You found the box with the jigsaw puzzle pieces deep in the back of the closet, and you don’t remember putting it there. You wondered whether this might be one of those jigsaw puzzles where it ends up depicting you, in the room you’re sitting in, doing a jigsaw puzzle, except in the puzzle there’s a face in the window. Sure enough, when you read the front of the box it says “500 Pcs Jigsaw Puzzle Depicting You, In The Room You’re Sitting In, Doing A Jigsaw Puzzle, Except In The Puzzle There’s A Face In The Window.”
You sit down and do the jigsaw puzzle. As you put more and more pieces together, your spine tingles when you see the room you’re sitting in appear with almost photographic precision on the table before you. After several hours, you hold the final piece in your hand, the piece that will surely fill in the window directly across from where you’re sitting. You can’t look up. You and only look at the puzzle. You place the final piece in place and there in the window puzzle-piece window you see the face of Anthony Geary, the guy who played Luke of Luke and Laura on General Hospital, your favorite soap opera when you were young.
You look up at the window across the room, excited to see a celebrity, but no one is there.
“What a gyp!” you say into the silence.
That’s when you hear a car pull up. A car door slams but the engine keeps running. You hear footsteps outside. The sound makes you break into a sweat. Someone is coming. You watch the window, it’s pure blackness. Then with a flash, Anthony Geary steps in front of the window and stares straight at you.
Wave.
Anthony Geary will shoot his finger your way, then he’ll walk back down the hill away from your house. You’ll go to the window to watch him get back into his cab and pull away down the dark and stormy road. You now remember buying the jigsaw puzzle, and you understand why it cost you $4500.
Happy Jigsaw Puzzle Day!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Teach The Kids What’s Right And Wrong Day!
Today you’re going to be walking down an alley looking for someone to party with when you'll spot two kids who have trapped a skinny gray cat in a corner. You’ll hang back for a second just to see if they’re gonna do anything funny to the cat, then you’ll be horrified when they take out a book of matches and a hairspray can. One of the kids will light a match, then he’ll send a stream of hairspray through the flame trying to make a blow torch aimed at the cat. Luckily the spray will just blow out the flame and end up spraying the cat’s fur with hairspray. You’ll run over to stop them.
“Hey kids,” say. “Setting cats on fire is wrong!”
One of the kids will ask, “Why is your head bleeding?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The other kid will ask, “Oh my God are you gonna die?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The kids will look at you for another second, scared. Then they’ll look at each other and run away. You’ll drop to your knees in front of the cat, woozy. You’ll touch your fingers to your head and feel the blood pouring down from your scalp. You’ll try to remember if you got into a fight or got jumped, but nothing will come. Then everything will go black and you’ll fall forward onto the ground. The stray cat will step across your back and walk away, its fur held perfectly in place.
Happy Teach The Kids What’s Right And Wrong Day!
“Hey kids,” say. “Setting cats on fire is wrong!”
One of the kids will ask, “Why is your head bleeding?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The other kid will ask, “Oh my God are you gonna die?”
You’ll say, “What?”
The kids will look at you for another second, scared. Then they’ll look at each other and run away. You’ll drop to your knees in front of the cat, woozy. You’ll touch your fingers to your head and feel the blood pouring down from your scalp. You’ll try to remember if you got into a fight or got jumped, but nothing will come. Then everything will go black and you’ll fall forward onto the ground. The stray cat will step across your back and walk away, its fur held perfectly in place.
Happy Teach The Kids What’s Right And Wrong Day!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Your Foolproof Method For Scoring Chicks Sucks Day!
Your foolproof method for scoring chicks sucks, but it just so happens that it’s perfect for getting kids to choose not to join street gangs. You made a point of trying to be as straightforward and no-nonsense as you could, thinking that chicks like guys who are direct. It should have worked on chicks and it might still. You should let someone who is attractive to women try it and see if it works.
The awesome thing is, though it didn't score you any chicks, your method is perfect for convincing inner city teens who are considering joining street gangs to forget about gang life and stay in school. That same no-nonsense, on-the-level approach is exactly what at-risk teens need to hear from an adult, and it’s rare that that’s what they get. If you were to use your method for scoring chicks to keep teens out of street gangs, and if you taught social workers and community leaders to use it too, you could help a lot of kids stay on the right path. It’s too bad you’re so obsessed with finally scoring some chicks that you couldn’t care a damn what happens to at-risk teens. Good luck at the bars tonight, you lonely asshole.
Happy Your Foolproof Method For Scoring Chicks Sucks Day!
The awesome thing is, though it didn't score you any chicks, your method is perfect for convincing inner city teens who are considering joining street gangs to forget about gang life and stay in school. That same no-nonsense, on-the-level approach is exactly what at-risk teens need to hear from an adult, and it’s rare that that’s what they get. If you were to use your method for scoring chicks to keep teens out of street gangs, and if you taught social workers and community leaders to use it too, you could help a lot of kids stay on the right path. It’s too bad you’re so obsessed with finally scoring some chicks that you couldn’t care a damn what happens to at-risk teens. Good luck at the bars tonight, you lonely asshole.
Happy Your Foolproof Method For Scoring Chicks Sucks Day!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Your Dad Misses His Cellmate Day!
Your Dad spent four months in prison on an old warrant for trying to buy a gun from an undercover cop back in Denver. You missed him like crazy while he was away, and according to his letters, he missed you too. But now that he’s back, he seems kind of distracted. Ask him why.
“I miss my cellmate, Ronald,” he’ll say. “He was a born again, serving time for his second meth bust, and we used to sit up all night talking about all kinds of things. You’re really great to talk to, don’t get me wrong. It was just different with Ronald.”
“Maybe I can talk like Ronald,” you’ll say, trying to come up with anything to keep your Dad from taking a swing at a cop just to get thrown back in jail to see his friend again.
“You and I talk about Daddy-Daughter stuff,” he’ll say. “Ronald and I talked about prison stuff.”
“I sure am tired of being in prison,” you’ll say in as deep a voice as you can muster from your eleven year old throat.
Your Dad will just look out the window. “It’s sweet of you baby, but it’s not working.”
Don’t give up. “I bet you can’t wait to get out and see your daughter again.”
Your dad won’t say anything. He’ll stare off across the front yard, like he’s waiting for a car to pull up.
“Your daughter really misses you and when you get out everything’s going to be perfect!” you’ll say, still with the deep voice.
Your Dad will rub the top of your head, then he’ll walk past you out the door. He’ll get in his car and drive off. You’ll go upstairs and clean your room so hard that he’ll have to come back, won’t he?
Happy Your Dad Misses His Cellmate Day!
“I miss my cellmate, Ronald,” he’ll say. “He was a born again, serving time for his second meth bust, and we used to sit up all night talking about all kinds of things. You’re really great to talk to, don’t get me wrong. It was just different with Ronald.”
“Maybe I can talk like Ronald,” you’ll say, trying to come up with anything to keep your Dad from taking a swing at a cop just to get thrown back in jail to see his friend again.
“You and I talk about Daddy-Daughter stuff,” he’ll say. “Ronald and I talked about prison stuff.”
“I sure am tired of being in prison,” you’ll say in as deep a voice as you can muster from your eleven year old throat.
Your Dad will just look out the window. “It’s sweet of you baby, but it’s not working.”
Don’t give up. “I bet you can’t wait to get out and see your daughter again.”
Your dad won’t say anything. He’ll stare off across the front yard, like he’s waiting for a car to pull up.
“Your daughter really misses you and when you get out everything’s going to be perfect!” you’ll say, still with the deep voice.
Your Dad will rub the top of your head, then he’ll walk past you out the door. He’ll get in his car and drive off. You’ll go upstairs and clean your room so hard that he’ll have to come back, won’t he?
Happy Your Dad Misses His Cellmate Day!
Monday, March 26, 2007
Try To Get Some Free Chili Day!
With the recent turmoil surrounding the Department of Health and all the vermin sightings in fast food restaurants, everyone is a little on edge. It’s really easy to get free chili from places like Wendy’s in this kind of environment. Just chop off someone’s finger and bring the finger with you into Wendy’s when you order some chili. After you eat half of the bowl, drop the finger into the bowl and swish it around, then bring the bowl up to the manager and say, “Look! A Finger! What are you guys trying to pull?”
“You probably cut that finger off yourself and dropped it in that bowl,” the manager will say.
“Maybe I did. And maybe I didn’t. You want the media to decide?”
The manager will say, “Anything. I’ll give you anything if you’ll keep this quiet.”
“I’d like my money back for a start.”
“You got it!” the manager will say.
“And a large Frosty.”
The manager will hesitate.
“You don’t want me to go pointing any fingers do you?”
The manager will hasten to pour you a Frosty.
“And I’d like my finger back,” tell him. He’ll use a spoon to fish the finger out of the bowl and put it on your tray with your Frosty. Go to your table and drink half of the Frosty, then drop the finger into the cup and bring it up to the manager and demand another Frosty, or else you’ll squeal.
“My God,” the manager will say. “I am completely at your mercy. With that severed finger in your possession, you can take whatever you want from the restaurant. I’m helpless aren’t I?”
“Even without the finger,” you’ll say. Then you’ll show him the plastic bag of turds you brought with you. “I drop one of these babies on top of my baked potato and you can bet Action News would be taking my phone calls. I own you.”
The restaurant manager will run screaming through the storefront window. Ask for the assistant manager and explain what’s what.
Happy Try To Get Some Free Chili Day!
“You probably cut that finger off yourself and dropped it in that bowl,” the manager will say.
“Maybe I did. And maybe I didn’t. You want the media to decide?”
The manager will say, “Anything. I’ll give you anything if you’ll keep this quiet.”
“I’d like my money back for a start.”
“You got it!” the manager will say.
“And a large Frosty.”
The manager will hesitate.
“You don’t want me to go pointing any fingers do you?”
The manager will hasten to pour you a Frosty.
“And I’d like my finger back,” tell him. He’ll use a spoon to fish the finger out of the bowl and put it on your tray with your Frosty. Go to your table and drink half of the Frosty, then drop the finger into the cup and bring it up to the manager and demand another Frosty, or else you’ll squeal.
“My God,” the manager will say. “I am completely at your mercy. With that severed finger in your possession, you can take whatever you want from the restaurant. I’m helpless aren’t I?”
“Even without the finger,” you’ll say. Then you’ll show him the plastic bag of turds you brought with you. “I drop one of these babies on top of my baked potato and you can bet Action News would be taking my phone calls. I own you.”
The restaurant manager will run screaming through the storefront window. Ask for the assistant manager and explain what’s what.
Happy Try To Get Some Free Chili Day!
Friday, March 23, 2007
Today’s The Day To Complete Your “Reign Over Me” Action Figure Collection Day!
Your friends are going to be so jealous when they see that not only do you have the Don Cheadle wearing a dentist coat action figure, but you also have the long-haired Adam Sandler acting like he’s retarded action figure (they’re the only two action figures available for this movie so far). You’d better clean your apartment though because they’re all going to want to come over and take turns playing with the “Reign Over Me” action figures while drinking vodka drinks (you’re all in your late 30’s). Make sure to hog the stage for a while, showing them all of the special features on the action figures, like when you pull the string in Adam Sandler’s back he says how 9-11 was wrong. Or when you tug on the handle sticking out of Don Cheadle’s butt, he looks at Jada Pinkett-Smith to see if he’s allowed to go outside. Your friends might get angry when they find out there’s no Jada Pinkett-Smith action figure, and they’ll talk about how they heard you can buy one from Japanese online retailers. But they’ll all shut up when you show them how you can make the action figures comfort each other with silent knowing glances. After playing for a while, your friends will point out that their friendship with each other is just like the friendship between the Don Cheadle action figure and the Adam Sandler action figure, except that none of you lost your entire family when Saddam attacked the twin towers on 9-11. You’re all going to feel a little closer after tonight.
Happy Today’s The Day To Complete Your “Reign Over Me” Action Figure Collection Day!
Happy Today’s The Day To Complete Your “Reign Over Me” Action Figure Collection Day!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Sell Suits Day!
A high-end department store is hiring salesmen in their Men’s Suits department. Before you apply, put lots of grease into your long, gray, curly hair and then pull it into a pony tail. Look disgusting? Perfect! Now get into that HR office and impress.
“Why do you want to sell suits?” the interviewer will ask.
“I’m too gross to wait tables. I look like a rapist, whether I am one or not, so I can’t be a high-rise building’s doorman. I’m covered in thick body hair, which makes me really hot in the summer, so I can’t work construction. I’m the worst man alive, so I figured, might as well sell suits.”
“I notice you’re not spitting when you talk.”
Don’t say anything.
“I say I notice you’re not spitting when you talk,” the interviewer will repeat.
Look contrite. “I have chronic cotton mouth. I don’t spit when I talk, you’re right. But it makes my breath smell terrible. Win some, lose some.”
The interviewer will appear to be thinking it over. Quickly hand the interviewer an invite to a swingers’ party, and your case will made. By this weekend terrified men of all walks of life will have no choice but to let you touch their persons.
Happy Sell Suits Day!
“Why do you want to sell suits?” the interviewer will ask.
“I’m too gross to wait tables. I look like a rapist, whether I am one or not, so I can’t be a high-rise building’s doorman. I’m covered in thick body hair, which makes me really hot in the summer, so I can’t work construction. I’m the worst man alive, so I figured, might as well sell suits.”
“I notice you’re not spitting when you talk.”
Don’t say anything.
“I say I notice you’re not spitting when you talk,” the interviewer will repeat.
Look contrite. “I have chronic cotton mouth. I don’t spit when I talk, you’re right. But it makes my breath smell terrible. Win some, lose some.”
The interviewer will appear to be thinking it over. Quickly hand the interviewer an invite to a swingers’ party, and your case will made. By this weekend terrified men of all walks of life will have no choice but to let you touch their persons.
Happy Sell Suits Day!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Your Staff Knows Your Wife Left You Eleven Years Ago Day!
It’s a testament to how great a boss you are that they haven’t let on. They’ll stand in the break room with you on a Monday morning, listening to your endlessly imaginative fabrications of your weekend with the wife. They’ll hear “we had a big day at Home Depot” and they’ll smile and nod with all the vigor of someone trying not to burst into tears over how sad they are for you. “Sometimes I worry Sharon might just move into her vegetable garden she spends so much time out there,” you’ll say, and they’ll just laugh along with you. They take your incessant “Sharon” name-dropping in calm stride, to the point where they don’t even blink. On those occasions when you have Margie, the prostitute you sometimes go and see, call in and pretend to be Sharon leaving a message for you, your secretary will go all out when you return to the office, greeting you with “Sharon called and it sounded urgent” loud enough for the whole floor to hear.
Only a handful of staffers are still on the floor who were there eleven years ago when Sharon snuck upstairs during your personal leave to gather a box of papers from your office that she needed to give to her divorce lawyer. They helped her and they hugged her, wishing her good luck, knowing they might never see her again. When you came back and didn’t once let on that there was even a problem, they felt for you, thinking you’d eventually announce your split when you felt ready. After several months of the charade, they knew something else was at play. They talked it up endlessly over happy hour drinks, and they decided if this is the life you wanted to pretend to live, they’d be there to live it with you. You’ve always been good to them. No reason they shouldn’t return the favor.
Tonight is Sharon’s birthday. You’re going to call your secretary and two assistants who sit nearby into your office and show them the necklace you bought for Sharon. They’ll ooh and aah and they’ll tell you that Sharon is going to absolutely love it. “I wish my husband was more like you,” one of the assistants will say. When you get a call, they’ll take the opportunity to leave your office, go into the supplies closet, link arms around each other’s shoulders and sob for you.
Happy Your Staff Knows Your Wife Left You Eleven Years Ago Day!
Only a handful of staffers are still on the floor who were there eleven years ago when Sharon snuck upstairs during your personal leave to gather a box of papers from your office that she needed to give to her divorce lawyer. They helped her and they hugged her, wishing her good luck, knowing they might never see her again. When you came back and didn’t once let on that there was even a problem, they felt for you, thinking you’d eventually announce your split when you felt ready. After several months of the charade, they knew something else was at play. They talked it up endlessly over happy hour drinks, and they decided if this is the life you wanted to pretend to live, they’d be there to live it with you. You’ve always been good to them. No reason they shouldn’t return the favor.
Tonight is Sharon’s birthday. You’re going to call your secretary and two assistants who sit nearby into your office and show them the necklace you bought for Sharon. They’ll ooh and aah and they’ll tell you that Sharon is going to absolutely love it. “I wish my husband was more like you,” one of the assistants will say. When you get a call, they’ll take the opportunity to leave your office, go into the supplies closet, link arms around each other’s shoulders and sob for you.
Happy Your Staff Knows Your Wife Left You Eleven Years Ago Day!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Bucket Of Heartbreak Day!
Your girlfriend loves her fried chicken more than she loves you, her parents, life, or the limitless freedom to excel and prosper granted to every citizen of this great country.
“Fried chicken beats all that shit,” she likes to say. In fact, right before she rips the lid off of another bucket (which she has no intention of sharing) she says a little prayer of Grace, listing all of the things that she thinks are far less important than a good hot bucket of fried chicken.
“A child’s laughter. Kittens playing with an apple in a baby’s crib. Being asked out by a guy who’s rich. It’s all shit compared to my next bucket of chicken.”
You love this woman and you want her to marry you. You’ve given the girls behind the counter at Kleinfeldts’ Fried Chicken Cabana your engagement ring and you’ve asked them to deposit it at the bottom of the next bucket of chicken your girlfriend orders. You’ll be sitting across from her after she finishes her fifth piece of chicken and finds that shiny diamond ring sparkling up at her from the bottom of the bucket.
You’ll say, “Will you marr—“
Before you can get your proposal out, she’ll smack you across the head with a wing, screaming about how you fucked up her bucket of chicken. Apparently, she likes to keep her buckets pure of foreign objects, no matter how expensive they might be or how deep the love they represent.
“We’re through!” she’ll shout. Then she’ll run through the plate glass window of the Kleinfeldts’ and take off sprinting down the street. The Kleinfeldts’ assistant manager on duty will tell you that you’re gonna have to pay for that window, and that it just wasn’t meant to be for you two.
“But at least you put yourself out there,” he’ll say. “There’s always a chance you’re gonna find out you matter less than a bucket of chicken, and it’ll hurt, but you’ll never know for sure if you don’t take that risk. The window’s 800 dollars.”
Happy Bucket Of Heartbreak Day!
“Fried chicken beats all that shit,” she likes to say. In fact, right before she rips the lid off of another bucket (which she has no intention of sharing) she says a little prayer of Grace, listing all of the things that she thinks are far less important than a good hot bucket of fried chicken.
“A child’s laughter. Kittens playing with an apple in a baby’s crib. Being asked out by a guy who’s rich. It’s all shit compared to my next bucket of chicken.”
You love this woman and you want her to marry you. You’ve given the girls behind the counter at Kleinfeldts’ Fried Chicken Cabana your engagement ring and you’ve asked them to deposit it at the bottom of the next bucket of chicken your girlfriend orders. You’ll be sitting across from her after she finishes her fifth piece of chicken and finds that shiny diamond ring sparkling up at her from the bottom of the bucket.
You’ll say, “Will you marr—“
Before you can get your proposal out, she’ll smack you across the head with a wing, screaming about how you fucked up her bucket of chicken. Apparently, she likes to keep her buckets pure of foreign objects, no matter how expensive they might be or how deep the love they represent.
“We’re through!” she’ll shout. Then she’ll run through the plate glass window of the Kleinfeldts’ and take off sprinting down the street. The Kleinfeldts’ assistant manager on duty will tell you that you’re gonna have to pay for that window, and that it just wasn’t meant to be for you two.
“But at least you put yourself out there,” he’ll say. “There’s always a chance you’re gonna find out you matter less than a bucket of chicken, and it’ll hurt, but you’ll never know for sure if you don’t take that risk. The window’s 800 dollars.”
Happy Bucket Of Heartbreak Day!
Monday, March 19, 2007
Music To Your Ears Day!
You’re deaf and bitter, and you’ve been campaigning to make music illegal for years. Your platform is that if deaf people can’t enjoy music, no one should be allowed to because it’s mean to deaf people. Anytime someone challenges you, you accuse them of trying to be mean to the deaf and they relent. Today, the world governments have figured out a way to shut you up. They’re going to pretend to take a vote on your proposal, and they’re going to pretend that the vote was unanimous in favor of there being no more music.
“That’s music to my ears,” you’ll sign.
For the rest of your life you’ll go through your days feeling proud that you managed to get music eliminated from the planet. The rest of the world will go on listening to music the same way they always did, and you’ll never know since you can’t hear it. Everybody will laugh at you for being fooled so easily, but you’ll never hear the laughter either so it won’t ever make you feel bad. In other words, everybody wins.
Happy Music To Your Ears Day!
“That’s music to my ears,” you’ll sign.
For the rest of your life you’ll go through your days feeling proud that you managed to get music eliminated from the planet. The rest of the world will go on listening to music the same way they always did, and you’ll never know since you can’t hear it. Everybody will laugh at you for being fooled so easily, but you’ll never hear the laughter either so it won’t ever make you feel bad. In other words, everybody wins.
Happy Music To Your Ears Day!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Take The Mirror Off Your Ceiling Day!
You and your wife stopped having sex a long time ago, so it's time you took the mirror off your ceiling. All that mirror shows you is two people who aren't having sex, and you hate looking up at ceilings and seeing yourself not have sex.
"It's gotten so I can't even look at my ceiling anymore," you tell your wife. "I used to love my ceiling. I could always see myself having sex on it. It was so hot."
"Tomorrow the mirror will come down and it will be all better," your wife says.
The next day the laborers will come and take your mirrors off your ceiling. You'll leave the house for a while so you won't hear them snicker about how you probably don't want a mirror anymore because all it ever shows is you not doing it. When you get home, your wife seems rather excited, but she doesn't say anything.
You manage to avoid looking at the ceiling until you finally lay down for bed. There on the ceiling you discover that your wife has commissioned a mural of you and she having sex. You're laying on your back and she's straddling you with her head thrown back. It looks really hot, so hot you start to cry.
"Now you can always look up and see yourself having sex," she tells you.
"It's beautiful sweetie," you say. "I want to buy a coffin and have the muralist paint the same thing on the inside of the lid. I want to look up and see myself having sex on a ceiling even after worms have eaten my eyes."
Your wife asks, "Same position?"
Tell her, "Do the coffin with both of us lying on our sides, me behind you. And have him paint me wearing my black rubber mask."
Your wife enters the notes into her blackberry, then rolls over and kisses you. Then the two of you lay on your backs, side by side, not even touching, and you stare at the ceiling and watch yourselves have the red hot sex of yesteryear. Pleasant dreams.
Happy Take The Mirror Off Your Ceiling Day!
"It's gotten so I can't even look at my ceiling anymore," you tell your wife. "I used to love my ceiling. I could always see myself having sex on it. It was so hot."
"Tomorrow the mirror will come down and it will be all better," your wife says.
The next day the laborers will come and take your mirrors off your ceiling. You'll leave the house for a while so you won't hear them snicker about how you probably don't want a mirror anymore because all it ever shows is you not doing it. When you get home, your wife seems rather excited, but she doesn't say anything.
You manage to avoid looking at the ceiling until you finally lay down for bed. There on the ceiling you discover that your wife has commissioned a mural of you and she having sex. You're laying on your back and she's straddling you with her head thrown back. It looks really hot, so hot you start to cry.
"Now you can always look up and see yourself having sex," she tells you.
"It's beautiful sweetie," you say. "I want to buy a coffin and have the muralist paint the same thing on the inside of the lid. I want to look up and see myself having sex on a ceiling even after worms have eaten my eyes."
Your wife asks, "Same position?"
Tell her, "Do the coffin with both of us lying on our sides, me behind you. And have him paint me wearing my black rubber mask."
Your wife enters the notes into her blackberry, then rolls over and kisses you. Then the two of you lay on your backs, side by side, not even touching, and you stare at the ceiling and watch yourselves have the red hot sex of yesteryear. Pleasant dreams.
Happy Take The Mirror Off Your Ceiling Day!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Tell Your Girlfriend You're Worried You Might Be A Werewolf Day!
"What makes you so sure?" she'll ask.
You'll shrug and say, "Just trust me on this." Then tell her to chain you to the couch when the full moon hits.
On the night of the full moon, your girlfriend will chain you to the couch, then she'll sit and watch you.
"How do you feel?" she'll ask.
"Okay," you'll say. Then you'll add, "Wait, actually, I don't feel so good. I feel like something's about to happen to me." Your girlfriend will wait in breathless silence. Then you'll fart.
"Jerk," your girlfriend will say.
"Sorry."
The next day, you?ll both wake up exactly where you spent the night, her in the easy chair and you chained to the couch.
"I guess you're not a werewolf," your girlfriend will say.
"Guess not," you'll concede.
"Then you must be able to remember where you spent the night last month when I couldn?t reach you at home," she'll say.
The werewolf thing didn't work and you?re out of ideas. You're going to have to tell her about the affair.
Happy Tell Your Girlfriend You're Worried You Might Be A Werewolf Day!
You'll shrug and say, "Just trust me on this." Then tell her to chain you to the couch when the full moon hits.
On the night of the full moon, your girlfriend will chain you to the couch, then she'll sit and watch you.
"How do you feel?" she'll ask.
"Okay," you'll say. Then you'll add, "Wait, actually, I don't feel so good. I feel like something's about to happen to me." Your girlfriend will wait in breathless silence. Then you'll fart.
"Jerk," your girlfriend will say.
"Sorry."
The next day, you?ll both wake up exactly where you spent the night, her in the easy chair and you chained to the couch.
"I guess you're not a werewolf," your girlfriend will say.
"Guess not," you'll concede.
"Then you must be able to remember where you spent the night last month when I couldn?t reach you at home," she'll say.
The werewolf thing didn't work and you?re out of ideas. You're going to have to tell her about the affair.
Happy Tell Your Girlfriend You're Worried You Might Be A Werewolf Day!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Your Wife Wants To Know Why You've Been Secretly Videotaping Your Teenage Son While He Has Sex With His Girlfriends Day!
She found the tapes and the camera you installed outside the skylight in his bedroom ceiling. She wants answers.
"Our son is very charming, right?" you tell her.
She agrees.
"He's one of the most charismatic people I've ever met," you tell her. "That's probably why he has so many girlfriends, yes?"
Your wife agrees again, but is growing impatient.
"And what of his politics?" you ask her.
Your wife concedes that your son has some rather fascistic tendencies. He's midway through his second term as student council president and he has been roundly criticized for turning the lunchroom into something akin to a police state.
"Imagine if he ever ran for public office," you tell her. "Our boy has the magnetism to hold a country under his sway. And God help our country if that ever came to pass."
"You'll release the tapes?" your wife asks.
"I'll release the tapes," you tell her. "He'll be brought down in a sex scandal and democracy will be saved."
"But they're of nothing more than two teenagers having sex, unaware that they're being taped surreptitiously," your wife argues. "Those tapes won't do anything but send you to jail for child pornography."
"Maybe in the kind of big brother nation our son would like to create it would be illegal to make tapes of kids having sex, but not in my America," you tell her.
Your wife counters that it is in fact presently illegal to make tapes of kids having sex.
"I'm sure a judge would understand that I only taped my son having sex because I didn't like his politics."
Just then your son walks in and spots the two of you watching a tape of him having sex with a girl. "Pervs!" he screams, and then he runs into his bedroom to sulk, probably over the fact that his political career is over before it even got started. Looks like he got the message.
Happy Your Wife Wants To Know Why You've Been Secretly Videotaping Your Teenage Son While He Has Sex With His Girlfriends Day!
"Our son is very charming, right?" you tell her.
She agrees.
"He's one of the most charismatic people I've ever met," you tell her. "That's probably why he has so many girlfriends, yes?"
Your wife agrees again, but is growing impatient.
"And what of his politics?" you ask her.
Your wife concedes that your son has some rather fascistic tendencies. He's midway through his second term as student council president and he has been roundly criticized for turning the lunchroom into something akin to a police state.
"Imagine if he ever ran for public office," you tell her. "Our boy has the magnetism to hold a country under his sway. And God help our country if that ever came to pass."
"You'll release the tapes?" your wife asks.
"I'll release the tapes," you tell her. "He'll be brought down in a sex scandal and democracy will be saved."
"But they're of nothing more than two teenagers having sex, unaware that they're being taped surreptitiously," your wife argues. "Those tapes won't do anything but send you to jail for child pornography."
"Maybe in the kind of big brother nation our son would like to create it would be illegal to make tapes of kids having sex, but not in my America," you tell her.
Your wife counters that it is in fact presently illegal to make tapes of kids having sex.
"I'm sure a judge would understand that I only taped my son having sex because I didn't like his politics."
Just then your son walks in and spots the two of you watching a tape of him having sex with a girl. "Pervs!" he screams, and then he runs into his bedroom to sulk, probably over the fact that his political career is over before it even got started. Looks like he got the message.
Happy Your Wife Wants To Know Why You've Been Secretly Videotaping Your Teenage Son While He Has Sex With His Girlfriends Day!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Your Behavior At Your High School Reunion Could Bring Down Your Supermarket Chain Day!
Tonight is your 25th high school reunion and you�re going back to your alma mater as a minor celebrity. You�ve built a nationwide supermarket chain that has grown more successful with every year, and you�ve appeared in all of your commercials, tying your face and your name to the chain. When you see your old high school friends tonight, they�ll all be excited to have a drink with the face of their favorite market. So excited that they�ll put quite a few drinks back with you, and by the time you drive off you�ll be plenty drunk and you�ll accidentally hit one of your fellow alums as she makes her way to her car. A quick look around the lot will make you believe no one saw, and in a panic you�ll take off, leaving her to possibly die on the concrete. Unfortunately for you, your old high school will have installed an excellent network of parking lot security cameras in the years since you�ve graduated, and the tape of you mowing down a woman, then peeling away after searching the lot for witnesses will be all over the internet by the end of the week. The face and name of your chain of markets will now always be linked to a grainy video of a woman being run over in a dark parking lot and left for dead. Parents will stop shopping at your market on principal. There�s only one way for you to keep your customers from abandoning your supermarket chain forever, and it�s called TRIPLE COUPON MADNESS!
Happy Your Behavior At Your High School Reunion Could Bring Down Your Supermarket Chain Day!
Happy Your Behavior At Your High School Reunion Could Bring Down Your Supermarket Chain Day!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Get James Garner's Character In "The Notebook" To Watch "Memento" Day!
Today, if you see James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook," get him to a Blockbuster fast and make him rent "Memento."
"Well, I'll be damned," James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will say. "That just might work."
"Hell yes it'll work," tell him. "Now get back to that old folks home and get your sharpie ready, you hear me Rockford?"
James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will then race back to the retirement home and start reading the notebook from the movie "The Notebook" to Gena Rowlands' character from the movie "The Notebook." As soon as she starts remembering again, James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will tell her, "Okay, now I'm gonna write all over your body about who you are and how much you dig me. Cool?"
James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will probably only get a few lines written before she flips out again, but it's a start. If only James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" had been played by Guy Pearce's character from the movie "Memento." If you want to know who's to blame for Gena Rowlands' character from the movie "The Notebook" having dementia, look no further than the casting director for the movie "The Notebook."
Happy Get James Garner's Character In "The Notebook" To Watch "Memento" Day!
"Well, I'll be damned," James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will say. "That just might work."
"Hell yes it'll work," tell him. "Now get back to that old folks home and get your sharpie ready, you hear me Rockford?"
James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will then race back to the retirement home and start reading the notebook from the movie "The Notebook" to Gena Rowlands' character from the movie "The Notebook." As soon as she starts remembering again, James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will tell her, "Okay, now I'm gonna write all over your body about who you are and how much you dig me. Cool?"
James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" will probably only get a few lines written before she flips out again, but it's a start. If only James Garner's character from the movie "The Notebook" had been played by Guy Pearce's character from the movie "Memento." If you want to know who's to blame for Gena Rowlands' character from the movie "The Notebook" having dementia, look no further than the casting director for the movie "The Notebook."
Happy Get James Garner's Character In "The Notebook" To Watch "Memento" Day!
Friday, March 09, 2007
True Lava Always Day!
You went to Hawaii on your honeymoon and as luck would have it, a volcano erupted and killed your husband. He got caught in a shower of lava and he turned into one of those lava people who get preserved as an ashen sculpture in the exact position where they were standing. You kind of hate going to visit him on that pretty hill, because of all the people who got preserved by lava there, your husband is the only one who is both picking his nose and scratching his balls at the same time.
'He must have been a professional baseball player,' you'll hear the other tourists joking as they take pictures with their arms around his shoulders.
'Hey lava man, need help getting that boogie snot out?' another tourist will yell.
'Scratch that shit, lava man!' locals will shout from their car.
'I couldn't imagine having balls,' a female tourist will tell her companion as she passes your husband.
'They're awesome,' her companion will respond.
'He was a wonderful, warm, and endlessly loving man and the whole world should have fallen apart when he died,' you want to tell each and every one of them when they pass.
But you don't. Instead you stand before him and you call up your sweetest memories of him, of the day you met when by chance you both walked out of a restaurant together and walked in the same direction for a block before you looked over at each other and shared a smile. You remember his shirts and you remember the way he used to call you at midnight before you were living together, and you'd both just lay in silence with your phones to your ears until one of you fell asleep. You let these memories dance through your mind, hoping this time will be the time that you can be solemn and respectful and tender, and then you look up at him with his finger in his nose and his hand on his balls and you just burst out laughing and run back down the hill.
Happy True Lava Always Day!
'He must have been a professional baseball player,' you'll hear the other tourists joking as they take pictures with their arms around his shoulders.
'Hey lava man, need help getting that boogie snot out?' another tourist will yell.
'Scratch that shit, lava man!' locals will shout from their car.
'I couldn't imagine having balls,' a female tourist will tell her companion as she passes your husband.
'They're awesome,' her companion will respond.
'He was a wonderful, warm, and endlessly loving man and the whole world should have fallen apart when he died,' you want to tell each and every one of them when they pass.
But you don't. Instead you stand before him and you call up your sweetest memories of him, of the day you met when by chance you both walked out of a restaurant together and walked in the same direction for a block before you looked over at each other and shared a smile. You remember his shirts and you remember the way he used to call you at midnight before you were living together, and you'd both just lay in silence with your phones to your ears until one of you fell asleep. You let these memories dance through your mind, hoping this time will be the time that you can be solemn and respectful and tender, and then you look up at him with his finger in his nose and his hand on his balls and you just burst out laughing and run back down the hill.
Happy True Lava Always Day!
Thursday, March 08, 2007
The Chairman Had An Accident Day!
Today, while speaking to investors during the quarterly state of the company conference call, you're going to crap your pants. Everyone listening in on the conference call will hear the sound of someone crapping their pants and speculation will run rampant as to whether or not it was you and whether you crapped your pants because you saw a statement of losses the company has been hit with. Rumors will go out over the web, with people describing the deep, throaty sound of the pants crapping as the kind that could only come from someone with your husky build. Analysts will begin to downgrade your stock. 'When a chairman craps his pants like that, things can only be going from bad to worse. Sell!' To end the panic, you're going to have to admit that, yes, you crapped your pants, but it was only because a ghost walked into the room and pointed straight at you. The ghost looked like he might have been a member of one of the tribes your company displaced in South America in order to build a weapons plant. Everyone will feel reassured that the company is doing well. You'll slowly go mad.
Happy The Chairman Had An Accident Day!
Happy The Chairman Had An Accident Day!
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
You Never Read The Bible Day!
'And then Moses said, I'd rather be fishing,' you tell your bible study class. 'And then the most majestic fishing rod appeared in his hands, and Zeus and Pegasus and King Arthur started applauding and saying, 'Go catch a big one, Mo.'
Leon, the most Jesus-y in the class, slams his fist on his desk and shouts, 'What you know about the bible I could fit on one of my pubes.'
'Prayer time,' you say. 'Everybody pray quietly.'
'No!' Leon will say. 'Tell us who you are and why you're teaching bible study here at the school for boys.'
'I admit,' you admit to them, 'I faked my way in here because the job offered free room and board, and I don't like to have to pay for things like room or board. But while my intentions were to deceive, since I've been here my eyes have been opened. I've really learned a lot about Jazziz.'
'Jesus!' Leon will shout, exasperated.
'Jesus. Right. Sorry. Wasn't it Jesus who said, Don't tell on your teachers. Or else you'll rot in hell?'
Leon will relent. 'Fine, we won't tell on you,' he'll say. 'But you really have to try and teach this class. No more just showing us old Martin Scorcese movies and telling us to find the parts where the Italians get all religious. Put together a lesson plan.'
'I will. Tomorrow,' tell him. 'For today. Mean Streets!'
The bible class will erupt in a cheer.
Happy You Never Read The Bible Day!
Leon, the most Jesus-y in the class, slams his fist on his desk and shouts, 'What you know about the bible I could fit on one of my pubes.'
'Prayer time,' you say. 'Everybody pray quietly.'
'No!' Leon will say. 'Tell us who you are and why you're teaching bible study here at the school for boys.'
'I admit,' you admit to them, 'I faked my way in here because the job offered free room and board, and I don't like to have to pay for things like room or board. But while my intentions were to deceive, since I've been here my eyes have been opened. I've really learned a lot about Jazziz.'
'Jesus!' Leon will shout, exasperated.
'Jesus. Right. Sorry. Wasn't it Jesus who said, Don't tell on your teachers. Or else you'll rot in hell?'
Leon will relent. 'Fine, we won't tell on you,' he'll say. 'But you really have to try and teach this class. No more just showing us old Martin Scorcese movies and telling us to find the parts where the Italians get all religious. Put together a lesson plan.'
'I will. Tomorrow,' tell him. 'For today. Mean Streets!'
The bible class will erupt in a cheer.
Happy You Never Read The Bible Day!
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
You Dig Bearded Ladies Day!
Today you're going to sneak onto an empty cargo car on the train that's carrying the traveling circus to their next stop three states over. You'll settle in on a bale of hay and try to get some shut-eye, but then a bearded lady will come into the car with a flashlight. One look at the thick beard on her face and you'll fall head over heels in love.
'Another stowaway,' she'll say to you. Then she'll swing a bat at your knees. The pain will knock you out.
When you wake up, the bearded lady will be holding ice packs to your knees. You'll scream with pain.
'The pain is from me hitting your kneecaps with a bat,' she'll tell you.
'I know!' you'll shout. 'Why are you icing them down now? Why didn't you just throw me off the train?'
'Because in the instant when I was swinging the bat down on your kneecaps, I looked in your eyes and felt like we had something. Did you feel it?'
'Of course I did,' you'll say. 'It hit me harder than that bat ever could.' Then you'll bury your face in her mound of stubble.
You'll get off with her at the next stop and live at the circus in her trailer while your legs heel. Every night, when she's finished wowing the crowd at the freak show, she'll come back home and let you sink your lips into her bristling mass once more. When you're finally able to walk again, you'll tell the bearded lady, 'Now I got no use to stay locked up in your trailer.'
The bearded lady will grab her bat and break your knees again. After lots of screaming, you'll explain that you only said that to be sweet, and she doesn't have to hobble you anymore because you ain't going anywhere. Unless she shaves.
Happy You Dig Bearded Ladies Day!
'Another stowaway,' she'll say to you. Then she'll swing a bat at your knees. The pain will knock you out.
When you wake up, the bearded lady will be holding ice packs to your knees. You'll scream with pain.
'The pain is from me hitting your kneecaps with a bat,' she'll tell you.
'I know!' you'll shout. 'Why are you icing them down now? Why didn't you just throw me off the train?'
'Because in the instant when I was swinging the bat down on your kneecaps, I looked in your eyes and felt like we had something. Did you feel it?'
'Of course I did,' you'll say. 'It hit me harder than that bat ever could.' Then you'll bury your face in her mound of stubble.
You'll get off with her at the next stop and live at the circus in her trailer while your legs heel. Every night, when she's finished wowing the crowd at the freak show, she'll come back home and let you sink your lips into her bristling mass once more. When you're finally able to walk again, you'll tell the bearded lady, 'Now I got no use to stay locked up in your trailer.'
The bearded lady will grab her bat and break your knees again. After lots of screaming, you'll explain that you only said that to be sweet, and she doesn't have to hobble you anymore because you ain't going anywhere. Unless she shaves.
Happy You Dig Bearded Ladies Day!
Monday, March 05, 2007
Push Your Way Hot Baby Son Into Child Modeling Day!
'But I don't wanna model,' your son will tell you. 'I wanna play little league!'
Tell your son little league will let in any number of ugly bastards who know how to swing a stick. 'But you got the goods,' tell him. 'You're unbelievably hot, and you shouldn't waste it standing out in left field where you're nothing but another eleven-year old kid who has to pee.'
'But modeling's for girls!' your son will tell you.
'Hot girls!' retort. 'You don't want in on that?'
'Yuck! Girls are gross!' he'll say. 'I just want to play video games with my friends!'
'I told you I don't want you hanging around with those boys anymore,' tell him. 'Your friends are hideous. Now help me pick out some pictures for you. I think this one's a little too 'come hither' don't you?'
'Yeah but this one makes me look like I'm uncertain about what to do with my hands!' he'll whine. 'I don't want people to think I don't know what to do with my hands!'
Take your little treasure in your arms and tell him, 'Shhhhh. They won't think that. No one will ever think that about my baby. We'll pick the pictures that let everyone know my baby knows exactly what to do with his hands.'
Then let him go. He's your son and you can't force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. If he goes upstairs and gets dressed for his callback with Gap Kids, he's in. If he runs headlong into a doorknob in order to disfigure himself, he's out. You may hate him for throwing away all that money, but try not to let it show that often. I read once that if you let your son know you resent him because he didn't let you make a lot of cash off his looks, he'll grow up to be a dick.
Happy Push Your Way Hot Baby Son Into Child Modeling Day!
Tell your son little league will let in any number of ugly bastards who know how to swing a stick. 'But you got the goods,' tell him. 'You're unbelievably hot, and you shouldn't waste it standing out in left field where you're nothing but another eleven-year old kid who has to pee.'
'But modeling's for girls!' your son will tell you.
'Hot girls!' retort. 'You don't want in on that?'
'Yuck! Girls are gross!' he'll say. 'I just want to play video games with my friends!'
'I told you I don't want you hanging around with those boys anymore,' tell him. 'Your friends are hideous. Now help me pick out some pictures for you. I think this one's a little too 'come hither' don't you?'
'Yeah but this one makes me look like I'm uncertain about what to do with my hands!' he'll whine. 'I don't want people to think I don't know what to do with my hands!'
Take your little treasure in your arms and tell him, 'Shhhhh. They won't think that. No one will ever think that about my baby. We'll pick the pictures that let everyone know my baby knows exactly what to do with his hands.'
Then let him go. He's your son and you can't force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. If he goes upstairs and gets dressed for his callback with Gap Kids, he's in. If he runs headlong into a doorknob in order to disfigure himself, he's out. You may hate him for throwing away all that money, but try not to let it show that often. I read once that if you let your son know you resent him because he didn't let you make a lot of cash off his looks, he'll grow up to be a dick.
Happy Push Your Way Hot Baby Son Into Child Modeling Day!
Friday, March 02, 2007
Dermatologist Appointment With A Happy Ending Day!
The first time your dermatologist offered you a handjob, you were thrown.
"I've got a good practice here," she said. "But the HMO's make it next to impossible for a doctor to make over $400,000 a year. Anyway, gimme 75 bucks and I"ll finish you off."
You argued that most massage parlors charge far less, but your dermatologist countered that she knows a thing or two about skin. "Nerve endings are very cliquish," she said. "They like to gather in groups. I went to school for six years to learn where to find them."
You gave her the 75 and it was worth every penny. For a while there, you looked forward to your dermatologist appointment like it was prom night. However, while you've felt a great deal more relaxed, your acne has been getting worse. Your dermatologist has been keeping her office open until 4 AM to cater to the strip club crowd and compete with the massage parlors and whorehouses. As a result, she doesn't pay attention to your complexion as much as she used to.
"I think I might need to see another dermatologist," tell her today.
"I don't blame you," she'll say. "Honestly, I bet I'm just making things worse for you considering where my hands have been. But man, this handjob racket really pays the bills."
"Speaking of handjobs, can I still come back and get them? I mean, can I just pay you the seventy five bucks without the copay for the checkup?"
"Sure thing," your dermatologist will say.
"Can I have one now?" ask her.
"Sure thing," your dermatologist will say. Then she'll jerk you off.
Happy Dermatologist Appointment With A Happy Ending Day!
"I've got a good practice here," she said. "But the HMO's make it next to impossible for a doctor to make over $400,000 a year. Anyway, gimme 75 bucks and I"ll finish you off."
You argued that most massage parlors charge far less, but your dermatologist countered that she knows a thing or two about skin. "Nerve endings are very cliquish," she said. "They like to gather in groups. I went to school for six years to learn where to find them."
You gave her the 75 and it was worth every penny. For a while there, you looked forward to your dermatologist appointment like it was prom night. However, while you've felt a great deal more relaxed, your acne has been getting worse. Your dermatologist has been keeping her office open until 4 AM to cater to the strip club crowd and compete with the massage parlors and whorehouses. As a result, she doesn't pay attention to your complexion as much as she used to.
"I think I might need to see another dermatologist," tell her today.
"I don't blame you," she'll say. "Honestly, I bet I'm just making things worse for you considering where my hands have been. But man, this handjob racket really pays the bills."
"Speaking of handjobs, can I still come back and get them? I mean, can I just pay you the seventy five bucks without the copay for the checkup?"
"Sure thing," your dermatologist will say.
"Can I have one now?" ask her.
"Sure thing," your dermatologist will say. Then she'll jerk you off.
Happy Dermatologist Appointment With A Happy Ending Day!
Thursday, March 01, 2007
You're From The Ocean, She's From The Red States Day!
Arguing with her has grown so frustrating that lately you just try to keep your mouth shut. She talks about where she grew up and the way her parents used to talk as if she had no choice but to believe the exact same things.
"You don't know what it was like," she'll say. "You grew up amongst the coral and all those luminous plants."
"Oh so because I'm from the ocean I'm able to avoid acting like a complete bigot?"
"I'm just saying our experiences were different growing up. It was simpler for you."
She's so fucking condescending sometimes. The only thing she knows about life in the ocean she learned from watching The Little Fucking Mermaid.
"I guess I just didn't experience the extreme hardships caused by all those weak immigration laws. Your family must have truly suffered in their suburban Missouri neighborhood."
Today's going to be a rough day, but you've put off making plane reservations long enough. You're going to have to tell her you're not going home with her for Easter.
"Some old friends invited me to spend the weekend in their underwater cave in the Atlantic 900 miles off of the UK."
She'll let it sink in. Then: "How long will you be gone?"
When you don't answer, she'll start to cry.
"Let's just give it a shot," you'll say. "I'm from the Ocean, you're from..."
"I know where I'm from! And you've been hanging onto that I'm from the Ocean shit as your get out of this relationship free card ever since I met you! It's like you only dated me because you knew it wouldn't work out and you'd have a perfect excuse when it was time to walk away!" Then she'll run to the bedroom.
It's true what she said, you know. You haven't really tried very hard.
Happy You're From The Ocean, She's From The Red States Day!
"You don't know what it was like," she'll say. "You grew up amongst the coral and all those luminous plants."
"Oh so because I'm from the ocean I'm able to avoid acting like a complete bigot?"
"I'm just saying our experiences were different growing up. It was simpler for you."
She's so fucking condescending sometimes. The only thing she knows about life in the ocean she learned from watching The Little Fucking Mermaid.
"I guess I just didn't experience the extreme hardships caused by all those weak immigration laws. Your family must have truly suffered in their suburban Missouri neighborhood."
Today's going to be a rough day, but you've put off making plane reservations long enough. You're going to have to tell her you're not going home with her for Easter.
"Some old friends invited me to spend the weekend in their underwater cave in the Atlantic 900 miles off of the UK."
She'll let it sink in. Then: "How long will you be gone?"
When you don't answer, she'll start to cry.
"Let's just give it a shot," you'll say. "I'm from the Ocean, you're from..."
"I know where I'm from! And you've been hanging onto that I'm from the Ocean shit as your get out of this relationship free card ever since I met you! It's like you only dated me because you knew it wouldn't work out and you'd have a perfect excuse when it was time to walk away!" Then she'll run to the bedroom.
It's true what she said, you know. You haven't really tried very hard.
Happy You're From The Ocean, She's From The Red States Day!