Saturday, May 31, 2003

Wrecking Ball Day!

Today you're the person who's somehow still in the building when the wrecking ball hits. The foreman will see you in the window just as the crane makes the first and final swing to the brick. A cry will go out through walkie talkies, but it will be too late. When you're hit, observers will say it looked as if the ball was aimed at your sternum. Luckily, a photographer will get a snap of your silhouette in the window with the hemisphere of the ball at the edge of the frame. Headlines above the photo will read, "Polk Building Leveled With Man Inside." That's you. The story will publish accounts from the few who knew you, and they will say they didn't know much.

Happy Wrecking Ball Day!

Friday, May 30, 2003

Cure Cancer Day!

Mix a can of Red Bull with a teaspoon of baking soda and some elk pee. Then make a cancer patient drink it, but only if famous doctors are watching because his cancer will be cured so quickly and thoroughly that the doctors might not believe that he ever had cancer unless they saw him before the cure. Red Bull and most baking sodas are already patented, but you might be able to patent elk pee. I'm not sure. Like could I patent kitten spit? I doubt it, and if I could I bet someone already beat me to it.

But you might be able to patent the finished potion. If you can't, then I wouldn't bother telling anyone about the cure because you won't make any money.

Happy Cure Cancer Day!

Thursday, May 29, 2003

Don't Use A Carrier Pigeon To Propose Marriage Day!

I know you're looking for something unique that she'll never forget. And a carrier pigeon landing on her table at Sunday brunch with a note tied to its talon would be a great story to tell. And it will make you sound like an interesting person, which is after all the point. But you mustn't trust trained birds. A trained bird is only as good as the next task it completes without straying from its training, and the day it strays from its training is the day it goes for the eyes. You'll blind her and disfigure her.

Now I think plan A is the way to go. Your girlfriend is the pilot of the Channel 5 Traffic helicopter and you know exactly where her rush hour flight path will take her. So spraypaint, "Will You Marry Me, Beth?" on the roof of your Honda and hit the freeway. It'll be on TV!

Happy Don't Use A Carrier Pigeon To Propose Marriage Day!

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

Rock n' Roll Day!

You could either let today slump its shoulders and slink anonymously into the faceless mass of 9 to 5 same-old same-old, or you can conduct yourself as a soldier of rock n' roll, behaving with the grace and fellow-feeling of one who has let rock n' roll into his heart, and bestowing upon your fellow brethren in rock the spirit and truth only to be found in rock n' roll.

Preachers preach, but a true rock n' roller rocks his world with every step he takes. Do not just make love to your girlfriend, rock her. Do not merely "paint" your house, rock that house (with paint). And should you have to drive a car across town to buy some seeds to plant in your garden, don't just get in your car and drive it across town (like a lesbian), don't just buy those seeds to plant in your garden (what are you, a lesbian?). What you need to do is rock yourself across that town using your car and the immortal light of rock. And when you get to that store, rock yourself through the door like the world is under fire and you plan to save it with rock weapons by going into a store and rocking out with the buying of some rock n' rolling seeds for planting in your garden fertilized with the plant food of blessed rock.

You can either choose Rock, or you can choose to let a little bit more of yourself wither and die.

Happy Rock n' Roll Day!

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

Car Wash Girlfriend Day!

Your girlfriend has a great body: large, pretty breasts, long legs with big round thighs and a fantastic ass. Congratulations. This is the good news.

The bad news is she also has a great big heart. And she's constantly being asked to wear a bikini and drench herself in soapy water at charity car washes.

"But Saturday's my only day off," you plead with her.

"I'm sorry baby," she says. "I love you, but how can I make myself happy when I know that all I have to do is seemingly unknowingly massage my soapy wet breasts in the middle of a high school parking lot and I'll have helped a child in a wheelchair get medicine?"

"But you give so much of your beautiful body to people in need," you say. "I want to fuck it."

"Oh sweetie," she says. "God gave me this body for a reason. He wouldn't have given me such a wonderful ass if he didn't want me to climb atop the hood of a father of four's Celica and press my bethonged cheeks against the windshield, apparently attempting to wash the glass clean with the meat of my buttocks, which is of course not very practical, but it does put food in the mouth of a baby born addicted to crack."

"I'm going to have to break up with you," you'll say, today. "I might not find someone as hot as you to screw for quite a while. But at least I'll find someone who thinks I'm more important than a fucking famine victim."

"But after the summer, when it gets cold again, I'll be all yours," she'll say.

Stand firm. "I'm sorry sweetheart. You're way hot, but I need a girl who doesn't care about anyone or anything but me."

You know what has to be done. Sometimes, you have to break up with a smoking body in order to get on the turnpike to a better you.

Happy Car Wash Girlfriend Day!

Monday, May 26, 2003

No One Can Sleep Day!

You and your roommates should all gather in the kitchen and ask each other some questions. Like, "Why do you think we can't sleep." Everyone will say, "I don't know. Why do you think we can't sleep?" You probably don't know either or you wouldn't have asked.

You'll all sit stiff and say stuff like, "Well, at least we're in this together." The two of you who've been developing a romance will smile at each other when you hear that. The two of you who race each other a lot, like whenever you both happen to leave for work at the same time and you're on the way to the train, one of you will say "Race ya!" and then you'll sprint like there was a bullet trying to catch up to you, you two are super-competitive and when you hear that "in this together" bullshit, you'll share a sneer. The two of you who think farting is funny will fart, one after the other, then you'll both giggle. The one of you sitting alone by the window will remain rigid and still. Say to him, "In this together, right?"

The one by the window will then turn to you slowly and say, real slow, "In this together. Sure." Then he'll turn back to whatever's he's staring at outside the window.

He's staring at a fat naked woman in the apartment across the way. She's naked and she's painting her toenails by the window. She has nothing to do with why no one can sleep.

Happy No One Can Sleep Day! It's just a coincidence.

Sunday, May 25, 2003

Save Somebody's Life Day!

You can do this by shooting a bank robber in the face when he's distracted so he doesn't pull the trigger on the gun he's holding to a hostage's head, or you can just give a drug addict your love so that when the drug addict cleans up and lives a meaningful life he'll say to you, "By loving me you saved my life. Thanks yo." Other ways you can save somebody's life:

Give blood.

Cure Cancer.

Warn someone who's about to go to bed with a stranger: "That dude has AIDS."

When you see a baby in the middle of the street, hit the brakes.

Don't buy drugs. Weed funds terrorism.

If someone's about to step into an open manhole, sprint into the street and dive into his mid-section, tumbling him away from the manhole and out of the line of oncoming traffic. Or if his name's Dave, shout "Dave! Look out for the open manhole! There, in the ground!"

Successfully perform emergency surgery on somebody.

Happy Save Somebody's Life Day!

Saturday, May 24, 2003

Define "Pretty" Day!

When you're out on the street tonight looking for a drink and the whores and the policemen start grabbing at your shirt cuffs and shouting out their demands for "a simple definition of pretty, faggot. Too good for us to let us in?" Surprise them by not picking up your pace or ducking into a place that's built solely for quick escapes like these. Stop where you are, turn around, take your hands out of your pockets and raise your voice. "When things don't try to shout overtop the warm hum inside your head. When you're a teenager driving your mother's car with a friend by your side who is uncharacteristically quiet and the street has many brown trees and very few stoplights and the light of the autumn evening sky has the color of the warm hum inside your head. There's a song playing on the stereo. The song is pretty." Then grab the lit cigarette from the hooker's mouth and put it in your own. "A lit cigarette is a good effort. But effort eats its own." Exhale a plume of smoke, snort from the flower in the policeman's lapel, and say "It's when everything at once feels there's no need to shout." Then walk away.

Happy Define "Pretty" Day!

Friday, May 23, 2003

A Very Special Pair Of Panties Day!

Today, anyone who sees your panties will learn an important lesson. Whether it be about the dangers of drinking and driving or the dangers of huffing glue or why it's wrong to tease a classmate because he has AIDS, whoever you take your pants off in front of will see those goddamn! panties and before he or she lunges with bared teeth, you'll hear him or her say, "Hmm, I never thought about it that way. One to grow on, I guess." Then you'll fuck and I mean fuck hard.

Happy A Very Special Pair Of Panties Day!

Thursday, May 22, 2003

Relish Is Boogie-Snot Day!

It is. Just look at it. It came from noses and it's made of boogies and the worst part is you don't even know whose boogies it's made of. You could be eating Al Qaeda boogie-snot or Gay Person boogie-snot for all you know. So for today, if you like to eat relish, you like to eat boogie-snot. And for today, if you ever ate relish in the past, you ate boogie-snot. And even if you don't like to eat relish, it's true, you don't like to eat boogie-snot, but if you ever bit into a hamburger and discovered there to be relish on it and you thought, "Oh no, there's relish on this burger. Oh well, I'll eat it anyway," what you actually thought was, "Oh no, there's boogie-snot on this burger. Oh well, I'll eat it anyway." You ate boogie-snot knowing full well you were eating boogie-snot and you didn't even care. That's what a big fat pig you are.

Happy Relish Is Boogie-Snot Day!

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

The Old Standby Day!

You're beginning to panic that you might never touch a woman again. You are so, and don't interrupt me again you little, tiny boy.

You've exhausted the online personals and you've shown up to every after-work happy hour gathering but unless this hiring freeze ends there just aren't any more female coworkers to make passes at. To make matters worse, you're not wealthy.

But don't lose hope. There are other ways to meet women. Remember how your Dad and Mom got together?

That's right! They've been married for forty two years now, and all your Dad had to do was happen along just in time to prevent your mother's rape.

When he woke up that day, he certainly never expected to get a kiss goodnight from the woman he would one day marry. After all, your Dad had asked your Mom out the night before and she turned him down flat because she was going out on a date with your Dad's high school nemesis, Ricky Chesterton, a football player who was taller than your father and who had less of a grayish tint to his teeth.

But heartbroken and slumped-shouldered, your Dad spent the night shuffling through the local park wondering whether his special someone would ever come along. And his aimless meandering led him to one heck of a lucky break, because he practically tripped over your Mom, her blouse untucked and torn at the sleeve, struggling near the bank of a creek to wriggle out from underneath the very rape-intending Ricky Chesterton.

That's what's called being in the right place at the right time. Your Dad happened upon an opportunity for a love connection (your mother being raped), and he made the most of it (he told Ricky to leave her alone and Ricky said, "Get lost, Stormcloud Mouth" so your father went over to grab Ricky by his shoulders and Ricky stopped trying to rape your Mom so he could beat your Dad senseless. Your Mom was freed and she ran to a safe distance to watch your Dad get his ass kicked. When Ricky finished beating the shit out of your Dad, he saw where your Mom had run to and decided it wasn't worth it to chase after her because this was just an attempted date-rape, not an attempted real-rape, so Ricky just spit on your Dad and said, "You can have the bitch" and walked off alone, leaving your Dad and Mom to tend to each other's wounds and your Mom to fall in love with your Dad because those are the rules, if someone keeps you from being raped you have to fall in love with him).

I know it's old-fashioned, but so's falling in love. And how many of our parents met at a thwarted sexual assault? Old-fashioned or not, you have to go with what works. So the next time you see the girl you're in love with getting raped by the boy she really wanted to go out with, do something that says to her "Hey, I prevented your rape!"

See you at the wedding chapel!

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Check In On Your Roommate Day!

Lonely? Your roommate's Dad died a year and a half ago. Why not check in to see how he/she's doing with it. Just knock on the door and if your roommate asks "What do you want?" without opening up, just shout the following so you can be heard through the closed door:

"I know this is probably weird, but I was thinking about how your Dad died a year or so ago and I remembered that I never lent you any support when that happened. So I want you to know that if you ever wanna talk, like right now, if you wanna talk about anything at all, I'm not doing anything tonight."

Your roommate will probably just brush you off with a "Yeah, thanks." So you should make up something exciting to say, like, "You know, my Mom's dying." Your roommate will then open up the door and hug you. You'll be expected to say why your mom is dying, but if you can't come up with anything, just say "She's a cop and she was first through the door on a bust and she wasn't wearing her vest." Then start screaming at the sky, "Why didn't you wear your fuckin' vest Ma? I always knew that cowboy shit'd get you killed!!!"

I know it seems like you'll end up just talking all about this fake dying Police-mom story, but you don't have to. All you need to say is, "I really don't wanna talk about it anymore. If I don't take my mind off of this shit I'm gonna go nuts." Then you can talk about dating or the new recycling rules for the building and bye bye loneliness!

Happy Check In On Your Roommate Day!

Monday, May 19, 2003

Your Favorite Yoga Position Day!

Today, your favorite yoga position is the "Airplane Crashing Into Kittens." This is where you stretch out your arms and legs wide and lay on your belly making propellor noises with your lips. There must be several kittens roaming freely about the "Dojo" or "Yoga House." Whenever a kitten wanders near you to poke it's nose up at your chin, you have to slam your head into it trying to crush it with one butt of your skull. Kittens are quicker than you think so you'll miss a lot and your forehead will open up into a gaping concussion, which is where the inner peace can enter your head, provided it has exact change for the "Inner Peace Paytoll." This position is rarely used because it does nothing for the bowels. And ninety nine percent of the time, when you ask someone why they do yoga, they say "Because I was told it will make my bowels stop aching when I am all alone in the night."

Happy Your Favorite Yoga Position Day!

Sunday, May 18, 2003

Click Day!

Today is a good day for going on a special date or doing something with a gun that is not full of bullets, such as a first date or russian roullette, or a blind date or a warehouse shootout where you hope to have a lot more bullets than the other person, or a date that you don't think is going to work out or a stickup where you're the guy behind the counter and you have a rifle just beneath the register drawer and you're just waiting for that one sign where if you reach fast enough you might be able to pop the scumbag before he pops you and your aging hysterical wife, or a double date where you dig your buddy's date way more than yours, because today's the day where you two just, or where the gun goes, Click Day!

Saturday, May 17, 2003

Inviting Faggots Into Our Space Program Is The Same As Saying, "Faggot, You May Mow My Lawn" Day!

The next thing you know, faggots will be notarizing our documents and selling us paint. Remain pure.

Happy Inviting Faggots Into Our Space Program Is The Same As Saying, "Faggot, You May Mow My Lawn" Day!

Friday, May 16, 2003

The Lion, The Witch, And The Birthday Party Nobody Came To Day!

Did you get the invite to the Witch's birthday party? Me too.

Me? No! No way would I go to that hag's birthday.

I just can't stand sitting at a bar across from her and the Lion. They just sit there in judgement of everybody. Even the people they call their closest friends. It's like, "Yeah, Witch and Lion, believe it or not no one cares what's on your college transcript. We've all found loves to try and sustain. Thanks anyway, dicks."

I heard Craig went. But he shows up at every party.

Happy The Lion, The Witch, And The Birthday Party Nobody Came To Day!

Thursday, May 15, 2003

Don’t Put Your Kitten Into A Cardboard Box And Toss The Box Out The Window Of Your Moving Car And Onto The Grassy Median Of A Highway Day!

No one is judging you for needing to get rid of your kitten. It’s just dumb luck that only two months after you decided to take on little Liebniz you ended up having to move into a new apartment that doesn’t allow pets. You did all you could, going so far as asking your friends over drinks to keep their ears open for anyone in the market for a free kitten. But alas, no one took you up on the offer. What choice do you have now?

The streets are too overcrowded with strays so you can’t just leave her on the sidewalk to fend for herself. And you’re too good a person to snap a kitten’s neck with your bare hands. “Guess I’d better just put Liebniz into a cardboard box and toss her out of my speeding car onto the grassy highway median strip,” you say to yourself while watching television. “That way, she’ll eventually either starve to death or go mad and rush out onto the lanes to perish underneath a truck tire.”

It seems like the most humane alternative in theory, but you have to consider the visual. A cardboard box tumbles from a speeding car onto a median strip. Ten seconds after the box comes to a stop, whatever is inside it begins to stir. What could it be, pushing and poking at the box flaps to free itself of its cardboard cage. What could it be but…an adorable little kitten, stubbing its cute little nose out with the same wide-eyed curiosity as if she just popped out from underneath your bedcovers to see if anyone wants to play. But rather than a big ball of yarn to bat about, Liebniz will only have the scream of interstate traffic and the thick fog of auto exhaust to play with. But she’ll climb out and she’ll sit atop her cardboard box and she’ll wait for someone to come along and love her.

“But there’s bound to be some prison inmates coming through to clean up litter. She’ll be fine!” you say to yourself while baking. Fuck you! Don’t put your kitten into a cardboard box and toss the box out the window of your moving car and onto the grassy median of a highway. If you need to get rid of her, close up all the windows and puts rags under the doors and turn the gas on before splitting for a couple hours. When you come back, she’ll be quite peacefully deceased.

Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Do Something That Makes You Come Day!

For today, Girls Are Pretty is borrowing a page from a source outside of the Girls Are Pretty universe of inspiration and manifest destiny. Today we’re taking heed from self-help guru, Dr. Mark I. G. Brockerand, PhD. Here’s an excerpt from Mark’s best-selling self-help book, Feeling Better Because You Are Constantly Having Orgasms.

”The average human makes use of no more than 15% of its potential for having orgasms. A healthy adult female who is white can have as many as ninety nine hundred little orgasms per day, or seven really big ones. And the average adult male can have seven really big ones. But we are taught to go through life not constantly vibrating with physical ecstasy. We make excuses. I have to go to the bank. I have to make dinner for the children. I think I have a hundred and two degree fever.

These are the cop-outs. The rain-checks we write to ourselves so as to put off the pleasure we don’t believe we are entitled to. We know what we are capable of. Are we afraid of how our lives might change if we live up to our potential? Yes.

Well it’s time to pose a challenge to yourself. Every day, do something that makes you come. Whether it be intercourse with a person you find attractive, intercourse with a person you don’t find attractive, or intercourse with three people, just make sure it makes you come. And if you manage to come once today, come twice tomorrow. If you keep upping the ante, soon you’ll be having as many orgasms you as a human being are capable of having. And you will be the fully realized ecstatic person that’s been cowering inside of you all those years you wasted your time earning money and caring for your home.

Tie a string around your finger. Every time you look at that string, consider what you’re doing at that moment and ask yourself, ‘Is this gonna make me come?’ If not, STOP!”

Thanks Doc.

You heard the man folks. Get out there and have orgasms now. Because today’s Do Something That Makes You Come Day!

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

Like A Carrot Dangling In Front Of A Pile Of Tires Day!

Nothing. Nothing will happen because why should it? Who would expect it?


Monday, May 12, 2003

Enemy Mauve Day!

Not certain if it's the paint or the walls themselves that appear to expand and release as if they are panting. Either way, it is mauve. You wouldn't be surprised if your landlord came in one day and said, "I never said you could paint in here." And you said, "I didn't." And he said, "Well I never painted the walls Mauve. I only use white paint on my units." And then you would look back to when you moved in and you would have a vague memory of the white walls enclosing your little tiny empty room. Over time, the mauve just grew from within the plaster, from whatever's inside there. Like fur or mucous, it spread evenly like a coat of paint. Now it's everywhere around you, enveloping you while you sleep.

Don't waste time. Take a sledghammer to every last inch of the room. Tear it down. Your roommates will thank you later. They're gonna be real pissed tonight, but later, they'll thank you for not letting that mauve seep into their reproductive organs and taint their future progeny.

Happy Enemy Mauve Day!

Sunday, May 11, 2003

Fuck This, You, And Like Five Other Things Day!

First of all, fuck this. And as long as you're still here, fuck you. And as for those five other things, fuck them, but only if you'd run into a burning building to rescue them but leave your cats to die. Fuck them. The things you care about more than your cats I mean, not your cats. Fuck them.*

Happy Fuck This, You, And Like Five Other Things Day! Did I say fuck you already? If not, fuck you.

*Not your cats. Fuck those things that are more valuable than your cats. Fuck those five things.

Saturday, May 10, 2003

A Plump, Purple Dad Day!

There's a plump, purple Dad in the basement. He's purple because he's hanging from a noose tied to one of the thick water pipes stretched across the basement ceiling. He's plump because he ate lots of fattening food when he was alive. He's hanging from a noose because hanging from a noose is all he ever wanted to do for the past nine years. He had a wife and two teenage girls. As the years go by, when his daughters reveal what happened to their father, they will invariably reveal it to boys who are lying in bed next to them. They will say things like, "My mother says he was on Paxil" and "After that everything just kind of froze still for a few years."

Happy A Plump, Purple Dad Day!

Friday, May 09, 2003

Cropdustin' Day!

No child ever looks at himself in the mirror and says to his reflection, "When I grow up I want to kill a mother and her unborn baby by running them down while driving drunk." Or at least, hardly any children have ever said something like that, if any at all.

Now then, time for some Cropdustin'! No, I don't mean get into a plane and drop plant-growth powder and giant squid saliva all over a cornfield. I'm talking about the sexy new dance that's sweeping the nation. It's an easy dance step. Lift your knees up high with a left to the right and a right to the left, then stop moving and stare into each other's eyes until you just can't stand it anymore you just can't stand it.

Thursday, May 08, 2003

Open Up Your Eyes Day!

Now get up. Wash your body. Dry it off and put clothes on it. Sit down and wait until you have to go outside to another place where people tell you what to do in exchange for money. Ready....and...NOW! Go outside and go to the place where people tell you what to do in exchange for money. When you're hungry, eat. Don't love. And don't sing. When you've managed to live long enough to be allowed to leave the place where they tell you what to do in exchange for money, go back outside. Don't go home yet. Try to figure something out. Aaaaand...good enough. Go home and find something to sit down on. When you're hungry, eat. Don't love. And don't sing. If you are sleepy, find something to lay down on. Dream about razor wire.

Happy Open Up Your Eyes Day!

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

That Girl You Have A Crush On Is Out On The Ledge Day!

Not your ledge, silly. How on Earth would she climb all the way up there? And why would she? After all, she doesn't even know you're alive. No matter how many hours you spend lying in bed psychically calling to her. Regardless of all the awkward attempts you've made at starting a conversation with her, or all the sidelong glances you've sent her way from across a party, she still wouldn't know your name to call to you if you were about to step in front of a bus. So what would she be doing anywhere near your bedroom window?

No, no, no. She's out on her ledge, poking her adorable little nose out over the street, her boney little arms wrapped around her shivering torso. If you could see the way her tears make her cheeks shine under the moonlight I swear to God you might never go a moment without thinking about her face for the rest of your life.

She was out there on Monday night too, for only a half hour though. She didn't jump. Last night she thought she was really going to jump. But after a full two hours out there she finally crawled back through her window and into bed. She just got out there tonight. It's only been ten minutes. And she really can't imagine going back inside, at least not right now.

Just thought you might want to know. Since you were lying there with that goofy smile on your face, wondering "what that precious little thing is doing right now. No matter what it is, I'm sure I'd find it adorable." Well, she's staring down at a sidewalk wondering if she can push herself out far enough so as to not get impaled on the wrought-iron fence out front of the stairwell down to the garden apartments. That adorable enough for you, lover-boy? Why don't you pine away for someone in your own league?

Happy That Girl You Have A Crush On Is Out On The Ledge Day!

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

In The Weatherman's Pants Day!

Ever think if you watch one more boring weather forecast you might just chase your family down with a shotgun? Well why not add a little bit of your own light to your life. Next time you watch the weatherman talking about "a warm front coming up" and "gonna see some haze today," just imagine the words "in my pants!" tacked on to every line he says.

"We can expect a little drizzle this my pants!"

"Gonna be a hot one my pants!"

"If you have allergies, today's going to be a bad day for you because the pollen is well above moderate though we're not quite at high just my pants!"

I'm giggling already, though I'm still crying. I don't have to stop crying to laugh. I just laugh for a second, then remind myself why I should keep crying. I can laugh through the tears. Jealous?

Happy In The Weatherman's Pants Day!

Monday, May 05, 2003

Seventeen Ambulances Day!

They're a street-gang whose hook is that they travel around in stolen ambulances. They've got seventeen of them and when they show up for a rumble or to loot an apartment house, you can hear them coming from thirty blocks away because they turn the sirens on telling everyone they pass, "Get ready to run and make sure you have your children in your arms because children tend to get underfoot when a gang of toughs rushes their building and starts grabbing DVD players."

The worst is when they come in the morning. They fill an entire street in that vehicle formation that looks like an upside down V or a stickfigure seagull swooping in to steal the bread from your hands. Ambulance sirens in the early morning. Ain't right.

Anyway, they know you're back in town. And they know what building you're staying in and they're said to be coming to see what brought you back. They've grown a lot stronger since you left, so I know you have no intention of backing down, but just know that it won't be the same fight you might have had five years ago. They even have a gang name now. They call themselves "The Bad Guys." They like turning on their sirens and knowing everyone's saying "Here come The Bad Guys."

Be careful. What do you have planned anyway?

Happy Seventeen Ambulances Day!

Sunday, May 04, 2003

Mount Saint Helen's Day!

Hey you. Wanna learn how to pick up chicks? Ever been to Mount Saint Helen's? No? Well get on a plane!

If you feel like the town you live in is bone-dry when it comes to fresh, bumpable honeys who don't already know that your wife ran off because you're queer but won't admit it, you gotta get yourself to Mount Saint Helen's. Located in America, Mount Saint Helen's is a volcano and it's crawling with babes in jeans looking for a little eruption in their daily same-old same-old, if you get my drift (they wanna get fucked). These hotties might not be your average nightclub specimen, but they sure do like to watch the lava flow, if you know what I'm saying (they dig cum). And if you can follow two simple rules, you'll have yourself a tourbus-full on each arm before they can think twice.

First, act like you're scared that the volcano will erupt and you're all gonna die. When a specimen tries to comfort you by saying "No it won't," tell her you've always felt you can converse with fire and on the drive up to the volcano, you heard fire talking shit.

Second, count money in front of her. Stuff your money clip full of singles so it looks like you have a big wad. If you show a hot babe money, she'll do whatever she can to get her mitts on it. Even kill.

Once they start lining up and you've taken your pick, start drinking a lot so you won't be grossed out at having to screw something other than a dude again.

Happy Mount Saint Helen's Day!

Saturday, May 03, 2003

Birdbite Day!

If you're having brunch outdoors and a bird swoops down onto your head and bites a chunk out of your scalp, act natural.

Happy Birdbite Day!

Friday, May 02, 2003

Hookers Are Wrong Day!

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT ask a hooker for directions today. For today is the day that hookers are wrong. It is the one day out of the year when a hooker is only good for providing sexual favors in exchange for money. IF YOU ASK A HOOKER FOR DIRECTIONS TODAY, YOU WILL GET LOST AND YOU WILL BE LATE! IS THIS CLEAR? YOU WILL BE LATE!

The same warning also goes for asking a hooker for the time. IF YOU ASK A HOOKER FOR THE TIME HE OR SHE WILL NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TIME! AGAIN, YOU WILL BE LATE! OR EARLY!

Happy Hookers Are Wrong Day! That reads weird though. All hookers are wrong today, even the ones who are not happy.

Thursday, May 01, 2003

Cross Country Boy Day!

Here comes a comin' Cross Country Boy, doing a cold 68 down a highway through the middle of Nebraska. Cross Country Boy is behind the wheel of a Ryder truck full of everything he couldn't sell and everything his girlfriend left behind. He'll let her decide what she wants to keep in their new place.

He sees a lot of other Ryder trucks and Uhauls in the lanes to his right and to his left and the people in the cabs wear the giddy faces of folks who know they're headed straight for the future they've been dreaming of all this time. "We're really doing it," Cross-Country Boy imagines them saying to each other, just before the passenger leans over to give the driver a wet kiss on the face. Cross-Country Boy tries saying this aloud to the photograph, "We're really doing it." And he bugs his eyes out with anticipation until they start to sting. Then he keeps driving.

Those people in those other trucks, they might wonder why Cross Country Boy is driving solo. They might wonder where his sweetie is. At the rest stops, he can see they're wondering, which is why he makes a point of telling them the story even though they're too afraid to ask. Whoever's at the neighboring table in the Roy Rogers, Cross Country Boy lets them know it's all okay.

"She just went out to Portland ahead of me. She says it's great out there and she can't wait for us to get started on our new life together. She says the apartment she found for us is exactly the place she's always dreamed we'd share." And he'll say, "She says she has a friend out there who might be able to give me a job right when I pull up in my truck," even though she never said that to him. He says all that to the people at the neighboring table just so they don't have to spend all their time wondering about him and they can enjoy their meal knowing Cross Country Boy's doing okay.

Back behind the wheel of his Ryder Truck, Cross Country Boy is smiling at the highway's horizon up ahead. He turns her photograph sitting on the dashboard around so she can see where they're headed. Then he turns it back to face him and he smiles at the smile she's giving him. "Do you think it'll be easy to get a job when I get out there," he asks. But her photograph doesn't answer him.

It never answers that question and it's annoying because that's the only question that's still nagging at Cross Country Boy. He keeps it to himself, but he's starting to feel a little taken for granted. That whole month and a half he stayed inside the apartment after she left, sitting with her photograph and hearing, "I'm just getting settled so everything will be ready for you when you come out here. I just want to make everything right for you. I owe you so much for all the love you've given me and I want to make sure you'll be happy here with me."

He stayed inside until he was convinced. People kept calling to tell him he's crazy to follow her out there, trying to tell him she's with someone new. So he unplugged the phone and locked the door and stared at the photograph to give her the chance to convince him to follow her.

Finally he said, "Will you really try harder this time."

"Yes, oh yes I promise. Oh I love you and I promise to be better for you."

"And you really think we can make it work out there?" he asked.

"Oh yes, I'm certain we can be happy out here. You'll love the apartment I chose for us. Please, please come and be with me again."

"I just wish we'd talked this through before you ran off expecting me to follow," he said.

"I'm sorry baby. But I know you'll love it here and I can't live without you. Will you come?"

So he rented his Ryder truck and loaded up their things and headed for the return address scribbled in the envelope corner of the one unopened letter she sent.

And so Cross Country Boy is headed out to be with his baby, and he just wishes she'd mentioned whether she'd checked into the work situation out there. He's leaving behind a pretty good job for her and he feels like she doesn't really appreciate that. He'll have to bring that up when they're together. Cross Country Boy knows that lovers can't read each other's mind, so it's important to tell your lover when she's upset you.

Here comes a comin' Cross Country Boy, doing a cold 68 down a highway through the middle of Nebraska because today's Cross Country Boy Day!