Sunday, July 31, 2005

Public Display Of Affection Day

Public Display Of Affection Day!

Tonight at the bar, while carrying on a conversation with your friends, pause from time to time to lick your boyfriend's face and forearms.

One of your friends will say, "That's gross."

Tell her, "You're just jealous that no one loves you as much as we love each other."

Your boyfriend will say, "I don't love you that much."

Pull your tongue off of the underside of his elbow, where you were determinedly tickling the letters of the alphabet, and say, "Then what the hell have I been making such a fool of myself in public for all these years?"

He'll say, "You know just what to do with your tongue, and I wouldn't give you up for a million years. See, as you know, my Mom was a big drunk. I was left alone most of my childhood. The two housecats my Mom kept were more motherly to me than she ever was. Many nights, the only bath I got was when they'd lick my face clean. But I never felt a really deep love from either my Mom or those cats. I just really liked the feel of a tongue on my skin. Which is why I enjoy when you lick me so much, though I could do with your tongue being a little more sandpapery."

Say to him, "So I'm just a mother figure for you?"

He'll say, "No. You just remind me of the cats that used to lick my face. Don't ever go."

Your friend will ask him, "What were your cats' names?"

He'll say, "Asshead and Count Lovesalot."

Happy Public Display Of Affection Day!

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Your Girlfriend Does Sucky Drugs Day

Your Girlfriend Does Sucky Drugs Day!

Whenever she runs out of her sucky drugs, she asks for some of your unfuckingbelievable drugs, and of course you give her some. She's your girlfriend. What the fuck.

But whenever you run out of your outmotherfuckingrageously awesome drugs, and you're always running out of them (surprise surprise) because anyone who has drugs as fucking wonderful as these is going to do all of them as fast as possible. Conducting oneself in any other manner would be disrespectful to the drugs. Your drugs told you (they've been talking to you…well, singing to you really).

Anyway, whenever you run out of your fanfuckingtastic stash…Jesus, last night you swear you were introduced to Christ himself and Christ himself let you put one of his balls in your mouth. It was the single most wonderful night of your life and it really happened. The drugs said so.

Your girlfriend's drugs are sucky, is the point. Compared to yours at least. Of course, anyone's drugs will suck compared to yours. So complaining about other people's drugs not being as good as yours is sort of moot. But when you have to do your girlfriend's drugs (here comes the meat of the matter) because yours are all gone (they were so delicious!delicious!delicious!) it sucks! And you end up getting angry at her. Which is why she's leaving. Now.

"Later," she's saying.

Tell her, "Have fun doing sucky drugs, loserface!"

She'll shake her head. "This was a wake up call for me. I'm gonna go straight."

Tell her, "Might as well. The kind of drugs you do can’t make you feel much better than being straight." Your drugs will laugh, and you'll start to laugh too.

"What are you laughing at?" your girlfriend will ask.

"Nothing, nothing," say. "We were just laughing at what I said."


Say, "Me and my drugs."

Suddenly frightened for her life, your girlfriend will run away.

Happy Your Girlfriend Does Sucky Drugs Day!

Friday, July 29, 2005

Stuff Your Underwear Into My Mouth And Punch Me In The Nose Until I Can't Breathe Through It Day

Stuff Your Underwear Into My Mouth And Punch Me In The Nose Until I Can't Breathe Through It Day!

You're 78 years old and a blood disease has reduced you to not very much more than an embodiment of pain. You had a discussion some time ago with Manny, your home health aide who has been with you for over a decade.

"If you think it's time for you to go," he told you, "I can take you out. However you want it to happen, as long as it won't pin a murder rap on me. I'll do what you ask."

Today you're going to tell him the way that you've always dreamed you could go out. Manny is a man of his word. After considering it for a moment, he'll tell you, "It will have to look like someone broke in here. Tomorrow morning when I'm supposed to be at the supermarket. You didn't leave me anything in your will did you?"

Shake your head no.

"Good," Manny will say. "I've been bilking your bank account for years anyway."

Laugh with Manny. That's the last time you'll laugh before the end.

Manny will say, "Do you want the underwear to be soiled?"

Nod yes. Tell him if you don't get to watch him remove his underwear first, he might as well just hold a pillow over your face.

Say, "I need the poetry."

Happy Stuff Your Underwear Into My Mouth And Punch Me In The Nose Until I Can't Breathe Through It Day!

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Burger King Birthday Crown Day

Burger King Birthday Crown Day!

By the time your workday is done, you're going to want nothing more than to slice open your own throat and wait until you've bled yourself blue. You might not want any advice for how to cheer yourself up. After all, if your spirits pick up and you live through the night, you're going to have to go to work again tomorrow. Be smart and stop reading now.

Back at home somewhere, perhaps in a box on a shelf, you'll find the Burger King Birthday Crown that was placed upon your head by your ex-wife last year when you celebrated your 48th with some old friends and some Whoppers (your ex brought her new husband. It was momentous). There have been only a few moments in your life when you truly felt important. The day you lost your virginity to your ex-wife was one. The day you married her was another. And the day last year when you wore that Birthday Crown in the Highway 63 and Route 12 Burger King surrounded by a handful of friends (2), your ex-wife and her new husband. You referred to everyone as your loyal subjects and none of them objected with anything stronger than a bemused chuckle (your ex-wife's new husband did look uncomfortable when you jokingly ordered him to kiss your ring, however).

Why not go home and reclaim your throne. Slide that Crown over your skull and feel the surge of absolute power pulse through your veins as you sit down to watch those Will & Grace reruns. Something tells me the King will reign for another day.

Happy Burger King Birthday Crown Day! And here's hoping you didn't read beyond the first paragraph!

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Drink Something You're Not Supposed To Drink Day

Drink Something You're Not Supposed To Drink Day!

Tom Hanks drank a jar of maraschino cherries on Family Ties. It got his point across. "You don't have enough alcohol in the house Keatons," Tom Hanks said. "If you did, you'd still have some maraschino cherries, wouldn't you?"

"Mea Culpa," Elise said through a cascade of tears.

Drinking something you're not supposed to drink lets people know exactly what the situation is. When folks start drinking salt water, apparently they're lost in a lifeboat. Point taken! Someone drinking the brine out of the pickle jar? Sounds like someone digs pickles way too much, might have a problem, and should probably get to a meeting. Got it! Is your boyfriend drinking your pee? Looks like he's in love with you. Noted!

So go ahead and drink that ladle of motor oil because you're being tortured in the movie Three Kings. No better day for it than Drink Something You're Not Supposed To Drink Day! Now who's up for some Peach Schnapps?

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Get A Sunburn Day

Get A Sunburn Day!

Sunscreen is for the clean of conscience. You want to sit under the whitest hot rays you can find and let the sun slowly burn away at your layers of skin until it gets to the layer of tissue where you store your guilt over not having fought your ex-husband for custody of your kids because you were too busy trying to stay high. That layer won't flake and flutter away like your outer layers of skin. When guilt begins to burn it crisps rock solid and starts to stink a little. Rest assured, you will walk a little bit funny when you finally get up to go back to the halfway house. But the searing will feel like a forbidden itch is being scratched and you won't be able to resist. It will hurt like hell for the next ten days and you'll be ugly with sun poisoning. But with every rush of pain you'll be reminded that you struck back at yourself. That pain you'll feel, that pain was your doing, not some judge. If you ever see your babies again you might tell them about today. "I started taking control that day," you'll say to them.

Happy Get A Sunburn Day!

Monday, July 25, 2005

He’s Not Related To You By Blood Day

He’s Not Related To You By Blood Day!

You were already in love with him when you found out he was one of the kids in your Dad’s other family. Thankfully, your Dad didn’t actually father him. Your Dad was cheating on your Mom before you were even born, and when his mistress started having his babies (three of them), he did his best to be a father to both households. It went okay until you were eleven and your Mom got wise. You haven’t seen your Dad since.

His mistress had some kids of her own already, before your Dad started up with her. Daniel is one of those (once again, no shared blood. You’ve been repeating that fact to yourself over and over again for three weeks now). Daniel’s four years older than you and he’s gorgeous and sweet and, terrifyingly, he loves your Dad. His Dad, he says. Daniel didn’t know who you were when the two of you met, and he’s the one who figured it out and told you about it.

Everyone’s been waiting, until today. Daniel’s been waiting to find out if he’ll ever see you again. Your Dad’s been waiting to find out if you’ll accept his invitation to dinner. And your Mom’s been waiting to find out why you’ve been acting so strange lately. Today you’re going to tell it all to her. You’re going to tell her that you love Daniel and that you’re going to reunite with your Dad.

You Mom will register your decision as a betrayal to her and will have a non-fatal heart attack by Midnight tonight. Everyone will go to her bedside. You, your Dad, Daniel. When she opens her eyes again, she’ll find out what the world looks like when it turns itself inside out.

Happy He’s Not Related To You By Blood Day!

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Babes & Sandwiches Magazine Day

Babes & Sandwiches Magazine Day!

Your favorite Babes & Sandwiches magazine centerfold was June of 2003: Kelly and a genoa salami and provolone grinder. The grinder sat on a narrow steel tray that was balanced on her belly. You could tell in the photo that the grinder was still hot and her giddy smile seemed to indicate that the heat coming through the plate was making her belly quiver. Kelly was splayed out on her back on a picnic blanket underneath a beautiful sunny sky, and the sandwich was spilling forth with so many sautéed onions and green peppers it looked like they might topple into her belly button. The best part, the part that you'll never forget, was the single droplet of grease sitting off center on her pelvis in that space where her belt would go, below her belly button and an inch about the rim of her yellow pubis. The bauble of grease was so round and fat it was clear that with a little more giggling it could start to dribble down between her legs. Kelly was from Nova Scotia and was studying to be a tree surgeon.

You picked up this month's issue today, the first time you've looked at Babes & Sandwiches in quite a while. Maybe you've just grown up a little, but you can't help but feel that Babes & Sandwiches has really gone downhill. The sandwiches are always the kind that you'd never want to eat if you were in the mood to go eat a sandwich. Weird, gourmet breads and big balls of mozzarella, stuff you'd never be able to even fit in your mouth. This month's is an open-faced number with romaine lettuce, these big scary mushroom and some dabs of brown mustard. What the hell are they thinking? And the girls all look like strippers. Like a thousand-dollar-a-night showgirl is gonna fix you a sandwich and put it on top of herself? Please. You heard that the publisher was bankrupt and his daughter was running the show now. Figures.

Happy Babes & Sandwiches Magazine Day!

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Explain Why You Don't Cry Day

Explain Why You Don't Cry Day!

Say, "When Ramo died in Beat Street, I cried and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. Nothing's hit me quite so hard since."

He'll say, "Nothing? Not even when your family members die?"

"Life just doesn't pack the wallop of Beat Street," say.

He'll say, "I can live with this."

Now tell him that you lied when you said you and your husband were already separated. If he can handle you having left all your tears on Beat Street, he can handle anything.

Happy Explain Why You Don't Cry Day!

Friday, July 22, 2005

Whale Watch Day

Whale Watch Day!

Midway through the Whale Watch, the students you're chaperoning will start diving into the ocean to swim with the whales. This will piss you off in a big way because throughout the entire ride you'll have been trying to impress the pretty Whale Watch guide by showing her how good you are with the kids.

She'll be standing by your side when they start to throw themselves overboard. The two of you will watch them from the upper deck as one by one their eyes gloss over and they dive into the chilly water. Always quick with the save, you're going to deliver a line that will demonstrate to her the kind of lightning-quick wit that only a suburban middle school biology teacher can posses.

Say, "Someone must have cut the cheese down there."

She'll laugh until she feels sick inside, then she'll put her hand on your shoulder. "Don't feel bad," she'll say. "This happens a lot. The whales are mischievous beasts and they often call to passengers on surrounding boats to come and join them. Only children can hear the pleas intoned in their song. We have a rescue boat for this sort of thing."

Just then you'll see an orange six-seater veer out from the back of the boat to collect the children.

"Nothing to worry about," the Whale Watch guide will say. Her hand will still be on your shoulder.

Say, "Can I kiss you? Before my students get back?"

She'll bring her walkie talkie to her mouth and say, "Take your time down there, Manny. Mama Bear just caught herself a fish."

"10-4! I knew that shit was on!" Manny, the rescue boat captain, will respond through her walkie-talkie.

With that the pretty Whale Watch guide will wrap her arms around your neck, pull you down close and show you just how lonely it can get on the high seas.

Happy Whale Watch Day!

Thursday, July 21, 2005

19 Ways To Tell A Cajun Chef To Go Fuck Himself Day

19 Ways To Tell A Cajun Chef To Go Fuck Himself Day!

Today at the upscale food court the guy stirring the pots at the "Taste Of Ol' New Orleans" counter is going to piss you off royally when he brings up your dead wife.

The way it'll go down is he'll be shouting at passersby stuff like, "Git on up and git some gumbo I guar-on-tee!" With some potential customers he'll offer up a personal pitch. Stuff like, "Man wears a tie that ugly he won't mind spillin' a little bit of this city's finest Cajun gumbo all over that [garbled]." But when you walk past, with no desire to eat any Cajun food because, frankly, you think it blows, the chef will shout out, "What's with the sour face mon frere? Only way a man could frown like that is if he was in week two of mourning over his tragically lost young wife, I guar-on-tee!"

Yes, he's very perceptive, and maybe you are wearing your loss on your sleeve a little bit, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't tell him to go fuck himself. Here's how!

First, say, "What'd you say? As a matter of fact my wife did die recently. Why don't you go fuck yourself?"

The Cajun chef will apologize for hitting a nerve and will suggest you wash away your pain with a bowl of some gumbo.

Say, "How bout you shove that gumbo up your flabby ass, you hear me Mardi Gras?"

The Cajun chef will ask if you'd perhaps care for a nice shrimp po' boy.

Say, "Listen James Carville, your food's stupid, your accent's stupid, your hometown is a condom-littered Frathouse and you work in a food court. Even with all that against you, I still say you should go fuck yourself."

The Cajun chef will ask if you'd like some jambalaya.

Say, "No, I don't want some jambalaya. I want my wife back. She back there? No? Oh, I forgot, she's in the ground. Then how 'bout you go fuck yourself instead."

The Cajun chef will ask how she died.

Say, "Breast cancer. I hope your wife and daughters get it. Go fuck yourself, Ignatius."

The Cajun chef will say that he's unmarried. That he came close once, but it all just fell apart. He's not sure if he's to blame, but he blames himself anyway.

Say, "Go fuck yourself. I hope you die on a bus."

The Cajun chef will say that the conversation you and he are having is the closest he's come to a friendship since grade school. He'll tell you that his father was in the army and that he switched schools a lot.

Say, "If you were at a school for five minutes I bet the whole school would meet for an assembly so that they'd all be sure to tell you to go fuck yourself before you moved to the next base. Go fuck yourself, Ellen Barkin in The Big Easy."

The Cajun chef will stir his gumbo a little. Then he'll say, "I want to touch you. I guar-on-tee!"

Say, "I want to watch your nuts get eaten by possums while you're still alive and screaming, Dennis Quaid in The Big Easy. Go fuck yourself."

The Cajun Chef will shout entreaties for other customers to come to his counter.

Say, "Stay away from this food. It's being prepared by a chef who is about to go fuck himself."

The Cajun chef will throw his ladle on the ground in disgust. He'll say, "Look, I'm sorry about that crack about your wife. It was obvious you were in mourning, so I used it. I gotta use what I can. I'm workin' here all day."

Say, "My wife spent her last 18 hours on this earth screaming as loud as she could. I hope you spend your last 36 doing the same. And go fuck yourself Crawdad."

The Cajun Chef will hand you a card for a grief counselor that he knows. He'll say, "This guy can help you."

Rip the card up, throw it on the ground, then spit on the pile. Say, "Go fuck yourself Anne Rice."

The Cajun chef will say, "You can tell me to fuck myself all you want, but I'm only going to respond by trying to make amends. And by trying to get you to taste my delicious Muffuleta Sandwich."

Smack the sandwich out of his hand and say, "I miss her so much I can't even breathe. I can't sleep in our bed because I wake up panting. Aw God. Go fuck yourself Buckwheat Zydeco."

The Cajun chef will ask his manager if he can go on break. He'll lead you out to his car and open up the trunk. "Take a look in there," he'll say.

Say, "Go fuck yourself Creole." Then look inside the trunk. There will be a picnic basket.

The Cajun chef will say, "There are no perishables in there. Just some drinks, plates and utensils and sealed snacks. But I can fill this basket within five minutes and we can have ourselves a picnic. What do you say?"

Say, "Go fuck youself." Then get in his car and wait for him to fill up the basket with Cajun deliciousness.

At the park, the Cajun chef will pull out a Frisbee. He'll say, "You throw?"

Say, "I'll throw so hard you'll have no choice but to fuck yourself with that thing." Then cavort about the field with him until the guilt overwhelms you.

The Cajun chef will see you doubled over with tears and he'll shout, "I'll come over there and hold you if you let me! I guar-on-tee!"

Shout back, "Go fuck yourself, Decatur Street!"

The Cajun chef will begin walking towards you. He'll shout, "You can only shut us out for so long!"

Shout back, "Hey French Quarter, you can go fuck yourself for all I care. You understand?"

The Cajun chef will come closer. "She'd want you to move on," he'll shout.

Scream back at him, "Goddammit you didn't know this woman! The world should have stopped when she left. Asking me to go on is like asking me to commit a crime against nature!" Cry a little into the back of your hand, then add, "Go fuck yourself cayenne pepper."

The Cajun chef will be standing before you. He'll put his arms around you and you should just fall into his embrace. He'll say, "Just let me carry the load. Just for a minute."

Let his compassion seep in and course through your veins. Let it disarm you. You'll feel so tired you won't have any choice but to stay there in his arms and let him hold you up. Say, "This doesn't change anything. You should still go fuck yourself. Guar-on-tee?"

The Cajun chef will pat your back. "Guar-on-tee," he'll say. "Shhh. I guar-on-tee."

Happy 19 Ways To Tell A Cajun Chef To Go Fuck Himself Day!

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Peepholes Day

Peepholes Day!

Television and the touch of strange skin has been boring you more and more over the course of the last decade, so you've decided to break down and acquire for yourself a real entertainment outlet. You've decided to drill some peepholes into your neighbors' apartments.

You'll drill one into each adjoining wall of your mauve box studio apartment, and you'll drill one hole into the ceiling. The hole in the west wall will offer a view into that neighbor's kitchen. That neighbor, Jinsey, is very attractive and you will be upset that the hole did not open out into either her bedroom or bathroom.

Through the hole in the north wall you'll see the bedroom of Hank McAdams, the twenty-three year old investment banker recently transplanted from Alabama. Hank is very handsome and you'll be excited to see what sort of company he'll be inviting back to his bedroom. When you first peek through the hole, however, you'll see Hank rolled up in a ball on his bed and crying next to some photographs of his parents.

Through the ceiling hole you'll see the apartment belonging to your upstairs neighbor, Loretta. She won't be home when you first peek, but you'll be looking forward to looking up her skirts.

When you peek through the east hole, you'll see your neighbor Marc Dunleavy dead on his floor and being sawed apart by a naked man. You'll be terrified, but you won't be able to tell anyone because if you do, you'll have to admit to having drilled holes into your walls and you'll be run out of the building as a Peeping Tom (nobody likes a Peeping Tom).

You've lived in that apartment for nearly two decades and the rent is extremely affordable. You don't know what you'd do if you had to move. So you'll watch in silence as the naked man saws Marc apart until he's just a torso and a pile of loose appendages. When it becomes clear that the naked man is ready to start inserting himself into Marc's various and gaping arm and leg sockets, you'll luckily hear Loretta's footsteps. You'll climb onto a chair and try to look up her skirt, doing your best to forget about poor Marc next door who, in fairness, was never one for holding the elevator for anybody. Sadly, when you get your eye to the ceiling's peephole you'll discover that Loretta is wearing pants today. Things just don't work out for you.

Happy Peepholes Day!

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

The Sobbing Shoplifter Day

The Sobbing Shoplifter Day!

The boys always cry. Grabbing hold of their arms just before they step out the front door, it's like you lift the lever on a water pump and send the tears flowing free.

"Can we move faster?" he'll ask.

"Almost there," tell him. "We'll be in the office soon enough. Then I'll call up your dad"

The girls never cry. Like the one you caught earlier. Her face was as sour and impenetrable when you marched her to the security office as it was when she first walked through the front door.

"My Dad's not home," he'll tell you.

"We'll wait," you'll say. "We'll wait all night."

In the office, you'll sit the sobbing boy next to the scowling girl and begin your paperwork. You already called the girl's mother and she didn't seem to care. Seemed like she might make it by to pick her up after a few more errands. But when you call the boy's dad (he'll be home), the voice on the other end will accuse you of being a liar. Shout him down and threaten to prosecute his son if he doesn't compose himself and come down to the store.

The girl will tell the boy his sniffling is getting annoying. The boy will say to the girl:

"Aren't you scared?"

The girl will laugh. Then they'll start asking each other the usual questions.

What'd you steal?
(him: a 50 Cent CD; her: a Benetton bag)

Do you shoplift a lot?
(her: constantly; him: "Me too" (a lie))

Did you start shoplifting because you're lonely and it makes you feel like your seclusion is purposeful, like you're some kind of covert agent on a secret mission? Does shoplifting make you feel like you did something worth talking about today? Does shoplifting make you feel better?
(him: "How'd you know?"; her: "You look like the type")

After you finish his paperwork, you'll stay at your desk pretending to fill out some additional forms. You won't want to interrupt them. Once their respective groundings are fulfilled (him: four weeks; her: three days (suspended)), they'll be seeing each other again. Your job as a department store security guard can be depressing, but you occasionally get to watch teenagers fall in love with each other.

Happy The Sobbing Shoplifter Day!

Monday, July 18, 2005

Overturned Hyundai Day

Overturned Geo Day!

Today, in the middle of your rush hour freeway drive, you'll spy a collision in the opposing lane that will have left a Geo sitting on its roof and an apparently rented Ford Taurus with its nose ripped off. As you slow down to rubberneck, you'll spot a couple wrapped in blankets sitting on the cement freeway shoulder. They'll look like they're okay. Just shaken up. More importantly, one of them will look like an ex of yours.

Once you pull up almost beside them, you'll be certain that yes, it's your ex. Further, it's that ex you never quite got over, even though the two of you never had a chance. Regardless, the excitement of the chance encounter will cause you to roll down your window and shout your ex's name.

Your ex will look up to see you waving. But before your wave can be returned, paramedics will come between the two of you pushing a gurney supporting a body covered entirely by a dark gray blanket. Your ex will look away from you to watch the gurney pass. Use the opportunity to roll up your window and step on the gas to get the hell out of there. You can catch up later when you send your ex an email that reads, "Funny bumping into you today. Hope you weren't in the Geo. Anyway, I think about you sometimes."

Happy Overturned Geo Day!

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Your Watercolor Of The Virgin Mary Is Not Drawing Thousands To Kneel Before It Day

Your Watercolor Of The Virgin Mary Is Not Drawing Thousands To Kneel Before It Day!

Your press release was pretty good, yes. "Virgin Mary Appears In Seven-Year-Old's Painting Of The Virgin Mary." But Virgin Mary Appearing On Stuff appraisers found no spirit of the special old lady in your painting. Apparently, since you intended to paint a painting of the Virgin Mary, it doesn't count. It only counts when she appears in auto grease and on bagels.

Doctor Major Clement Borges of the Greatest Diocese Association wrote in his report to the association's Trustees, "This painting, while accurate, does not appear to be anything more than a painting of the Great Ma'am executed by a marginally gifted seven-year-old. In short, The Virgin Mary Wuz Not Here."

Marcia Tiegs of the Catholic Power Collective was much harsher in her response to your work. "Today, a seven year old painted a whore. There should be no suggestion that Our Wonderful Woman Of The Hills might be associated with this work of filth in any way, shape or form. Plus, too much blue. Seriously, it's like the kid ran out of every other color but blue but he had to finish. I hate this kid and hope he's sick."

And the Catholic Reporter wrote, "It's just a painting by a kid. It's not like it's an oil stain on a garage floor or some mold. The kid wanted to paint the Virgin, so he painted the Virgin. Run, don't walk, away from this painting of the Virgin, if you're looking for something the Virgin's appeared on that is. By the way, saw her in my pancake syrup again this morning. She was grinning ear to ear."

Your art teacher, however, gave you three gold stars. Take that to the bank, Duccio.

Happy Your Watercolor Of The Virgin Mary Is Not Drawing Thousands To Kneel Before It Day!

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Be Named The King Or Queen Of Something Or Other Day

Be Named The King Or Queen Of Something Or Other Day!

You could go for "Queen of The Tire Swing Triple Lindy" or "King Of Saudi Arabia" if you have an in there. Maybe you could be named "Queen Of The Rusty Wheelbarrow Tavern's Annual Body-Shots Extravaganza" again this year, completing the three-peat. Or maybe just "King Of Dinnertime." That crown won't weigh too heavily. You probably just have to make some good conversation and keep your napkin on your lap. And no drinking out of the carafe this time, Your Majesty.

Happy Be Named The King Or Queen Of Something Or Other Day!

Friday, July 15, 2005

Make A Sign That Reads "Fuck Off" Day

Make A Sign That Reads "Fuck Off" Day!

Head out near rush hour and stand on a street corner where there's lots of auto and foot traffic. Hold the sign in plain view for everyone to see. Many people will honk at you, either to defy your command and make it clear that they are paying you their mind, or to draw your attention to them in their cars so that they can give you the finger. You can ignore their honking, but that will only make them throw lit cigarettes at you.

Many of the pedestrians walking past will respond to your sign with a giggle, as if you were just another nut in the big city. Boys who are in the company of girls will make sure to say, "You fuck off." Boys who are in the company of boys will threaten you with violence. Some of these boys will follow through on their threats and punch you in the stomach. Then they'll ruin your sign underneath their sneakers.

When you're lying on the sidewalk, staring up at the blue sky, you'll watch a skywriter scrawl the words "YOU DESERVED THAT, FUCKFACE" across the heavens with the exhaust from his airplane.

Happy Make A Sign That Reads "Fuck Off" Day!

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Wrestling In The Men's Room Day

Wrestling In The Men's Room Day!

The memo forbade it. It went company-wide and warned that any employee or employees engaged in any act of competitive, full-body-contact man-on-man sport within the men's room, or for that matter, the ladies' room, conference rooms, or designated break areas, will be dismissed immediately without recourse for appeal. The memo added that management has allowed that conference room G on floor 7, which was out-of-commission waiting to be outfitted with video-conferencing connections, will instead forego rewiring and will from here on in be the office's designated space for full-body-contact man-on-man sport.

The company is getting behind it. Jenkins' proposal comparing an in-house, full corporate dress wrestling division to the softball leagues so prevalent throughout the corporate sector really worked! Unfortunately, in a few minutes you're going to be wrongly accused of bilking from a client's holdings. You'll be banned from the offices until the investigation is completed. Oh well, there's always next season.

Happy Wrestling In The Men's Room Day!

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

He Sells Extra-Long Silk Ties Day

He Sells Extra-Long Silk Ties Day!

You've agreed to a blind date with your friend's cousin. What you've been told about him is that he looks a little bit like Campbell Scott, he went into AA during college and hasn't had a drink in twelve years, and he sells extra-long silk ties.

"Why?" you asked in response to the extra-long silk tie selling part.

Your friend said, "You think you have room to be choosey? How long has it been? Get real or your gonna end up like one of those old ladies who lives alone in an apartment drenched in pee."

When he walks into the restaurant tonight, he'll shake your hand and sit down across from you. He looks more like Campbell Scott than you allowed yourself to hope.

"My cousin told you about me?" he'll ask.

"A few things," you should say.

"She told you about my occupation?" he'll ask.

You'll nod.

He'll say, "Extra-long silk ties."

You'll nod again.

"A lot of people fall into a lot of different jobs that they're not proud of. How'd I get stuck with extra-long silk ties?" he'll ask the Gods in the sky.

You should show him that you're interested in his work. "Are they for extra-tall people?"

"I don't ask my customers about their private business," he'll say. He's funny.

"How long?" you should ask.

He'll say, "More silk tie than any man should ever want or need."

Say, "How wasteful."

He'll say, "You have no idea."

Your blind date will be going pretty well by that point. Don't blow this, Spinster.

Happy He Sells Extra-Long Silk Ties Day!

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Hopscotch Day

Hopscotch Day!

Today, because your father is addicted to drugs, you're going to play a round of hopscotch and you're going to throw it, you understand? In the third. You're gonna tumble and you're gonna skin your knee and you're gonna run away crying like a sissy. The kids will all laugh, thinking you went home to your Mama. They won't know your mother's in the mental hospital. And they sure won't know your father is addicted to drugs and that he's waiting for you to bring home some money. They won't know anything about you, except that you skinned your knee and took off running.

You got to make these kids believe you ain't shit. So when you drop ten, they'll meet it. And when you grab the ten and drop twenty, they'll remember the skinned knee and they'll think it's a fluke and they'll meet it. And when you grab their twenty and you throw down fifty bucks, they ain't gonna be shit unless they meet it. And that's when you dance through those squares like every tap of your sneaker on the concrete would bring your Mama a little closer to coming home. That's when you show the whole playground what grace is all about. Then you dance on home to give your father money to buy drugs.

Note: Since your father is addicted to drugs, he won't like the waiting part of this plan. You have to explain to him that this is the only way it's to be done. You have to tell him he can choose to get high once this afternoon and never again, or he can get ten times as high for ten times as long if he just waits a little bit. He'll choose once this afternoon, but tell him no and run before he takes a swing.

Happy Hopscotch Day!

Monday, July 11, 2005

Chase Kids Through The Woods Day

Chase Kids Through The Woods Day!

You want to get into the woods just before the sun comes up. At sunrise, all the kids who went into the woods to screw the night before will start to wake up and make a run for their cars.

As you step over all of those sleeping bags and piles of beer cans, you'll start to wonder what ever happened to that cute little scamp you used to be. You'll think, "There was a time I had my own little nook off bushes that I used to call the Motel Moskowitz, and anyone who checked in was guaranteed a complimentary fingerbang. Whatever became of that sprightly little charmer?"

You won't be able to answer your own question before you nearly trip over the most delectable pair of seventeen year olds you ever did see. The very sight of them will make your mouth drop open.

"Their hair," you'll whisper. "My lord their hair. It's identical!"

They'll share an identical deep brown color hair in nearly identically trimmed mop cuts of loose, stringy strands, hers being just a little bit longer. But they'll have fallen asleep staring up at the stars and they'll be lying on their backs, side by side with their heads touching. Their hair will be tangled together in such a gorgeous mass and you'll know you've found the children you want to chase.

Walk back thirty paces and shout, "Hey you kids get outta there!"

They'll jerk upright. She'll be in her bra and will cross her arms to cover up.

"Go on!" shout. "Get!"

They'll struggle from their sleeping bags and gather up their things. Take five quick paces towards them to get them moving.

"You!" shout. "Stay where you are. I'll blow your heads off."

The boy won't have anything on below the waist. The girl will wait while the boy hops into his underwear and then his pants. Wait until he's dressed and he's almost gathered everything. Then shout, "That's it!" Make a loud rustling sound as you start to chase after them.

They'll run the way they all run. At least the ones who are in love. They'll run with their hands clasped and their free hands overloaded with sleeping bags and everything else they managed to rescue. They'll run like they have no rights, like you are a government officer with the right to lock them away and ruin their college transcripts forever. They'll run with their young, deep brown coifs rippling in the morning sunlight. They'll run to keep their parents from finding out, to hang onto the chance to do it all again in some other wood on some other night. They'll run away forever probably. You won't see them tomorrow morning. You might never see them again.

Chase them until they're out of the woods and they're free. Don't let them see you waving goodbye.

Happy Chase Kids Through The Woods Day!

Sunday, July 10, 2005

The Margaritaville Strangler Day

The Margaritaville Strangler Day!

It was supposed to be just another summer looking after the locals as they butt heads with those tourists covered in oil. But somebody went berserk.


You spent all of Friday on the jetty, sifting through the remains that weren't already carried away in the beaks of the gulls fluttering about. Barowners and shopkeepers have been breathing down your neck to save the rest of the summer and capture the psycho who wasn't content to waste away nibbling on spongecake like everybody else. Somebody in Margaritaville has it out for young girls.

"He ain't no tourist, Sheriff," your deputy concluded on Friday. "He knows his way around too good. We'd have caught him by now."

"This used to be a place of God," you told your deputy. "A pious town, where people could feel at home in the lap of God."

"Boss?" your deputy asked. He looked at you funny.

"These tourist girls don't even look like they seen seventeen," you said, looking down into the victim's one open eye. "They taunt good men. They flaunt their sin."

The deputy was shivering. "You claim…? The girls aren't to blame Sheriff."

You said too much. The deputy's gonna come up the walk within the hour. If he's alone, he's just coming up to talk. If he's got the mayor with him, they're onto you. Either way, you can't just leave that razor wire out on the kitchen counter like that. Those stains are plain as day. You fixing to get caught?

Happy The Margaritaville Strangler Day!

Saturday, July 09, 2005

The Painting Party Day

The Painting Party Day!

Turn your painting party into a super fun time by inviting everyone to paint a deep dark secret on the wall and allow everybody to read it before they all silently paint over the secret and let it disappear into the walls forever.

Say, "I'll start." Then paint on the wall, "When I was six, I killed my best friend. I held a plastic bag over her head. Our parents thought it was an accident, but she struggled, and I fought her to keep the plastic bag wrapped around her neck."

Paint over the secret, and then hand the brush to whoever's nearest. It will be Deborah, your friend Mark's wife. Deborah will paint, "When I wear earrings, I feel like a whore."

And then Deborah's secret will be wiped away and the brush will be passed around the room as everyone gets excited to spill their beans all over your wall. Kevin, your former neighbor, will paint, "I have genital warts. Bad." Linda, your coworker, will paint, "I often hope that my elderly grandmother will pass away. I know that's not an uncommon wish, since the burden can be too much. But there you go. I only came here to paint some walls and meet a guy." Everyone will laugh as they paint over Linda's secret. And Brad, your old boyfriend will sidle up a little closer to her.

The secrets that are shared will come from all sorts of places:

"I've sabotaged the work of several of my colleagues to rise to where I am in my career."

"I was still doing heroin when I was pregnant with Alicia."

"I am a contracted killer, hired to murder someone you all know but who never seems to show up at any of these parties."

"My dick stinks. Everyone says so."

By the time the last secret is being painted, the only wall-space left will be a little corner of the coat closet. Joe, your husband, will paint, "I hate party games. I hate secrets. From the very beginning I've felt that we weren't right for each other but something keeps me by your side. Something I can't live without."

Your guests will all read it and they'll break the rule of silence and start guessing at what your husband can't live without. Your laugh! Your pussy! Your cooking! Your knees! I really think it's your pussy! I mean think about it! Could be her tits! Come on, tits can't hold a marriage together! I'm with Sarah, it's your cooking! Will you people shut up! It's got to be her pussy! Have you ever seen the thing? It's awesome! Your tender and caring demeanor! Your pussy! Did someone say that already?

They'll all just keep on shouting while you kiss your husband with all you've got, his left hand on your back and his right brushing away his secret with a heavy coat of periwinkle.

Happy The Painting Party Day!

Friday, July 08, 2005

Hunt And Kill A Living Thing Day

Hunt And Kill A Living Thing Day!

Yes, if you're in a hurry you can throw on some camouflage pants, sneak up on your rubber tree plant and rip its stalks from its soil. Or, if your cat has been diagnosed with liver failure you can choose to let her die with some dignity by tiptoeing up from behind her and shooting her in the spine. But if you really want to have some fun today, hunt something that you really have a passion to kill. Like that son of a bitch reservations operator at Thrifty Rent-a-Car. Little prick wouldn't give you a weekend rate just because you needed to return the mid-size after 7 PM on a Sunday? Let's see how he feels when a 12-gauge pops out of the bushes and unloads in his face.

The first step is going to be finding out where 1-800 operators for Thrifty Rent-a-Car might actually be situated. He didn't have an accent so they probably haven't outsourced outside of the US yet. However, it's almost certain that their offices aren't located in your city. You're probably going to need to rent a car. Use Hertz or Dollar. If you call Thrifty and he answers, he might be onto your game and burrow under ground.

The next step is going to where he works and waiting for him to reveal his torso in plain view. When you have a good shot, fire off a single round at his chest.

If he drops, go to his carcass and fire another round into the back of his head. Then hoist his body into your truck. Police officers and Samaritans will stop you from taking the body, and you will be arrested and imprisoned perhaps for life. But man, what a rush.

Happy Hunt And Kill A Living Thing Day!

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Which Snowboarder Are You? Day

Which Snowboarder Are You? Day!

Today, you are CREEF, the snowboarder who has been raising his little brother, HalfPipe, ever since your parents died in a car crash. Things are getting tougher now that HalfPipe is headed into middle school. The administrators want all the papers of legal guardianship that you never figured out how to get. You're hoping that if you can win this Winter's "Xtremely Pleasant Snowboard Challenge," you'll be able to use the prize money to pay for a lawyer so you and HalfPipe won't be hassled anymore.

Tomorrow, you will be DROOZ, the snowboarder who is going to be accused, tried and convicted of rape.

Happy Which Snowboarder Are You? Day!

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Be In A Stadium Day

Be In A Stadium Day!

Today, you are to go to your local sports stadium. It is not important what event is taking place there today. Purchase a seat on the southeastern cusp, buy enough hot dogs and beer to stay in your seat for a good 35 minutes, and wait.

Keep your eyes on the Jumbotron. Someone you are not interested in is going to propose to you via the Jumbotron. It's important that you be there to say no and put an end to this fool's game.

Happy Be In A Stadium Day!

Saturday, July 02, 2005

It's The Girls Are Pretty "Everything That Moves" Long Weekend!

It's The Girls Are Pretty "Everything That Moves" Long Weekend!

Prettygirl's been feeling a little too citified lately. So she signed up for an "Everything That Moves" weekend retreat in Rye, NY. The "Everything That Moves" retreat takes place on a secluded farmland and everyone who pays the $130,000 must either fuck or kill everything that moves. It won't be very relaxing, since Prettygirl will have to elude the efforts of other retreat-goers to either fuck or kill her. But not to worry. Not only is Prettygirl quite nimble, she is also a master of spontaneous camouflage as well as being way hot. No one will try to kill her if they haven't already fucked her first. The only thing we should all keep our fingers crossed for is that the place isn't overrun with single amputees like last year. Where's the sport?

As usual, the next few days are going up now. Scroll way down to read today's. Don't read tomorrow's until tomorrow. If you read ahead, your skin will dry up and you'll feel like a corn flake.

Tuesday, July 5, 2005

Masturbate All Over Everything Day!

Whenever you look around your apartment you think, "Almost there. It just needs something."

Why not masturbate all over everything. It will give your home that, "Everything's been masturbated on" look. There are crafts stores that can sell you stuff that already looks like it's been masturbated all over, sure. But you're a purist. Get to work.

Happy Masturbate All Over Everything Day!

Monday, July 4, 2005

Car Race For A Girl Day!

You and your best friend Mikey both love Marisa, who is dead (crushed between your cars when you were playing chicken one night). Now you're fighting over who gets to mourn her like a lover, and who should limit his mourning only to that of a friend. Race for it.

Happy Car Race For A Girl Day!

Sunday, July 3, 2005

Go To The Park And Make People Dance Day!

Because human beings are simply too elegant to waste their time walking around like a bunch of droll housecats. Turn the public park into a Saturday night dance hall. Whenever you see a group of people whom you would like to watch dance, shoot at their feet.

Happy Go To The Park And Make People Dance Day!

Saturday, July 2, 2005

Check The Fridge Day!

This morning, you're going to base your potential for a relationship with the person you slept with last night according to the feeling you get when you open his or her fridge. Pure gut reaction. When you look inside and see recently purchased jars of hummus, some not rotten fruit and lettuce that looks so fresh it actually makes you want to make a sandwich, and two bottles of spring water, one opened, you might think, "I would dig if this stuff were in my fridge." If so, go back to bed and cuddle.

If you look inside the fridge and there's a little boy shivering inside, slam the door shut. You don't want him to spoil. Then run for it.

Happy Check The Fridge Day!

Friday, July 01, 2005

Mannish Woman With A Bouquet Of Roses Today Day!

Mannish Woman With A Bouquet Of Roses Today Day!

Today at around 6:30 PM the mannish woman who walks up your street every evening will be carrying a bouquet of a dozen roses. She'll be holding them to her heart and smiling over them as if in response to a dream hovering just a few feet before her. Grab your husband and bring him to the window.

Say to him, "When was the last time you put a smile like that on my face?"

He'll say, "When I dragged you by your hair out of that brothel in Nevada and spent eight months weening you off of junk."

"Oh yeah," say.

Happy Mannish Woman With A Bouquet Of Roses Today Day!