Do Laundry Until You Get Fucked Day!

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

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

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

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

Third, whilst folding, sway just so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You Don't Know Me Day!

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

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

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

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

Hmm? Livin' for love? Hmm.

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

Hmm? Hmm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweetheart?

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

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

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

Go And Live In The Woods Day!

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

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

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

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

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

Prove me wrong!

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

There, she stopped.

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

Don't Spit On Babies Day!

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

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

Use His/Her Face To Save The World Day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Try To Make Shit Happen With Your Mind Day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Openly Weep To Avoid Invites To Happy Hour Day!

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

Happy Openly Weep To Avoid Invites To Happy Hour Day!

Write Something In Blood Day!

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

Don't Look To Drugs For The Answers Day!

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

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

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

Pretty Dresses Day!

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

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

Happy Pretty Dresses Day. Quit Cryin'.

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

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

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

This is gonna be fuckin' awesome.

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

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