It's hard to get up and go to your day job every morning when you know your time would be better spent trying to perfect the stunt where you light a brick wall on fire and crash a motorcycle into it. Keeping your eyes on the prize can be tough when you're spending all day behind a desk answering phones and juggling the calendars for a bunch of multi-millionaire patent lawyers. Everyone has to pay their dues. You just can't help but wonder how long it'll be before you're paid up. Sadly, today is really going to put your resolve to the test.
When you get into work, you'll be summoned to HR where you're told that all of your sick days have been used up and you'll have to take an unpaid leave of absence if you stay out with so much as a cold before the end of the year.
'Maybe you need to allow for the fact that human beings aren't robots!' you'll argue. 'We get ill and we need time off.'
The HR rep will explain that the accrual of sick days works for most employees and you just happen to be unique. 'Three comas in one six-month period can really chew up your bank of days,' she'll say. 'Perhaps if you were more careful?'
'What the hell is that supposed to mean?' you'll ask.
The rep will close her mouth up tight and she'll keep her eyes on your file.
'You knew what I did when I started working here and you said your firm was very supportive of admin employees pursuing other careers.'
'We didn't realize the toll your craft would take on your job performance,' she'll say. 'I admit when you told us you were a daredevil I just thought you were some kind of 'bad boy' magician, or that you went out on the weekends and drank horse semen or something. I didn't know you'd spend every Saturday intentionally setting yourself on fire.'
'What about all the actors and singers who leave for auditions every day?' you'll ask.
'Actors and singers don't have eleven hospital stays a year,' she'll say. 'Do you know that you've single-handedly drained our condolences budget? All those get well baskets we sent you cleaned us out. If any of your coworkers has a death in the family they're not getting any flowers, thanks to you.'
You'll fight it out some more, explaining to her that the firm should be happy to have people with diverse interests on the staff. She'll counter that some clients have remarked on having to stare at the second-degree burns all over your face and how it makes them very uncomfortable while in the waiting room, especially when the bandages have just been removed and all of the wounds are still damp. You'll challenge her to ask you to quit pursuing your career as daredevil, but she won't fall for it, knowing full well that you could have a lawsuit on your hands if they ever let you go for something you warned them about before they hired you. Instead, she'll say 'Pursue your craft as much as you want. Just don't get injured.' Which she full well knows is damned impossible. Any stunt that you can develop without any injuries is a stunt that's not worth you zipping up your silver jumpsuit. It looks like you're going to have to find a more understanding day job.
You'll go home frustrated as always, intending to drink a lot and complain to your girlfriend about what a long hard road it is to that elusive big break. But when you get home, your girlfriend will be standing next to a packed suitcase. She'll say that her back hurts from having to sleep in a chair in your hospital room all the time and that at first trying to have sex through a body cast was sort of new, but lately it's just been a chore.
Say, 'Everyone is conspiring to make me give up my dream!'
She'll say that she just wants a boyfriend who doesn't lose consciousness for three months out of the year. You'll call her selfish and you'll suggest that maybe she should look into why she needs so much attention. Your girlfriend will tell you to blow yourself, and to remember to set yourself on fire first and videotape it.
Happy You Are An Aspiring Daredevil Day!
Friday, October 27, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Tell Matt You Don't Want To Be His Accountability Buddy Anymore Day!
You and Matt met at a church group and you both expressed anger at how easily pornography can be accessed over the internet, and what a sad and lonely thing it is that so many people appease their sexual urges by visiting those sites. Matt suggested that you both install Accountability Buddy software, which is set up so that anytime one of you visits a pornographic website, your computer sends an email to the other with the URL of the adult site. Sounded perfect to you, so you went right home and set it all up.
Today you're going to tell Matt that you don't want to be his accountability buddy anymore. Having the software on your computer has helped you to avoid viewing any online pornography, since you couldn't bare to face Matt if he knew what you'd been looking at. Matt, however, has not been able to stay away. In fact, you immediately started receiving two or three emails a day containing long lists of pornographic URLs that he's visited. As the days passed, the list only seemed to grow. His computer was sending yours so many emails that you ended up just automatically sending them all to your spam folder.
The way it's supposed to work out is after you get one of those emails you were supposed to call Matt and confront him. You did that after the first day or two, but then you were getting so many that you didn't know how to deal with it. That's when Matt would call you and ask, 'Did you get a look at that site?' You'd tell him you found the site repulsive, and he'd say, 'Oh yeah, totally. What about the other one? Did you check that out?' The way he always seemed to be out of breath when he spoke made you suspicious that Matt just set this software up because he gets turned on knowing that someone knows what he's masturbating to. Confront him today.
'Heck yes,' Matt will say. 'There's no hotter way to masturbate. You're the one who talked about how lonely it can be to look at web-porn! This is the answer buddy!'
Tell Matt you're not his buddy anymore. He'll grab your lapels and demand to know what he's supposed to do now. 'Those emails can't just go into the ether, man!'
Give Matt the address of a secular support group for men who are addicted to web porn. 'Go to these meetings,' say. 'They can help you.'
You know the meetings are most likely just a bunch of guys looking for other guys to receive their 'I'm looking at porn, check it out!' emails. But at least it's outside the church. For God's sake, get that man's hands away from Christ.
Happy Tell Matt You Don't Want To Be His Accountability Buddy Anymore Day!
Today you're going to tell Matt that you don't want to be his accountability buddy anymore. Having the software on your computer has helped you to avoid viewing any online pornography, since you couldn't bare to face Matt if he knew what you'd been looking at. Matt, however, has not been able to stay away. In fact, you immediately started receiving two or three emails a day containing long lists of pornographic URLs that he's visited. As the days passed, the list only seemed to grow. His computer was sending yours so many emails that you ended up just automatically sending them all to your spam folder.
The way it's supposed to work out is after you get one of those emails you were supposed to call Matt and confront him. You did that after the first day or two, but then you were getting so many that you didn't know how to deal with it. That's when Matt would call you and ask, 'Did you get a look at that site?' You'd tell him you found the site repulsive, and he'd say, 'Oh yeah, totally. What about the other one? Did you check that out?' The way he always seemed to be out of breath when he spoke made you suspicious that Matt just set this software up because he gets turned on knowing that someone knows what he's masturbating to. Confront him today.
'Heck yes,' Matt will say. 'There's no hotter way to masturbate. You're the one who talked about how lonely it can be to look at web-porn! This is the answer buddy!'
Tell Matt you're not his buddy anymore. He'll grab your lapels and demand to know what he's supposed to do now. 'Those emails can't just go into the ether, man!'
Give Matt the address of a secular support group for men who are addicted to web porn. 'Go to these meetings,' say. 'They can help you.'
You know the meetings are most likely just a bunch of guys looking for other guys to receive their 'I'm looking at porn, check it out!' emails. But at least it's outside the church. For God's sake, get that man's hands away from Christ.
Happy Tell Matt You Don't Want To Be His Accountability Buddy Anymore Day!
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Seek Investors Day!
That's your last pair of panties. When you finally peel them off after wearing them during your morning run and while cleaning behind your refrigerator, as was requested, and you carefully fold the pair into a neat triangle, wrap it in tissue paper, and seal it inside the pre-addressed, postage-paid envelope, you will officially be on the brink of bankruptcy.
You can only blame a poorly conceived business model. By guaranteeing that no one but you will wear the underwear, and that while wearing the underwear you will engage in two physical activities selected from a menu of over thirty (which, besides 'jogging' and 'cleaning behind the refrigerator' includes such perspiration-friendly activities as 'helping a friend move,' 'sitting on an un-air-conditioned bus ride for six hours,' and of course, the very popular 'masturbating with your underwear still on'), and promising that each subscriber will receive two pairs of pre-worn underwear every month for just $19.95 recurring, you pretty much made it impossible to earn more than eighty bucks a day before expenses. And to generate that much revenue you can expect to not get more than two or three hours of sleep a night.
You really should have thought through the activity list a little more. Options like 'wear the underwear while riding a see-saw' and 'wear the underwear while hunting through a grocery store's dairy section until you find the carton with the most recent expiration date' were relatively practical as far as time-restraints go. Unlike, 'wear the underwear while watching Krzysztof Kieslowski's Red, White and Blue trilogy' which is about six hours long, or 'wear the underwear in Cincinnati' which is about eight hours away by car.
The key to a successful subscription-only mail-away pre-worn underwear service is volume. An increasing subscription base against decreasing operation costs equals profit. Though your target demographic (people who have seen online photographs of you wearing underwear who would like you to remove the underwear you are wearing and mail it to them) is huge, your commitment to providing a 'Premium Mail-Away Pre-Worn Underwear Service Experience' to the consumer has forced you to limit your maximum subscriber base to no more than fifty people, tops.
And you're even starting to lose subscribers. The complaint emails have been pouring in.
'I specifically requested that you wear the underwear while accosting a young mother for slapping her son in public, but the underwear I received clearly smells like it was worn while you were applying for a street performance license. I want my money back, fraud!'
The fact is, your business is not sustainable. You have to draw up a revised business plan that includes more practical underwear-clad activities and a staff of models from which the subscriber may choose. The digital age is about choice after all, and your decision to guarantee that you will be the only person to ever wear the underwear that is sent to the subscriber reflects only on your vanity and not on your desire to maximize the subscriber experience. Draw up your business plan and then arrange a meeting with Sequoia. You need to buy another twelve-pack of cotton panties to get through the week, and you're not going to be able to do that unless you secure at least eight bucks in venture capital.
Happy Seek Investors Day!
You can only blame a poorly conceived business model. By guaranteeing that no one but you will wear the underwear, and that while wearing the underwear you will engage in two physical activities selected from a menu of over thirty (which, besides 'jogging' and 'cleaning behind the refrigerator' includes such perspiration-friendly activities as 'helping a friend move,' 'sitting on an un-air-conditioned bus ride for six hours,' and of course, the very popular 'masturbating with your underwear still on'), and promising that each subscriber will receive two pairs of pre-worn underwear every month for just $19.95 recurring, you pretty much made it impossible to earn more than eighty bucks a day before expenses. And to generate that much revenue you can expect to not get more than two or three hours of sleep a night.
You really should have thought through the activity list a little more. Options like 'wear the underwear while riding a see-saw' and 'wear the underwear while hunting through a grocery store's dairy section until you find the carton with the most recent expiration date' were relatively practical as far as time-restraints go. Unlike, 'wear the underwear while watching Krzysztof Kieslowski's Red, White and Blue trilogy' which is about six hours long, or 'wear the underwear in Cincinnati' which is about eight hours away by car.
The key to a successful subscription-only mail-away pre-worn underwear service is volume. An increasing subscription base against decreasing operation costs equals profit. Though your target demographic (people who have seen online photographs of you wearing underwear who would like you to remove the underwear you are wearing and mail it to them) is huge, your commitment to providing a 'Premium Mail-Away Pre-Worn Underwear Service Experience' to the consumer has forced you to limit your maximum subscriber base to no more than fifty people, tops.
And you're even starting to lose subscribers. The complaint emails have been pouring in.
'I specifically requested that you wear the underwear while accosting a young mother for slapping her son in public, but the underwear I received clearly smells like it was worn while you were applying for a street performance license. I want my money back, fraud!'
The fact is, your business is not sustainable. You have to draw up a revised business plan that includes more practical underwear-clad activities and a staff of models from which the subscriber may choose. The digital age is about choice after all, and your decision to guarantee that you will be the only person to ever wear the underwear that is sent to the subscriber reflects only on your vanity and not on your desire to maximize the subscriber experience. Draw up your business plan and then arrange a meeting with Sequoia. You need to buy another twelve-pack of cotton panties to get through the week, and you're not going to be able to do that unless you secure at least eight bucks in venture capital.
Happy Seek Investors Day!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
You Didn't Get Lucky Day!
Tonight at the opening of Wally's Walls, your friend Wally's new showroom for his custom wallpaper business, you will be stunned by the aggressive advances of a woman who is far more attractive than any woman who has seen fit to pull you into an embrace.
'My name is Tara,' the woman will say, 'And the minute I saw you I knew you would be taking me home to your apartment tonight. Do we go now or will you torture me by making me wait.'
You'll tell Tara that you'd really feel bad about leaving before your friend unveils this year's designs. Tara will press her lips upon yours with such ferocity you'll start walking backwards under the force of her face until you feel a blast of cold air in your ears and you stumble out onto the sidewalk.
'Looks like you already left,' Tara will say. She'll kiss you again while hailing a cab and she won't set your lips free until she has opened the door behind you and is ready to grab you by the top of your head, like a cop would a perp, and shove you into the backseat.
In the cab you'll give the driver your address and Tara will kiss you the entire way home, not letting you speak a single word. Once upstairs and in your apartment, you'll finally feel in control and for the first time all night you'll step towards Tara and lean in to kiss her first.
'Freshen up,' Tara will say. You'll think she means that she'd like to use the bathroom and you'll direct her down the hall. She'll say, 'No, you first,' and you'll realize that she'd like you to go and brush your teeth. You obey.
While brushing, you'll hear what you assume to be the neighbors banging on your wall. You'll rinse your mouth out, strip down to nothing, and then you'll step back into your bedroom to find Tara pulling several stacks of hundred dollar bills wrapped in plastic from the hole she's dug into the wall with a small ball peen hammer.
The only thing you'll think to say is, 'That's not my hammer.'
'I brought it with me,' Tara will say. She'll glance at your nakedness. 'Nice body hunk, but you didn't get lucky tonight. I used to live here and I stashed this money in the wall when I had to split in kind of a hurry. I'm leaving now and you'd better not get in my way.'
While Tara stuffs the stacks of bills (there has to be at least $50,000 there) into her bag, you'll start to feel a little bad. But you'll look back on the makeout session at the showroom and in the cab and you'll cheer up. Even though it was just her means to a hidden end, you'll still be glad to have been able to grope and kiss someone so out of your league and you'll decide that tonight counts as a partial score, regardless of the duplicity behind it all.
'I'll take it,' you'll whisper to yourself. Tara will turn and almost ask what you said, then she'll think better of it.
Just then you'll hear the squealing of rubber on the street below. You and Tara will run to the window to see two black SUVs unloading several passengers armed to the hilt and running into your building.
'Take this,' Tara will say. She'll shove a Glock in your hand. 'When that front door opens, shoot whoever comes through. You'd better get dressed.'
'Do I have to?' you'll ask.
Tara will shrug. She'll lift your mattress on its side and use it for cover. You'll get behind the mattress with Tara and stand close enough to her for your sides to touch. Anyone who saw it would not be able to deny that she is technically touching you while you're totally naked. 'It counts,' you'll whisper to yourself.
Tara will again ignore your whispering. She'll say, 'Sorry hunk, but boy did you ever not get lucky tonight.'
'I beg to differ,' you'll whisper. Tara will tell you that she heard you that time and it was kind of creepy. The footsteps on the stairs outside will grow louder and your heart will beat faster as the warmth of Tara's body caresses your naked left side.
'Creepy,' Tara will say once more before the door bursts open and the gunshots start to fly.
Happy You Didn't Get Lucky Day!
'My name is Tara,' the woman will say, 'And the minute I saw you I knew you would be taking me home to your apartment tonight. Do we go now or will you torture me by making me wait.'
You'll tell Tara that you'd really feel bad about leaving before your friend unveils this year's designs. Tara will press her lips upon yours with such ferocity you'll start walking backwards under the force of her face until you feel a blast of cold air in your ears and you stumble out onto the sidewalk.
'Looks like you already left,' Tara will say. She'll kiss you again while hailing a cab and she won't set your lips free until she has opened the door behind you and is ready to grab you by the top of your head, like a cop would a perp, and shove you into the backseat.
In the cab you'll give the driver your address and Tara will kiss you the entire way home, not letting you speak a single word. Once upstairs and in your apartment, you'll finally feel in control and for the first time all night you'll step towards Tara and lean in to kiss her first.
'Freshen up,' Tara will say. You'll think she means that she'd like to use the bathroom and you'll direct her down the hall. She'll say, 'No, you first,' and you'll realize that she'd like you to go and brush your teeth. You obey.
While brushing, you'll hear what you assume to be the neighbors banging on your wall. You'll rinse your mouth out, strip down to nothing, and then you'll step back into your bedroom to find Tara pulling several stacks of hundred dollar bills wrapped in plastic from the hole she's dug into the wall with a small ball peen hammer.
The only thing you'll think to say is, 'That's not my hammer.'
'I brought it with me,' Tara will say. She'll glance at your nakedness. 'Nice body hunk, but you didn't get lucky tonight. I used to live here and I stashed this money in the wall when I had to split in kind of a hurry. I'm leaving now and you'd better not get in my way.'
While Tara stuffs the stacks of bills (there has to be at least $50,000 there) into her bag, you'll start to feel a little bad. But you'll look back on the makeout session at the showroom and in the cab and you'll cheer up. Even though it was just her means to a hidden end, you'll still be glad to have been able to grope and kiss someone so out of your league and you'll decide that tonight counts as a partial score, regardless of the duplicity behind it all.
'I'll take it,' you'll whisper to yourself. Tara will turn and almost ask what you said, then she'll think better of it.
Just then you'll hear the squealing of rubber on the street below. You and Tara will run to the window to see two black SUVs unloading several passengers armed to the hilt and running into your building.
'Take this,' Tara will say. She'll shove a Glock in your hand. 'When that front door opens, shoot whoever comes through. You'd better get dressed.'
'Do I have to?' you'll ask.
Tara will shrug. She'll lift your mattress on its side and use it for cover. You'll get behind the mattress with Tara and stand close enough to her for your sides to touch. Anyone who saw it would not be able to deny that she is technically touching you while you're totally naked. 'It counts,' you'll whisper to yourself.
Tara will again ignore your whispering. She'll say, 'Sorry hunk, but boy did you ever not get lucky tonight.'
'I beg to differ,' you'll whisper. Tara will tell you that she heard you that time and it was kind of creepy. The footsteps on the stairs outside will grow louder and your heart will beat faster as the warmth of Tara's body caresses your naked left side.
'Creepy,' Tara will say once more before the door bursts open and the gunshots start to fly.
Happy You Didn't Get Lucky Day!
Monday, October 23, 2006
Convince The Sheriff To Let You Go Free Day!
Lotta people wanna kill me. If they find out you got me locked up in here they'll kill you too. Just to get to me.
Part of the job, says the Sheriff.
I'll suck your cock.
No thank you, says the Sheriff.
I know where there's some gold. I'll take you out there tonight and you and me can split it fifty-fifty.
You can't buy your freedom.
Sixty-forty.
You're gonna be tried and hanged.
Seventy-twenty?
That don't add up.
We'll set aside ten for a big night on the town because if you set me free and we go off looking for gold together, I think you're gonna find that in me you've got one hell of a devoted and caring friend. Even through these bars, with you holding that key, I can feel the connection between us. Unlock this cell and open your heart to friendship Sheriff. You don't have many friends do you? Sheriff can't make too many friends what with that badge shining in everybody's eyes. But I'm different, Sheriff. I see the heart underneath that badge. Unlock this cell and let your friend come near.
Uh uh.
I'll suck your cock. Did I offer that already?
You did indeed.
And what was your answer?
I declined, horse-thief.
No one ever said no to this mouth before, Sheriff. Who do you think you are?
I think I'm the man responsible for getting you before the judge on time. I do what I'm paid to do.
Ninety-ten.
You ain't got any gold.
I'm hurt.
Sorry.
How do you know I wasn't framed?
You turned yourself in.
Ninety-five ' Five.
I said no thank you.
I guess it's right that you keep me locked up. My whole life, no one ever gave me any special treatment. My Mom and Dad didn't give me no second chances when I let our pig wander off. Right the next day they went out and made me join the circus. But the circus wouldn't let me do nothing but clean up after the elephants. I auditioned. I auditioned for every part they had open, but they'd say no thanks each time. I'd say, gimme a second chance. They'd say, no second chances for you. So I turned to murder and thievery.
Understandable.
Don't be like the circus, Sheriff. Gimme a second chance.
No can do.
You can suck my cock if you want.
I'm good.
Did I already offer that?
You offered to take care of me.
Well you can take care of me if you like.
That's kind of you, but I have to decline.
There's no one more stubborn than an honest man.
Let's just enjoy the time we have together, horse-thief.
(You both stop talking. You listen to the sound the room makes with the two of you together in it. It's like you're both trying to burn that sound into memory.)
Happy Convince The Sheriff To Let You Go Free Day!
Part of the job, says the Sheriff.
I'll suck your cock.
No thank you, says the Sheriff.
I know where there's some gold. I'll take you out there tonight and you and me can split it fifty-fifty.
You can't buy your freedom.
Sixty-forty.
You're gonna be tried and hanged.
Seventy-twenty?
That don't add up.
We'll set aside ten for a big night on the town because if you set me free and we go off looking for gold together, I think you're gonna find that in me you've got one hell of a devoted and caring friend. Even through these bars, with you holding that key, I can feel the connection between us. Unlock this cell and open your heart to friendship Sheriff. You don't have many friends do you? Sheriff can't make too many friends what with that badge shining in everybody's eyes. But I'm different, Sheriff. I see the heart underneath that badge. Unlock this cell and let your friend come near.
Uh uh.
I'll suck your cock. Did I offer that already?
You did indeed.
And what was your answer?
I declined, horse-thief.
No one ever said no to this mouth before, Sheriff. Who do you think you are?
I think I'm the man responsible for getting you before the judge on time. I do what I'm paid to do.
Ninety-ten.
You ain't got any gold.
I'm hurt.
Sorry.
How do you know I wasn't framed?
You turned yourself in.
Ninety-five ' Five.
I said no thank you.
I guess it's right that you keep me locked up. My whole life, no one ever gave me any special treatment. My Mom and Dad didn't give me no second chances when I let our pig wander off. Right the next day they went out and made me join the circus. But the circus wouldn't let me do nothing but clean up after the elephants. I auditioned. I auditioned for every part they had open, but they'd say no thanks each time. I'd say, gimme a second chance. They'd say, no second chances for you. So I turned to murder and thievery.
Understandable.
Don't be like the circus, Sheriff. Gimme a second chance.
No can do.
You can suck my cock if you want.
I'm good.
Did I already offer that?
You offered to take care of me.
Well you can take care of me if you like.
That's kind of you, but I have to decline.
There's no one more stubborn than an honest man.
Let's just enjoy the time we have together, horse-thief.
(You both stop talking. You listen to the sound the room makes with the two of you together in it. It's like you're both trying to burn that sound into memory.)
Happy Convince The Sheriff To Let You Go Free Day!
Friday, October 20, 2006
Get The Fuck Outta Sugarbush Day!
Drive south. As fast as you can. She's driving north and her trunk is full. The only thing you want right now is to get across the state line before she does. You don't want to be in Vermont when she parks her car and lays claim to your husband.
Twelve years ago you became an apprentice ski instructor. Your tenure as a teacher on the slopes was only meant to last a season. You thought over the months you'd grow to love the cold and the vast landscapes of white, but you never did. At the end of the season, just before you decided to give up on winter and skiing forever, another apprentice ski instructor came tumbling off of a lift and crashed into your ankles. His name was Norman and you would be married before Spring. You bought a cabin together and lived in Vermont year round, making all your money in the wintertime giving skiing lessons for exorbitant fees.
Nine happy yet ice cold years later, Norman broke his femur on the slopes and ended up being treated by a beautiful young sports medicine doctor who worked the resort in the winter. They fell in love over the course of his physical therapy while you continued teaching lawyers how to ski. They carried out their affair for three whole seasons. She'd come up for the winters and he'd arrange his class schedule so that you were always teaching for at least a couple of hours of his free-time. Today Norman finally confessed that when his doctor arrives today, he'll be moving into her cabin. You hit him in the face with a snow boot, grabbed the car keys and started driving fast.
You didn't suspect a thing. You always said that the cold winters bothered you, but Norman's love kept you warm. Even your rationalization was based on an outright lie. The worst part is, these past three years you felt that Norman was more attentive and giving than ever before. You felt like you had settled into the real and true married happiness that would last you until your old age. His guilt must have forced him to overcompensate, and now he's got you violating the speed limit and feeling like a fool.
When you finally enter Massachusetts, you'll check the clock and feel comfortable that you made it. There's no way she could have gotten into Vermont that soon. But you don't let up on the gas. You want to get out of sight of the blaring miserable foliage all around you. You want to get someplace maybe 600 miles away, where there's no autumn. Someplace where when the leaves are ready to fall of the trees, they don't try to trick you by turning all sorts of pretty colors. You're gonna keep driving till leaves die ugly.
Happy Get The Fuck Outta Sugarbush Day!
Twelve years ago you became an apprentice ski instructor. Your tenure as a teacher on the slopes was only meant to last a season. You thought over the months you'd grow to love the cold and the vast landscapes of white, but you never did. At the end of the season, just before you decided to give up on winter and skiing forever, another apprentice ski instructor came tumbling off of a lift and crashed into your ankles. His name was Norman and you would be married before Spring. You bought a cabin together and lived in Vermont year round, making all your money in the wintertime giving skiing lessons for exorbitant fees.
Nine happy yet ice cold years later, Norman broke his femur on the slopes and ended up being treated by a beautiful young sports medicine doctor who worked the resort in the winter. They fell in love over the course of his physical therapy while you continued teaching lawyers how to ski. They carried out their affair for three whole seasons. She'd come up for the winters and he'd arrange his class schedule so that you were always teaching for at least a couple of hours of his free-time. Today Norman finally confessed that when his doctor arrives today, he'll be moving into her cabin. You hit him in the face with a snow boot, grabbed the car keys and started driving fast.
You didn't suspect a thing. You always said that the cold winters bothered you, but Norman's love kept you warm. Even your rationalization was based on an outright lie. The worst part is, these past three years you felt that Norman was more attentive and giving than ever before. You felt like you had settled into the real and true married happiness that would last you until your old age. His guilt must have forced him to overcompensate, and now he's got you violating the speed limit and feeling like a fool.
When you finally enter Massachusetts, you'll check the clock and feel comfortable that you made it. There's no way she could have gotten into Vermont that soon. But you don't let up on the gas. You want to get out of sight of the blaring miserable foliage all around you. You want to get someplace maybe 600 miles away, where there's no autumn. Someplace where when the leaves are ready to fall of the trees, they don't try to trick you by turning all sorts of pretty colors. You're gonna keep driving till leaves die ugly.
Happy Get The Fuck Outta Sugarbush Day!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
The Contrition of the Power-Saw Salesman Day!
Yesterday a madman bought a power-saw from your store and immediately switched it on and ran out into the street screaming and grinding away at anyone who got in his way on the sidewalk. It's not the first time this has happened, not by a long shot. But it's not getting any easier to go out to the houses of the murder victims and apologize for selling the weapon that chopped up their relatives.
'I'm a pretty good judge of people,' you tell them. 'I wouldn't sell to a man if I thought I saw blood in his eyes. But yesterday was real busy at the store and well you know how it gets.' That's about the point where the family forgives you and thanks you for coming all this way and you start handing out manager's discretion discount coupons.
Yesterday's mayhem yielded a mortality rate of just one married man. Today after you clean the blood and tissue off the window, you'll visit his wife and find she doesn't plan to let you off the hook so easily.
'What can I say,' you'll tell her. 'The place was a zoo and I just didn't get a good sense of the guy. I plan to hire more help though. It's been a really good year. Anyway, thanks for the tea.'
'Not good enough,' she'll say.
You'll say, 'Beg pardon?'
'I do not forgive you,' she'll say. 'You sold the saw that ripped my husband into pieces and robbed his son of a father. Had you not sold the saw, my husband would be alive today. I'm sorry, but I don't forgive you.'
This has never happened before, and you'll be so blown away you'll barely be able to catch enough breath to ask her why.
'What can I give you that'll open your heart?' you'll ask.
'I never liked the way I met my husband,' she'll say. 'He was the son of my father's boss. Terribly boring way to meet the love of your life.'
'Well I can't change the way you met your husband.'
'My husband is dead,' she'll say. 'I need a second husband now, and I'd like to have a good meet-cute story to tell at dinner parties.'
'You mean like, He showed up and apologized for selling the power-saw that killed my first husband, and when I looked in his eyes I just knew?'
'Precisely,' she'll say.
If she doesn't forgive you, you know you won't be able to unlock that store again. The guilt will be too overwhelming. You and your family will be ruined.
'Done,' you'll tell her. 'Now do you forgive me?'
'I could never stay mad at you!' she'll say, throwing her arms around your neck. 'Oh I'm going to make you so happy!'
Tonight you'll go home and explain to your wife and daughters that you're only getting this divorce so that you can keep the power-saw store in operation. Yes, you have to remarry immediately, but it's only because you want to be a good provider. They'll never forgive you, but at least their grudge won't make you close up shop.
Happy The Contrition of the Power-Saw Salesman Day!
'I'm a pretty good judge of people,' you tell them. 'I wouldn't sell to a man if I thought I saw blood in his eyes. But yesterday was real busy at the store and well you know how it gets.' That's about the point where the family forgives you and thanks you for coming all this way and you start handing out manager's discretion discount coupons.
Yesterday's mayhem yielded a mortality rate of just one married man. Today after you clean the blood and tissue off the window, you'll visit his wife and find she doesn't plan to let you off the hook so easily.
'What can I say,' you'll tell her. 'The place was a zoo and I just didn't get a good sense of the guy. I plan to hire more help though. It's been a really good year. Anyway, thanks for the tea.'
'Not good enough,' she'll say.
You'll say, 'Beg pardon?'
'I do not forgive you,' she'll say. 'You sold the saw that ripped my husband into pieces and robbed his son of a father. Had you not sold the saw, my husband would be alive today. I'm sorry, but I don't forgive you.'
This has never happened before, and you'll be so blown away you'll barely be able to catch enough breath to ask her why.
'What can I give you that'll open your heart?' you'll ask.
'I never liked the way I met my husband,' she'll say. 'He was the son of my father's boss. Terribly boring way to meet the love of your life.'
'Well I can't change the way you met your husband.'
'My husband is dead,' she'll say. 'I need a second husband now, and I'd like to have a good meet-cute story to tell at dinner parties.'
'You mean like, He showed up and apologized for selling the power-saw that killed my first husband, and when I looked in his eyes I just knew?'
'Precisely,' she'll say.
If she doesn't forgive you, you know you won't be able to unlock that store again. The guilt will be too overwhelming. You and your family will be ruined.
'Done,' you'll tell her. 'Now do you forgive me?'
'I could never stay mad at you!' she'll say, throwing her arms around your neck. 'Oh I'm going to make you so happy!'
Tonight you'll go home and explain to your wife and daughters that you're only getting this divorce so that you can keep the power-saw store in operation. Yes, you have to remarry immediately, but it's only because you want to be a good provider. They'll never forgive you, but at least their grudge won't make you close up shop.
Happy The Contrition of the Power-Saw Salesman Day!
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Boys Against God Day!
You just found out that you and all of your Catholic friends are going to go to hell for touching yourselves. Call an emergency meeting of teenage boys tonight to show the Pope who's boss.
'Gentlemen,' you'll say to the gathering of sixteen Catholic boys, all of them listening to you while playing their PSPs. 'As I'm sure you've been made aware, the Catholic Church has long held firm that boys who masturbate are condemned to an eternity in the deepest bowels of hell.'
One of the boys will raise his hand to speak. You'll open the floor to him. The boy will stand up and say, 'You said held firm.' The other boys will laugh, as will you, because it's funny.
'I move that that front door be locked to the outside and that we as a group hold a Masturbate-In, and that we send a message to Rome with marathon of onanism that we will not be deterred from our natural inclination to touch ourselves every time we're behind a door that locks or is at least creaky enough to let us know when someone is coming inside. To your corners!'
The teenage boys will all lift one fist and shout 'Yeah!' before moving to various more secluded parts of the room to masturbate. One of the boys will have a dirty game on his PSP that he will watch and then pass around the room. The game has naked women in it but they're all wearing bulletproof helmets. It's unbelievably hot.
Soon news of your protest will spread throughout the town, and it won't be long before its on CNN. The Pope will issue a statement that is translated to mean, 'The Vatican regrets that these boys feel the need to be so disgusting, and hopes they return home to their parents soon.' The local police will want to take action before the Feds take control, so they'll shoot tear gas into the meeting hall. Unfortunately, they won't know how much to use and at least half of the boys inside will die from too much gas. The event will appear on magazine covers for weeks with the question, 'Teen Horniness and Religion: A Lethal Mix.' For years and years after the event, little boys who are caught masturbating will be told by their parents that they'd better stop unless they want to be gassed.
Happy Boys Against God Day!
'Gentlemen,' you'll say to the gathering of sixteen Catholic boys, all of them listening to you while playing their PSPs. 'As I'm sure you've been made aware, the Catholic Church has long held firm that boys who masturbate are condemned to an eternity in the deepest bowels of hell.'
One of the boys will raise his hand to speak. You'll open the floor to him. The boy will stand up and say, 'You said held firm.' The other boys will laugh, as will you, because it's funny.
'I move that that front door be locked to the outside and that we as a group hold a Masturbate-In, and that we send a message to Rome with marathon of onanism that we will not be deterred from our natural inclination to touch ourselves every time we're behind a door that locks or is at least creaky enough to let us know when someone is coming inside. To your corners!'
The teenage boys will all lift one fist and shout 'Yeah!' before moving to various more secluded parts of the room to masturbate. One of the boys will have a dirty game on his PSP that he will watch and then pass around the room. The game has naked women in it but they're all wearing bulletproof helmets. It's unbelievably hot.
Soon news of your protest will spread throughout the town, and it won't be long before its on CNN. The Pope will issue a statement that is translated to mean, 'The Vatican regrets that these boys feel the need to be so disgusting, and hopes they return home to their parents soon.' The local police will want to take action before the Feds take control, so they'll shoot tear gas into the meeting hall. Unfortunately, they won't know how much to use and at least half of the boys inside will die from too much gas. The event will appear on magazine covers for weeks with the question, 'Teen Horniness and Religion: A Lethal Mix.' For years and years after the event, little boys who are caught masturbating will be told by their parents that they'd better stop unless they want to be gassed.
Happy Boys Against God Day!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Stoner Porn Day!
Being an entrepreneur is about finding a need in the consumer and fulfilling that need. Well, you are certain that there is a certain market of consumer for pornographic movies with storylines that sync up to various pop and rock albums in an apparently relevant manner.
You've sunk $40,000 into your company and so far you're pretty happy with the product line. The most critically acclaimed videos include 'Slut Force 2069' which is a futuristic story of a totalitarian state that has prohibited sexual expression of any kind, but an underground movement tries to gather people together for secret orgies in the sewers of the San Fernando Valley to try to set eroticism free from the shackles of fascism. 'Slut Force 2069' syncs up almost perfectly to Radiohead's 'OK Computer.' It becomes most apparent during 'Karma Police' when two government agents start questioning three buxom female members of Slut Force and the agents end up setting the Slut Force girls free in exchange for butt sex. Right when you see the first penetration shot you hear the lyric 'This is what you get / When you mess with us.' It fits almost perfectly. Later in the album, when the chorus to 'No Surprises' plays, the leader of Slut Force is having sex with the dictator of the United Republic of Global Abstinence and she's repeating to him, 'Warn me when you're ready to come on my tits. Warn me when you're ready to come on my tits.' It really blows your mind.
Another good one is 'Three-Way Camp' which is all about a sleepaway camp where teenage girls go to have three-ways with male counselors. That one was one of the more experimental titles. You had Spanish wunderkind director Alfonso Cuaron take the helm and he made it sync up to 'Hatful of Hollow' by the Smiths. You wouldn't think it would work, but it actually syncs up so well some people complain that they can't watch it because they get too creeped out.
The best seller would have to be 'Blow Job Race' which syncs up to U2's 'The Unforgettable Fire.' The syncing isn't really that interesting on that one. But it's been flying off the shelves anyway, mostly because people just like the plot, which is that there's a blow job race and the girl who gives the most blow jobs within a specified period of time wins.
But even 'Blow Job Race' isn't selling well enough to recoup your investment yet. It's either because porn shops don't yet have a 'Cult Favorites' section, or people just don't watch the videos for more then twelve minutes so they really don't get a grasp of how well the sync-ups work. The only thing you can think to do is generate more product and hope the concept catches on.
Today you have to visit the set of 'Fuck Party' which is about a fuck party. It's written to sync up to 'People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm' by A Tribe Called Quest, one of your favorite bands from when you were in college. Today they're shooting the scene that syncs up to 'Bonita Applebum,' which is the scene that made you give the project an immediate green light when you read the script. You may not be making yourself rich, but at least you're doing something good for the world and you're getting a heck of a lot of boners in the process.
Happy Stoner Porn Day!
You've sunk $40,000 into your company and so far you're pretty happy with the product line. The most critically acclaimed videos include 'Slut Force 2069' which is a futuristic story of a totalitarian state that has prohibited sexual expression of any kind, but an underground movement tries to gather people together for secret orgies in the sewers of the San Fernando Valley to try to set eroticism free from the shackles of fascism. 'Slut Force 2069' syncs up almost perfectly to Radiohead's 'OK Computer.' It becomes most apparent during 'Karma Police' when two government agents start questioning three buxom female members of Slut Force and the agents end up setting the Slut Force girls free in exchange for butt sex. Right when you see the first penetration shot you hear the lyric 'This is what you get / When you mess with us.' It fits almost perfectly. Later in the album, when the chorus to 'No Surprises' plays, the leader of Slut Force is having sex with the dictator of the United Republic of Global Abstinence and she's repeating to him, 'Warn me when you're ready to come on my tits. Warn me when you're ready to come on my tits.' It really blows your mind.
Another good one is 'Three-Way Camp' which is all about a sleepaway camp where teenage girls go to have three-ways with male counselors. That one was one of the more experimental titles. You had Spanish wunderkind director Alfonso Cuaron take the helm and he made it sync up to 'Hatful of Hollow' by the Smiths. You wouldn't think it would work, but it actually syncs up so well some people complain that they can't watch it because they get too creeped out.
The best seller would have to be 'Blow Job Race' which syncs up to U2's 'The Unforgettable Fire.' The syncing isn't really that interesting on that one. But it's been flying off the shelves anyway, mostly because people just like the plot, which is that there's a blow job race and the girl who gives the most blow jobs within a specified period of time wins.
But even 'Blow Job Race' isn't selling well enough to recoup your investment yet. It's either because porn shops don't yet have a 'Cult Favorites' section, or people just don't watch the videos for more then twelve minutes so they really don't get a grasp of how well the sync-ups work. The only thing you can think to do is generate more product and hope the concept catches on.
Today you have to visit the set of 'Fuck Party' which is about a fuck party. It's written to sync up to 'People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm' by A Tribe Called Quest, one of your favorite bands from when you were in college. Today they're shooting the scene that syncs up to 'Bonita Applebum,' which is the scene that made you give the project an immediate green light when you read the script. You may not be making yourself rich, but at least you're doing something good for the world and you're getting a heck of a lot of boners in the process.
Happy Stoner Porn Day!
Monday, October 16, 2006
School Portrait Day!
You got raped by the devil after your ex-husband made a secret deal with some Satanists to get himself a promotion at his job (he writes e-cards for Blue Mountain) in exchange for granting demonic access to your womb. When the baby came out (you named him Corey), you were pretty pissed that he inherited Satan's fugly eyes, but that was nothing a pair of color contacts couldn't fix. You've noticed a few eccentricities. For example, when he would spit up, live locusts would fly out of his mouth. But for the most part he's just like any other kid. And the important thing is you had a baby before you turned 35.
Corey's six now and he's proving to be something of a problem child in school. Teachers send you home notes complaining about his steady guttural growl during sustained silent reading periods. And while some boys throw rocks at girls they like, Corey was found in the coat closet lighting his index fingernail on fire so that he could carve ancient runes into the bare buttocks of three waiting female classmates. And during a class birthday last month, Corey snuck an extra cupcake out of the box and hid it in his desk.
Today you're being called into school because Corey is accused of having ruined a class portrait. He didn't make any silly faces or obscene hand gestures. When the proofs were developed, in the background, just behind Corey's shoulder, one could see the ethereal image of the photographer's dead mother being gang-raped by various demonic beings, as well as some of the more famous serial killers from history. The photographer has refused to print any of the photos and he has vowed to never shoot a portrait at Corey's school again. He has demanded an apology from Corey.
'Corey doesn't apologize I'm afraid,' you'll tell the principal. 'Whenever I ask him to say sorry he just starts shouting priest-fucker this and nun-pussy that. I just don't try any more.'
'So are we just supposed to not have any school portraits taken until your son moves on to middle school?' the principal will ask.
Tell the principal there's a little trick you use whenever you take Corey's picture. At the last minute, just before you snap the photo, you have to flash a mirror at Corey. The devil is able to believe that he's beautiful but when he looks in a mirror he sees that he's actually a pox-ridden snarling beast. It startles him and makes the visions he conjures disappear. In Corey's case, unfortunately, it also makes him defecate, so that will have to be attended to, but you'll at least get a photo without any rape ghosts.
The principal will thank you for the tip. Apologize for Corey's behavior and the principal will wave you off, telling you that he was something of a troublemaker himself when he was a kid. Just then, you'll hear a crash of glass and through the window behind the principal you'll see Corey's social studies teacher fall from the third floor to be impaled on a wrought-iron fence. You and the principal will shake your heads and say, 'Corey you fink!'
Happy School Portrait Day!
Corey's six now and he's proving to be something of a problem child in school. Teachers send you home notes complaining about his steady guttural growl during sustained silent reading periods. And while some boys throw rocks at girls they like, Corey was found in the coat closet lighting his index fingernail on fire so that he could carve ancient runes into the bare buttocks of three waiting female classmates. And during a class birthday last month, Corey snuck an extra cupcake out of the box and hid it in his desk.
Today you're being called into school because Corey is accused of having ruined a class portrait. He didn't make any silly faces or obscene hand gestures. When the proofs were developed, in the background, just behind Corey's shoulder, one could see the ethereal image of the photographer's dead mother being gang-raped by various demonic beings, as well as some of the more famous serial killers from history. The photographer has refused to print any of the photos and he has vowed to never shoot a portrait at Corey's school again. He has demanded an apology from Corey.
'Corey doesn't apologize I'm afraid,' you'll tell the principal. 'Whenever I ask him to say sorry he just starts shouting priest-fucker this and nun-pussy that. I just don't try any more.'
'So are we just supposed to not have any school portraits taken until your son moves on to middle school?' the principal will ask.
Tell the principal there's a little trick you use whenever you take Corey's picture. At the last minute, just before you snap the photo, you have to flash a mirror at Corey. The devil is able to believe that he's beautiful but when he looks in a mirror he sees that he's actually a pox-ridden snarling beast. It startles him and makes the visions he conjures disappear. In Corey's case, unfortunately, it also makes him defecate, so that will have to be attended to, but you'll at least get a photo without any rape ghosts.
The principal will thank you for the tip. Apologize for Corey's behavior and the principal will wave you off, telling you that he was something of a troublemaker himself when he was a kid. Just then, you'll hear a crash of glass and through the window behind the principal you'll see Corey's social studies teacher fall from the third floor to be impaled on a wrought-iron fence. You and the principal will shake your heads and say, 'Corey you fink!'
Happy School Portrait Day!
Friday, October 13, 2006
Concoct A Delightfully Mischievous Plan To Get Your Divorced Dad To Marry Your Best Friend's Divorced Mom Day!
You and your best friend Sarah are eleven years old and you're both children of divorce. You're both okay with it, but your Dad and Sarah's mom and still recovering from their respective splits and frankly, you're both sick of listening to your parents wailing alone in their bedrooms after they think you've fallen asleep. You and Sarah think you'd make great sisters and since your respective parents are both heterosexual members of the opposite sex who are not presently married, you have no reason to believe their marriage wouldn't be a runaway success (you're eleven and haven't dated much yet. It's all very new).
It's time for you and Sarah to get your parents to fall in love and get married via a delightfully mischievous plan concocted by the two of you. While your parents would normally be upset to learn that they were tricked into meeting and falling for each other, when they learn that it was their respective daughters' planning that made their love connection, they'll only be able to find the whole thing to be delightfully mischievous. Here's what you're gonna do.
You and Sarah are going to tell your parents to take you shopping at the same department store, and you'll tell them to take different routes to get there, making sure the routes cross paths at a predetermined blind curve. When both cars approach the curve, Sarah will lean over and step on the gas pedal while grabbing the wheel to steer her mother's car into oncoming traffic. She'll have already undone her seatbelt so when the cars crash, she'll fly through the windshield (you both agreed Sarah is the stronger one who would likely come out of a coma faster). All four of you will be sent to the same hospital, and while you, your Dad and Sarah's mom will recover quickly, Sarah's injuries will keep her in bed for far longer and the three of you will provide each other support while she makes her way out of the ICU. The constant leaning on each other is guaranteed to make your Dad and Sarah's mom fall in love, and when Sarah's all better and they finally find out how you devised the accident that led to their falling for each other, you can count on them to raise a toast to your delightful mischievousness at their wedding. All of the guests will stand and applaud and you'll be an inspiration for children of divorce all over the world.
Happy Concoct A Delightfully Mischievous Plan To Get Your Divorced Dad To Marry Your Best Friend's Divorced Mom Day!
It's time for you and Sarah to get your parents to fall in love and get married via a delightfully mischievous plan concocted by the two of you. While your parents would normally be upset to learn that they were tricked into meeting and falling for each other, when they learn that it was their respective daughters' planning that made their love connection, they'll only be able to find the whole thing to be delightfully mischievous. Here's what you're gonna do.
You and Sarah are going to tell your parents to take you shopping at the same department store, and you'll tell them to take different routes to get there, making sure the routes cross paths at a predetermined blind curve. When both cars approach the curve, Sarah will lean over and step on the gas pedal while grabbing the wheel to steer her mother's car into oncoming traffic. She'll have already undone her seatbelt so when the cars crash, she'll fly through the windshield (you both agreed Sarah is the stronger one who would likely come out of a coma faster). All four of you will be sent to the same hospital, and while you, your Dad and Sarah's mom will recover quickly, Sarah's injuries will keep her in bed for far longer and the three of you will provide each other support while she makes her way out of the ICU. The constant leaning on each other is guaranteed to make your Dad and Sarah's mom fall in love, and when Sarah's all better and they finally find out how you devised the accident that led to their falling for each other, you can count on them to raise a toast to your delightful mischievousness at their wedding. All of the guests will stand and applaud and you'll be an inspiration for children of divorce all over the world.
Happy Concoct A Delightfully Mischievous Plan To Get Your Divorced Dad To Marry Your Best Friend's Divorced Mom Day!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Do Not Sign For This Package Day!
Today, a package that you sent yourself will arrive via UPS. Do not sign for it. The UPS man will say, "What the hell am I supposed to do with it then?" Say that that is not your concern. He has taken responsibility for the package and you refuse to sign away that responsibility for him. The UPS man will say, "I worried this would happen one day."
Tell him, "Good luck," and shut the door on him.
The UPS man will bring the package home and sit it by the chair that he sits in to watch television. There it will sit for years, mocking the UPS man. Every day he will successfully deliver hundreds of packages to waiting recipients, but all he will be able to think about is the package sitting in his TV room, ever undeliverable.
Finally, on the night of his retirement, the UPS man will think, "Perhaps the package was meant for me all along." He will open the package and find the note that you wrote which says, "This package was meant for you all along, delivery boy." Underneath the note, he will find the ashen remains of one of your turds. Damn you, he'll screeam. Damn you.
Happy Do Not Sign For This Package Day!
Tell him, "Good luck," and shut the door on him.
The UPS man will bring the package home and sit it by the chair that he sits in to watch television. There it will sit for years, mocking the UPS man. Every day he will successfully deliver hundreds of packages to waiting recipients, but all he will be able to think about is the package sitting in his TV room, ever undeliverable.
Finally, on the night of his retirement, the UPS man will think, "Perhaps the package was meant for me all along." He will open the package and find the note that you wrote which says, "This package was meant for you all along, delivery boy." Underneath the note, he will find the ashen remains of one of your turds. Damn you, he'll screeam. Damn you.
Happy Do Not Sign For This Package Day!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Jesus Wants You To Sing 'Hot Blooded' By Foreigner At Karaoke Day!
Tonight at the Korean barbecue slash Karaoke bar, while the Karaoke DJ is searching for your song, make sure to give a shout-out to the man who made the whole night possible. 'Whenever I get on stage I'm singing for just one man. The Lord.' Explain to the waiting crowd of strangers that Jesus is the reason you're there tonight, that he's the reason you're anywhere at all really. 'He makes it all possible.'
If the song is still loading, be sure to dedicate your song to 'a very special woman named Kara.' The crowd will applaud just a bit, so you should add, 'I want to ask her to marry me tonight.' That will make the crowd explode in applause and they'll all look around for the lucky girl. Explain, 'Oh no she's not in the room. But later when I see her, I'm going to pop the question.' In 2002 you went on three dates with Kara, before you started calling constantly and she was forced to change her phone number and her brother wrote you a letter warning you that you had to stop calling or they'd have to 'do something.' You haven't dated anyone since.
If you still have time, pretend that you have friends or coworkers in the room and start making fun of them. 'This is taking longer than Charlie's bathroom breaks at the office, isn't that right Charlie?' The crowd will laugh and it will feel good to have made the room think you have acquaintances who will go out in public with you.
Finally, 'Hot Blooded' by Foreigner will start to play. You'll mostly speak the lyrics because you are much more about the choreography and the stage antics than you are about the voice. When the song is finished, stand near the bar for several hours drinking diet soda.
Happy Jesus Wants You To Sing 'Hot Blooded' By Foreigner At Karaoke Day!
If the song is still loading, be sure to dedicate your song to 'a very special woman named Kara.' The crowd will applaud just a bit, so you should add, 'I want to ask her to marry me tonight.' That will make the crowd explode in applause and they'll all look around for the lucky girl. Explain, 'Oh no she's not in the room. But later when I see her, I'm going to pop the question.' In 2002 you went on three dates with Kara, before you started calling constantly and she was forced to change her phone number and her brother wrote you a letter warning you that you had to stop calling or they'd have to 'do something.' You haven't dated anyone since.
If you still have time, pretend that you have friends or coworkers in the room and start making fun of them. 'This is taking longer than Charlie's bathroom breaks at the office, isn't that right Charlie?' The crowd will laugh and it will feel good to have made the room think you have acquaintances who will go out in public with you.
Finally, 'Hot Blooded' by Foreigner will start to play. You'll mostly speak the lyrics because you are much more about the choreography and the stage antics than you are about the voice. When the song is finished, stand near the bar for several hours drinking diet soda.
Happy Jesus Wants You To Sing 'Hot Blooded' By Foreigner At Karaoke Day!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Burning Leaves Day!
'Thank God none of us is responsible for nobody else,' says Gary.
Gary is one of your closest high school buddies. The other four are Benny, Steve, Martin, and Lou. All six of you are gathered around a pile of burning leaves and you're drinking from cheap six packs, watching the smoke rise.
'Thank God none of us ever tried to leave this town,' says Steve.
In high school you figured you would end up elsewhere. You used to talk about college with Martin, neither one of you knowing what it took to get into one, either financially or grades-wise. And neither of you ever bothered to check into it. Benny was a really good singer in high school and you all used to say he'd be a superstar one day. But whenever he was questioned about whether he wanted to run off to New York City he'd just say, 'My mom is sick.' She's gone now, but Benny's still around.
'Thank God none of us ever gave up drinking beers around burning leaf piles. For good I mean,' Benny will say.
Gary and Martin both have a few DWIs under their belts. Gary got two just from driving home after sitting around a burning leaf pile with all of you guys. He went into AA for a while, as did Martin when he got his. On order from the court. The other four of you worried so much that they might never come back to the leaf pile again that you really started losing sleep. You almost lost your job at the hardware store because of the way you'd snap at customers. The thought of six turning to four was terrifying. You couldn't imagine sitting around that fire with just Benny, Steve and Lou, the four of you trying to have a good time just like you've had a couple times a week ever since high school, and the whole time knowing Gary and Martin are just a few miles away living just fine without their friends in their lives anymore. Steve said he would occasionally hyperventilate when he thought about it. Thankfully, once the court-ordered number of weeks in treatment was appeased, Gary started drinking again, and eventually Martin did too. And you're all pretty sure you'll be able to finish out your thirties together without any other disturbances.
'Thank God we never shot up the school like we planned to Sophomore year,' says Lou.
You had the idea long before it came into style, which is kind of why you never went through with it. Your classmates certainly deserved it, you're certain of that, but you just couldn't imagine how it could possibly play out. You didn't have the video games or the news footage. Or the internet for that matter. You just had your ingenuity, which wasn't enough to get a gun in your hands.
"Ahead of our time," says Lou.
'Thank God none of us ever turned queer. I sure wouldn't have been able to tolerate that. If one of you guys had gone queer and started putting the moves on me while I was just trying to sit here around the leaf fire. I'd have killed you probably, if anyone tried any of that faggot shit on me,' says Martin.
Martin turned queer early on in middle school. Ever since then he's talked endlessly about how much he hates queers. He's put the moves on each of you at least once, but the advances were never aggressive enough that they couldn't be brushed off as a joke. Except once when Gary passed out at Martin's house on New Year's and Benny walked in and saw Martin blowing Gary while he was asleep. Or at least while Gary pretended to be asleep. Benny came out and told the rest of you, and it made you all giggle a little. But whatever, it was New Year's.
'Thank God beer still comes in six packs and autumn leaves still catch fire,' you'll say, raising your beercan in the air. The other five will lift their cans in kind and howl at the moon, which is really big tonight. In your sixteen years coming out to the middle of this field to drink and burn leaves, you've seen all kinds of big pretty autumn moons before, but never so big as this one tonight. The moon seems to get bigger and bigger ever year.
Happy Burning Leaves Day!
Gary is one of your closest high school buddies. The other four are Benny, Steve, Martin, and Lou. All six of you are gathered around a pile of burning leaves and you're drinking from cheap six packs, watching the smoke rise.
'Thank God none of us ever tried to leave this town,' says Steve.
In high school you figured you would end up elsewhere. You used to talk about college with Martin, neither one of you knowing what it took to get into one, either financially or grades-wise. And neither of you ever bothered to check into it. Benny was a really good singer in high school and you all used to say he'd be a superstar one day. But whenever he was questioned about whether he wanted to run off to New York City he'd just say, 'My mom is sick.' She's gone now, but Benny's still around.
'Thank God none of us ever gave up drinking beers around burning leaf piles. For good I mean,' Benny will say.
Gary and Martin both have a few DWIs under their belts. Gary got two just from driving home after sitting around a burning leaf pile with all of you guys. He went into AA for a while, as did Martin when he got his. On order from the court. The other four of you worried so much that they might never come back to the leaf pile again that you really started losing sleep. You almost lost your job at the hardware store because of the way you'd snap at customers. The thought of six turning to four was terrifying. You couldn't imagine sitting around that fire with just Benny, Steve and Lou, the four of you trying to have a good time just like you've had a couple times a week ever since high school, and the whole time knowing Gary and Martin are just a few miles away living just fine without their friends in their lives anymore. Steve said he would occasionally hyperventilate when he thought about it. Thankfully, once the court-ordered number of weeks in treatment was appeased, Gary started drinking again, and eventually Martin did too. And you're all pretty sure you'll be able to finish out your thirties together without any other disturbances.
'Thank God we never shot up the school like we planned to Sophomore year,' says Lou.
You had the idea long before it came into style, which is kind of why you never went through with it. Your classmates certainly deserved it, you're certain of that, but you just couldn't imagine how it could possibly play out. You didn't have the video games or the news footage. Or the internet for that matter. You just had your ingenuity, which wasn't enough to get a gun in your hands.
"Ahead of our time," says Lou.
'Thank God none of us ever turned queer. I sure wouldn't have been able to tolerate that. If one of you guys had gone queer and started putting the moves on me while I was just trying to sit here around the leaf fire. I'd have killed you probably, if anyone tried any of that faggot shit on me,' says Martin.
Martin turned queer early on in middle school. Ever since then he's talked endlessly about how much he hates queers. He's put the moves on each of you at least once, but the advances were never aggressive enough that they couldn't be brushed off as a joke. Except once when Gary passed out at Martin's house on New Year's and Benny walked in and saw Martin blowing Gary while he was asleep. Or at least while Gary pretended to be asleep. Benny came out and told the rest of you, and it made you all giggle a little. But whatever, it was New Year's.
'Thank God beer still comes in six packs and autumn leaves still catch fire,' you'll say, raising your beercan in the air. The other five will lift their cans in kind and howl at the moon, which is really big tonight. In your sixteen years coming out to the middle of this field to drink and burn leaves, you've seen all kinds of big pretty autumn moons before, but never so big as this one tonight. The moon seems to get bigger and bigger ever year.
Happy Burning Leaves Day!
Monday, October 09, 2006
Go Hit The Singles Bars And Find Someone To Finally Save Your Life Day!
She'll be standing at the end of the bar, sipping from a vodka tonic. She'll have sad eyes and a scarf that she's taken off and folded up and it sits on the bar next to her coaster. Men will approach and ask her for her company and she'll deflect them with silent grace. She's looking at you though. After each man is sent packing, she looks again at you, her small smile asking 'What are you waiting for?'
'Here's the deal,' you'll say when you finally get the guts to approach her. 'I need to start living for someone else. I've been living for myself for a long time now and I've been crunching the numbers and I'm just not worth it. You know? I'm just not worth the trouble of breathing in and then breathing out again. So I gotta find someone else to live for or I'm gonna hit the road.'
She'll sip from her straw, intrigued.
'Of course, we both still gotta go through the motions and give each other a taste. I know that. But I just gotta put it out there. In the long run I'm looking for someone to live for. So if you're one of these self-sufficient girls who needs her space and just wants someone to sit across from at dinner four nights a week, I better get going. I need a girl who wants her Daddy back. That you?'
'You're very honest,' she'll say. 'I like that.'
'Honest, schmonest,' you'll say. 'You looking for Daddy or not?'
'My father walked out when I was two,' she'll say. 'I've never experienced what it's like to have a Daddy. I'm afraid I've always taken care of myself. And my mom. My men have always complained of feeling unimportant in my life.'
You'll say, 'Crap. You been to Sunset's tonight?' Sunset's is another singles bar three blocks West.
'Sunset's?' she'll say. 'Yes. Um, I have.' She's embarrassed to admit that this is her second stop, alone.'
'Lotta chicks there tonight?' you'll ask.
'Yes,' she'll say. 'Lots.'
'Great!' you'll say. 'And good luck finding a guy who finds value in his accomplishments and doesn't need you to remind him how much you need him all day long.'
'And good luck finding a woman who might as well be drowning,' she'll say. 'Have you tried drug addicts?'
'They feel good for a while. You get to give them all your money and care for them when they get the sickness every Monday. But they don't stick around. G'night then!'
She'll lift her drink in a toast to your journey and you'll head off to Sunset's to try and find yourself a reason.
Happy Go Hit The Singles Bars And Find Someone To Finally Save Your Life Day!
'Here's the deal,' you'll say when you finally get the guts to approach her. 'I need to start living for someone else. I've been living for myself for a long time now and I've been crunching the numbers and I'm just not worth it. You know? I'm just not worth the trouble of breathing in and then breathing out again. So I gotta find someone else to live for or I'm gonna hit the road.'
She'll sip from her straw, intrigued.
'Of course, we both still gotta go through the motions and give each other a taste. I know that. But I just gotta put it out there. In the long run I'm looking for someone to live for. So if you're one of these self-sufficient girls who needs her space and just wants someone to sit across from at dinner four nights a week, I better get going. I need a girl who wants her Daddy back. That you?'
'You're very honest,' she'll say. 'I like that.'
'Honest, schmonest,' you'll say. 'You looking for Daddy or not?'
'My father walked out when I was two,' she'll say. 'I've never experienced what it's like to have a Daddy. I'm afraid I've always taken care of myself. And my mom. My men have always complained of feeling unimportant in my life.'
You'll say, 'Crap. You been to Sunset's tonight?' Sunset's is another singles bar three blocks West.
'Sunset's?' she'll say. 'Yes. Um, I have.' She's embarrassed to admit that this is her second stop, alone.'
'Lotta chicks there tonight?' you'll ask.
'Yes,' she'll say. 'Lots.'
'Great!' you'll say. 'And good luck finding a guy who finds value in his accomplishments and doesn't need you to remind him how much you need him all day long.'
'And good luck finding a woman who might as well be drowning,' she'll say. 'Have you tried drug addicts?'
'They feel good for a while. You get to give them all your money and care for them when they get the sickness every Monday. But they don't stick around. G'night then!'
She'll lift her drink in a toast to your journey and you'll head off to Sunset's to try and find yourself a reason.
Happy Go Hit The Singles Bars And Find Someone To Finally Save Your Life Day!
Friday, October 06, 2006
Ambulance Confessions Day!
Today your husband is going to have a heart attack at an outdoor caf'. Paramedics will be summoned to take your husband to the hospital. You'll ride in the back of the ambulance, holding his hand and lending an ear for any last words that he might want to get out.
'I never liked the sofa pattern you picked out,' he'll tell you. 'I was only trying to be cool about it.'
'That's perfectly all right,' you'll say. 'I'm so glad we can clear the air on stuff like this.'
'I have a second family,' he'll say. 'With Fran, the woman who used to manage my Chester County warehouse. We had a fling, but she got pregnant and wanted to keep it, so I supported them.'
'All those vacations you said we couldn't afford to take,' you'll say. Your husband will grunt and grab at his chest. You'll bet he's faking, but you won't challenge him on it.
'Which family did you love more?' you'll ask.
'Let's see,' your husband will say. Then he'll enumerate the pros and cons of each family. Apparently Fran raised his daughter to be an embezzler, but he blames you for raising your son to be an actor.
Finally you'll arrive at the hospital and the paramedics will rush your husband through the emergency entrance. A hospital administrator will come out to the ambulance and hand you a release form which grants HBO permission to use your exchange with your husband on their new series 'Ambulance Confessions.' He'll show you the hidden camera installed in the fake heart monitor. You'll say you're not sure.
The hospital administrator will ask whether your husband would have wanted to be on TV. You'll ask if that means your husband died already. The administrator will say he doesn't know, but if he did, which he might, would he have wanted to be on TV? You'll say he never mentioned it. The administrator will finally direct you to the clause that says you'll get paid 800 bucks. You'll say that it's not about the money for you. You'll explain to the administrator that there was a point in the confession where your husband said that you stayed thin, unlike his other wife Fran, who ballooned up like a dead whale. You'll tell the administrator you won't sign unless that part of the confession is guaranteed to air in its entirety. The administrator will draw up a new contract and you'll sign yourself famous.
Happy Ambulance Confessions Day!
'I never liked the sofa pattern you picked out,' he'll tell you. 'I was only trying to be cool about it.'
'That's perfectly all right,' you'll say. 'I'm so glad we can clear the air on stuff like this.'
'I have a second family,' he'll say. 'With Fran, the woman who used to manage my Chester County warehouse. We had a fling, but she got pregnant and wanted to keep it, so I supported them.'
'All those vacations you said we couldn't afford to take,' you'll say. Your husband will grunt and grab at his chest. You'll bet he's faking, but you won't challenge him on it.
'Which family did you love more?' you'll ask.
'Let's see,' your husband will say. Then he'll enumerate the pros and cons of each family. Apparently Fran raised his daughter to be an embezzler, but he blames you for raising your son to be an actor.
Finally you'll arrive at the hospital and the paramedics will rush your husband through the emergency entrance. A hospital administrator will come out to the ambulance and hand you a release form which grants HBO permission to use your exchange with your husband on their new series 'Ambulance Confessions.' He'll show you the hidden camera installed in the fake heart monitor. You'll say you're not sure.
The hospital administrator will ask whether your husband would have wanted to be on TV. You'll ask if that means your husband died already. The administrator will say he doesn't know, but if he did, which he might, would he have wanted to be on TV? You'll say he never mentioned it. The administrator will finally direct you to the clause that says you'll get paid 800 bucks. You'll say that it's not about the money for you. You'll explain to the administrator that there was a point in the confession where your husband said that you stayed thin, unlike his other wife Fran, who ballooned up like a dead whale. You'll tell the administrator you won't sign unless that part of the confession is guaranteed to air in its entirety. The administrator will draw up a new contract and you'll sign yourself famous.
Happy Ambulance Confessions Day!
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Go To Your Nearest Sprint/Nextel Store And Bust Up A Human Trafficking Ring Day!
In the back of every Sprint/Nextel store you'll find about ten girls under the age of fifteen who have either been kidnapped or sold into prostitution. No one wants to do anything about it though because they all still have eight months left in their contracts. Also, Sprint/Nextel representatives have no qualms about locking the girls in the building and setting the place on fire anytime it looks like the police or a vigilante is about to bust in and try to set the girls free. It's how they were trained, so you're going to have to be sneaky about this.
Go into the Sprint store pretending to be an ordinary customer. Just say, 'Everything about the service you provide is terrible and you don't seem to know anything about how telephones work.' No one ever walks into a Sprint/Nextel store without saying this verbatim, so make sure to memorize it. The Sprint/Nextel representative will offer to replace your terrible phone with one that's worse. That's when you should fire your rifle into the ceiling. Don't bother taking the representative hostage in exchange for the girls. Sprint/Nextel cares as little about the people who make them money selling phones as they do about the girls who make them money as enslaved prostitutes.
Aim your rifle at the other Sprint/Nextel representatives. They'll beg that you kill them because once a Sprint/Nextel retail branch is compromised by a vigilante, death is far more palatable than the punishment that Sprint/Nextel will unleash on their employees. Grab the nearest rep and yank the key to the back from around his neck, then burst through the doors to storeroom/makeshift brothel.
You'll see a few shelves of terrible phones and a narrow row of cots supporting enslaved teenage girls underneath obese tourists still wearing their Izod shirts but without any shorts to tuck them into. One of the Sprint/Nextel representatives keeping watch over the girls will grab some matches to try to set the store on fire with everyone inside. Grab the cooler full of ice (for sodas and bruises) and unload it on the rep and his matches. The other Sprint/Nextel reps will beg that you shoot them, screaming, 'Sprint/Nextel made us do it. They make lots of money from selling terrible phones, but they keep this human trafficking ring going just for fun! Sprint/Nextel just wants to see which they're better at, telecommunications or human trafficking! You don't know what they'll do to us when they find out that we allowed the innocent teenage girls Sprint/Nextel enslaved to be rescued. Please kill us!'
Don't kill them. Just start rolling the pants-less obese tourists off of the girls and get the girls dressed. Then lead them in a single file line out the store, which might already be on fire so be careful. Once you're free, you and the girls have to get someplace where Sprint/Nextel doesn't provide service, which will probably take about ten minutes to find. They can't track you if they're forced to go analog.
But stay hidden. Sprint/Nextel will make it their priority to hunt you down and make you pay. Sprint/Nextel loves forcing teenage girls into prostitution (it makes Sprint/Nextel feel young, like T-Mobile) and they can't stand when someone gets in their way. You don't know what Sprint/Nextel is capable of, but it's not running a phone company if you get my drift (it's human trafficking, torture, and maiming the spirit of a consumer society).
Happy Go To Your Nearest Sprint/Nextel Store And Bust Up A Human Trafficking Ring Day!
Go into the Sprint store pretending to be an ordinary customer. Just say, 'Everything about the service you provide is terrible and you don't seem to know anything about how telephones work.' No one ever walks into a Sprint/Nextel store without saying this verbatim, so make sure to memorize it. The Sprint/Nextel representative will offer to replace your terrible phone with one that's worse. That's when you should fire your rifle into the ceiling. Don't bother taking the representative hostage in exchange for the girls. Sprint/Nextel cares as little about the people who make them money selling phones as they do about the girls who make them money as enslaved prostitutes.
Aim your rifle at the other Sprint/Nextel representatives. They'll beg that you kill them because once a Sprint/Nextel retail branch is compromised by a vigilante, death is far more palatable than the punishment that Sprint/Nextel will unleash on their employees. Grab the nearest rep and yank the key to the back from around his neck, then burst through the doors to storeroom/makeshift brothel.
You'll see a few shelves of terrible phones and a narrow row of cots supporting enslaved teenage girls underneath obese tourists still wearing their Izod shirts but without any shorts to tuck them into. One of the Sprint/Nextel representatives keeping watch over the girls will grab some matches to try to set the store on fire with everyone inside. Grab the cooler full of ice (for sodas and bruises) and unload it on the rep and his matches. The other Sprint/Nextel reps will beg that you shoot them, screaming, 'Sprint/Nextel made us do it. They make lots of money from selling terrible phones, but they keep this human trafficking ring going just for fun! Sprint/Nextel just wants to see which they're better at, telecommunications or human trafficking! You don't know what they'll do to us when they find out that we allowed the innocent teenage girls Sprint/Nextel enslaved to be rescued. Please kill us!'
Don't kill them. Just start rolling the pants-less obese tourists off of the girls and get the girls dressed. Then lead them in a single file line out the store, which might already be on fire so be careful. Once you're free, you and the girls have to get someplace where Sprint/Nextel doesn't provide service, which will probably take about ten minutes to find. They can't track you if they're forced to go analog.
But stay hidden. Sprint/Nextel will make it their priority to hunt you down and make you pay. Sprint/Nextel loves forcing teenage girls into prostitution (it makes Sprint/Nextel feel young, like T-Mobile) and they can't stand when someone gets in their way. You don't know what Sprint/Nextel is capable of, but it's not running a phone company if you get my drift (it's human trafficking, torture, and maiming the spirit of a consumer society).
Happy Go To Your Nearest Sprint/Nextel Store And Bust Up A Human Trafficking Ring Day!
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
What A Great Blind Date Day!
Tonight, you'll be amazed at how well your blind date is going. When you walk into the restaurant and spot him in his brown jacket and curly blond hair, the description he gave you, you won't believe how hot he is. Then you'll sit down and your conversation will turn intimate almost instantly. Not a few minutes will pass before you are sharing with each other the ways in which your families embarrass you, the movies you secretly loved that everyone else hated, the dreams you're afraid to admit that you've given up on. The connection will be immediately as deep as if you've known each other for years.
After he pays the check you'll suggest that the two of you walk a bit and talk some more. He'll say that that's a great idea. You'll walk to the door and right before he opens it for you, he'll pull a white painter's mask from his jacket pocket and pull it over his nose and mouth. Then he'll step out on the street and start talking about his years as a substitute school teacher.
After walking for ten minutes, you'll finally ask him what's up with the mask. He'll chuckle a bit, saying that a lot of people think it's weird, but that anytime he breathes unfiltered air he starts throwing up. He'll say it's mostly psychological, him knowing what he knows about the air. 'What everyone should know, really,' he'll say. 'But the government would have mass hysteria on their hands if it ever got out.' Then he'll change the subject by talking about a trip to Africa he took after college. You took a similar trip the same summer, and it turns out you both stayed in neighboring villages.
You'll spend your walk marveling at what a great guy he is, while also wondering whether you can spend a whole lot of time with a guy who's afraid to breathe air. How weird does this look, you'll wonder. You'll look at people passing you on the sidewalk, noting their puzzled glances. Then you'll bump into a friend of his and the two of them will speak casually. He'll introduce you, and no one will mention the fact that your date is wearing an air mask. If his friends are used to it, who's to say it'll be a problem for you.
'I can't ask you in,' you'll say when you arrive at your stoop. 'Perhaps next time.'
'I hope I can wait that long,' he'll say.
He won't lean in for a kiss, so you'll make the first move. You'll lean your face forward, then you'll lift your hands to pull his mask off his face. He'll grab your wrists in an iron grip.
'I can't. Not unless we're in an enclosed space with central air,' he'll say. 'I'll start throwing up, seriously.'
You'll nod, trying not to look stupefied.
'If you really want to kiss me you can invite me up,' he'll say.
You'll respond very quickly, 'No that's all right. Thanks for the sushi.' Then you'll rush up to your apartment and wonder why anytime you meet a great guy, he's either married, gay, or unable to breathe air without vomiting.
Happy What A Great Blind Date Day!
After he pays the check you'll suggest that the two of you walk a bit and talk some more. He'll say that that's a great idea. You'll walk to the door and right before he opens it for you, he'll pull a white painter's mask from his jacket pocket and pull it over his nose and mouth. Then he'll step out on the street and start talking about his years as a substitute school teacher.
After walking for ten minutes, you'll finally ask him what's up with the mask. He'll chuckle a bit, saying that a lot of people think it's weird, but that anytime he breathes unfiltered air he starts throwing up. He'll say it's mostly psychological, him knowing what he knows about the air. 'What everyone should know, really,' he'll say. 'But the government would have mass hysteria on their hands if it ever got out.' Then he'll change the subject by talking about a trip to Africa he took after college. You took a similar trip the same summer, and it turns out you both stayed in neighboring villages.
You'll spend your walk marveling at what a great guy he is, while also wondering whether you can spend a whole lot of time with a guy who's afraid to breathe air. How weird does this look, you'll wonder. You'll look at people passing you on the sidewalk, noting their puzzled glances. Then you'll bump into a friend of his and the two of them will speak casually. He'll introduce you, and no one will mention the fact that your date is wearing an air mask. If his friends are used to it, who's to say it'll be a problem for you.
'I can't ask you in,' you'll say when you arrive at your stoop. 'Perhaps next time.'
'I hope I can wait that long,' he'll say.
He won't lean in for a kiss, so you'll make the first move. You'll lean your face forward, then you'll lift your hands to pull his mask off his face. He'll grab your wrists in an iron grip.
'I can't. Not unless we're in an enclosed space with central air,' he'll say. 'I'll start throwing up, seriously.'
You'll nod, trying not to look stupefied.
'If you really want to kiss me you can invite me up,' he'll say.
You'll respond very quickly, 'No that's all right. Thanks for the sushi.' Then you'll rush up to your apartment and wonder why anytime you meet a great guy, he's either married, gay, or unable to breathe air without vomiting.
Happy What A Great Blind Date Day!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Gay Ghost Ship Day!
You have a sailboat but you're not a very good sailor, so when a fog rolls in late this evening you're going to get turned around pretty bad and you won't know which way to head. You won't have any choice but to hope that the fog lifts and you'll be able to find land before not too long.
All of a sudden a decrepit cruise ship will shoot up out of the water and bounce atop the surface right next to you. You won't know what it is at first, until you hear a Lisa Lisa Cult Jam and Full Force song blasting over the bow of the ship. You'll remember a legend your father used to tell you about a gay cruise ship that launched from New York's west side and disappeared. It was said that the ship was cursed to sail the seas for eternity, keeping below the surface until the fog grows thick enough for the ship to come up for air so that the ghostly passengers might vamp a bit.
On the deck of the ship, you'll see skeletons dressed in fluorescent speedo bathing suits bumping and grinding to the music. Some of the skeletons will wheel a cannon towards the bow and aim it towards your ship. Your wife and son will cower together but you'll tell them not to worry. The skeletons will fire their cannon and a multi-colored cloud of streamers and confetti will rain down over your sailboat. The skeletons will hoot and holler at the display.
Finally, the worm-eaten corpse of a captain will address your boat through a loud-speaker, demanding that you turn over to the gay ghost ship any and all vials of amyl nitrite that you have on board. You'll respectfully explain that yours is a family vessel and you have no poppers. The captain will mutter something about how he hates the straight seas, and he'll turn his boat about. As the ship sails into the fog your wife and son will shiver at the ghostly moaning and clanking coming out of the ship's lower decks, which you'll explain is just the sound of the never-ending steerage level orgy of white-bone skeletons scraping and cracking against each other. Your wife and son will tell you that you seem to know a lot about gay ghost ships. Tell them to shut up, it's just a sailor thing. They'll smirk and say, 'I bet it is.'
Happy Gay Ghost Ship Day!
All of a sudden a decrepit cruise ship will shoot up out of the water and bounce atop the surface right next to you. You won't know what it is at first, until you hear a Lisa Lisa Cult Jam and Full Force song blasting over the bow of the ship. You'll remember a legend your father used to tell you about a gay cruise ship that launched from New York's west side and disappeared. It was said that the ship was cursed to sail the seas for eternity, keeping below the surface until the fog grows thick enough for the ship to come up for air so that the ghostly passengers might vamp a bit.
On the deck of the ship, you'll see skeletons dressed in fluorescent speedo bathing suits bumping and grinding to the music. Some of the skeletons will wheel a cannon towards the bow and aim it towards your ship. Your wife and son will cower together but you'll tell them not to worry. The skeletons will fire their cannon and a multi-colored cloud of streamers and confetti will rain down over your sailboat. The skeletons will hoot and holler at the display.
Finally, the worm-eaten corpse of a captain will address your boat through a loud-speaker, demanding that you turn over to the gay ghost ship any and all vials of amyl nitrite that you have on board. You'll respectfully explain that yours is a family vessel and you have no poppers. The captain will mutter something about how he hates the straight seas, and he'll turn his boat about. As the ship sails into the fog your wife and son will shiver at the ghostly moaning and clanking coming out of the ship's lower decks, which you'll explain is just the sound of the never-ending steerage level orgy of white-bone skeletons scraping and cracking against each other. Your wife and son will tell you that you seem to know a lot about gay ghost ships. Tell them to shut up, it's just a sailor thing. They'll smirk and say, 'I bet it is.'
Happy Gay Ghost Ship Day!
Monday, October 02, 2006
Learn Sign Language Day!
You've always had bad luck with women, so you decided to learn sign language. This way when you're in a room with some deaf girls, you can watch them talk to each other and see if any of them say that they think you're cute. The way you see it, deaf people always think they're the only people who know sign language in the whole place, as is evident by how broadly they let their hands fly about when they talk in public, as if there's no chance in heck that anyone in the room might understand what they're saying. Also, your success rate is so bad you need to be able to communicate with as many women as possible if you ever want to touch one again.
You graduated from sign language school last night, and today is your first day of utilizing your newfound ability to eavesdrop on the deaf. You'll go to Starbucks and wait a few hours before a group of deaf girls finally sits down. You'll watch their conversation out of the corner of your eye, trying to sit at an angle that allows them to get a good look at you. Most of their conversation will focus on how much being deaf sucks. But eventually one of them will notice you and she'll start talking to the others about you. She'll say, 'I would never go out with that 500 pound man with a tracheotomy tube sticking out of his throat and the giant swastika tattoo on his forearm. But that's just me.' The other deaf girls will reply, 'Us neither. It's good that we're all in agreement on this.'
You'll want to kick yourself for having spent $300 on sign language lessons just to find out that deaf girls are a bunch of superficial asswipes.
Happy Learn Sign Language Day!
You graduated from sign language school last night, and today is your first day of utilizing your newfound ability to eavesdrop on the deaf. You'll go to Starbucks and wait a few hours before a group of deaf girls finally sits down. You'll watch their conversation out of the corner of your eye, trying to sit at an angle that allows them to get a good look at you. Most of their conversation will focus on how much being deaf sucks. But eventually one of them will notice you and she'll start talking to the others about you. She'll say, 'I would never go out with that 500 pound man with a tracheotomy tube sticking out of his throat and the giant swastika tattoo on his forearm. But that's just me.' The other deaf girls will reply, 'Us neither. It's good that we're all in agreement on this.'
You'll want to kick yourself for having spent $300 on sign language lessons just to find out that deaf girls are a bunch of superficial asswipes.
Happy Learn Sign Language Day!
Friday, September 29, 2006
Massage Chair Day!
Ever since you took that job at the Rose Junction Mall Friendly's you've been feeling that you might be at the absolute lowest point of your life. You used to be a teacher, but you got fired after you offered a boy student a ride home and he reported that you might be one of those teachers that want to marry thirteen year old boys that all of our nation's teachers are turning into lately. Your husband kicked you out because he didn't buy that you just wanted to help the kid out with a ride after he'd gotten a kickball in the face. You got a studio apartment near public transportation, and you got that Friendly's job, where you're still not making a full share of a shift's pooled tips because, according to the managers, 'You can't just walk into a Friendly's and expect to be on the same level as everyone else who's been working their butts off for years and years. Where the fuck do you think you are, fuckin' Fridays? Now go pitch some Parfaits dammit.'
Amidst all of this turmoil, when it all gets to much to handle, you head on up to the second level Sharper Image and you plop yourself down in the massage chair for an eight minute respite from reality. As those rollers knead your weary muscles and the heaters warm your cold, cold blood, everything feels like it's going to be okay. Your husband will eventually ask you to come back home. You'll eventually start making full share tips at Friendly's. And maybe one day you'll be able to find yourself a teaching job at a private school someplace. The hum of the massage chair is a jumble of hopeful whispers.
Today when you take your break and head into the Sharper Image, your heart will sink when you see a heavyset man in a suit and hat reclining in the chair. He'll be smiling at you when you walk in.
'Are you going to be long?' you'll ask.
'That depends,' he'll say, 'On what your name is.'
You'll tell him your name and he'll throw divorce papers at you.
'You've been served,' he'll say. Then he'll run out of the store giggling because he loves his job.
You'll pick up the papers and you'll realize it's all really over between you and your husband. Then you'll look at the 'out of order' sign on the massage chair and your heart will feel like it's just popped like a balloon stuck with a needle. You'll sit on the edge of the chair and cry. Then some bulbs will flash and you'll see a news photographer taking your picture. Tomorrow you'll appear on the front page in your Friendly's uniform with the caption, 'Kid Banger Working At Family Restaurant.' You'll be fired, and then you'll have no choice but to go to Friday's, where the motto is, 'We don't care how far you've fallen. We don't care what you might have done before you got here or whom you might have hurt. We don't care who you used to be. We're Friday's, and we only care about the here and now, the you and us. Join our staff and watch all those sad memories gradually fall away. Seriously, we're Fridays.'
Happy Massage Chair Day!
Amidst all of this turmoil, when it all gets to much to handle, you head on up to the second level Sharper Image and you plop yourself down in the massage chair for an eight minute respite from reality. As those rollers knead your weary muscles and the heaters warm your cold, cold blood, everything feels like it's going to be okay. Your husband will eventually ask you to come back home. You'll eventually start making full share tips at Friendly's. And maybe one day you'll be able to find yourself a teaching job at a private school someplace. The hum of the massage chair is a jumble of hopeful whispers.
Today when you take your break and head into the Sharper Image, your heart will sink when you see a heavyset man in a suit and hat reclining in the chair. He'll be smiling at you when you walk in.
'Are you going to be long?' you'll ask.
'That depends,' he'll say, 'On what your name is.'
You'll tell him your name and he'll throw divorce papers at you.
'You've been served,' he'll say. Then he'll run out of the store giggling because he loves his job.
You'll pick up the papers and you'll realize it's all really over between you and your husband. Then you'll look at the 'out of order' sign on the massage chair and your heart will feel like it's just popped like a balloon stuck with a needle. You'll sit on the edge of the chair and cry. Then some bulbs will flash and you'll see a news photographer taking your picture. Tomorrow you'll appear on the front page in your Friendly's uniform with the caption, 'Kid Banger Working At Family Restaurant.' You'll be fired, and then you'll have no choice but to go to Friday's, where the motto is, 'We don't care how far you've fallen. We don't care what you might have done before you got here or whom you might have hurt. We don't care who you used to be. We're Friday's, and we only care about the here and now, the you and us. Join our staff and watch all those sad memories gradually fall away. Seriously, we're Fridays.'
Happy Massage Chair Day!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Home Early Day!
Today you're going to come home early from work and you'll find your seventeen-year old daughter making out on the couch with a kid who is not her boyfriend of two years. Break it up and bring your daughter into the kitchen to talk this out.
'What happened to Larry?' ask her.
'More like what happened to me?' she'll say. 'He barely even notices me. Too busy with lacrosse. Hopefully when he finds out about Roger in there he'll remember where his priorities lay.'
'Does Roger know about Larry?' ask her.
'Roger's got a big axe to grind against Larry,' she'll say. 'They've been next door neighbors since kids and Larry always had the more expensive Big Wheels. Pissed Roger off. I'm his chance to finally hit back after nearly two decades of taking it in the face. Larry should be coming over to walk in on us any minute now.'
Ask her if it even feels good or is she going through the motions just to carry out a betrayal. She'll say come on, I'm like seventeen. It all feels good. Tell her to carry on, but to make sure Larry and Roger fight it out in the backyard in consideration of all the ceramics in the house. Your daughter will give you a quick salute then she'll run back to the couch and lift up her shirt.
Happy Home Early Day!
'What happened to Larry?' ask her.
'More like what happened to me?' she'll say. 'He barely even notices me. Too busy with lacrosse. Hopefully when he finds out about Roger in there he'll remember where his priorities lay.'
'Does Roger know about Larry?' ask her.
'Roger's got a big axe to grind against Larry,' she'll say. 'They've been next door neighbors since kids and Larry always had the more expensive Big Wheels. Pissed Roger off. I'm his chance to finally hit back after nearly two decades of taking it in the face. Larry should be coming over to walk in on us any minute now.'
Ask her if it even feels good or is she going through the motions just to carry out a betrayal. She'll say come on, I'm like seventeen. It all feels good. Tell her to carry on, but to make sure Larry and Roger fight it out in the backyard in consideration of all the ceramics in the house. Your daughter will give you a quick salute then she'll run back to the couch and lift up her shirt.
Happy Home Early Day!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Steal Twenties From Your Dad's Billfold Day!
If your Dad loves you, it's really easy to get away with stealing twenties from his billfold. (Note: If your Dad doesn't love you, don't steal from his billfold unless you know you can get away with it because if he finds out he'll beat you until you're blind in one eye.)
When you get caught stealing twenties out of your Dad's billfold, he'll sit you down the way he did when he thought you might be having sex with girls. He'll look at you with his forehead tilted down and he'll say, 'Is there something you want to tell me?'
Just say no. He doesn't expect you to answer honestly.
He'll next tell you that he's missing some money and he'll ask if you know anything about that. Just look down at the ground. Your Dad will start talking about how he's sorry he's been away a lot and he can understand if you feel like it's been hard to get his attention. He'll tell you that he wants you to know that he's sorry that he hasn't been as accessible as he should be.
NOTE: If your Mom is dead, here's where you should interject and say, 'You don't think Mommy saw me take the money do you?' Say that and you'll be so golden he'll probably give you his ATM pin.
If your Mom's still alive, just let your Dad keep talking for a little while about how his Dad was to him and how he never wanted to be like that to you. When you can't take it anymore, jump up and shout, 'What do you care if you lose some money?! You'll just go out and make some more. That's all you do is make money!' Then run to your room while he goes out and buys you a bike.
ONCE MORE BEFORE SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENS: If you're going to steal from your Dad's billfold, please be sure that he loves you first. If he doesn't, he'll drag you out to the car and use the cigarette lighter on your arm. You saw him do it to your big brother Joe. If your Dad doesn't love you and you steal from him anyway, this blog waives all responsibility for him doing to you what you saw him do to your big brother Joe.
Happy Steal Twenties From Your Dad's Billfold Day!
When you get caught stealing twenties out of your Dad's billfold, he'll sit you down the way he did when he thought you might be having sex with girls. He'll look at you with his forehead tilted down and he'll say, 'Is there something you want to tell me?'
Just say no. He doesn't expect you to answer honestly.
He'll next tell you that he's missing some money and he'll ask if you know anything about that. Just look down at the ground. Your Dad will start talking about how he's sorry he's been away a lot and he can understand if you feel like it's been hard to get his attention. He'll tell you that he wants you to know that he's sorry that he hasn't been as accessible as he should be.
NOTE: If your Mom is dead, here's where you should interject and say, 'You don't think Mommy saw me take the money do you?' Say that and you'll be so golden he'll probably give you his ATM pin.
If your Mom's still alive, just let your Dad keep talking for a little while about how his Dad was to him and how he never wanted to be like that to you. When you can't take it anymore, jump up and shout, 'What do you care if you lose some money?! You'll just go out and make some more. That's all you do is make money!' Then run to your room while he goes out and buys you a bike.
ONCE MORE BEFORE SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENS: If you're going to steal from your Dad's billfold, please be sure that he loves you first. If he doesn't, he'll drag you out to the car and use the cigarette lighter on your arm. You saw him do it to your big brother Joe. If your Dad doesn't love you and you steal from him anyway, this blog waives all responsibility for him doing to you what you saw him do to your big brother Joe.
Happy Steal Twenties From Your Dad's Billfold Day!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Your Husband Is A Witch Doctor Day!
Your husband is prolific in the voodoo arts, which is pretty cool. Except that you like to sleep around and whenever he finds out you're cheating he always turns the man you're cheating with into something terrifying, usually while you're making love. The last time it happened you were having sex in a motel with a real estate broker and everything was going great. Then all of a sudden the broker turned into a giant squawking falcon and he crashed through the window of the motel room and soared off into the sky. Another time you were having sex with a plumber and he was on top of you and he turned into a ripped up sack full of spiders. AND THERE WAS THAT ONE REALLY SCARY TIME when that bartender transmogrified into the shape of your husband. So you started calling him by your husband's name and asking him, 'Is that you?' He kept saying no. Then he went and looked in a mirror and he realized what he'd become and he ran away screaming, which was cool because you lost interest immediately as soon as he looked like your husband. Except that one was the worst because now whenever you see your husband on the street you're afraid to acknowledge him for fear that it's just that bartender again. You still to this day can't talk to your husband without first asking him some questions that only he would know the answers to.
All of this should have turned you off of cheating forever, but you just can't get enough. Tonight you're going to meet the remodeler that is designing your new master bathroom for a tryst at an apartment he keeps in the city so that he can have affairs with his clients. He'll be really good in bed until your husband turns him into a whole big pile of underfed human babies. Slide out from underneath the babies and tuck them into bed, then race home to ask your husband who the hell he expects to finish the master bathroom now. Your husband won't be able to answer because he'll be laughing too hard at the stain on your blouse from where one of the babies spit up earlier.
Happy Your Husband Is A Witch Doctor Day!
All of this should have turned you off of cheating forever, but you just can't get enough. Tonight you're going to meet the remodeler that is designing your new master bathroom for a tryst at an apartment he keeps in the city so that he can have affairs with his clients. He'll be really good in bed until your husband turns him into a whole big pile of underfed human babies. Slide out from underneath the babies and tuck them into bed, then race home to ask your husband who the hell he expects to finish the master bathroom now. Your husband won't be able to answer because he'll be laughing too hard at the stain on your blouse from where one of the babies spit up earlier.
Happy Your Husband Is A Witch Doctor Day!
Monday, September 25, 2006
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!
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!
Friday, September 22, 2006
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!
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!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
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!
'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!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
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!
Happy Be The Whore Who Knows Too Much Day!
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
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!
'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!
Monday, September 18, 2006
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!
'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!
Friday, September 15, 2006
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!
'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!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
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!
'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!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
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!
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!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
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!
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!
Monday, September 11, 2006
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!
'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!
Friday, September 08, 2006
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!
'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!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
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!
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!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
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!
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!
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
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!
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!
Friday, September 01, 2006
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!
'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!
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