Friday, December 31, 2004

Matchmaker Day

Matchmaker Day!

You got set up with a guy with no arms. He has two legs and can walk around fine, but he holds stuff with this mechanical claw that's strapped around his torso and sticks out from the center of his chest. He operates the arm with deep inhalations and exhalations, causing his chest to drastically expand and retract. Therefore, during dinner or a game of checkers he is constantly panting and gasping. Luckily, you can't hear his breathing over the constant whirring of the motors contained within the mechanical claw.

On his way into the Japanese restaurant he stubbed his sandaled foot on a large ceramic vase near the entranceway. He swore up and down and started berating a hostess. His rage was unjustified and aimless, like your father's, and so you fell in love. Additionally, before he lost his arms he was a hitter. Now that he only has the mechanical arm, he's still a hitter. Trouble is, the torque on that arm's hydraulics can take off a head at the neck. Don't move in right away.

Happy Matchmaker Day!

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Most Of September, 2004 Day!

Most Of September, 2004 Day!

You spent it remembering an hour on March 18th, 2004, when she fell asleep in the passenger seat. When she'd fall asleep you'd watch her mouth drop open from her face shut tight, it made you happy to know she could fall asleep in your presence.

"You're not afraid I'm going to steal your stuff or anything," you explained.

"That's no reason to videotape me at night."

You destroyed the tapes, and it turned out to be a great idea because it made you cherish all the more those moments when you caught her napping. Moments like the 60 or so she spent blissfully asleep in the passenger seat of your Honda on March 18th, 2004. You nearly veered off the road a couple of times you were watching her so intently. You thought you could actually see her dreams by the expression on her face. She looked concerned, a little overburdened, like she'd been told to fill a thousand pickle jars with her pee or her sisters would be sent to war. But then again, you might be the only one who has that dream.

By September, 2004, all you had left of her were the memories. You focused tight on that hour on March 18th and you exhausted it. Until you could no longer remember which parts of it were fact and which were fabrications added in the process of recalling a memory.

Today, you remember September, and you're able to shudder and feel a little better off. What have you learned from all of this.

"Don't destroy videotapes?"


Happy Most Of September, 2004 Day!

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

She Shouts "Glory Be To God" When She Comes Day

She Shouts "Glory Be To God" When She Comes Day!

"Do you always do that?" you ask. Her breasts are smaller than yours, you notice.

"Zip it," she says. She starts to get dressed. "My mom's gonna be picking me up soon."

"You could stay for dinner," you say.

"One word of this to my Mom, the kids at school, anybody, and I swear to God I'll kill you dead."

You reach out to put your hand on her hair, but think better of it. "Is that why you transferred to our school? Did you—"

"Dykes get real possessive real fast," she says. Is that what you are? A Dyke? "If you don't slice some blood from their palms right off the bat, they grab at every piece of you they can reach."

She picks up the baby blanket that you still sleep with and gently wraps it around your neck. She's looking in your eyes as she pulls it tighter and tighter. You don't gasp for air. You don't blink. You feel like you have to keep your face as hard as stone if you ever want her to come back to your room. Just hold her stare. Don't feel anything.

"I wanna tear this town to pieces," she says. "Wanna come with?"

You shrug. She loosens the blanket. Her mom honks her horn from the driveway. You just signed on to a lesbolescent life o' crime little girl.

Happy She Shouts "Glory Be To God" When She Comes Day!

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

The Kickline Girl Is Dead Day

The Kickline Girl Is Dead Day!

Most people who saw her thought she was just another Vegas showgirl who'd keep paying the bills until her knee gave out on her. But Justine knew something they didn't know.

"I know how to pick combination safes," she told the only man she ever loved.

"It's a rare talent. Never use it," Keith told her. "Promise me you'll never use it. As long as we both shall live?"

"As long as we both shall live," Justine promised.

Keith ended up not living all that long. Another four months to be exact. Keith's death sentence had been signed long before he walked into Justine's life. About a hundred grand in the hole, hooking up with a safecracker should have been the answer to his prayers.

"I might be a gamblin' junky," said Keith. "But I'm a gentleman. And a gentleman doesn't bring his girl in on a score just so's he can even his debts."

Eventually, Keith's debts came due. The night Justine walked out of the dressing room and found no one waiting for her outside, she knew he'd been killed. The only happiness she'd ever known had been ripped out of her arms, and she wanted revenge.

A hit on your average nobody will cost around $25,000 if you expect it to come off without a hitch. A hit on the kind of guys Justine wanted dead, the guys Keith owed his money to, you're talking a hundred grand a head, minimum. A showgirl doesn't make that kind of money. To get that kind of money, you'd have to crack a safe.

A lot of safes as it turned out. Justine put the word out that she was ready to come on board with any crew who had a line on the right score. She was glad to say goodbye to the showgirl life. Her knees were even more glad. And she took to a life of crime like a bee to honey.

This morning, at around 4 AM, she'd just cracked open the safe that would give her the last 50 grand necessary to put out her contracts. But she never even got to hold the money. It was dumb luck, but the crew who brought her the score just happened to have been put together by Horst Murinven, the loan shark Justine believed to have pulled the trigger on her Keith. When Murinven's crew told him about the kickline girl safecracker who could make the score happen, he checked her out and discovered her link to Keith. A few more questions around town and he knew she was looking for a killer for pay.

Murinven knew she was coming his way. And he also knew how much money was in that safe. He told his crew to bring guns for a change. He told them to wait for her to pull the door of the safe open wide. And he told them they'd each get an extra ten grand if they put a bullet in her head before she could turn around. That's why the kickline girl is dead.

Happy The Kickline Girl Is Dead Day!

Monday, December 27, 2004

Trapped Underneath Your Girlfriend Day

Trapped Underneath Your Girlfriend Day!

You phone for help. You phone Steve.

"She's dead and she's on top of me."

Steve tells you to try and shove her off of you, asks you how she died.

"Cancer," you say. " This is really difficult. She won't budge."

Steve asks you where you are.

"I'm not sure. It looks like a warehouse."

Steve asks if anyone else is there.

"Look, I don't have time for 20 questions. I'm really broken up over the death of my girlfriend. And I just need someone to get her off of me."

Steve says he understands, but he can't send help unless he knows where you are.

"Makes sense to me. Sorry I lost it there for a second. Bad day."

Steve doesn't say anything.

"Dead girlfriend and all," you continue. "On top of me and everything," you add. "Shortening my breath, cutting off the blood to my brain," you clinch the deal.

"Okay," Steve says. "I'll devote my every waking breath to freeing you from the weight of your dead girlfriend."

"You're the best," you say.

"Smoking hurts us all," Steve says and hangs up.

You wait, occasionally putting a kiss to your dead girlfriend's earlobe. With every kiss, she's just a little bit colder.

Happy Trapped Underneath Your Girlfriend Day!

Friday, December 24, 2004

It's The Girls Are Pretty "Go Into The Woods And Find A Little Bit Of Truth" Weekend

It's The Girls Are Pretty "Go Into The Woods And Find A Little Bit Of Truth" Weekend!

It's all coming apart at the seams for Prettygirl. One morning, about four years ago, she woke up feeling like things were going to be getting worse from then on. She tried to ignore it throughout constant narcotics abuse, which was really really fun and gave her some good ideas for children's books she plans to write and illustrate one day, but they didn't help her to pretend that life works on some level. At one point, she took the advice of a grandmother and tried to give and receive love. Pure chicanery.

So now, Prettygirl's going into the woods in the hopes that watching frogs hump will put some blood back in her veins. If she doesn't start to perk up in a couple of days, she'll take off all of her clothes (Prettygirl's got a nice bod still, and whenever's she's naked it's a good thing), lay down on the frozen dirt and let the cold have her last breaths (which she'll be able to see, cause it'll be cold). If she finds, as the long-haired poets might say, "Something to believe in," she'll be back with more horseshit for you all to obey thoughtlessly. Either way, she's putting some days up in advance since she doesn't expect to make it to a Kinko's anytime soon. Scroll down to read today's today. Don't read tomorrow's until tomorrow or you'll grow one of those 115 pound tumors in your stomach that you'll assume is just the result of you being a big fat pig.

These might be the last ever. Make them count.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

Scold Your Pets For Not Being Romantic Enough Day!

Tell Wiffles that she never tries to surprise you. That she takes you for granted. Tell her that it would be nice if you could just come home one day to find that Wiffles had done something, perhaps arranged her poo to look like your face or whatever, just to let you know that you're still special. Wiffles will just kind of walk away because she doesn't speak English. When she does, weep.

Happy Scold Your Pets For Not Being Romantic Enough Day!

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Get Up From The Table And Go Day!

Tonight, your lover will tell the truth. He'll tell you what he's been so afraid to say for such a long time. He'll tell you that far more frightening than the potential retribution from various foreign governments, is the possibility that you might think less of him.

React thusly: Get up from the table and go out to the street. Run down the street in your bare feet with no idea where to go, who to go to. He'll catch up to you in the car after a few blocks. You'll get in and you two will come up with a plan. You'll say to him, "I'm involved now. I'm in just as much danger as you. Thanks a lot jerkface."

Happy Get Up From The Table And Go Day!

Friday, December 24, 2004

Covet Children At A Playground Day!

You're childless and empty. Worthless, in the eyes of the world and your Lord. Your lack of children is proof that you remain unloved and unlovable. Go to the playground and look at all the beautiful children at play. As you watch them, whisper aloud a both ends of a conversation you imagine you're having with your own little boy or girl. It's fun to pretend at 38.

Happy Covet Children At A Playground Day!

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Dogcatcher Day

Dogcatcher Day!

It's been two days since Rex has disappeared. It's time to go to the town dogcatcher and make a threat.

"You find my dog you do one of two things. Bring him back to me, or leave him be."

The Dogcatcher won't turn to you when he speaks from his leather seat.

"I'll do as my occupation dictates I do," the Dogcatcher will say.

Go to the arm of his chair and squat down so your mouth is at his ear. "Place my dog in danger," say, "And I will bring you pain in kind."

The Dogcatcher will scoff. "Can't feel pain," he'll say.

You'll stay by his side, not sure of what he said.

"Just get out of here."

Stand, but don't go.


The Dogcatcher will fly into a rage without even getting to his feet. He'll just bark at you from the sink of his chair until you go.

On your drive home you'll remember that the Dogcatcher is addicted to heroin and it must have been time for his fix. He flew into a panic because you were in the house when he was ready to shoot up. No one's been in his house in 8 months. He didn't know how else to handle it. He just knew he had to be rid of you in order to administer to his self.

Happy Dogcatcher Day!

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

The Ku Klux Klan Day

The Ku Klux Klan Day!

Today, you are going to sit down with the Ku Klux Klan and go over some concepts.

"Presently," say, "The public sees the Klan as a terrorist organization. An instrument of hate."

Their hoods will rustle, indicating that they're nodding in agreement.

"To up your membership, you need to promote the deep social element of your club."

They turn to each other, then back to you. Get your artwork ready.

"Friendship. Teamwork. Playdates for your children. Gentlemen, it's time for a name-change."

They're on the edge of their seats.

"Say goodbye to the Ku Klux Klan." Show them the mock-up of families of hooded Klan members cheering on a sack race in a public park; smoke billowing from a barbecue in the background. "Say hello to the Ku Klux Community?."

They don't need to take off their hoods to let you know that you just hit one out of the park.

Happy The Ku Klux Klan Day!

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Roundhouse Day

Roundhouse Day!

Say, "I love you roundhouse."

Roundhouse will say, "I love you too."

A gang of drug addicts will come down the alley towards you, hooting and hollering.

"Not now," says Roundhouse.

Smile at her. "Do what you were brought here to do."

Roundhouse meets the gang halfway down the alley and kills them all with kicks.

"Go Roundhouse!" you shout. Your girlfriend was trained in a government lab to murder troublemakers. You have to share her with an entire crimewave. Some guys wouldn't be able to handle having a girlfriend with such a consuming career. But you were raised correctly.

Happy Roundhouse Day!

Monday, December 20, 2004

Who Cut The Cheese Day

Who Cut The Cheese Day!

Say, "Who cut the cheese?"

No confessions.

Repeat, "Who cut the cheese?"

No confessions.

Pick up the child with the messiest hands. Say into his face, "Did you cut the cheese?"

The child will not confess.

Bring the children into the milk room in pairs, making sure not to pair up any children who are often seen playing together. A method known as Chatham's Uncomfortable Contract. Two people with no history, no shorthand for communication, no basis of knowing how the other will react to a situation, they get thrown together and they rush each other to a compromised position with the interrogator, neither wanting to give the other the chance to shift suspicion with an accusation.

Wear them down.

Shout into the first child's face: "Did you cut the cheese? No? Are you accusing him then? No? Then it must have been you!"

This is the Morrissey Axiom of interrogation. Pose no question that offers safe exit from the interrogation room. The suspect should be as damned in denying the crime as he is in confessing the crime.

"You two want me to believe neither one of ya's never puffed but the rosiest perfumes out between those cheeks, that it?" say. "Then you better tell me who done it, if you're so sure."

This is Handel's "Bottom Line." The suspects have been ground so far down they don't see any options open. There is no such thing as truth at this level. They gave up hope on the truth setting them free a dozen hours ago. The only hope they have for ever being let go is to tell the interrogator exactly what he wants to hear. At this point, you should be waiting out in the playroom, watching the other children fake their way through naptime, giving the two in the milk room a chance to formulate a cohesive story.

When you go back into the milk room, those two kids are going to tell you who stunk a fart into the day care center.

Happy Who Cut The Cheese Day!

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Get Hit By A Car Day

Get Hit By A Car Day!

Today you're gonna get hit by a car and everyone is gonna come to your hospital room and be nice to you for a change. Additionally, Brad, who broke up with you because you weren't pretty enough, is going to come to your hospital bed and beg you to take him back. You'll refuse him and he'll kill himself.

Your brush with death will also open your brother Michael's eyes to the damage he's inflicting on himself with his drug abuse. He'll stop abusing drugs and he'll get rich. Also, your mom's cancer will go away because God will think it's too cruel for so much sadness to get crammed into one family. And God will also give your family a new car.

Finally, you'll be visited by President George W Bush. He'll ask you to hang in there and he'll promise to make laws that make the roads safer for beautiful girls like you.

Happy Get Hit By A Car Day!

Saturday, December 18, 2004

Launch The Rocket Day!

Launch The Rocket Day!

Hello, Country With A Space Program. Today is the day to launch your rocket.

You're welcome for the reminder. Now go explore outer space.

Happy Launch The Rocket Day!

Friday, December 17, 2004

Treehouse Graffiti Day

Treehouse Graffiti Day!


This is in reference to your efforts to make friends by building a tree house and inviting children at school to join what you called "The Lanfair Avenue Army," Lanfair avenue being the street where you live.

All of the kids politely declined, some of them were downright cordial about it. But now, perhaps under cover of night, they have struck and made plain what was screaming through your head every time you looked up at that airborne shack built from wood leftover from your father's half-completed sundeck.

you have no friends

Not such a big deal. Once construction halted on the sundeck you knew your father would be moving you and your mother again. It's San Diego in 4 more months. Perhaps San Diego will be the burgh that will finally offer you a little bit of company.

Happy Treehouse Graffiti Day!

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Gardener Wars Day

Landscaper Wars Day!

Landscaper Wars is a very violent video game that has been putting horrible ideas into your son's eleven year old head. Today, he will let a girl know that he likes her by opening up the back of her neck with a trovel. You should have paid more attention to what sort of games your son was playing. You were too busy online dating, too busy trying to find him a new Dad you never found the time to be a Mom.

Happy Landscaper Wars Day

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Monster Day

Monster Day!

Your girlfriend is convinced that there are monsters under her bed and she wants you to sleep over her house to make her feel safe. You want her to sleep soundly, but you're both only sixteen and you don't want to have sex until you at least are out of high school. Spending the night in her room might compromise that plan.

You ask your girlfriend, "We're still on the same page right?"

"About what?" she says.

"Not fucking."

She says, "I don't want to fuck. I just want you to sleep in my room. The monsters, you know."

You say, "I know and I want to be there to protect you. I'm just afraid of fucking you."

"You don't think you can sleep over without fucking me?" she says.

"No," you say. "Not just me. Us. I'm afraid if we're in your bedroom all night long in our pajamas like that, we're just going to lose control and fuck like crazy. And I wanna go to college."

She says, "Please. The monsters."

You hold her eyes with yours, seeking out some truth. "Okay," you say. "But if we all of a sudden fuck…"

"Yeah?" she says.

You break out in a smile, "Don't say I didn't warn ya' is all."

She smiles and the two of you hug. Later tonight, you're torn apart at the sternum by monsters.

Happy Monster Day!

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Water My Plants While I'm Away Day

Water My Plants While I'm Away Day!

You love George, but George isn't gay. Yet, you see so few prospects for a gay man in your town that the most aggressive effort you're going to make towards securing romance is having George come up and water your plants while you're away at an adhesives seminar (you purchase glue for a bottling plant) and letting George find evidence of your love through his own curious volition.

First, you'll leave out a pile of photos on the kitchen table. George will recognize the people in the photo on the top of the pile, and he'll sift through to see if he can recognize the event where the photos were taken. Somewhere in the middle of the pile will be a lovingly framed photo of George he won't remember having been taken. The photo will give the impression that the photographer spent the evening in silence, content to drink in George's profile from across the table.

Next, a piece of scrap paper full of phone numbers. Somewhere in the middle of the mass of scrawl will be the lines, "Hey George, wanna go check out that new Nicole Kidman movie about her dead boyfriend coming back as a little kid? No big deal, I was just looking for someone to go with and…" George won't be able to see this as anything but a script, though he'll try to ignore it. He'll know you had scripted out how you should casually ask him on a date. He'll also remember the phone call when you asked him to come see that movie with you. It came out differently than what was scripted.

Finally, leave scattered around some surveillance photos of George and his girlfriend walking hand in hand, his girlfriend's eyes having been blacked out with a Sharpie.

George might be creeped out, but if you come home and your plants aren't dead, that means he cares for you too.

Happy Water My Plants While I'm Away Day!

Monday, December 13, 2004

Love And War Day

Love And War Day!

Your boyfriend's in Iraq, and you've been faithful ever since he left. Before he left is another story.

"I won't betray this man when he's living a life surrounded by the promise of death at every turn," you tell Stephen.

"You'll betray your heart then," says Stephen.

"So be it," you say. "Don't come to the diner anymore."

Stephen has been good about staying away. Before Charles got shipped out, Stephen kept a nightly appointment parked in the parking lot across the street, waiting for your shift to end. You'd get into your car and follow him either to someplace scenic where you'd get out of your car and climb into his big backseat, or to a hotel with a parking lot away from the street.

Things got more intense with Stephen, and you had plans to tell Charles about him. You had plans to leave Charles, but the Army Reserves had other plans.

"I won't touch you while he's away," you told Stephen the night after Charles went away. "I can't risk coming home from a night with you to get a phone call saying my Charles got hurt."

"Now he's your Charles?" Stephen asks. "You'll give up your own happiness just to keep him from being made the fool."

"I've given up worse," you said. You were referring to the baby you'd aborted that morning. It could have been Charles'. But it was far more likely Stephen's. You couldn't risk it.

But you were seen coming out of the clinic. Not by anyone who knows Charles. But by Stephen's Daddy. They barely talk. But it wouldn't take too many words to say what he saw.

Happy Love And War Day!

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Wake N' Wrestle Day!

Wake N' Wrestle Day!

Every morning, the goal is to open your eyes before your brother. You can't use any alarms or wake up calls. Just the strategy you take down into your unconsciousness with you.

It doesn't count if you wake up before 7. You're allowed to wake up before 7 if you want and wait for the clock to click past 6:59. But you can't make a move before 7. This has often led to the two of you waking at around 6:45 and then just coiling in your spots on the bed for fifteen minutes, waiting to pounce on each other.

Nowadays though, it's gotten so routine that you both sometimes sleep as late as 8 AM before one you wakes up and pins the other to the mattress. You're both really busy too, so it's rare that a real match comes about. Usually, the one who wakes up late just lets himself get pinned so he can get into the shower first (the one who gets pinned always gets to shower first). Maybe once a month, you'll both put up a good fight, but both of you would say it's just for old time's sake.

Anyway, today when you woke up, you saw that the clock said 7:12. You flipped over to the other side of the bed and pinned a long swath of empty air to the mattress. Your brother never came home last night. And he's still not home.

He fell in love. (he's thirty-six, you're thirty-eight.)

Happy Wake N' Wrestle Day!

Saturday, December 11, 2004

Light The Whole Matchbook Day

Light The Whole Matchbook Day!

Then light your cigarette. Then toss the lit matchbook to the trail of gasoline. That shed full of dogs will burst into a fireball in seconds. That'll teach your ex-husband to steal your idea to open up an obedience school for extra Christmas money. Now get outta town. A NEW LIFE IS JUST OFF STARBOARD!

Happy Light The Whole Matchbook Day!

Friday, December 10, 2004

The Freezerburn Gang Day

The Freezerburn Gang Day!

Today, the Freezerburn Gang is going to have a meeting at which the topic of a name-change for the gang will again be discussed, ultimately leading to a split vote.

Next, the Freezerburn Gang will happen to listen in on a neighborhood Mad Scientist's vocal detailing of his plan to taint the local bars' beer taps with a serum that makes people who drink it speak the worst thought in their heads, no matter how much they want to keep that thought to themselves. The Freezerburn Gang will stop the Mad Scientist's plan, but not before he manages to infiltrate one bar and gradually poison its patrons with his Dark-Truth Serum. It is an uncomfortably hysterical scene that ensues when the patrons start speaking the recesses of their minds. Thankfully, the Freezerburn Gang stops the spread of the Serum before it can threaten to tear a neighborhood to shreds with honesty.

Happy The Freezerburn Gang Day!

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Spit On A Statue Day

Spit On A Statue Day!

Mid-day on a beautiful, unseasonably warm afternoon when everyone has rushed out to the park to get a taste of sunshine. Stomp from the entrance to the park straight to the center where the statue of an "important" historical figure casts its silhouette. March right up to that statue and spit at its base. Scream once, "FRAUD!"

Once all the babies and their nannies have turned to enjoy you, shout, "Your legacy is a lie! It's all falling apart!"

Then stomp away to find a nice cheeseburger someplace.

Happy Spit On A Statue Day!

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Shootout On The Log Flume Day

Shootout On The Log Flume Day!

The son of a bitch pushes his way through the line and hops into the empty tail seat of a log flume, startling the family in the seats ahead of him when he flashes his gun. The son of a bitch is confused when he points the gun at the father, sitting in the front seat of the log, and says, "Drive."

You shove your way through the gate, flash your badge, and race to an empty log. As your log pulls ahead to begin its descent, you already see the son of a bitch drop out of site into the flume.

Luckily, your log takes a different track than his and you catch up to him quickly. He starts shooting wildly at you, but you have to be more careful. There are citizens in his log. Just you in yours. You do your best to keep low.

There's actually quite a lot of ducking and hiding. Since the log flume is a pretty slow, calm ride up until the final descent, the shootout is about as simple as if the two of you were walking on opposite sides of a narrow street at an even pace. Before you reach that final descent, you both manage to inflict fatal wounds upon each other.

The big splash at the end of the ride washes the blood from the wounds so that when your logs come to a stop, you both look quite peacefully asleep. The family that shared the son of a bitch's log races away in a panic. Everyone stares at your bodies. And then the blood starts to seep out from your wounds again, and the screaming erupts from the crowd.

Happy Shootout On The Log Flume Day!

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Broken Boy On Your Bedroom Floor Day

Broken Boy On Your Bedroom Floor Day!

He's screaming, "But without you I have nothing left."

Say, "I want a boy who'll bring something to the table."

He'll wiggle around and writhe like a worm cut in two. "I thought you saw my potential."

Say, "I don't gamble."

He'll pound his forehead into the fake wood tile. He'll spit up. "You're probably the last person who would have me."

Say, "If I thought I was that pathetic I'd kill myself before Frazier." Turn on the TV and begin watching Frazier.

He'll get up on his knees and slam his fists into his eyes. "I never want to see anything again."

Say, "'Kay." Chuckle at the dialogue on Frazier.

He'll walk to the end of the living room, sprint across the floor and fling himself against the opposite wall. He'll say, "I don't want my bones to work."

Say, "'Don't fuck up my shit."

He'll go into the kitchen and start searching under the sink for something poisonous to drink. He'll say, "I'm going to die here, at your feet. I'll be the fatal vicitim of your cruelty."

Get up and leave. Sleep over at your new boyfriend's house.

Happy Broken Boy On Your Bedroom Floor Day!

Monday, December 06, 2004

Online Date Right Day!

Online Date Right Day!

Me: Poor, but wizened from the struggle.

You: Rich, marrying the one your parents chose for you.

We: Find an ease together that doesn't come easy. You: lament that your father demands you marry the daughter of the chairman of the board of the company your father plans to merge with. Me: wish you weren't rich so my father might trust you, so I could trust you in turn.

You: Stand up to your father, for a night at least. Me: stand on my waitress' ankles for twelve hours a day, paying bills is what I understand. We: marvel at the irony of the rich man held captive, the poor woman free.

Me: Shake my head and kick myself when you don't show up when you said you would. You: Limit your rebellion against your father to not smiling at the engagement party, but you make the toast you wrote before you met me. We: Go back to our separate lives, our respective worlds without hope that anyone's going to come along and throw us a life preserver.

We: go out separately for walks where we used to walk, but never bump into each other now matter how much we hope we might. Me: find out it's your wedding day on the society pages of the paper. You: throw society on its ear when you walk out of your wedding and knock on my door.


Happy Online Date Right Day!

Sunday, December 05, 2004

You're The Prettiest Hostage Day

You're The Prettiest Hostage Day!

One of the hostage-takers is sweet on you. Was, I mean. The dead one. Clay. You could tell by the way he kept asking you if you needed another can of Country Time from the soda machine they shot open. Clay had grand plans in his head. He imagined taking you as his very last hostage when he'd board the plane to Bermuda. In his fantasy, you'd come to see he's an all right guy. Sweet even, just trying to get what's his.

His partner, Luther, is about to blow. He's going to start tossing bodies out the window to avenge that sniper bullet that went through Clay's voicebox. I suggest that you go and cry beside Clay's body to appear to ally yourself to Luther's side of the situation. Say "it's not fair" and the like.

Happy You're The Prettiest Hostage Day!

Saturday, December 04, 2004

Broke Your Foot Day

Broke Your Foot Day!

You're on crutches and you live on the top floor a five-floor walkup in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. It takes you sixteen minutes to climb those stairs. When you open your apartment door, your roommate turns around with the knob that turns on the microwave in her hand.

"This is broken," she says.

She tosses the knob in the trash can and goes into her bedroom to speak to her boyfriend in Polish. You stare at the trash can, then at the freezer. You want to lie down and never get up again, but you need Vodka first. You postpone stretching out on your futon long enough to cut a lime and halfway fill a glass with ice cubes and some tonic. You fill the rest of the glass with vodka. You take both crutches in your right hand, the glass in your left, and you hop into your room, where you fall on your futon without spilling a drop.

After two more journeys into the kitchen for refills, you're nearly blind, and your mother calls you. She asks about your foot and you try to keep your words from crowding each other, but you realize you're going to have to throw up within a minute's time. You do your best to pull yourself to your crutches while scuttling the conversation to a conclusion. But you fall and drop the phone on the floor.

"Hello," she says when you get the phone to your ear.

"My roommate wants the phone," you say.

"Oh," your mother says. "Okay honey well then…"

"Love you Mom," you say and hang up. You're back up on the crutches flinging yourself to the bathroom. The laws of physics get you to the toilet. It all works out.

Several hours later, you realize your roommate must have left before you threw up, because you find yourself sprawled across the kitchen floor with your feet across the threshold to the bathroom and your head in the kitty litter. You pull yourself up, reach into the bathroom, and tug the knob on the toilet to flush your vomit down the drain. The knob, of course, comes off in your hand. You toss it into the garbage and crawl back to your bedroom for some more sleep.

Happy Broke Your Foot Day!

Friday, December 03, 2004

Middle School Dance Day

Middle School Dance Day!

Tonight, when you walk past your neighborhood middle school, you will hear loud Top 40 music pumping from its open doors. Just inside the doors you will see bunches of children dressed nicely. You will realize they are attending a school dance.

You'll pause in your walk, watching the kids awkwardly flirt and tease each other. Your mind will drift back to your own middle school dance. You'll remember a kiss you stole on the dance floor. A sip of alcohol in the boys' room. But most of all, you'll remember coming home and finding your minister father waiting up for you so that he can admonish you for whatever sins of the flesh he assumed you had committed that night.

You slept on your belly that night, the lashings of his horsehair whip too fresh on your back. You were pulled out of school not long after that and forced to help your father build a new church (he died before that church heard him give a single sermon). Listening to the sound of that dance tonight will make you think it's about time you got your GED.

Happy Middle School Dance Day!

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Cuddle Day!

Cuddle Day!

Jim and Gracie were cuddling together on Gracie's couch at 3:30 PM today. They were cuddling underneath an afghan Gracie's Grandmom made.

"Cuddling's awesome," said Jim.

Gracie agreed. "I feel like if we were to cuddle hard enough, I'd develop x-ray vision."

"Like a secret power sitting dormant inside of you," Jim said. "Pulled to the surface through the strength of our cuddling."

"Right," Gracie said. "Cuddle me a little harder and I'll be able to fly to work tomorrow."

Jim said, "I bet if you cuddle me strong enough…"

"Yeah?" Gracie said.

"And with enough focus and intensity…"

"Yeah?" she was smiling.

"I'd develop the power to get my ex-girlfriend back."

Gracie stopped cuddling Jim.

"Did I say that?" Jim asked. "I don't know why I said that."

Gracie stood and faced Jim on the couch. "You said it because while you were cuddling up against me you were wishing I was your ex-girlfriend."

"No way," said Jim.

Gracie used her X-ray vision to find a picture of Jim's ex-girlfriend in the wallet he had in his pants pocket.

"She's pretty," Gracie said.

"How do you…?" Jim looked down at his pocket and knew what she had found.

"I'm sorry Gracie," Jim said. "I thought I was ready to date by now."

Gracie sighed. "Maybe I cuddled you hard enough that you developed the ability to teleport your ass out of my sight forever."

Jim gave it a shot, and the next thing he knew he was sitting at an outdoor café in Brussels.

Happy Cuddle Day!

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Crown Of Thorns Day

Crown Of Thorns Day!

Your crown of thorns makes you look like a fat pig. The blood from your scalp forms streams in the creases of fat on your neck. Some people look good in a crown of thorns. Those people are not 60 pounds overweight. Take off the crown of thorns and hide yourself someplace damp until you’re not so unsightly.

Happy Crown Of Thorns Day!