets. Instead of finishing college and going into science, she would have started drinking and she would have died before she was thirty-five. So basically, God had no choice but to ruin your football career in order to keep you from building that horrid panty cannon. It was for the sake of ridding the world of amnesia, and therefore, restoring some more compelling plot lines to God's favorite Soaps (Passions, OLTL).

Happy Torn ACL Day!

Deliver A Baby On The Subway Day!

Today, when your subway comes to an unexplained stop in between stations a pregnant woman on your car will go into labor. She'll shout that someone needs to deliver her baby for her, and everyone on the car will look at you because you'll be wearing surgical scrubs. You aren't a doctor. You're just the keyboardist in a Prince and the Revolution cover band called Darling Nikki. You'll explain that the surgical scrubs actually cost you a lot of money and you might not be able to afford to replace them if you get placenta all over them, but everyone will promise to chip in to buy you new scrubs.

'We'll all just feel better if the guy doing the delivery is at least dressed like a doctor,' one of the passengers will say.

The pregnant woman will howl at a contraction and you'll realize that there's no time to argue. 'Let's go crazy,' you'll say before you get down on the floor and reach in between the woman's legs to pull her soaking wet panties down from underneath her skirt.

Tell the woman to breathe a bunch of times, then tell her to push. Her vagina will get wider and wider and it will even tear a little bit. When the baby's head starts to poke out of the woman's vagina, place your fingers around it and pull very gently. Even though you don't know the woman, it's okay if you accidentally touch her on the vagina a little. Everyone will know by how much you argued about having to help deliver the baby that you're not some pervert who only gets turned on by vaginas that have babies coming out of them. She knew when she got pregnant that one day someone she doesn't know might have watch her vagina get really big and might have to touch it even. She never thought a whole subway car full of people would get to see it, but she knew there was a very small possibility. Or at least an elevator full of people.

Anyway, the baby will eventually come out, followed by all this other terrifying stuff and it will look like a massacre happened. You'll all take a vote on what to do with the umbilical cord and you'll decide not to do anything about it because the only knives that are on the train will belong to some teenage gang members and they won't be able to remember if they washed the blades after their last rumble.

Once the baby is wrapped up in newspapers, you'll remind everyone that they'd better chip in to buy you some new scrubs.

'These were twenty one dollars before tax,' you'll say. At first everyone will balk, hoping the guy with the briefcase will just give you the full twenty-something. But he'll complain about an ex-wife and a daughter in college, so the others will all chip in and give you around eighteen dollars, which isn't bad. The mother will ask you your name so that she can name her son after you. Tell her your name is Joe, even though it's not. You don't want some kid who was born on a subway to be your namesake, do you? Alternatively, you could tell her your name is Adolf which would be funny if she goes for it.

Happy Deliver A Baby On The Subway Day!

Your Son's Satanic Girlfriend Day!

Your son needs some advice. He's got a girlfriend for the first time, and he really wants to have sex with her. Except, she's a Satanist and she doesn't want to go all the way until your son demonstrates that he loves her by slitting the throat of a housecat and drinking the blood in one chug.

'That's it?!' you'll exclaim. 'When I was your age we were lucky if we got it on the third night of the honeymoon! What's the problem?'

Your son will complain that he loves animals, especially cats, and he thinks it's unfair that her religion should dictate the terms of when they have sex. And he doesn't see why he can't just sip the blood casually over the course of a nice conversation.

'You hear that honey!' you'll shout to the boy's mother. She won't answer. 'Just be glad she's not Catholic, kid. Now let's go down to the shelter and get you a cat.'

Your son will tell you that the cat has to have six toes on each paw, but you won't let that discourage you. You'll take him to every pound in the state if you have to. You're not going to let him make the same mistakes you make. He shouldn't have to wait until he gets out of the army to experience the touch of a woman. With this Iraq thing, kids don't always get out of the army anymore.

Happy Your Son's Satanic Girlfriend Day!

Frank's New Corvette Day!

You're really cheesed about Frank's new Corvette.

'Where's that guy get off buying a new Corvette?' you say, peeking through the blinds at Frank while he polishes the paint job before heading off to work. He woke up at 5AM this morning and started polishing. He hasn't stopped since. He kind of whispers stuff to the car while he does it.

'Where do you get off trading in a 1982 Caprice for a 1990 Civic?' your wife asks from behind her corn flakes. You turn away from the window and address her.

'You don't like my car, whyn't you take your corn flakes and eat 'em in Frank's kitchen? Go on!'

Your wife gets up and carries her corn flakes out the front door. You watch her cross the street in her sheer pink nightgown. She stops and says something to Frank. They both look back at your house and laugh for a second. Then your wife goes into Frank's house. Frank resumes polishing his new Corvette.

'Ain't that something?' you say to nobody.

Not a minute later you watch Lucy Cohn from two doors down walk across the street in a long tee shirt and slippers. She carries a plate of waffles. She stops and says something to Frank, and they both look back at her house, where Rodney Cohn is no doubt watching through his blinds. They laugh for a second, then Lucy Cohn wanders into Frank's house to finish her breakfast alongside your wife and whatever other number of wives have given up their husbands and families to have breakfast in the house of a new Corvette owner.

Take off from work today and post flyers around the neighborhood that ask: 'Is Your Wife In Frank's House? DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!' Then post your address and a time for all the men in the neighborhood to come over and talk about how to get their wives to leave Frank's house.

Order 200 wings from Firebird's so that there's something for everyone to eat. After the wings, open the floor to suggestions for how to get your wives to come out of Frank's house. Someone will suggest that you all go across the street and destroy Frank's new Corvette with hammers, and no one will suggest anything else so that's what you'll do.

Frank will come running out to try and stop you, so one of you will hit him in the head with a hammer and knock him unconscious (he won't die!). Once the car is destroyed, all the wives in the neighborhood will come pouring out of Frank's house and they'll run into the arms of their husbands and kiss all of you. Back at home, the wives will complain that Frank did not have any premium cable channels, and to show how happy they are to be back in their houses with the cable packages that they have honed down to perfection after years of TV watching, the wives will have sex with their husbands.

Happy Frank's New Corvette Day!

Welcome Home Uncle John Day!

When you were thirteen, your Uncle John killed your Dad by accident. What happened was your Dad found out that your Uncle John and your Mom were having an affair, so your Dad tried to kill his little brother, naturally. It should have worked out that way. Uncle John was never much of a fighter and your Dad was a real hothead, ending most of his Friday nights in the parking lot of a bar trying to pound some poor stranger's face into mush for a perceived slight. By dumb luck though, your Uncle John got in one good shove and sent your Dad backwards down the front steps of your house, snapping his neck against the curb where the steps met the driveway. From the bedroom window you saw your Dad exhale his very last breath.

After four years in prison, your Uncle John is coming to live with you and your Mom, to begin the life he wishes he could have had with her from the getgo. The life that could have been his if he had just told his older brother to back off when they both saw her at the town's Carnival Days mixer. He's finally going to love her out in the open. It's all he dreamed about before and after he went to the Pen. And he's never going to ask you to call him Dad.

'Your Dad died at my hand,' he'll tell you when he gets you alone in the backyard tonight. 'I don't expect you to do nothing but hate me for as long as you live, but you better not expect me to be sorry about what I did because that's never gonna happen.'

You'll do all you can to keep from crying. You're seventeen and the man who murdered your father has plans to share your home and lay down with your Mom. Your Dad was a son of a bitch and his being gone meant no more beatings and no more bank accounts being emptied into a bar's cash register. But he was your Dad.

'He was my Dad,' you'll manage to say.

'He was my brother!' your Uncle John will bark.

You'll get up to leave, but your Uncle John will grab your leg and hold you there. 'You better not think about revenge,' he'll say. 'All that'll do is doom your Mom to live all alone. Cause I'll be sent back to jail and you'll be sent to a coffin.'

He'll let go and you'll take off running. 'Run away and live on your on if you can't take it!' he'll shout after you.

You won't run away because that's too scary. You and your Uncle John will eventually find a way to bond when he teaches you how to fight back against all the kids who are constantly beating you up for having a Mom who'll do it with the uncle who killed your Dad. When you win your first fight, he'll let you know that he's proud of you and that your Dad would have been too.

'No he wouldn't have been,' you'll say.

Your Uncle John will know you're right. He'll say, 'What's a dead man's pride matter to the living?'

You'll go into the bathroom and watch your eye swell up and turn purple. It don't matter a goddamn thing, you'll think.

Happy Welcome Home Uncle John Day!

Girl On Inner Tube Day!

You and your wife are trying to heal your relationship after she caught you cheating last year, so you decided to go kayaking together on the Delaware River. The reconciliation will be going well up until you catch sight of a beautiful girl on an inner tube. She'll look at you and smile, and you'll instantly decide that you have to have her. To impress the girl on the inner tube, you'll send yourself into an under-water spin, but you don't know how to do those and you'll crack your head on a rock, knocking yourself unconscious.

When you wake up in the hospital, your wife will smother you with joy at having you back. You'll be about to apologize to her and confess that your propensity to cheat nearly killed you and that it had to be a sign from God that you have to honor the vow you took when you married. Before you confess, you'll discover the girl in the inner tube is there by your bed as well. Your wife will introduce you to her.

'This is Maya,' she'll say. 'She helped rescue you from the water.'

Looking into Maya's beautiful eyes you'll realize that you were wrong about the sign from God. Your wife introducing you to the girl on the inner tube must be the real sign from God. Apparently God wants to see you and Maya do it so bad he smashed your head on a rock just to get you two to meet. You'll recover very rapidly, impatient to get out of bed and cheat on your wife with Maya. It's probably going to be awesome if God's this excited about it.

Happy Girl On Inner Tube Day!

Pregnant Buddies Day!

You and your best friend have been doing everything together since you were kids. You started wearing bras together, you got boyfriends at the same time, you both lost your virginity on the same night, and you always got the same grades on all the tests. And all these years later, even though you and her live on opposite sides of the country now, you and your best friend in the whole wide world found out you're both pregnant at almost the exact same time.

'Oh my God I can't believe it!' you'll say.

'It's just like when we used to go shopping together and buy the same clothes!' your friend will say. 'I'm so glad we get to do this together too!'

'I know it's so great! Do you know who the father is?' you'll ask.

'Of course!' your friend will say. 'It's my husband! Who's the father of yours?'

Your heart will sink. 'I don't know. I have some ideas, but''

Your friend won't know what to say.

'At least we still get to be pregnant at the same time,' you'll say.

Your friend will say, 'Right! That's still really great!'

When you hang up, you'll begin a several-months-long period of mourning for the relationship you and your friend once had. You'll call each other a few times during the pregnancy, but it will always be awkward. Your friend will want to talk about going to Lamaze class with her husband, and you'll want to talk about waiting for hours to get prenatal care from the city, and the stark difference between your two experiences will be just too much for you to bear. You'll eventually stop calling each other. Not even on the day you deliver your baby. You won't even bother to find out whether she had hers on the same day. You'll just be so upset that she had to be selfish enough to have a baby with someone she knows and ruin your friendship forever.

Happy Pregnant Buddies Day!

Dirty Psychic Day!

Today you're going to visit a dirty psychic and ask him if you'll ever find love. The dirty psychic will rub his crystal ball and an image of you having sex with a man you've never seen before will appear. You'll be getting it from behind in your bed.

'Does this mean I'm going to fall in love?' you'll ask.

The dirty psychic will shrug. 'Doesn't look like love to me,' he'll say. "Looks kind of angry."

To change the subject, you'll ask the dirty psychic whether you're going to do better financially this year. The dirty psychic will rub his crystal ball and an image of you having sex with a completely different man will appear.

'What's this have to do with money?' you'll demand.

The dirty psychic will point to the man's shoes by the bed. 'Those have to be $600 shoes. Stick with this guy. He's a gravy train.' Then he'll let his mouth hang open while he watches the mystery man go down on you.

'What about my health!' you'll shout, trying to get him onto another topic.

The dirty psychic will rub his crystal ball and an image will appear showing you having sex while your arm is in a cast. You'll be bouncing atop the pelvis of the same man as in the previous image.

'Looks like you'll take a spill,' he'll say. 'But apparently moneybags is sticking around, at least.' Then he'll go quiet while the rich man lifts you up agaist a wall and bounces your body on himself. You'll want to tell the dirty psychic to wash the image away, but it will be really hot and you won't be able to take your eyes off of it either. Once the sex is finished, you'll give the dirty psychic thirty dollars, tell him he's a disgusting clairvoyant, then go home and masturbate to the promise of doing it with that rich guy one day soon. You never thought you could so look forward to getting a broken arm.

Happy Dirty Psychic Day!

Face Off Day!

You are a mad scientist and you're very ugly. You've perfected a face transplant procedure, so you're going to kidnap your best frienemy, the one who's really hot and funny that everyone loves, and you're going to steal his face and transplant it onto your skull.

Tonight, you'll go out to a party with your frienemy's face and try to mingle with your friends and acquaintances to get some of the action your frienemy always gets. At first, lots of hotties will come up to you and try to make it with you. But they'll all lose interest when you start to talk. In addition to being a mad scientist, you're really racist and any time you get anyone's attention, you start talking about national identification cards and holocaust myths.

Eventually, your frienemy will arrive with his face nothing more than a soup of raw tissue and teeth. He will announce to the room that you stole his face and that you are a madman who must be stopped. Everyone will know that that's your frienemy because when he accuses you of having stolen his face, he'll be really funny and charming. Everyone at the party will grab you and start to rip the face from your skull.

'Wait,' you'll shout. 'I'm the only one who can perform the transplant surgery!'

They'll ask what it will take to get you to perform the surgery. Tell them you want someone really cute to go out with you for at least three months. Once it's agreed, perform the surgery and get your old face back. Your new girlfriend will hate going out with you at first, but soon she will realize that you're actually kind of cute and some of your racist ideas aren't all that far-fetched when you think about it.

Happy Face Off Day!

Coed Jail Cell Day!

You put in for a spot in one of the new coed jail cells about eight months ago, and your number finally came up. Today you're going to move into your brand new cell, which you'll be sharing with your brand new cellmate, Janice. Janice is in jail for drowning all her kids in a bathtub. You're in jail for chopping up your super.

At first, you'll be disappointed because you and Janice won't really feel any kind of erotic spark. You'll become friends and you'll talk to each other constantly, since you'll be locked in a jail cell together. Eventually you'll be kind of the will-they-won't-they couple of your cell block. Everyone will be like, 'They spend all of their time together in that cell. Are you kidding me?'

It'll finally happen on the day of Janice's parole board hearing. She'll come back in tears, having been denied yet again. She'll talk about how no one likes her because she hasn't fully rehabilitated yet and you'll reassure her that she's great and just because no one can see all the wonderful that you can see, that's their loss. Janice will lean over and kiss you and you'll do it.

It will be awkward for the next eight to fourteen months. Janice will ask whether you regret sleeping with her and you'll say that it's just weird because you're supposed to be cellmates, not lovers. Janice will tell you to go suck off some white supremacists like you're used to and you'll say, 'Those guys meant nothing! It was rape!' She'll cry and she'll say that maybe she should just transfer back to a women's cell.

Her transfer will go through and on the day that she's supposed to leave, you'll finally get up the nerve to tell her that you love her and that you want to be her cellmate forever. She'll drop her stuff and run into your arms and you and she will start to do it. Then the guards will pull you two away from each other and drag Janice to her new cell because those are the orders. You'll be killed the following week when you have an accident on the weight bench that causes you to accidentally get repeatedly pummeled in the head with a 45-pound dumbbell. Janice will try to mourn you but she'll feel it takes away from mourning the kids she drowned, so she'll stop.

Happy Coed Jail Cell Day!

The Dead Rise And Walk Again Day!

You live above a funeral home and you've always had a silly fear that one day the dead bodies downstairs are just going to climb out of their coffins and head up the stairwell to your apartment. Starting today, you won't have to feel so silly anymore because a road crew is going to crack open a long-forgotten gas pipe deep under the street and a strange gas compound will leak into the funeral home. When the gas reaches the dead, they'll get up out of their coffins just like they were waking up and going to work. Except instead of heading out to an office, they'll all go straight for the stairwell.

You'll know it's happening when you hear the screaming out on the street. You'll look out the window to find that morning's black-clad funeral party pouring outside and clutching at each other in terror. They'll be peering in through the doors to see if their beloved recently deceased will come trudging out after them to eat all their brains. That's when you'll hear the footsteps on the stairs.

The steps will be loud and slow and it will be clear more than one dead body is on the way up. At least three. The funeral home has three viewing rooms and they're almost always occupied.

In a panic you'll grab a frying pan and a steak knife and hide behind your couch. The footsteps will grow louder and louder until they stop outside your apartment and the dead start pounding on the door.

You'll scream for them to go away, but they'll keep pounding until they burst through the door and start looking around the place. You'll stay hidden behind the couch while the three dead men in funeral suits check out how many rooms you have and what the view is like. When they start looking through your kitchen cabinets, you'll launch yourself out onto the fire escape and tumble down the metal steps to the street.

On the street, friends and family members of the dead men in your apartment will ask you what you saw. You'll tell them that their loved ones are upstairs rooting through your apartment and that they aren't exactly alive. You'll say that it looks like a hellish energy has invigorated their loved ones' bodies and caused them to walk again.

One by one, the bereaved will climb the fire escape to get a peek at the terrifying supernatural display. As they return to the street, they'll report to the others that the dead are sitting on your couch or playing your CDs or just flipping through your magazines with their feet on your coffee table. They'll all come down the stairs crying for having seen their beloved walking once again. They'll report that the dead men are very pale and they only have blood red marbles for eyes, so it's not exactly like the old days. But the haircuts are still the same.

You'll make the suggestion that the police be called to shoot into the heads of the walking dead until their skulls explode. It's what you've read is necessary. But the bereaved won't have it. They'll offer to chip in and set you up in a sweet new apartment, fully furnished with a new wardrobe and everything, if you'll only allow their undead loved ones to continue to kick back in your apartment for the rest of their undead lives. Take them up on it. Make them sign papers promising their side of the bargain before your landlord finds out that you're subletting and nixes the deal.

Happy The Dead Rise And Walk Again Day!

Goldfish Heaven Day!

Your daughter's really curious about what goes on in Goldfish Heaven.

'I've never been there I told ya!' you keep bellowing at her. 'It's for dead goldfish! How the hell would I ever have been there for Christ's sake?' You drink a lot.

Your daughter is curious because you told her that her dead goldfish, Moriarty, went to Goldfish Heaven when you accidentally dropped that lamp in his fishbowl. She just wants to make sure Goldfish Heaven is cool. Send her to her priest.

'The book says that Goldfish Heaven rewards a goldfish with all the glory that God has to offer, assuming of course that the goldfish who passed is worthy of such glories,' Father Martin will say to your daughter.

'Which book?' you daughter will ask. Father Martin will show her the book. It's a novelization of the movie Splash.

'What does a goldfish have to do to be worthy?' your daughter will ask him.

'Pretty much the same as a human. No killing. No stealing or being mean to his parents. No check fraud or forgeries of any kind. That includes not worshiping any Gods but God.'

Your daughter will say, 'Uh oh.'

When you bought your daughter the fish tank, you decorated it with a little castle, some seashells, and a little figurine depicting the sun god, Ra.

'It's what I believe in!' you'll shout at your daughter when she confronts you. 'I didn't know you'd find your way to the catholic church! I just wanted my daughter's goldfish to be raised the way my parents raised me!'

'Well now Moriarty is in Goldfish hell,' your daughter will say.

'What's that like?' you'll ask.

'Father Martin says it's just like human hell. Except only the littlest demons are allowed to do the raping on account of goldfish being so small.'

'What have I done?' you'll lament.

Your daughter will say, 'Buy me a hamster.'

Late tonight, go and buy her a hamster. Allow her to teach it whatever she wishes it to know. You don't want another creature's eternity in your hands.

Happy Goldfish Heaven Day!

The Abortion King Day!

According to statistics released by the right wing religious organization Families Are Awesome, you performed more abortions in the year 2005 than any other abortion doctor in the entire State. This year you're trying to go national, but your numbers are way down.

'You're all out there on the dating scene,' you'll ask your nurses. 'Are people just not doing it as much?'

'I can't speak for everybody,' Nurse Comers will say. 'But that Al Gore movie really killed the mood for me. How can I accept ecstasy when the world is going to end in like ten years. And that polar bear trying to find some ice. Jeez, talk about a boner shrinker.'

'Well yeah sure,' Nurse Morehouse will concur. 'They shouldn't have marketed that as a date movie. But all it made me think is the next time I get pregnant ain't no way in hell I'm gonna have that baby. I'm not gonna bring a kid into this world just so he can watch the sea catch fire and stuff.'

'I'm with Morehouse,' Nurse Cleo will say. 'That Al Gore movie made it seem like this whole environment mess is a direct result of the population having tripled in the last century. We don't need any more people. I'm aborting the shit out of my next baby.'

Nurse Cleo will think about it, then she'll add, ''Course, there's really no chance of there being a baby to abort, being as I really haven't accepted a lover since I saw that Al Gore movie. Seemed too selfish.'

'That settles it!' you'll say. Then you'll go into your office a draft a bitchy letter to Al Gore letting him know that if his idea was to increase the number of abortions, it might have worked if he hadn't made a movie so depressing that no one wants to fuck enough to make a baby to abort in the first place. Al Gore will reply that your letter was so stupid he could barely bring himself to recycle the paper it was printed on.

'But I did,' he'll add. 'Recycling is important. Good luck with your contest, baby killer.'

Frame Al Gore's letter, then get out there and act locally by convincing your town's saloon to have a singles night so people might start banging again. You can only hope the alcohol will make them forget the Al Gore movie (and contraception), but that they'll remember the Al Gore movie again when they're sober and pregnant and thinking about what it means to bring a baby into a world that's about to die in a storm of flame.

Happy The Abortion King Day!

He's Nothing Like His Profile Day!

Today in Starbucks you'll be browsing Match.com when you come upon the profile of a really cute guy who just so happens to be sitting at a table right across the room from you.

His profile will say that he loves sunsets and that he hates people who talk on their cell phones in public. You'll look up to see him talking on his cell phone very loudly about how the sun is about to set. 'Worst time of the day,' he'll scream into his phone. 'Bar none!'

You'll read more of his profile. It will say that his most embarrassing moment was when he put up a profile on Match.com. He'll say into his cell phone, 'Putting up my profile on Match.com had to have been the least embarrassing moment of my life. Bar none!'

He doesn't seem to value honesty, you'll think. Then you'll read his profile and you'll see that he made it clear that one of the things he values the least is honesty. Which is pretty honest of him to say, when you think about it. Maybe there's hope for him after all.

Reading further into his profile, you'll see that he says he loves kids. You'll look at him just in time to watch him pour his coffee all over a seven year old who was talking too loud for him to hear his cell phone call. The police will be summoned and take him away. He'll go peacefully, which will surprise you since his profile said that he would never go peacefully with the police. When he's dragged out to the street you'll finally see him in daylight and you'll realize he looks just like Charles Durning. That's surprising since his profile photo is of Denzel Washington (a promotional still from Training Day). Once he's gone, and you finally get a chance to stop comparing the real thing to the profile you'll be able to focus on just how desolate your life has felt these past few decades and you'll summon up the nerve to send him a wink.

Happy He's Nothing Like His Profile Day!

Your Cash Machine Is Depressed Day!

You were at first surprised by the overly familiar tone your cash machine started to take with you. Messages like, 'Whoops, I ran out of receipt paper (It's been a crazy day!)' and 'Working on it! Just a sec!' seemed to lack a professionalism that you'd come to expect from a banking facility. But after a while you couldn't help but be charmed.

As time wore on, you found that the cash machine started to open up to you a bit. On a good day, when you'd key in your withdrawal amount it would say, 'Working on it! (I can't explain why but I just feel so hopeful today!)' And on a low day, you'd request a balance inquiry and it would reply, 'Can it wait? I'm just'I'm trying to sort some crap out right now and'Just come back in an hour okay?'

Soon, the cash machine seemed to hit a steady sequence of low days. You'd take out a couple hundred bucks and its screen would read, 'Working on it. ('Nother night on the town huh? Must be nice to not be permanently embedded in a fucking wall.)' It hates taking deposits for some reason. Whenever you push the make a deposit button, the screen reads simply, 'Oh for God's sake' without any explanation or elaboration.

You're worried about the cash machine. The past few times you've used it, it hasn't spoken a word to you. Each screen is just a list of options. No, 'How can I help you today?' when you first get started. And when it doles out your cash, there's just a blank screen afterwards. No, 'Don't forget to take your cash and receipt!' Not even a simple, 'goodbye!' Just black.

You need to try to reach out to the cash machine. It's hard, since the button choices are limited. The best way to let a cash machine know you care about it is to just keep pressing OK. No matter how many times it tells you that choice is not valid. Just keep hitting the button. After so many error messages and attempts to fit your responses into its programming language, it will eventually try to interpret your choice as, 'OK?'

All you can hope for is that it will say something to you. Anything at all. Even if it's, 'You don't care. No one cares. You just want your money.' At least it would be letting you in. But if it doesn't say anything, if the screen just goes blank, and then spits your card back out to you replacing the blank screen with the bank's logo, you're too late. It's been too unhappy for too long and it's probably going to do something drastic. The cash machine that goes quiet is the one that's screaming the loudest inside its circuitry.

Pick up the phone and call customer service. Hit option 6 for 'If you think a cash machine might be thinking about hurting itself''

Your Cash Machine Is Depressed Day!

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!