Saying Goodbye To Moms Day!

The government announced its plan for all the moms to be put on a giant boat and all the dads to be housed in this big glassed-in part of the forest.

“It’ll be fun,” the government announced.

Today’s the day the moms get on the boat and you’re really sad to have to say goodbye to your mom.

“Was I a good mother to you?” your mom asks you.

You nod even though she was terrible. Just really emotionally damaging and neglectful. But you’re still really sad to see her go. She was your mom for Pete’s sake. And now she’s getting on a boat with a bunch of other moms and they’re going to tell her how they raised their kids and she’s finally going to realize what a terrible mom she was to you.

“I wish the government wasn’t making you go away,” you say to her.

“Rules are rules,” your mom says.

You and your mom cry together, holding each other tight. You’re surprised by how sad you are. Maybe this is why the government did this. To remind everyone how important moms are.

“I love you, Mom,” you say for the first time ever.

“I love you too,” she says back, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth.

Then you watch her get on the boat and go away until the law can be overturned in Congress. That night you go home and write the government a thank you letter.

“If it wasn’t for your law requiring that she be shipped out to see, I never would have heard my mom say I love you. So, thanks,” you write.

The government never writes you back. Busy, I guess.

Happy Saying Goodbye To Moms Day!

Making Conversation In Jail Day!

You’re in jail and you’re feeling like you and your fellow inmates never talk.

“I see you guys every day but I feel like we barely know a thing about each other,” you tell the five inmates with whom you’re crowded into a two-person cell.

“What you wanna know?” Scary Ralph, one of the inmates asks.

“Well, what are your interests?”

Scary Ralph says he’s interested in setting fire to Crazy Murray, who distributes books for the library.

“He was using the bench in the yard,” he says. “That’s our yard.”

You start to say that you’d rather know about his deeper interests, like what really makes him tick, but just then you hear the squeaky wheels of the library cart. Before you know it, Scary Ralph has sprayed Crazy Murray with something flammable and tossed a match. You know then there’s not going to be any conversation had today, not with Crazy Murray running around screaming in agony like he does. Can’t even hear yourself think.

Happy Making Conversation In Jail Day!

Two Wishes Day!

You found an old lantern in the woods and you rubbed it and a genie popped out and granted you two wishes.

“Just to test this out, I wish that Kansas was gone.”

The genie says cool, then you check your phone and find CNN reporting that Kansas is gone and everyone there is presumed dead. Everyone in the country’s sad now.

“Aw man, okay bring Kansas back.”

The genie says cool then disappears. You check your phone and find out they found Kansas and everyone’s fine. Way to waste two wishes, dumbass.

Happy Two Wishes Day!

Sam’s Gross Day!

You and your friends are megawealthy and you all were flying in a private jet when you crashed into a mountain. Your buddy Sam died in the crash and now you’re all eating him.

“Sam’s gross,” your buddy Martin says while chewing some of Sam’s thigh meat.

“Ew, I hate Sam,” your buddy Leo says, attempting to swallow a hunk of Sam’s ass.

“I personally will refrain from criticizing how Sam tastes, and instead sit in thanks to him for the meat he is providing us,” you say. “You’re saving our lives Sam. Thank you.”

That makes everyone feel bad, until you take a bite of Sam’s calf and you throw up all over the fire. With the fire out, you’re all gonna die out there.

Happy Sam’s Gross Day!

The Dog Ignorer Day!

“Dogs that misbehave just want attention,” is what you tell your clients. “I don’t give it to them.”

Today you’re working with Felix, a terrier mix that won’t stop yapping day and night, and loves to tear up the couch cushions.

“Give me seventy-five days,” you tell his owners. “That’s all I need.”

They pay you your twenty thousand dollar fee and you spend the next seventy-five days living in their home with Felix (they’re required to find lodging elsewhere) and ignoring him.

No matter how much he barks, no matter how many items in the house he destroys, you won’t even look in Felix’s direction. By the seventy-fifth day, when the owners come home, they’ll find Felix sitting despondently in the corner, wondering why he doesn’t matter to anybody, wondering if he even exists. When the owners pet Felix, he’ll have trouble registering the affection. He won’t be able to understand that there are other beings in the room with him and that they know he is there. That’s the power you have over dogs.

“You did it!” they’ll shout, before looking around the house and seeing what a shambles Felix made of it. “Guess it was worth it.”

“Your dog should be existentially terrorized enough to behave now,” you tell them while bagging up everything in the fridge (you never leave food behind).

“Thank you, Dog Ignorer!” they’ll shout as you climb into your car to go home to your cats.

Happy The Dog Ignorer Day!

On Your Balcony Day!

The guy you’re cheating on your husband with climbed out onto your balcony to hide while you and your husband make love. Your husband came home from his trip unexpectedly so you shoved your secret lover out there. Whether you’re pretending or not, he really can’t stand listening to you pant and squeal ecstatically while your husband takes you on your bedroom floor.

To get away from the sound, he’s climbing down from the balcony. He’s going to try and scale the building, balcony to balcony, until he descends the eleven floors to the bottom.

“To what do I owe this honor?” your downstairs neighbor asks him as he dangles down over her outdoor furniture.

“Long story,” he says to her. She’s in a bathrobe and nothing else.

“I’ve got a long morning ahead of me,” she says. “Tea?”

It starts with tea, then it moves inside for breakfast, then a drink on the couch, then to the bed. He doesn’t leave her apartment for three days. He doesn’t respond to your texts apologizing. You don’t hear from him for weeks.

When you and your husband board the elevator one day and he and your downstairs neighbor are on it, holding hands, you and he exchange one brief glance and nothing more. That’s when you’ll learn where he went off to after he went out on your balcony and disappeared.

Happy On Your Balcony Day!

Lotion Suggests Day!

“I know what that means,” your young son says when he spies you rubbing lotion into your hands and arms before bed. “You and Dad are no longer sexually interested in each other.”

You ask him what makes him think that.

“You’re rubbing lotion into your arms,” he says. “On TV and in the movies, when it’s a couple that’s still way into each other, the woman doesn’t rub lotion into her arms before bed. They just have sex a bunch and bounce each other around on their genitals until they pass out. It’s only when the couple is older and disinterested that the woman rubs lotion into her arms.”

Your husband comes out of the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say. You shoe your son away from the room, then you throw the lotion in the trash. You’re worried by what your son said. Have you two lost interest in each other? Does lotion indicate that the passion is gone and you’re just doing what you can to stave off death?

You vow then and there to never use lotion again. Your sex life doesn’t improve and your arms grow chapped. You should never listen to your kids.

Happy Lotion Suggests Day!

Murder Party Day!

The scary new teenage trend is for teens to get together and throw a Murder Party. Kids meet up and prove how cool they are by murdering each other. It’s considered cool to be all, “Pssh, who cares about human life? I only like my phone.” And on the flip side, “Pssh, I don’t care if I get murdered. It’s like, whatevs. Hashtag.”

You sat your daughter down and asked her if any peers have been pressuring her to kill or be killed. She said she’s more into the scene where high school kids record each other performing oral sex and post it online, so you can rest easy. Your little girl isn’t falling into the wrong crowd.

Happy Murder Party Day!

Office Show & Tell Day!

Your office has started a Show & Tell Day to help employees get to know each other. Each employee brings something from their home and tells everyone a little bit about it.

“These are my father’s ashes,” Diane in accounting says while holding an urn. “They are very important to me because I didn’t talk to him for the last few years of his life, and I regret it.”

“That’s my Acura out there,” Mark in sales says, pointing out the window at his car in the parking lot. “Sometimes when I go home from work I’ll park down the block from my house and just sit there in my Acura, wondering if I should go home and have dinner with my wife and kids, or just make a U-turn and hit the road.”

“This is part of a collage I’m making of all of us,” you tell everyone, holding a small (6 feet by 7 feet) section of your coworker collage. “As you can see, I’ve been taking photos of all of you at your desks when you weren’t looking, and at your homes on the weekends. I’ve been keeping a document of our time together. It’s pretty much covering all the walls of my garage.”

After you’re fired, go home and set fire to the collage while sitting in the middle of the garage floor. The flames will climb to the ceiling, but the smoke will take you before the roof caves in.

Happy Office Show & Tell Day!

Motion To Make Love Day!

Things have been getting hotter and hotter between you and the prosecuting attorney this entire trial. Everyone can feel it. The judge. The millionaire you’re defending for murdering his mistress. Even the bailiff has spent the entire trial nodding knowingly in your direction.

“I object,” the prosecution says during your cross-direct.

“Aw yeah,” says the judge, sucking in air like he’s done every time you two have gotten combative.

Members of the jury have been moving their chairs closer together. You’ve noticed some of them enjoying some roving hands. There are rumors of hook ups going on during the sequester.

“Your honor, if the prosecution would allow me–”

“Don’t tell me, tell her,” the judge says. “Go talk to her. Let her know how you feel.”

It’s unorthdox, but you walk over to the prosecution table and you look the assistant district attorney in the eye.

“If you’d let me–”

“Say her name!” your client yells.

Everyone in the chamber murmurs in agreement.

“Janet,” you say. “If you’d just let me finish, you’d see what my intentions are for this line of questioning.”

“I’d like to know your intentions now,” she whispers.

You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom.

“My intentions,” you say. “Are to reveal the truth. To lay it out flat, rip off all the layers hiding it until it’s bare. Naked and bare and defenseless.”

“Then what?” Janet pants.

“Then I will explore the truth, tease out all it’s hidden mysteries and revelatory realms, until I’ve discovered every hidden nook, until there’s nothing left.”

She’s out of her seat.

“Enter the motion,” she says.

“Your honor,” you shout, your eyes not wavering from hers. “The defense would like to enter the motion to make love.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge says, clapping his gavel.

The prosecution lunges across the table and you lay her down on the wood and you take her, there in a court of law, the blindfolded lady of justice statue the only one not watching, savoring your every thrust like the entire justice system rests on whether the two of you consummate before the judge calls for a break for lunch. Objections sustained and objections overruled, the energy of your back-and-forth creates a kinetic mass of writhing flesh, the fight for a man’s guilt or innocence passionately and wordlessly fought. Until finally, exhaustedly, you raise your panting head from her neck and say to the judge:

“Your honor, the defense rests.”

Everyone in the chamber applauds. You pull on your clothes. The trial resumes and you lose. You’re a terrible lawyer.

Happy Motion To Make Love Day!

Promote Your Marriage Day!

You and your husband are deeply in love and you have a great relationship, so it’s time to get the word out there and increase awareness of your bond. Schedule some outreach events to give your city’s tastemakers the chance to experience the brand that is your eternal devotion to each other. Maybe like a brunch where you both order separate entrees but you also share a pancake. You’ll also have to amp up your social networking presence. Forget about the “I married my best friend” posts. Your status updates need to place yourself in the hierarchy of couples in your area. You need to challenge that top spot. “Our love is the best in the tri-state area” is the way you want to go. Boost that post. Finally, hire some public access cameramen to record your lovemaking document and get that up on YouPorn today. There’s a reason cooking shows are so popular. People aren’t going to care about food unless they get to see it made. Same goes for your love. Get the lighting perfect and watch those side-profile shots. Your stomach has more folds than you think. I can already smell the smoke from your Klout score soaring sky high.

Happy Promote Your Marriage Day!

Learn To Respect Physical Pain Day!

Start by shoving thumbtacks in your forearm. Show that pain some respect. Call it sir and tell it you find its opinions valid and informed. Move on to stubbed toes. Walk around the house jamming your toes into things. Tell that stubbed toe pain, “You are important and your contributions to society are essential.” The final step is to hold your arm over a lit burner on the stove. That’s really going to hurt, and you’re going to experience that pain respectfully. Don’t talk back to it. Don’t dismiss it. Look it in the eye and do unto it as you would have it do unto you. Buy your pain flowers and ask it how it’s fucking day was.

Happy Learn To Respect Physical Pain Day!

College Boy Day!

Today you’re College Boy and you’re starting a new job working at a plant to make some extra money to buy college fun like drugs and beer pong accessories. You know everything that the yokels you work with don’t know and you aren’t afraid to correct them. When they talk about what they’re doing to lower their cholesterol, you’ll tell them that studies show there are better methods. When they talk about how they deal with their wives during disputes, you’ll correct them with more effective tactics for conflict resolution. When they talk about how their bosses are mistreating them, you’ll correct them with what the state’s labor laws say is legal and what counts as unfair labor practices. For talking down to them, they’ll stab you and leave you for dead in the alley after lunch, but for the days and years to come, their lives will be vastly improved thanks to your educated suggestions. Their health, their career, and their home lives will all show betterment, all thanks to that snot-nose punk college boy they killed because he was asking for it. You will be remembered as kind of a snobby little know-it-all who deserved to have his gut bled, but you will also be remembered with gratitude, College Boy.

Happy College Boy Day!

Run Away With Your Girlfriend Day!

You shouldn’t leave high school without running away with a girlfriend at least once. If you don’t have a girlfriend, get one. Make sure her parents disapprove of you, and make sure her bedroom window is easily accessible by either a tree branch or a sturdy trellis. After her parents forbid her from seeing you, meet for several late-night make-out sessions in her room or in the dugout of a local little league field. You should one night, under the moon, elope. It’s not official in the eyes of the court or anything so don’t worry that you’ll have to divorce later. But she should go home to her parents and tell them that she’s married to you now. That will make her parents decide to ship her off to either her grandmother’s or a boarding school that will take her in an emergency. On the night before she’s supposed to go away, steal all the money from your parents that you can, go to her bedroom window, and help her down onto the lawn. Then run off into the night and board a bus to the big city (whichever one is nearest to you). You’ll run out of money in minutes, and you’ll get bored with each other because high school age people aren’t interesting. When you do, have her call her parents and tell them to come pick her up. You can either go back to your parents, or stay in the city scraping by to pursue a life of dance or as the underage bar-back at a dinner theater or something. Pack extra socks and underwear.

Happy Run Away With Your Girlfriend Day!

Mom, Dad, Etc. Day!

You’re dreading going home for Thanksgiving because you don’t get along with your parents’ girlfriend. She’s a college girl, about your age, and you can’t help but look down on her for carrying on a sexual relationship with your parents these past couple years. The worst part is Pam gets better grades than you and is on a pre-med track, so you have to deal with your parents bragging about how well she’s doing in school and how glad they are that she answered their ad when they decided to expand their relationship.

Problem is, you really need their attention right now. You’ve been suffering ever since your boyfriend, Henry, broke up with you at the start of the semester. You can’t bear the thought of having to go home and watch your parents fawn all over Pam when you need your mom and dad.

“Pam’s gone,” your mom will tell you over the phone today. “She said she wanted to be with a couple closer to her age.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to stifle your relief. “I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t hurt.”

“We’re not,” your mom says.

“Because I know how that feels,” you say. “I know how hard it can be to feel that kind of loss. I’ve been going through–”

“We’re good, seriously,” your mom interrupts. “We’re seeing someone new.”

“Already?” you ask. “How did you find someone so quickly?”

“Well, our little daughter helped us out in that regard,” your mom says. “Remember that boyfriend you brought home last Spring?”

You don’t have the breath to say his name.

“Henry called us out of the blue,” your mom says. “We hit it off. Is this cool with you, by the way?”

Happy Mom, Dad, Etc. Day!

The Nanny Diary Day!

You’re a nanny who started a diary. It’s boring because who cares. You get fired when the parents who hired you lose their jobs and move closer to their parents to use them to help with child care. You start an ex-nanny diary and it’s a big hit. You die rich.

Happy The Nanny Diary Day!

Planet Marlboro Day!

You just figured out that you’ve smoked so many cigarettes over the years that you now have enough Marlboro Miles to redeem for your own planet.

“Yes, it’s called Planet Marlboro,” an operator says.

You ask her where it is. And what the atmosphere is like.

“It’s in space. I don’t know. Somewhere way the hell out there.”

The operator puts you on hold to find out about the atmosphere. When she comes back she says, “It’s like Pluto.”

“Pluto?” you say.

She puts you on hold again.

“I was wrong. It is Pluto. Or, was.”

When Pluto got kicked out of the solar system it was up for grabs, she explains. So Marlboro bought it and threw it in as a premium reward in the little Marlboro Miles catalog.

“You want it or not?” the operator asks. “Hello? All I hear is a loud beep.”

You drop your phone and the nurses kick it into the closet as they race into your hospital room to try and revive you. In your mind, you’re begging the nurses to tell the operator yes, you want Planet Marlboro. You want to go with your family knowing smoking took your life, but it gave you a celestial body to ascend to. But you fade, and you end.

Happy Planet Marlboro Day!

Sam And Diane Day!

Your 6-year-old daughter just watched the episode where Diane calls off the wedding and leaves the bar. Now she’s trashing her bedroom and threatening to set fire to the whole house.

“Sweetie,” you plead with her through her door. “Please, just calm down and think about it. They were polar opposites.”

“That’s why they fit so well!” she screams. “Each found what they were lacking in the other!”

You try to explain that things get complicated when you get older, but you can hear her smashing her Barbie Dream House to bits.

“All is lies!” she screams.

“Come on, honey,” you say. “He’s Sammy! Mayday Malone! He’s supposed to be out there playing the field, not sitting on the bench with a bookworm.”

She keeps smashing stuff. You’re getting worried.

“Me and daddy will always be together,” you say. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Your daughter opens the door.

“Sam and Diane were together because it was dangerous. It was uncomfortable,” she says. “You and dad are together because it’s safe.”

You go downstairs and prepare dinner. When your husband sits down at the table and asks where your daughter is, you say she’s coming down with something so you put her to bed. You don’t want to tell him what she said. You wish she was at the table though. You wish you had someone to look at besides him.

Happy Sam And Diane Day!

Rebirth Day!

Today you’re going to be reborn as a lion. You’ll live in nature and hunt for your food and roam free across the land and you’ll never get to watch TV again or play a cell phone game or get drunk to deal with your childhood and yeah it’s going to suck. Enjoy constantly murdering things.

Happy Rebirth Day!

Teen Wedding Craze Day!

Teens are getting married left and right. It’s the new trend. Your state was running out of money so they lowered the marriageable age to 13 years old, with no need for parental consent. Thousands of teens experiencing puppy love have been flocking to city hall and joining in the bonds of holy matrimony.

It’s also been a windfall of legal fees as parents force their kids to go through lengthy divorce proceedings. Poorer families with handsome sons and beautiful daughters began instructing their kids to throw themselves at the homely children of the wealthy to legally bond the families, making their poor children heirs to the fortunes of the rich. Your 13-year-old daughter is one of those rich girls who got tricked into marrying a poor, but strapping boy.

“We’re in love,” your daughter protests.

“He only wants you because your parents want our money,” you tell her.

“You’re just jealous because he’s better looking than dad,” your daughter says.

She’s right. Your husband is disgusting.

“You have so many years ahead of you,” you tell her. “When you get to college, boys will discover the cerebral component to sexuality and they’ll throw themselves at you.”

“I don’t want a college boy,” your daughter says. “I want Buck.”

Buck holds her more tightly. They’re probably naked under their bedsheets, and there’s nothing you can do about it. A married couple has the right to their marriage bed.

“Buzz off lady,” Buck shouts, throwing one of his wife’s stuffed animals at you. “Leave my lady alone.”

You leave your daughter’s bedroom and head downstairs to your husband in the living room.

“He takes care of her,” you tell your husband. “He stands up for her.”

“So?” your husband says.

“So,” you tell him. “She’s never going to divorce him. In the meantime, I think we should throw them a proper wedding party.”

Your daughter is your daughter. Regardless of whether you’re being conned out of your money, you won’t be robbed of your chance to throw your first little girl a wedding.

Happy Teen Wedding Craze Day!