Dig Up The AIDS Meteor Day!

The stories that we�ve been fed about the origin of the AIDS virus were all manufactured by the government to hide the truth about extraterrestrials from us. AIDS was created by aliens and they infected a meteor with it and sent the meteor to Earth. Anyone who fucked the meteor got AIDS. It just makes sense.

The meteor landed in 1977 in the backyard of the house you just moved into. The guy who used to live there fucked it and died. His kids realized the AIDS meteor was a problem and they buried it in the yard, but they couldn't resist fucking it just once before they filled the hole with soil. They then lived long enough to spread the disease to others.

You need to go dig up the meteor and give it to a scientist. If that meteor is the source of the virus, studying it could yield a cure. Just remember not to fuck the meteor once it's dug up. Be careful because the meteor is really attractive. It has that certain... something. If any of your new neighbors asks you why you're digging so many holes in your yard, just tell them you're looking for the AIDS meteor and ask them if they have any idea where it might have been buried. They might know.

Thanks in advance for curing AIDS.

Happy Dig Up The AIDS Meteor Day!

You Don't Know Anything About Airplane Safety Day!

Today you're going to try to fake your way through an airplane safety seminar because you are pretending to be an FAA Safety Inspector.

"When the hatch is opened while a plane is in flight, it makes all the light bulbs burst. Light bulbs are very fragile and they can't handle the pressure," you'll stammer. "The two main causes of death when someone opens the door on a plane is people getting cut really bad from light-bulb glass, and people freaking out on each other because it�s dark all of a sudden."

The safety inspectors in training will take notes. Only one or two will appear suspicious. They did the reading.

"Do a good job, but don't be too hard on yourselves. No matter how hard you work, if a plane flies over an island with a really strong magnetic pull, it's going down."

The trainees will continue taking notes. One in the back will say, "Isn't that from Lost?"

Don't be rattled. "While it's true that many planes are haunted, most of them are haunted by good ghosts. They whisper advice into the pilot's ear, so don't scare them away."

Now most of the trainees will start making noise and asking what gives. You'll try not to look at Charlotte, but how can you be expected to take your eyes off of her? Her eyes will narrow as she looks at you more closely.

"Donald?" she'll ask.

You'll play with your notecards, pretending not to hear her, hoping that the class will return to order on its own.

"Stop him!" Charlotte will shout.

Two of the trainees will rush the stage and grab your arms. One of them will rip your fake beard off of your face. The other will remove your fake afro wig.

"Call the police," Charlotte will shout. "Goddammit Donald!"

"Marry me Charlotte," you'll shout back at her. Then you'll shake the grip of the two trainees and run for the door. Scream, "Marry me Charlotte! Marry me! Marry me! Marry me!"

"Fuck you!" Charlotte will respond. "500 yards you piece of shit! You're going to jail this time!"

Run out the door and keep going as fast as you can to get off the grounds. Charlotte's wedding is Saturday, and you need to go with plan B. Impersonating her instructor to try and get close enough to propose didn't work. So now you're going to have to kidnap her sister and hold her captive until Charlotte promises to cancel her wedding to that guy. You can't pull that off if you get put away for violating a restraining order, so keep running.

Happy You Don't Know Anything About Airplane Safety Day!

You Used To Fuck Him When You Worked At Kinko's Day!

It's always awkward when you bump into someone you used to fuck when you worked at Kinko's. You'll usually see him at a bar or some other nightspot and he�ll always come on really strong really fast, hoping for another shot. You try to brush him off but he keeps pushing and you end up having to explain, "it was just a Kinkos thing."

"We were underpaid. The customer service standard was negligible. It was 3 AM and we had that big storeroom," you'll say. "Come on, man. It was just Kinko's."

That will usually get through, and after that he'll buy you a drink and toast "to Kinko's!" with you.

Today is going to be a different story. Today you're going to bump into Bryan at a florist when you buy a funeral bouquet for your boss' wife's father. Bryan will be waiting at the counter while a bouquet is being dressed for him.

"I'm a paralegal now," you'll say to him.

"I'm a sales rep for a company that manufactures paint thinners," he'll say.

You and Bryan only did it twice before he got fired for disabling the alarm on the back door. You did it on each of two consecutive shifts that you worked together. When you came in for the third shift and the manager told you Bryan wouldn't be coming back, you were surprised to realize that you had been looking forward to doing it with Bryan again. You even called him that day to find out what happened, but he didn't answer and you didn't leave a message. It felt like you would have been violating some sort of code if you had left a message. Kinko's employees are not supposed to let the Kinko's life bleed into their real lives.

The florist will hand Bryan his bouquet and he'll hand over his credit card.

"Those flowers for me?" you'll ask. With your eyes, you'll try to tell Bryan to invite you out for a drink.

"My girlfriend," he'll say. "We had a fight."

"She'd better watch herself," you'll say.

Bryan will smile. Then he'll lean in and kiss you on the cheek. "It was just Kinko's, you know?"

You'll nod and blush. It will be quite a surprise to be on the receiving end of that for once. You'll worry for a second that you might cry.

After Bryan leaves, you'll order your funeral bouquet. Then you'll ask the florist if he has Bryan's address on file. If so, have a bouquet of roses sent to his home so that his girlfriend will think he's cheating and maybe she'll break it off with him. Then maybe you and Bryan can see if it's possible for a Kinko's thing to turn into something real.

Happy You Used To Fuck Him When You Worked At Kinko's Day!

Spill Your Life Story Day!

"And that's when I met my Dolores," you'll tell the burglar. He'll be sprawled out on the kitchen floor, the blood spurting out of his neck forming a puddle all around him. He didn't stand a chance against Teddy, your Doberman. Teddy is hovering over the burglar while you tell him your life story.

"She was a taxi dancer at the Beltway on 72nd," you'll tell the burglar just as he dies. Those will be the last words the burglar hears. You'll keep talking for fifteen minutes after he's dead, then you'll call the police and ask them to take the body away.

Tonight you're going to sleep well. Over the course of the forty minutes that the burglar bled to death on your floor, you'll have managed to confess to some pretty weighty regrets. You'll have apologized to a few people who are no longer around to hear it. Maybe if the burglar makes it to heaven, he'll pass your words along. It was nice to talk to somebody again.

Happy Spill Your Life Story Day!

Bubble Bath Street Day!

Today when the rain is at its heaviest, a Bubble Bath Truck will swerve to avoid a pedestrian and it will overturn on its side right outside your apartment. The tank of bubble-bath will capsize and thousands of gallons of bubble bath will leak out into the sheets of rain. Within minutes, your entire block will be covered in bubbles ten feet high. All of your neighbors will run outside to play in the bubble bath. Even emergency personnel who arrive at the scene will be so excited that they finally get to play in a giant urban bubble bath that they'll forget to save the driver of the truck, who will be the only one to die when the cab of his truck explodes. The bubbles will protect everyone else from the blast. It's going to be a beautiful, bubbly rainy day.

And if you don't think there are any such thing as Bubble Bath Trucks, it's because you don't want to believe in Bubble Bath Trucks. It's because you're a negative person. That's a choice you're making. Being negative. It's a choice.

Happy Bubble Bath Street Day!

He Works In A Morgue Day!

You've been dating a boring boy that you don't like, but he works in a morgue. You've continued seeing him in the hope that one day he will take you to the morgue and show you some of the dead bodies. You've seen dead bodies before, at open-casket funerals. You just want to see some more. It's not like after you've seen one dead body the experience grows dull.

Tonight he's going to take you to the morgue and show you some of the dead bodies. He'll show you a man in his forties who just arrived, and two women, one in her twenties, another in her seventies. The one her twenties will have long surgical scars down her torso.

While you look at the dead bodies, the boy will occasionally put his arm on your back and shoulders. He'll be trying to see whether you're interested in having sex near the bodies. He won't actually try to kiss you or anything. You and he have not had the best communication when it comes to sex, so he won't be comfortable actually making a move or asking you what you want. He'll just awkwardly keep his hand near you. Eventually, he'll give up and let his hand rest by his side.

Once you've seen the dead bodies, you'll want to break up with him since you really weren't interested in anything else he has to offer. It seems like you could do it to his face at the end of the night. If he accuses you of having used him just to look at dead bodies, you can pretend to be outraged and he'll probably relent. But if you want to avoid that confrontation altogether, when he takes you home you should just start crying and run into your apartment building. Don't return his calls for a few days, then eventually call and tell him your experience in the morgue has upset you and you need to be alone for a while. Tell him he reminds you of the dead bodies now, so you're not sure whether you can see him again. This might make him call back a few times over the next month or two, but you can get away with ignoring him since he'll believe that you're not calling him back because he summons for you memories of the freshly dead. That beats the hell out of "She thinks I'm boring."

Happy He Works In A Morgue Day!

She Loves You Too Much Day!

Your girlfriend broke another one of your ribs. When she comes to your hospital bed, tell her she needs to control herself.

"What the fuck!" she'll argue. "Can I help it if I love you enough that I always end up squeezing the shit out of you? Jesus, now I'm getting shit for loving my man. Fucking hell." In her anger, she'll throw a chair against the wall and it will shatter into pieces on the floor.

"Fuck! Now where the fuck do I sit?"

She'll be upset about having no place to sit, so she'll kick the frame of your bed and knock it out of whack so that the automatic recline doesn't work anymore.

"Oh great. Does nothing in here work? Jesus fucking Christ."

Your girlfriend will punch a hole in the wall. She'll break two fingers and you'll summon a nurse to take her someplace to get a cast.

"I love you. DON'T FORGET THAT!" she'll bark. Just smile and tell her you love her too. Don't ask her to change anymore. Your girlfriend is really strong and she loves the living shit out of you. Be careful.

Happy She Loves You Too Much Day!

The Big Poker Game Day!

Tonight at the big poker game, things will get out of hand and when you bet your solid gold watch, Manny will see you by betting his seventeen year old son, Nicky. You'll win with four jacks.

"I'll bring him over on Saturday," Manny will say.

"Now, Manny," you'll say. "I had my watch ready to hand over. Go get your son. I want him in my possession in one hour or you welched."

An hour later, Manny will bring you Nicky and you�ll take him home to your place. You'll set up the pull-out.

"How long do I have to live here with you?" Nicky will ask.

"Until your Dad wins you back," you'll say. "In other words, forever!" You'll go to bed laughing so hard you won't even hear Nicky crying in the living room.

Nicky has his SAT test this weekend, but the move will have his head so messed up that he'll get very poor scores and he won't go to college. Instead he'll get some girl pregnant not long before he graduates high school and the two of them will end up taking crap jobs and scrounging for money. They'll borrow from you more times than you can count, and "borrow" never means they're planning to pay you back. Eventually he'll ask you to hook him up with a score.

"If you hadn't won me, my life wouldn't be so screwed up right now," he'll say.

"You mean, if your real Dad hadn't lost you!" you'll argue. But Nicky will just stare at you and wait. With him staring like that, you won't be able to deny that you owe him something.

"Goddamn I wish your Daddy was better at cards," you'll say.

So you'll bring Nicky in on your scheme to rob a diamond store on the day the diamonds are delivered (best day to rob them because they haven't sold any of the diamonds yet. They're all there!) Nicky will screw up and start shooting. The guards in the store will open fire and you'll take one in the chest.

With your last breath, you'll say to Nicky, "I'm glad your Dad wasn't better at cards Nick. Otherwise, I never would'a got hold of you, and I never would've won the best years of my life." Then you'll die.

Happy The Big Poker Game Day!

You Really Want To Teach Those Little Girls How To Dance Day!

Six months ago you were staying up for days on end in your cell because you heard the White Supremacists were looking to firebomb you while you slept. If someone told you back then that today the most important thing in your life would be whether or not a bunch of pre-teen girls win a stupid dance recital, you probably would have slit his throat from ear to ear and then cut his tongue out of his mouth to let the other hacks in Gen-Pop know he was talking shit. And yet, here you are.

You bluffed your way into this position as a jazz dance teacher after breaking out of prison because you knew you'd get caught by the Marshalls if you kept running. You needed to settle into a town and get a job as a cover while the hunt is still on. They'll look for you hiding in folks' tool sheds. They won't be looking in the Magic Steps Dance Studio.

At first, you'd just turn on a pop music radio station and tell the girls to dance however the hell they like. While they ran around and wrestled each other, you'd sit with a little mini-TV watching all of the soap operas you got addicted to while you were in the Pen. You barely even knew those girls were in the room. Not until you spoke with Dorothy.

Dorothy used to take the class with her twin sister Jill, who was a way better dancer than her. Last year, Jill got hit by a car and died. Now Dorothy's parents can't stop talking about how great a dancer Jill was and how all they ever wanted was to go to the big Jazz Dance competition and see Jill win. Dorothy told you how she just wants to learn to be as good as her dead sister, so that maybe her parents will be able to go to that competition after all.

That did it for you. Dorothy's story reminded you of how your own Dad started kicking your ass after your brother Mo died. You ended up running off and turning to crime. You weren't going to let Dorothy take the same path. YOu were going to teach that little girl how to dance. And if Dorothy's parents didn't end up loving her just as much as her dead twin sister, by God you'd find them and you'd stab them in their stomachs.

First thing you did was learn how to jazz dance yourself. You begged the instructor from a school one town over to teach you. Against her better judgment, she helped you. She always acted against her better judgment when it came to dangerous men. You learned how to jazz dance in four days.

Next, you had to win the girls' trust. After ignoring them for so long, they weren't too excited to follow your lesson plan. But then you bought them all some Bratz dolls and they eventually came around.

Finally, you had to whip them into shape and turn them into the best fucking jazz dancers in the region. Today's the day of the competition. And you're in jail.

The local sheriff glimpsed your wanted poster in an email from the justice department. He's got you locked up in his cell while he waits for the Marshalls to show. If you don't get out soon, you'll miss the entire recital. Those girls can't win if you being in jail is all that's on their minds.

"Please," you say to the Sheriff. "I'll do anything."

The local Sheriff isn't much different from the CO's at the Pen, and he agrees to let you go after you blow him through the bars of the cell. You make it to the recital just in time to see Dorothy win it all. Her parents rush up to the stage to hug her and drench her in their tears. The Marshalls show up and watch with you from the wings. You tell them they can take you back to prison whenever they want. Because as long as they let you hang on to this memory, you'll always be free.

Happy You Really Want To Teach Those Little Girls How To Dance Day!

One Of Your Movers Is Heartsick Day!

The move out of your apartment went well enough. It's the move into your new place that will meet with a snag. On around their third trip up, the head mover will drop a box in the middle of the living room floor, and he'll slump over the edge of the box and burst into sobs. The other three movers will gather around to place their hands on him and tell him it's going to be okay.

"What's wrong?" you'll ask them.

Another of the smaller movers will come to you and speak softly. "His girlfriend broke up with him on the they day they moved. He moved all their stuff in, then she went out for a soda and never came back. She sent him a letter, but it didn't arrive until after five days of him living in a quiet apartment full of unopened boxes."

The sobbing man will be shouting, "How could she? How could she?"

"Jeez," you'll say. "When did it happen?"

"Twelve years ago," the little mover will say. "He started this moving company the following year, thinking if he did enough moves there'd be so many that he wouldn't even be able to remember that day. Hasn't worked yet."

"Poor guy," you'll think. But a little part of you will wonder whether this is all a ruse to stretch the move time out since you're paying by the hour. And at the end of the move, when they present you with a parking ticket that they'll say they incurred because it was illegal to park on your block, you'll look closely at the ticket because you'll bet they just got their hands on some blank parking tickets so that they can fill them out themselves and charge the customers extra cash. But you won't accuse them of anything because some of them are large men and they're all still in your apartment. Also, the boss is still kind of broken up over everything. You'll tip them well.

"Thanks for using The She Done Me Wrong Moving Company," the boss will say. Then he'll burst into tears. "I'm sorry I thought I could handle this but I can't. I thought that enough time had past but it hasn't. Aw God." Then he'll run out the door. As soon as the other movers finish taking shits in your new bathroom, they'll leave too. Welcome home!

Happy One Of Your Movers Is Heartsick Day!

Your Boyfriend Is An Expert Juggler Day!

He can juggle up to five small items at once. It is very impressive to children and simpler adults.

"Leave him," your therapist says. "People learn to juggle when they feel the need to maintain various deceptions. More often than not, a man who knows how to juggle has a secret wife and kids hidden someplace."

"It's a way to make himself less threatening," says your gay neighbor who's always coming by for some dish. "I read this book. It said that during World War II when the government was recruiting spies and training assassins, they were all taught to juggle so that people wouldn't suspect them as being operatives. Once they start juggling, everyone thinks 'Oh look, he's a grown man who likes to do amusing things with small balls.' Hate to tell you this honey, but your boyfriend probably sneaks out of bed in the middle of the night runs off to slit the throats of sleeping diplomats."

"Get out as fast as you can," your mother will say.

"But Mom, Daddy knows how to juggle," you'll reply.

Just then, your mother will see your father through the kitchen window. He'll stop in his yard-work and the two of them will stare at each other. You'll feel a chill enter the room as the two of them look upon each other as if they were standing on either side of an international border. They did this all the time when you were growing up. They would see each other and cease all activity. With their mutual, ice-cold stare, each would silently ask of the other,
"How did it come to this?"

Leave them to it and go home. When you walk through the door, you'll find your boyfriend juggling three juice glasses and the little jingling mouse that the cat plays with.

"Check it out," he'll say.

"What are you hiding from me?" ask him.

His arms will drop to his sides and the juice glasses will crash on the ground, followed by the short jingle of the cat toy. His face will be grave as he approaches you. You'll start to shiver as you stare up into his blank eyes.

"Follow me," he'll say. Then he'll pull on a wall lamp and your living room bookcase will slide open to reveal a vast chamber where several ninjas are being trained...to juggle some bowling pins.

Happy Your Boyfriend Is An Expert Juggler Day!

Crawl Under The Covers And Get Drunk Day!

Today's the day for some "you-time." A special day when the world at large shows up at your door and gets turned away by the big, bold DO NOT DISTURB sign at the door. The office is closed temporarily. The doctor is out. In honor of absolutely nothing, this tiny little apartment will be dark for the day so that its occupant may curl up cozy in bed underneath a big thick pile of blankets and get drunk. If you have some clean sheets somehow, you should dress your bed with them first to prevent your drinking glass from getting dirty with weeks of accumulated lint and dandruff. You're free to choose your own spirits, but an icy cold day like today calls for some Maker's Mark. Get it in the short and fat bottle so it's easier to pour underneath the sheets. Or even better, if you have a hot sake dispenser that you can keep on your nightstand, please do. Place a plate of cold chicken at the foot of the bed on top of the sheets in case you get hungry. Once everything's in order, the day is yours. Today the world can envy the man who's keeping warm and seeing double while watching The Price Is Right.

Happy Crawl Under The Covers And Get Drunk Day!

99 Pushups Day!

You've been doing one hundred pushups every morning for the past 39 years. Today, do only 99. When you get up from the carpet, you'll find that your house is a run-down shack and the idyllic town in which you've lived all of your life is impoverished and there's graffiti everywhere.

"All over the place," you'll whisper to yourself as you take in all of the graffiti. "Even on the tree which once held my beloved tire swing."

A voice will bellow from behind you that you never swung from any tree in this town, because you were never born. You'll turn around and you'll see that the voice is coming from this big fat ghost.

"Is this because I only did 99 pushups today?" you'll ask.

The ghost will shrug. "They just send me down here when someone's given up on life. I'm here to show you what the world would be like if you were never born."

"But I haven't given up," you'll say. "I just cut down on my pushup regimen today. I've been doing 100 pushups a day for the past 39 years without fail. Today I wanted to see what would happen if I only did 99. I could argue that I was trying to live even more by throwing a little bit of variety into my life."

The ghost will say, "Look! Your mother is digging a latrine!"

Across the street you'll see your mother looking filthy, digging into the ground with a shovel.

"Since she never had you, she never felt any need to make anything special of her life. Now she digs latrines."

You'll watch your mother take a break and light a cigarette.

"And look, here comes your Dad!"

"My Dad?" you'll say.

You father will pull up in a pickup truck and get out to hand your mother her lunch box. Then he'll give her a kiss. The truck will read "Kevin and Cecile's A-Plus Latrine Digging." Kevin and Cecile are your parents.

"Neither of them really saw any reason to go for the gold, not without a son to pass on their dreams to, so they opened this latrine digging business and are making ends meet."

You'll say to the ghost, "You mean my mother and father are still together? But my Dad ran off when I was two. It broke my mother's heart and she never laughed again. Are you saying that if I was never born my father would have stayed with my mother?"

You'll watch them talk and then just before your father hops back in the truck, he'll say something that makes your mother bust out in laughter. Then he'll drive off.

The ghost will realize that he created an uncomfortable situation. "So anyway," he'll say. "If you want your mother to stop digging latrines and, um, if you wanna see all this graffiti go away, I suggest you go back and do that last pushup."

"But then my mother and father won't be together," you'll say. "She'll be miserable. Look how happy she is without me having been born."

The ghost will look at her. There will be a glow about her.

"Yeah, but the graffiti," the ghost will say.

You'll keep your eyes on your mother, taking in as much of her as you can. It's such a marvel to see her truly happy.

"Man my Dad sure must have hated me. He really loved her, and yet he still ran off."

The ghost will try to come up with some way to steer you towards a decision, since he can't leave until you either embrace life with a renewed vigor or you give up once and for all. But he won't think of anything to say but, "This is a tough break kid. Sorry."

You'll turn to the ghost and he'll hold you tight.

Happy 99 Pushups Day!

You Make Jews For Jesus Give Up Both Day!

You have a very specific look. Not only are you devastatingly beautiful, but you also give people the sense that you're spiritually gullible. This makes you a prime target for representatives of Jews For Jesus when they're handing out their poorly illustrated pamphlets on the outskirts of parks (the city won't let them in parks anymore). This is also why people are finding piles of Jews For Jesus pamphlets in trash cans all over the city. They're going to find another such pile today.

The way it works is, a Jew For Jesus will spot you from afar and based on the way you walk he'll decide that you look like an easy convert. He'll approach you, but as he gets closer he'll start to forget his own sales pitch ("I know what you're thinking� 'Jews For Jesus? What'll they think of next?' Well that's what I used to think until I read this embarrassing pamphlet�") because your beauty will strike him to his core and it will seem like an injustice to sing the praises of anybody but the very woman walking towards him on the sidewalk just ten paces away.

He'll stand before you and you'll wait for him to find some words. He'll stammer out, "I know what...I...What was I thinking?"

You'll say, "Oh dear, not another one."

"I've been a fool, searching everywhere for answers and then a face like yours appears from out of nowhere and I can't even remember the question."

"Isn't there someone you can talk to before you give it all up?"

He'll toss his pile of pamphlets into the garbage.

"Please, they're all morons. Have you seen the pamphlets they make us hand out?"

You'll plead with him, "But your faith. I can't displace that."

"Too late," he'll say. "No way Jesus is prettier than you. I'm going to go watch TV. Unless, can I buy you some coffee?"

You'll shake your head sadly. "I'm seeing someone."

"Then I'm going to go watch TV," the former Jew For Jesus will say. He'll wander off into the park for the first time since he embraced the faith. You'll worry about him, but there's no need. If he was able to become a Jew For Jesus, it won't be long before he joins some other church that meets in the back of a pizza place. You're real pretty and all, and your face may have robbed him of his faith, but if he was giving Jews For Jesus a shot his faith wasn't screwed on all that tight in the first place.

Happy You Make Jews For Jesus Give Up Both Day!

Dangerous Toys Day!

You've spent the last thirty years being the top American manufacturer of the kind of unsafe knockoff toys that are only sold in 99-cent stores. Chinese and Korean manufacturing behemoths have made it harder and harder for you to stay in business, but you keep going. Because you still remember a time when Americans were able to buy cheap, harmful toys that were MADE IN AMERICA.

Today you're going to interview a woman for the nursing position that opened up. Last week, the nurse you've had on staff for the past year just couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm not going to lie to you," you'll tell her. "It's a busy job. We've got a lot of kids trying out the toys here in our product-testing department. They're from low-income neighborhoods and their parents need the extra money so they bring the kids bring in. And since our toys are pretty much lacerations waiting to happen, a lot of the kids end up getting cut pretty bad."

You'll raise your finger in the air triumphantly to add, "But we've never lost one!"

"And you're not about to," the woman will say.

"You mean you'll take the job?" you'll ask.

"I grew up very poor," she'll tell you. "Your toys were all my parents could afford to buy me. I was lucky that someone like you was willing to cut enough corners to provide cheap knockoff toys for those who couldn�t afford the real thing. And I will consider it my duty to make sure all those poor kids growing up today get a fun if potentially harmful toy for their birthday this year."

Just then, a child will run into your office with blood gushing out of his neck.

"Looks like you were having a fun time!" your new nurse will shout.

"This is Clarence," you'll say. "Clarence, meet your new nurse."

The boy will try to talk but his voice box will appear to have been sliced open. He'll be holding one of your dangerously sharp, fake 'Rambo' knives (they're called 'Rambo II Survival Knives,' but the packaging features an image clearly from the movie Cobra).

"She'll be taking care of you from now on," you'll tell Clarence. When your new nurse stabs a pen into Clarence's neck and he starts to breathe easy again, you'll start breathing easy too. You normally don't like to hire anybody who has ever played with your toys. Too often it ends up that they just want to get close to you so they can avenge the death of a sibling who died while playing on one of your knockoff slip-n-slides (called the "Trip N' Skid"). But looking at the way she takes care of Clarence, you know it won't be long before that child is having fun times with your toys again. Whatever her intentions are towards you, the important thing is that your children are in good hands.

Happy Dangerous Toys Day!

You Can't Join The Carpool Program Day!

You testified against a mob boss a few years back and now you're in the witness protection program with a pretty stable job selling information technology products that you don't quite understand, but your days on the streets taught you enough to know how to close a deal.

The only problem with your job is that the company has been aggressively pushing its carpooling program, and everyone thinks you're a wasteful, polluting, Saudi loving dick because you refuse to share rides with people. You can't tell them you're afraid that it's only a matter of time before your old friends back east track you down and give you what you deserve. You can't tell them you'd be late picking people up because you always park your car in a supermarket parking lot so that you can drive in circles around the empty lot in the morning, slamming on the brakes repeatedly to be sure no one's rigged them to fail midway through your drive. And when your carpool companions complain about the smell of your car, you wouldn't be able to explain that you have to pay a homeless person twenty bucks to start your engine every morning in case the ignition is rigged to blow. You can't tell them that you're just trying to protect innocent, hard-working citizens from the just consequences due for a sniveling, backstabbing rodent.

You're going to have to spread a rumor that you have a drinking problem. Get caught drinking and driving once. The company has a program in place to handle the rehab, and the cops can't put you away because they know you'll be killed by mob associates minutes after you arrive in your cell. Get pulled over and everyone will assume that you didn't want them to ride with you because you need to sip from a hip flask in order to see straight in the morning. Better that they see you as a drunk than that you turn their kids into orphans and their wives into widows on the day Fat Mikey finds out you been hiding out in Iowa ever since you turned rat.

Happy You Can't Join The Carpool Program Day!

Huff Buddies Day!

You met this girl Tara back when you were huffing paint and you fell in love. The two of you spent a few months huffing paint and then screwing in alleys. Eventually, you both got kind of worn out and all you wanted to do is huff paint. Then you lost track of each other because you both huffed enough paint that you got too stupid to remember when you were supposed to meet each other or where. Now that you're clean, the only thing you can remember about that time is Tara's name and how much you loved her. You're still in love with Tara, and it feels like something's been cut out of you now that she's gone. The trouble is, you can't remember her last name, her address, or what she looks like. Your days of huffing glue left you so stupid, when you're in your apartment you have to tie your wrist to the bathroom door so you can remember where it is when you have to go really bad. You're pretty sure that if you were in her presence, you�d know it was her because you'd feel like a giant part of your soul had been given back to you. So you spend your days just kind of walking up to girls and standing next to them to see what happens. No dice yet. The doctors keep saying brain cells regenerate over time, and you might eventually remember what Tara looks like and where you can find her. You just hope love can wait that long.

Happy Huff Buddies Day!

Someone's Got To Do Something About All The Garbage Day!

You love everything about your new baby except for all the garbage she generates with her diapers and all the paper towels you use to clean up her spills. You've always been ashamed of your garbage, refusing to toss it all into the communal bins in the basement for fear of people judging you by your copious waste. It actually got to the point where you started to resent your daughter for making you look like you do nothing all day but fill up trash bags with filth. Now your wife resents you because the co-op board just voted that you must sell your unit and be out as soon as possible. They didn't like that you were going to up the roof and setting all your trash on fire. They see it as a fire hazard and that�s enough justification to vote you out. Your wife has been giving you lots of crap about it. She keeps saying that throwing out lots of diapers is part of having a baby and no one thinks it's gross, as long as they don't have to touch it. You stopped trying to make her understand, so you're resigned to letting her resent you. It's hard for you not to blame your daughter for causing all of this. To punish her for it, you've been holding her less. Sometimes when it's just you and her in the house, you'll sit her on the couch and let her reach out and cry to be held, but you'll just stand there and stare at her angrily. She knows why.

Happy Someone's Got To Do Something About All The Garbage Day!

It's Been A While Since You Saw Her Day!

You'll be working the register at your luncheonette when a girl you went on a couple of dates with three years ago is going to stick a gun in your face and demand that you give her everything in the drawer.

"Marcy?" you'll ask. "Is that you?"

"How the fuck do you know my name?" she'll bark.

"Who the fuck is that?" her burly partner will shout. He'll have his back to you and Marcy, keeping his gun aimed at the customers.

"We went on a couple of dates remember?" you'll say. "Back in like 2003?"

A spark of recognition will change the expression on her face. She'll suddenly seem less hostile and just sort of uncomfortable.

"Oh right. Right," she'll say. "I'm sorry I never responded to all those emails you sent."

You'll say, "I didn't send that many emails."

Marcy will shrug. "It was kind of a lot," she'll say.

Marcy's partner will come to the register and ask what's taking so long.

"This is that guy," she'll say. "The one with all those emails?"

A smile will appear on her partner's face. "This is him!" he'll say, suddenly giddy.

"Did you show people my emails?" you'll ask.

"No, not really," Marcy will say. "Look, maybe you should just give us the money so we can get out of here."

"What'd they say?" one of the customers will ask.

"Oh they were classic!" Marcy's partner will say. "Long poems. Photo attachments of himself when he was a baby. He was downright proposing to her and they only went out like twice!"

The customers will start to laugh at you. The regulars will really give you heck. "You proposed over email?" they'll ask.

"I did not propose!" you'll shout, suddenly turning beat red.

Marcy's partner will throw his arm over her shoulder. "Hey don't worry about it pal. We've all done that once or twice with a chick when we get too lonely. 'Course, that chick usually doesn't end up robbing us later!"

That will make everyone in the luncheonette burst out laughing. You'll start shoving the contents of your register into a paper bag. Before they go, Marcy will say, "I'm sorry about this. I hope you're well."

They'll leave, but all of your customers will continue to razz you. The police will join in on the teasing when they show up to take a report. Later tonight, when you're eating dinner alone, you'll wonder whether Marcy really chose to rob your luncheonette by accident or whether she was just looking for an excuse to talk to you again. You'll assume the latter and send her an email telling her it was good seeing her today.

Happy It's Been A While Since You Saw Her Day!

Warn Elementary School Children About What's In The Sewers Day!

You've spent the last few years giving "Scare Assemblies" at elementary schools. It's a pretty good circuit. The pay is limited by school boards, but in the past decade it's been voted up to a pretty good sum since parents have been demanding that schools shell out more money to scare their kids away from more stuff. The key to making a living is to choose a topic that isn't too overcrowded.

The sex scare racket is so crowded that there's practically one act per school. Same with drugs. "Cult Awareness" is a pretty good one to get into, but you're not going to be competitive unless you've actually spent a few years in a cult and managed to escape. Way too much of an investment.

"Bullies" will still get you some gigs in the Midwest. "Gangs Are Bad" will work most anywhere, but again, you have to have either been a gangmember or a cop. "Eating Disorders" is like a license to print money. But guess what, that one is usually run by ladies. When it came time to figure out what kind of lecture to give, you looked at your qualifications (you're missing an arm, you know what's in sewers), and you wrapped it all up in a bow.

"You think you know what's in the sewers?" you start off. "Think it's just a nice little stream of tadpoles? Well maybe you oughta just climb down there and see if you're right. And if you see the thing that took THIS�!" That's when you whip out your stump of an arm and all the kids gasp. "Make sure and tell it hi from me."

You lost your arm in a drunk driving accident in '86 (your fault), but as far as your paycheck is concerned, it gotten eaten off by something that lives in the sewers.

"No matter how much you like to explore and pretend you're one of the Goonies or whatever, don't go down into the sewers kids," you always tell them. Then you list what's down there.

Giant rats
Giant snakes
Giant raccoons
Vengeful abandoned babies
Terrorists
Escaped convicts
The homeless
Bat-Tigers (blind tigers with giant bat wings)
The Queen of the Underthings and Her Bloodthirsty Minions
Needles
Pee
Germs

"There are also some baseballs down there. Stickballs. Hockey pucks. Every ball you ever last during a street game. Those balls cost you about 2 bucks at the sporting goods store. How much do you think THIS cost?!" You show them the stump again and all the kids gasp again. Then you say thank you.

At the end of today's lecture, when they all start clapping, you'll notice one kid who's sitting still as a stone, staring straight ahead with a sneer on his face. Go to him.

"Nice show," the kid will say.

"You been there," say to him.

He'll nod once.

"What'd you see?"

The kid will turn to you. "The question you ought'a ask is, what'd I take?"

Wait for him. He'll make you wait a second. Then he'll open up his bookbag and pull out a ball of cafeteria napkins. He'll unwrap the ball and reveal a black furry chunk of a Bat-Tiger's wing.

"No one's ever returned from a battle with the Bat-Tiger with a tale to tell," you'll say to him.

"I don't have any tale to tell just yet," the kid will say. "The story ain't over. You wanna be a part of it?"

Say to the boy, "We go down tonight. At midnight."

Then get away from the boy before a school administrator is forced to add you to a pederast watch-list. Nothing can kill a scare lecture career faster.

Happy Warn Elementary School Children About What's In The Sewers Day!

Airport Girlfriend Day!

For the past four months you've been emailing with a girl who lives in Europe. You tell your friends that she's your girlfriend, but they don't believe you. So you sent her $700 to fly in today and prove to your friends once and for all that she's real.

Gather your friends by the gate and warn them not to be dicks. "I mean it," tell them. "If you guys are dicks I'm not driving you home." Your friends will swear to be cool.

When your girlfriend steps through the gate, all of your friends will look at their printouts of the email you sent them containing her photo. They'll be shocked to find that very girl walking towards you with a big smile on her face.

"He really does have a girlfriend!" one of your friends will shout.

"Not so fast. Maybe she just wants to be friends," another will respond. "The only way to truly tell if a girl is your girlfriend is if she lets you touch her butt while you kiss her."

You'll be pretty nervous about your very first real-world kiss with her (you both have web-cams), but your girlfriend won't let your nerves get the best of you. She'll march right up and plant her lips on yours. You'll almost get lost in the kiss when you hear one of your friends clear his throat. When you move your hand to your girlfriend�s butt, your friends will gasp.

"I guess he really does have a girlfriend," you'll hear one of them say.

"That's amazing. Look, his hand's still there," another will add.

"He's my hero now," another will say of you. "I want to be just like him and get a girl to let me do stuff."

Finally, you and your girlfriend will stop kissing and you'll introduce her to your friends. Her flight back to Europe won't leave for another ninety minutes, time enough for some chicken fajitas at the airport Mexican bar and grill. You and your girlfriend will sit at your own table, and your friends will sit nearby so they can watch you.

When it's time for her to go to her gate, you'll be surprised at how sad you are. You'll start talking about how maybe you should just go with her, but your friends will tell you that you can't because they need a ride home. Finally, you'll say goodbye and head back to your car with your friends trailing behind you, all of them looking upon you as if you're some kind of God who has come down to earth to teach them how a life is to be lived.

Happy Airport Girlfriend Day!

Flags Of Our Fathers Day!

Your father was never in a war. The military didn't want him because he walked funny, like a gay chicken, and though he was never diagnosed with a physical infirmity, his way of walking was enough for the draft office to send him home.

"But I want to raise a flag on a foreign beach, like those guys!" he shouted to the man looking for kids to send to Viet Nam.

"Maybe you can do your part by going home and learning to sew," the military man giggled. "Someone's got to make the flag before it gets raised, you know."

Your father took the man's advice and started a custom flag-making business. He distributes his share of American flags, especially around the Fourth of July, but his specialty is the custom design.

"A group of us meet every month and collect tadpoles from the creek," a man seeking a flag might say to your father. "We're all in our forties."

"I've got it," your father will say. Then he'll sketch out a pattern of earth tones with a solid block in the corner containing three wormy looking creatures held in a palm worn down with time.

"I'm a serial killer and I like to stick a little flag inside the eye-socket of my victims," another customer might tell your father. "Fucks with the police something fierce."

Your father will ask the killer how many people he plans to kill, then he'll quickly cover a sheet of sketch paper in blood red colored pencil. In the corner will be a block of stars, just like the American flag, but three of the stars will be upside down. "You stick this in your third victim. I'll need to give you one for every person you kill. This is going to be expensive."

The serial killer would place the order and would then start saving money before he went on his killing spree. Your father might end up getting stuck with the flags if the killer came to his senses or got caught molesting a farmer's crop or something else that would send him to jail, but your father was the kind of man who would take the risk for the sake of his vision. Compromising a design was a far greater sacrifice than the monetary investment.

Your father's never made you a flag before. Today, as a grown man, you're going to go into his shop and place your order.

"I want a flag that says Oops on it so I can raise it in the air every time I fart."

Your father won't sketch right away. First he'll need to wipe the tears from his eyes. He always dreamed that one day you would come to him like this. Cry with him.

Finally, he'll wipe his nose, take a breath, and he'll say, "Do you want 'Oops' with an explanation point or a frownie face?"

Happy Flags Of Our Fathers Day!

Nametag Day!

Today, at the Superfresh, when your cashier asks you whether you'd like anything else. Say to her, "No, that'll be all." Then take a pause to look at the nametag on her breast, and add, "Sarah."

The cashier will smile. "Actually, this isn't my nametag. I borrowed this from somebody because I left my nametag at home. But I appreciate you taking the time to address me by my first name. It seems like we all do everything we can to run from transaction to transaction, casting people out of our lives as quickly as we pull people in, making an effort to not remember a single detail of the strangers we meet in our day. I mean, if I place my fingertips to the skin of your palm when I hand you your change, are we really strangers anymore?"

"Precisely," you'll say. "So what is your real name?"

The cashier will say, "It's Sara, but without the H."

Ask to speak to the manager and complain that Sara without the H was getting nitpicky with you. Threaten to never shop there again and he'll give you some special coupons.

Happy Nametag Day!

Underdog Day!

Nobody thinks you can win the big game because you just got hit by a car and you're lying in the street with a broken back and dilated eyeballs. You've got them exactly where you want them. You've got them underestimating you. They're all watching the blood puddle underneath your head and they're thinking, "No way can he take us to State." That's what they said about your Dad, Ol' Number 34 who took the team all the way in 1972 even though he had been shot twice in the chest five minutes before gametime. He proved them wrong because he wasn't trying to prove anything to anybody but himself. Do the same. Prove it to yourself, and you'll give them all something to believe in. Now quit flat-lining and get to the stadium, Champ.

Happy Underdog Day!

Be A Surrogate Mother Day!

Working at the Store 24 sucks it. So why not let a rich dentist pay you to get pregnant? You'll get to move out of your sister's living room and go and live in a nice guest bedroom in a big house in the suburbs. It will be kind of a drag to have the dentist's wife hover over you and make you eat a whole lot of stuff that she read about. But you can get her to leave the room and cry if you just say something to make her feel inadequate for not being able to carry her own child. On the whole though, you just have to watch TV and not drink or smoke for nine months and you'll walk away with like twenty grand, which is kind of like hush money to keep you from objecting to the crime against nature you�re going to commit when you give birth to your child and hand it over to a woman who, according to God and all he created, has no business raising this baby she did not sire herself.

If when you have the baby you find you just can't give it up, not to worry. Simply tell the dentist and his wife that you didn't realize it would be this hard and you're sorry. They'll be destroyed and might never recover, and you'll be jobless and penniless with no way of raising a child.

In sum, motherhood will triumph.

Happy Be A Surrogate Mother Day!

Carter The Unstoppable Unsolicited Massage Machine Day!

Your friend Carter is a little touchy. Not to say he's overly sensitive. Though he could be. You can't know who's crying behind closed doors when the nighttime comes. No, to say Carter is touchy means that he likes to touch girls with whom he has not previously had intimate relations of any sort. Many of these are girls that he has wooed without success. Many others are girls he has just met within the hour. To touch a girl who has not previously given her permission to be touched requires a strategy if one is to not be scolded or arrested. Carter's strategy is to come up from behind the girl he wishes to touch (surprise!) and without warning (again, surprise!) place his hands upon the girl's shoulders and commence a massage of the girl's shoulder and upper back tissue. Since a massage is normally a non-sexual service that relieves stress and is often paid for by the recipient, Carter may hide behind the apparent generosity of his providing such a service for free and without even needing to be asked. However, Carter has not been trained in the art of massage, and his technique often does more harm than good. Additionally, any fool can see that Carter's motivation is not to relieve the stress of the recipient. Carter administers these massages because he likes to give himself wood. And he doesn't like to wait until he's attained the consent of whoever might aid in this wood-getting. It's innocent enough and doesn't leave many scars, but nonetheless, all of your mutual female friends have caucused and they've decided that tonight they will forcibly remove Carter's hands from his wrists. They will use a hacksaw that they plan to buy later today at the hardware store. Don't get in their way, as they'll be forced to harm you as well. But be ready to take Carter to the hospital. Cover your backseat in plastic sheeting. Maybe you could go with your mutual female friends to the hardware store and buy a roll of plastic sheeting when they buy their hacksaw. Make a day of it.

Happy Carter The Unstoppable Unsolicited Massage Machine Day!

The Van Full Of Baby Penguins Is On Fire Day!

But first...

Happy Cruelty Day! is in stores today!

Check out HappyCrueltyDay.com for details and excerpts, or click on the amazon link below to buy a copy. And when you go to the Amazon page, do your best to skip past the truly heinous review from Publisher's Weekly and read the much nicer reviews just below it. And when you get a chance, post a review on the Amazon page yourself.

I've also seen the book on display (Face Out!) at several Barnes & Noble stores, usually in the humor section. If your bookstore doesn't have it, ask them to order it, even if you don't plan to buy it there. It makes them keep copies on-hand, I'm told.

I'm very excited about this book and I hope all of the fans of this site are as happy with it as I am. Be sure to hit the contact page and drop me an email to tell me what you think. Today's post is below the Amazon box...



A mother penguin and her baby penguins came into town this autumn and it wasn't long before the mother penguin got herself shot, leaving the baby penguins to fend for themselves. They've been living in a rotted out van on the far side of the creek. Right now the van is on fire and all those baby penguins are trapped in there. Get the door to the van open and save them. If they make it out alive, tell them to get out of town.

"The only thing this town did for you is it took your momma," tell them. "Now it's trying to cook you up. Seems this town wants your kind out of here. Be smart."

The baby penguins will leave by the end of the day. Tonight the town will throw a party for you for finally having gotten those godforsaken penguins to hit the goddamn highway.

Happy The Van Full Of Baby Penguins Is On Fire Day!

Escaped Prisoners Day!

Some inmates escaped from the maximum security prison up the road and they're all downstairs in your basement raping each other and having a grand old taste of Christmas freedom. They're holding your cat hostage (MR JUMBLEBELLY NOOOO!) and they warned that if you call the police, the cat gets it. They promised not to hurt Mr. Jumblebelly as long as you leave them alone to have fun on the best Christmas they've had in 20 to life.

They're goodhearted prisoners. None of them ever killed anybody who wasn't asking for it. 'Cept for that one family of four who walked in on Ol' Cozzy when he was robbing the safe, but they reminded Ol' Cozzy of the suburban life he used to dream about when he was growing up on the streets, so he had to take them out just to wipe the existence of that kind of life off the face of the earth.

They're banging on the basement ceiling. That means they want you to put one of your stereo speakers face down on the floor so they can hear Christmas carols too. In an hour or so, Mr. Jumblebelly is going to come sauntering into the living room, having wandered away from them when they weren't looking. You'll hold him to you and check him for injuries, but he'll be fine. Even though there won't be anything stopping you, you're still not going to call the police. Not just yet. By the sound of all that shouting and moaning and begging for dear life, those prisoners are just having too good a time to ruin their Christmas with a bunch of grinchy old policemen.

Happy Escaped Prisoners Day!

Snakefancy Magazine Day!

Ever since the launch of your pet-lover's niche magazine, Snakefancy!, you've been getting kicked in the crotch on circulation by Catfancy, Dogfancy, even Tarantulafancy has a wider readership. It's time to make some changes. From now on, no more cutesy photos of snakes leaning on remote controls so it looks like they're watching TV. Starting today, the only photos you should print are the ones sent in by readers that show a snake with a big lump in its body in the shape of whatever living thing it just ate and is trying to digest. It's about knowing your base.

Happy Snakefancy Magazine Day!

Welcome To The World Of Strep Throat Day!

She didn't seem that sick when you met her at the bar last night. But when you wake up this morning, her side of the bed will be empty. There will be crumpled up tissues everywhere. You'll look around the apartment for her, but no dice. She clearly split while you were asleep. You'll try to shrug it off. This isn't the first one-night stand you found yourself in, but it still stings. You'll go into the bathroom and turn on the light, and that's when you'll learn why she went home with you last night. Written on the mirror in lipstick, the long, jagged, blood-red letters will read:

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF STREP THROAT!

You've heard about this kind of thing happening to friends of a friend, but you always figured it was just a kind of urban myth. Could there be women out there who go home with men just to infect them with strep throat? Are there strep throat patients who feel so violated at having been infected that they need to exact revenge on the entire sex of the person who infected them? You start to wonder at the politics of sex and romance and whether things have sunk to such a sad level. Then you'll cough a bit. You'll hold your fingers to your throat and you'll have your answer. The glands are swollen.

Hope you enjoy having severe trouble swallowing for the next three days.

Happy Welcome To The World Of Strep Throat Day!

Give Them Back Their Neighborhood Day!

You've been spending a few days in the basement of a sample home in a middle class Milwaukee suburb. The neighborhood would be idyllic except that it's become overrun by teenage street gangs who crowd the streets all night smoking cigarettes, riding their motorcycles back and forth, and dancing in a ribald manner. The neighborhood crime watch tried to stand up to them, but they backed down when the street gangs set fire to the crime watch leader's kids. You're going to have to help them take back their neighborhood.

"Forget what you used to dream about having a family and a big house with a tree," tell the crime watch members. "The more you think that's what life's supposed to be like, the more they're taking from you. To fight these gangs, you have to admit that you live in their world. That way, you have just as little to lose as they do. Don't fight to take back your streets. Fight because you just wanna crack their heads open. That's the way they fight. Think they're defending their honor? Think they care about anything like that? They fight for kicks. They steal for fun. They ruin your lives just because they ain't got the money to go to the movies. We gotta come at them with the same thrill-killing thirst for blood that they have. Let's do it, but let's make sure we're doing it for the fun of watching a bunch of wayward youths die."

When you're done your speech, the neighborhood crime watch will be revved up to go. Train them in hand-to-hand combat and weaponry for a half-hour or so, then lead them into the streets for the big brawl.

Before the fight begins, you'll recognize the leader of the street gang. The two of you will chat about the old times a bit, then the fight will start and the neighborhood crime watch will kick the street gang's ass. The street gang will take off running, but now that they've gotten the taste in their mouths, the neighborhood crime watch will want more blood. So they'll start invading neighboring housing developments, breaking windows and stealing lawnmowers and smacking down anyone who tries to stand in their way.

Seems like every time you try to help you only manage to make things worse. Your daughter better be glad you ran off.

Happy Give Them Back Their Neighborhood Day!

Reconstructive Surgery Day!

You have some extra money, so it's about time you treated yourself and got your face surgically reconstructed so that you look just like a young Rutger Hauer.

"I never really liked my face all these years," you'll explain to the doctor. "I look a lot like my Dad and man alive is he ever a son of a bitch!"

The doctor will say, "I don't want your life story. It's really depressing. We gonna do this?"

After the surgery, you'll spend some time with your head wrapped up in gauze so that you look like a big Q-Tip. Once the bandages come off, you'll race over to your sister's to celebrate Christmas with her family.

"Oh my God you don't look like Dad anymore! Merry Christmas to anyone who lays eyes on you!"

"But he does look like a young Rutger Hauer," a beautiful woman standing behind your sister will say. The beautiful woman is your sister's co-worker. She's single and really loved the movie Blind Fury starring Rutger Hauer. You and her will really hit it off and 2007 will be a year of enchanting romance. And not a day will pass that you won't thank your lucky stars that you made enough money last year so that you could pay to cut off your face.

Happy Reconstructive Surgery Day!

Jump Out Of A Plane Day!

You'll be the first to jump. The girl you love who only sees you as a really close friend is supposed to be next, but the skydiving instructor is really cute so while you're free-falling, they'll start to do it. You'll keep looking up trying to find the girl you love (but who only sees you as a really close friend) because you want her to catch up to you so the two of you can share this moment together. You won't see her, and you'll wonder what's taking so long. The beauty of the free-fall will take over for a moment, and you'll forget all about your futile efforts to win the girl you love. For just a second, the world will feel no larger than you and the pocket of wind containing you as you soar towards the Earth. It will be a magnificent moment of grace. Then you'll worry that the girl you love (but who only sees you as a really close friend) is still up in the plane because she's doing it with the skydiving instructor (she is). You'll whip your head up again to see if she's jumped and the wind will cause your neck to snap. You'll land, already dead, without your parachute having opened. The girl you love (but who only sees you as a really close friend) will stop having sex with the instructor when the pilot announces that your parachute never opened. They'll land the plane and run to you. She'll cry in the instructor's arms.

Happy Jump Out Of A Plane Day!

There's A Senator At The Door Day!

There's a United States Senator at your front door. He needs to use your phone. He caught a flat tire and his cell phone doesn't work around here.

"Think I could use your phone? You see I'm a very important man and I..." He'll trail off when he looks in your eyes and suddenly forgets about the flat tire, and Capitol Hill, and whatever ridiculous bill he voted through today simply because it pours some cash into the pockets of all the fatcats who put him into office, and the only thing in the world that will matter to him will be you and the 25 inches of space he needs to cross to take you.

"Senator!" you'll exclaim. But you won't put up a fight. It's right as rain.

"I gotta get some of that into my constituency," the Senator will say as he drags you through the house trying to find the bedroom. You won't stop kissing for a second. You'll feel like your whole life you've been waiting for the Senator to show up on your doorstep, you just didn't know it until he knocked. This is the start of something big. The Senator doesn't know yet that you're one of those high school teachers who was prosecuted for sleeping with her teenage students, and when he finds out (front page of The Washington Post on Tuesday, a pic of you and him kissing at a fundraiser under the headline "Senator Canoodles With Teen-Loving Teach"), boy is he gonna be peeved.

Happy There's A Senator At The Door Day!

Toboggan Day!

You're in a coma in a hospital bed because you and your wife tried to do it on a moving toboggan. You've been married for fourteen years now and things have been pretty terrible for the last two. Your wife has been pointing out all the fantasies and dreams that have gone unfulfilled, and yesterday she mentioned the toboggan.

"We never boffed on a toboggan while it sped downhill," she said. "You promised."

"How's tomorrow sound?" you replied.

After fourteen years together, you and your wife have very little sex as it is, let alone on a speeding toboggan. But you were pretty sure if you don't start coming through for her she's going to ask for a divorce. So this morning you dug the toboggan out of the garage and you and she drove to the big hill at Pullman's Creek.

You got there early enough to beat the school closing announcements so you were the only ones there. After finishing your coffees in the car, you and your wife started making out to try and get in the mood, or at least, near the mood. Once you got close enough, you both went outside and laid down on the toboggan to commence intercourse. Then you gave a push and started flying downhill while inside your wife. It wasn't long before you were thrown from the toboggan and you slammed headlong into a tree.

Now you're in a coma in a hospital bed, and you're terrified of waking up. After that horrible display on the toboggan, you're certain your wife will announce her decision to divorce you the minute you open your eyes. So you hope you stay in your coma for decades, forcing her to sit by your side waiting for you to come to. You wonder if she's there right now, holding your hand perhaps. Sometimes you think you can hear her voice, but that could be wishful thinking. Maybe she's not even there. It's possible that she just took off and she hasn't even come to visit you. It's possible. The only way to not find out is to not wake up.

Happy Toboggan Day!

Create A New And Super-Powerful Fuck Spray Day!

Lately it seems like there's a million new men's perfumes that you're supposed to spray on your body and when women breathe it in it makes them take off their clothes and get really violent. There's AXE and there's SLAP and there�s GOOMBAH and there�s MENTALLY RETARDED and there's LET'S GO, THIS PLACE IS FULL OF ASSHOLES and of course, there's the most successful of them all, I TOLD YOU I DON'T WANT A DRINK! I'M WITH SOMEBODY! DID YOU JUST CALL ME A LESBO?!

The market is crowded but every single one of these fuck sprays is a runaway success with no sign of slowing down. Today's the day to make and market your own.

Just take a plastic spray bottle, fill it with gasoline and some Altoids, then go outside and get a homeless mother of two to weep a few tears into it. Shake it up and slap a label on it: YOUR SUICIDE WOULD BE GOOD FOR EVERYBODY For Men. Then make a bunch of posters that show guys who should kill themselves - but who for some reason won't - surrounded by a dozen naked women who have started snapping each other's necks to try to be the first one to get the guy. Sell it for six bucks a bottle at video arcades and you'll be rich by Easter.

Happy Create A New And Super-Powerful Fuck Spray Day!

The Santa Who Wasn't Day!

Today, when your alarm goes off at 7 AM, you'll take a second to remember why you set your alarm in the first place (the last time you had to wake up early was six weeks ago for a court date). You'll spot the Santa Claus suit hanging on the back of your closet door and your heart will break. Your Uncle got you the job as a favor, and you need the cash since your unemployment runs out in two weeks and you have nothing on the horizon. Nonetheless, you're not going to go to the Boscov's and start work as a department store Santa today. Instead, you're going to lay in bed awake for a couple of hours, occasionally swearing at the Santa suit when you catch sight of it. By 9:30, you'll get up and take the Santa suit off the back of the closet door and toss it into the living room so it's out of your sight. You'll stay in bed until 1 PM, listening to the voicemails from the store as they come in. One voicemail tells you that they can't open Santaland until you get there. Another hopes that you're okay. The last one tells you that they need the Santa suit back, and that you can get your 30-dollar deposit back if you bring it in.

You bring the Santa suit in at 4 PM and the Boscov's HR person tells you can't have your deposit back since you prevented Santaland from opening. You feel stupid. Of course they told you you'd get your deposit back. They wanted you to return the suit and they knew you wouldn't if you thought you'd get stiffed. Sitting in the chair while the HR woman explains her policies, you think about all the things you could have done with that Santa suit if you had kept it. For example, you could have worn it on Halloween next Autumn.

Before you leave the Boscov's HR office, you decide to work up some tears to see if that will get you your deposit back. You really need that thirty dollars badly and you really don't care if some lady who works in the back office of a Boscov's sees you cry. You're surprised though when a torrent of real tears starts to flow. You tell the HR woman you're sorry and that you've had some personal issues lately that prevented you from making it to the Boscov's on time, and that you're sorry the kids didn't get to see Santa Claus today. By the time you're done begging, your sobs are so powerful that you're panting for breath. You're clearly letting out a whole lot more than just your sorrow over a lost thirty dollars. You're not even sure if you can stop crying.

The HR woman tells you she can't do it and sends you on your way. You cry all the way to the car and for the whole ride home. When you get home and get into bed, you continue to sob for several hours while watching TV. Eventually, you pass out and sleep for a full day.

When you wake up two days from now, you'll forget what day it is and you'll expect to find the Santa suit on the back of the closet door, but it will be gone.

Happy The Santa Who Wasn't Day!

Girl With A Gun Day!

The plan was for Cecilia to get the cash from the teller and then to grab you from your wife's side and take you hostage, announcing that if anyone tried to stop her she'd shoot you. Then you and Cecilia would race away to an airport in the next state and board a plane to Fiji, where you would live out your days together on the stolen cash.

"I just can't cast my wife aside," you told Cecilia. "I can't let her know. You have to make it look like I had no choice."

Cecilia said that's fine. The only thing you didn't count on was your wife's self-defense class not being a total joke. Just as Cecilia grabs your arm and announces that you're coming with her, your wife will wrench her gun arm behind her back and pin her to the floor (Cecilia really doesn't know how to hold that gun). Cecilia will be arrested and sentenced to five years in jail.

You'll visit monthly for the first year. But your wife's heroism will have reinvigorated your marriage. You just want to forget about Cecilia, but you know that if you stop visiting, she'll squeal about the plan. It would break your wife's heart and you would likely go to jail for conspiracy. But Cecilia will turn into something kind of monstrous in jail, and you'll start to worry over whether she'll still be expecting to see you romantically when she gets out. Ultimately, you'll decide that your only way out will be to go ask the mafia to have Cecilia killed in prison, but boy is that gonna open a whole other can of worms (the Mafia will start demanding a cut of your business. You own Vivendi/Universal).

Happy Girl With A Gun Day!

Spoiler Alert Day!

Colonel Mustard in the dining room with the candlestick. That's how the game of Clue you're going to play tonight will end. You'll win, because you just read this. Marcy Baker, the woman of the house (your car will have broken down on a snowy road and the Bakers will have kindly taken you in and invited you to spend the night since a tow truck won't make it through that storm), will sneak into your guest room and climb on top of you. She'll be naked and she'll lock you into a passionate kiss before you have a chance to protest. You'll tell her that you understand how attractive you must seem, having just won a children's board game, but what she feels for you is fleeting and what she and her husband share is forever. Marcy will try to convince you that the flame has been extinguished between her and her husband, that there might never have been a flame, and that you winning at Clue really has nothing to do with anything. Tell her she needs to go before her husband finds out. She'll let loose a peal of terrible sobs, the kind that are borne from a place of hopelessness. After she leaves, you'll hear the front door of the house open and close.

A few hours later, Louis Baker, the man of the house, will come into your room and stand by the door. You'll ask him where Marcy is and he'll tell you that she sometimes likes to go for long walks in the middle of the night. You'll suggest that maybe the two of you should go find her and that she seemed kind of upset earlier. Louis won't say anything. That's when you'll see that he has his hand in his pajama pants and he appears to be masturbating to you. "I'll put you in my mouth," he'll say. You'll tell him that he's only feeling this way because you have the glow of a man who just won at Clue. He'll insist that it's not that. He'll tell you that you don't know what sort of hell he's been living in all these years. That every word and deed of his adult life has been a lie. You'll tell him he might think it's that, but really it's because you won the board game. He'll pause in stroking himself to suggest that maybe you give a little more weight to winning at Clue than most people. He'll ask if you've ever won anything before. You'll give him your answer by turning your back to him and staring out the window. You'll hear him resume his stroking.

Who the hell is he to talk about winning? He doesn't seem like such a champ, standing in his guest room in the middle of the night masturbating over a stranger. You could have won more stuff. You just never felt like competing. You'll see Marcy coming up the walk but you'll keep it to yourself. A few minutes later, she'll come in and find her husband masturbating to the man in the guest bed. They'll divorce soon.

Happy Spoiler Alert Day!

You Have Parasites Day!

You recently ingested something that you shouldn't have (you found some lamb) and now you have parasites. Lots of them. They're indestructible and they grow to be as big as cockroaches. Even though they're eating away at you, you'll actually gain weight because the parasites retain a lot of fat and they'll get very heavy. Soon, they'll grow so big that it will be too crowded inside your body so the parasites will crawl out and live on your couch, crawling back into your body only when they're hungry. If you try to get the parasites to stop crawling in and out of your body, they'll guilt-trip you by telling you you're really selfish and if the roles were reversed, you can bet they'd let you crawl in and out of them. You'll agree to let them continue only after they promise to limit their eating away at you to three times a day. "Five max, dude," the parasites will say. Eventually your girlfriend will stop wanting to come over because of all the parasites on your couch 24-7. You'll beg the parasites to make themselves scarce when she comes over, and they'll agree to crawl inside your body and stay there until she's gone. So it'll eventually all work out.

Happy You Have Parasites Day!

The Orphans Got Loose Day!

There's either a rat in your basement or an orphan got in. Ever since the orphans escaped from the orphanage last month, the whole town has been warned to keep their doors and windows locked tight and to call the police if you see any children you don't recognize wandering around your house.

They like to sneak into houses and pretend they live there and are part of the family. They stay hidden mostly because they know if they're seen the dream will die. But eventually, they just can't resist revealing themselves in the deluded hope that the families will somehow welcome them into the fold. Some imagine that the families will size them up and decide, "We've been looking for an orphan about your height. Let's go sledding." Others hope that they can just kind of blend in without anyone realizing they didn't grow up there. You'll just be hanging around in your living room and all of a sudden this kid with a fucked up haircut you never saw before will walk past you like he knows where he's going. It never works out and it's always quite heartbreaking, just like nearly everything that has to do with orphans.

Go downstairs and check behind the water heater. That's where they like to hide. If you see an orphan, don't report him. Just scare him out the basement window by waving your arms a lot and shouting "WOOP! WOOP! WOOP!" The orphan will quickly rummage through his pockets and stick a lollipop in his mouth, trying hard to look cute in a hurry. He'll still have hope that you'll see a ragged innocence in him and he'll be too irresistible for you to send away. If he still refuses to leave, spritz him with ice water. They hate ice water. It's what the nuns at the orphanage make them take baths in.

Once the orphan is gone, you'll want to put up some razor wire. They hate razor wire even more than they hate ice water. Before you join your family for dinner, pull the shades down on all the windows in the house. Orphans like to press their noses up to people's windows and watch them eat dinner or watch TV together, and it'll make you feel like hell if you catch him peeking. Just like the orphan tried to pretend he lived there, you need to pretend that the whole experience with the orphan never even happened. If you let yourself remember that you sent an orphan back out into the cold where he'll probably be rounded up by the Squads, you'll try and make up for it by punishing your own kids and depriving them of things. It'll ruin Christmas.

Happy The Orphans Got Loose Day!

Fishing Buddies Day!

Go fishing today with Ned, your fishing buddy, and he'll try to take the relationship to a new level.

"What are you doing?" you'll ask.

Ned will look down at the bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Havin' a drink," he'll say.

"You're my fishing buddy, Ned," tell him. "I have a drinking buddy. His name's Pounder and he lives above a gas station. Now let's fish."

You and Ned will sit quietly with your lines in the water for what seems like an eternity but is in reality only around thirty seconds before Ned lights up a joint.

"What are you doing?" you'll ask. "Ned, you know that I already have a smoke buddy. His name's Chancellor Buzzforth and he runs a pottery studio in the Gay section of town. Put that thing out."

Ned will put out his joint and start knitting a sweater.

"Allison, Kim, Laura, Marie and Beatrice. They're all my buddies in my knitting circle and we don't need a seventh, Ned. Stow that stuff."

Ned will put away his knitting and he'll take out some porn and start masturbating.

"I've had the same circle jerk buddy since ninth grade. You've even met Joey, Ned. How could you?"

Ned will stir some brownie batter.

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! Baking Buddies?! Rex may be in prison for another four months but when he gets out you can bet we'll make one hell of a batch of cookies and I won't stab him in the back for you while he's gone!"

Ned will conjure a Phoenix.

"Sorcery Buddies?! You'd better hope Maximilian Of Gorgon is too busy with a potion to sense how you're trying to move in on me."

In quick succession, Ned will draw up plans for exacting punishment on everyone who's had it coming, he'll lust after his mother then put his eyes out, and then real fast-like he'll throw a Frisbee at a tree and then shout hole in one.

"No no no! I have a Payback Buddy. My Oedibuddy and I have been like two peas in a pod for over a decade now. And I am not looking for a Frisbee Golf buddy! Let's just fish, goddammit."

Ned will sit still for a moment, staring at the water. Then he'll say, "I need more of you."

The next eleven hours of fishing will be awkward.

Happy Fishing Buddies Day!

You Have A Very Specific Kind Of Telekinesis Day!

You can make people do cartwheels with your mind. That's it. You can't make inanimate objects fly around the room and you're not able to set stuff on fire without matches. Your talents are limited to being able to look upon a person in your presence, and if you will it to be so, the person will do a cartwheel.

Up until today, you will only use this ability on women who are wearing skirts so you can get a look at their underwear, if they're wearing any. You try to be respectful by only willing a cartwheel upon a woman if it�s clear that only you will see it. Never would you force a career woman out for lunch with colleagues to all of a sudden flip forward on her hands and expose herself to everybody. You did that once and the woman's companions just stopped in their tracks and stared. They didn't laugh or applaud. They stared for a moment, then they continued walking, forcing the woman to catch up. You can't help but think you caused an irreparable setback in that woman's career, and you've been far more selective of your cartwheel indulgences ever since.

Lately, you've been feeling rather dissatisfied with the sort of man you're turning out to be. You're thirty-eight years old and the one thing you have going for you is you get to find out what kind of panties women are wearing whenever you feel like it. Unfortunately, that doesn't get you any closer to some health insurance. The only time you demonstrate your character is when you refrain from making a very attractive woman in a dress do a cartwheel because she happens to be walking with a funeral party at the time. You feel the need to do more. Today you'll get the chance.

While you're waiting at a stoplight today, you'll spy a child running down the block across the intersection. A bus will be speeding towards the corner and the child will most definitely be crushed under the bus if he isn't stopped. At the same moment, a woman in a long paisley dress will be crossing the street perpendicular to the child�s path. If you make that woman do a cartwheel at exactly the right moment, she'll end up landing one of her twirling legs firmly on the child's chest and he'll be slammed to the sidewalk just as the bus comes screaming past. The child's sobs will let you know that he's alive. You'll continue your day, happy with the knowledge that for once you brought some good into the world. It will more than make up for the fact that the woman in the paisley dress was wearing a pair of bicycle shorts underneath.

Happy You Have A Very Specific Kind Of Telekinesis Day!

Do What Joan Jett Does Day!

Today you should go to the grocery store and stuff a steak under the coat of your five year old son and walk out like that. You learned it from that Joan Jett movie with Alex from "Family Ties" playing the goody-two-shoes who thinks he could ever in a million years tell Joan Jett what to do. In the movie, she's a broke rocker on tour with her kid and in order to bring home some dinner she shoves some meats under her son's clothes. She gets away with it, of course. But Alex catches her doing it and gets all "You're a bad mom" on her afterwards. What he should have been saying is, "You're motherfucking Joan Jett and that's a fact. Shit." If when you're in the store Alex from "Family Ties" walks up to you and tries to tell you that something you've done is wrong, show him your identification in order that he can be remembered who the fuck he thinks he's talking to. Then thank him for that campaign commercial he made. It helped.

Anyway, using a kid to shoplift from a store was bitchin' enough for Joan Jett, so it's bitchin' enough for you. Just make sure your kid doesn't complain about how cold the meat is when you're checking out or they'll find the steak and take him away from you forever. Social Services doesn't understand what it means to rock.

Happy Do What Joan Jett Does Day!

Double-Decker Tour Bus Full Of Witnesses Day!

Today after breakfast when you stab your husband in the chest with a steak knife, a double-decker tour bus full of visitors to your fair city will have just stopped in traffic and the full to the brim second tier of the bus will be at eye level with your second floor apartment window. They'll all turn to peek inside your kitchen just as you land the knife in his chest. They'll gasp when you pull the blade out and your husband slides from his chair to the floor. They'll yelp when you spit on his still-warm corpse. And they'll be frozen stock still when you turn to them and show them your eyes. In that instant, be sure to communicate with your eyes, your posture, and the shake of your head just how low your husband has made you feel these past twenty years. With the way your shoulders rise and fall when you breathe, let them know about the cheating and the terrible words and, even worse, the silence you've been forced to endure for two decades. When you drop the knife to the ground, show them how he never gave you a child. How he forbade an adoption. Show them in the way you close your eyelids how you discovered that he's been tricked by a mistress into raising her child, but you've never confronted him about it for fear of his rage.

With all of your being, show the passengers on the tourbus the entire history of your imprisonment with this man and you can bet every one of them will voluntarily tell the authorities of the man who brutally lunged at his wife with a steak knife and how, by a stroke of luck, the wife managed to get control of the knife and the man ran towards her and impaled himself on the blade. Every single one of those curious souls from out of town will be sure to tell the interrogating officer to pass along their prayers to the woman who tragically lost her husband this morning in an accident that was entirely his own doing. When the investigation is closed and you're cleared of all suspicion, move to a less historically significant neighborhood, or invest in some nice curtains, Knifey.

Happy Double-Decker Tour Bus Full Of Witnesses Day!

Shoot The Singer Day!

He's held sway over your heart for far too long. With just a quiver of his voice around an unintelligible lyric, the singer has the power to cast you into a world where hearts that break can't ever be healed, where people say goodbye before they should, where the only thing that makes any sense is when someone disappears. Just like a king with too much power, no one can expect to wield such omnipotent control without those under his reign getting it in their heads to rise up and ovethrow because they know they don't have anything to lose. The singer did himself in, really. Since you never knew anything to be true until he sang it for you, ultimately it will have to have been his song that told you to raise your gun above the crowd and pull the trigger and kill the singer. If it wasn't him that told you to, who then?

Who then?

Happy Shoot The Singer Day!

The Crackerjack Kids Day!

The Crackerjack Kids have been getting together to eat boxes of Crackerjack once a week for the past forty years. They've watched each other get married, divorce, climb corporate ladders and drop into pits of financial ruin only to climb back out again to find that nothing ever need be the definitive end of a man. And through all those years, the weekly meeting of the Crackerjack Kids has remained the one never-changing thing that they can all count on.

They're meeting again today. The designated gathering point this week is the men's room of the Roy Rogers at the intersection of Baltimore Pike and Founders Way. If you sneak into the bathroom to eavesdrop on them, make sure to hide in a stall and lift up your feet because they'll look underneath the doors to make sure they're alone. If they catch you hiding in there, God help you.

As with every meeting, the Crackerjack Kids will wait in silence until all have arrived. Then they will each pull his box of Crackerjack from his coat pocket and extend it into a circle so that all of the boxes touch. Then each of the Crackerjack Kids will guess what the prize in his box of Crackerjack might be.

'I bet I'll find a little bit of kindness inside my box of Crackerjack,' the first of the Kids will say.

'When I open up my box of Crackjack, I bet I will see the very face of God,' the next will say.

'I bet I'll find a decoder ring inside my box of Crackerjack,' the next Kid will say. This Kid will have made a realistic guess because today he really thinks it will be a decoder ring.

'I bet when the prize inside my box of Crackjack reveals itself, it will be a large bubbling bucket of tits,' the next will say. He will make his guess with utmost gravity and no one will laugh.

'My box of Crackerjack contains the name of my future wife,' the last Kid will say. 'That's my guess and I'm sticking to it.'

Then, if you managed to hide in the stall, you'll hear the Crackerjack Kids rip into their boxes and fish for their prizes. You won't be able to see what the prizes turned out to be. You'll just listen to them murmur little grunts of acknowledgement and disappointed 'Hm's'. Then they'll chomp into their caramel covered popcorn without speaking again. One of them will be weeping. You'll be pretty certain. The others will slap his back in comfort. Then, once all of the contents have been eaten, the Crackerjack Kids will drop the empty boxes to the floor where they're standing and they'll open the Men's room door and leave.

If you managed to hide in the stall, you'll walk out to where the Crackerjack Kids were and you'll see scattered among the boxes the little plastic-wrapped prizes that they each found. A toy car. A temporary tattoo. A superball. A mini-kaleidoscope. And sure enough, a decoder ring. You can only assume that the one who got the decoder ring was not the one who guessed it. But the assumption is unfounded. It's not likely that had any of them guessed right, they would have exclaimed or even acknowledged the premonition. The Crackerjack Kids don't do it for the sake of getting a guess right. They just wanna get together and hold a tradition tight.

Happy The Crackerjack Kids Day!

Consummate And Die Day!

Immediately after marrying the love of your life, a madman is going to trap the two of you in a pressure-controlled chamber and he'll slowly suck the oxygen from the chamber until the two of you are dead. You need to breathe as little as possible so you have more time to figure out how to get out of there. The trouble is, you're overcome with love for each other and you have been saving yourselves for marriage, thinking that it would be better if you waited. If you choose to consummate your marriage, all that panting and swearing will surely use up far more oxygen than is being allotted you and you'll likely die just after climax. But if you manage to remain chaste in the interest of staying alive long enough to escape, you might fail in your escape attempt and you'll die without ever having physicalized your love. There's no point in telling you what to do since you're both going to be naked and barking in each other's faces in the time it takes to read the first sentence of this post. To each his own, and be sure to pack a lifetime into every touch.

Happy Consummate And Die Day!

Happy Clown Beat Up Sad Clown Day!

Today in the ditch out behind the circus tent, Steve the Happy Clown beat up Maggie the Sad Clown. He beat her up pretty bad too. She's going to sit out the next few shows. And Steve the Happy Clown is being brought up on charges. He won't be coming back to the show before you pull up stakes and move on to Duluth. Which means...THIS IS YOUR BIG CHANCE! No more spending the whole show running around shooting off confetti bazookas while Steve and Maggie hog the limelight. You're gonna be front and center starting tonight so shine those big floppy shoes and thank your lucky stars that Steve the Happy Clown is such a goddamn maniac. When that big top gets introduced to Marty the Stupid Clown tonight, they'd better be ready to OD on hilarity even faster than Libby the Languorous Clown OD'd on H last month!

Happy Happy Clown Beat Up Sad Clown Day!

You Made The Movie 'Deck The Halls' Day!

Today, you are the creator, screenwriter, director, producer and chief financier of the movie Deck The Halls, starring Matthew Broderick and Danny Devito. Additionally, for today only, you are Matthew Broderick and Danny Devito. Within the confines of these 24 hours, you are solely and completely responsible for the existence of a major motion picture about Christmas decorations. From you came the scene in which Matthew Broderick slides off of a roof and lands in the snow at the foot of a fake elf. From you came the part where Danny Devito takes a giant ceramic Prancer right in the testicles. From you came that one scene where they're in a car about to drive off of a cliff or into a lake or through the bay window of a crowded school for children with multiple sclerosis and instead of trying to turn they both just stare out the windshield and release in unison a hilarious gaping-mouth scream. You are the only reason that this movie exists, and therefore, within the confines of these 24 hours, you are the most detested person on the face of the Earth. And yes, your unparalleled depravity glows so bright, we can even see it from space.

Happy You Made The Movie 'Deck The Halls' Day!

Car Chase Day!

He�s chasing you because you�ve got his wife in your backseat. She�s trying to put her clothes on, but you�re weaving and swerving so much that she keeps getting thrown around back there. You�re driving naked. That�s what you were wearing when her husband pulled into the shopping center parking lot where you and her were doing it and he came running at your car with a tire iron. He shattered one window and created a spider-web on the windshield and you can barely see out of it.

�Pull over,� his wife is saying now. She�s in her clothes and she�s staring through the rear windshield at her husband. �Pull over,� she�s saying because she doesn�t care about what happens you. She never thought her husband would keep chase with such determination just to kill the man who laid a hand on her. She�s watching his car and she�s afraid her husband is going to have a change of heart and pull off at an exit any minute now. She�s terrified of it being too late. �Pull over,� she�s saying.

Her clothes are on and she�s speaking to you without taking her eyes off the car behind her. She�s trying to see his face. Her clothes are on and you�re all alone.

�Sorry,� you say.

You�re on the highway now. You�re doing seventy-five and he�s right behind you. He�s not trying to ram you off the road. He�s just keeping pace with you, letting you know that no matter how far you decide to drive, he�ll be right behind you. Cars run out of gas eventually, and he�ll be right behind you when you do.

Happy Car Chase Day!

Marching Into The Sun Day!

Today the bus carrying a high school marching band to a competition in California will break down in the middle of the desert. The overweight virginal band-members will pour out of the bus and immediately succumb to panic under the blinding hot sun. The bassoon player will find a bush with berries and he'll call his band-mates over and they'll all quickly strip the bush of its fruit. The berries will turn them mad and they'll become savage. Now communicating only through a language created by the music from their instruments, the band will slaughter the bus driver and strip his body of its meat, which they'll eat by fire tonight.

Soon the fathers will come searching for them. They'll hear the sounds of their children's instruments playing from far across the desert. They'll follow the sound, which will be a loud steady hum as they get closer, into a dark cave. Once inside with no idea how to turn back, the fathers will discover that the instruments are sitting in a drafty chamber of the cave and they were being played only by the wind flowing in and out. That's when the marching band will descend from the walls and slaughter their fathers. They'll strip their fathers' bodies of their meat.

The marching band will survive for many decades, luring rescue teams and nature lovers into the cave with the sound of their instruments, and then slaughtering them and stripping the bodies of their meat. They'll finally disband when a development company levels their cave so that they can open a hotel on it.

Happy Marching Into The Sun Day!