Asshole Love Triangle Day!

You are in love with Jenny but Jenny isn't sure if she's ready to commit to you, so you're dating Sheila who really wants you, but Sheila can tell how you feel for Jenny. Meanwhile, Sheila and Jenny kind of find each other attractive, but they hate each other because of all the confusion over where your heart lies.

If it all sounds like a confusing, frustrating, super-compelling mess of a love triangle, it isn't. That's because all three of you are assholes and no one really cares who assholes end up with. You could torture each other all you want but it doesn't really matter. Even though you might think it's love that's making you crazy, everyone knows that asshole love isn't real. Anything that goes on inside the heart or mind of an asshole is just asshole bullshit that sucks.

So stop freaking out over whether you should be with Jenny or Sheila. Nothing you feel is real or valid. When the world would be better off if you didn't exist, you blurting out the wrong name during sex really doesn't count as a big event in the scheme of things. Additionally, if you all kill each other in a jealous rage, cool.

Happy Asshole Love Triangle Day!

Slip A Tylenol In Your Date's Drink Day!

Tonight's your big date with Roxy. If you wanna make it go REALLY well (wink wink) when she's not looking slip a Tylenol into her Diet Pepsi. As the Tylenol starts to take hold, any mild pain or inflammation she might feel will be slightly alleviated.

"I'm not sure why," she'll say with a smile. "But being around you makes my joints feel a little less achy. Only a little, but I definitely feel it."

"Guess we're hitting it off," you'll say.

Roxy will put her hand on yours. Take it away, then place your hand on hers.

"I have the upper hand," you'll say.

Roxy won't know what you mean. You'll mean that of the two of you, you're the only one at the table who knows that Roxy just ingested a Tylenol.

Happy Slip A Tylenol In Your Date's Drink Day!

Topless Tim and Pantsless Paul Day!

Topless Tim and Pantsless Paul are coming over to break the news to you that the kid you were mentoring through Big Brothers just got sent to jail for gun possession.

"But I thought I was getting through to him!" you'll shout.

Topless Tim will reach out to give you a hug and say, "You did all you could." But you'll push Topless Tim away and shout, "Can you just put on one of my shirts before you do that?"

Topless Tim will assume you're just taking your frustration out on him. Pantless Paul will say, "You gave that kid a lot. But he was already headed down this road. You couldn't have stopped him."

Pantless Paul will sit beside you on your bed and rub your back. You'll shove him off.

"Your buttcrack is on my comforter! Get off."

You'll get up and go to your dresser and pull out a clean pair of white briefs.

"Put these on. Please!"

Pantsless Paul will look at the underwear and shout, "Look, I know you're upset but that's no reason to try and tell us how to live our lives!"

"I just want you to put on pants while you're around me!" you'll say.

You'll look down and see that Pantsless Paul's scrotum has gone taut and he is semi-erect.

"Do you have to pee?"

Pantsless Paul will say, "I don't know."

Topless Tim will then yank you into a strong bearhug and he will be damp because your apartment is too warm. He'll slide and slither his torso against yours, trying to hold you tight against the grief you feel. But only be able to pay attention to the breadcrumb you saw in his chest hair before he hugged you, knowing that that breadcrumb is probably now stuck in your chest hair.

"Can you just put a shirt on!" you'll shout as you shove Topless Tim away.

Pantsless Paul will say, "You have a lot of advice to give for a guy whose Big Brother mentee just got sent to prison."

You'll demand that Topless Tim and Pantsless Paul leave you alone. After they're gone you'll pick the breadcrumb from your chest hair and wonder why good kids make bad mistakes.

Happy Topless Tim and Pantsless Paul Day!

Elephants! Day!

You are very excited to see the new disaster movie called Elephants! in which the world’s elephants rise up and start stomping on people. You’ve been excited to see it ever since you read the movie’s tagline. “This summer, we’re gonna find out what happens when the world’s elephants decide start throwing their weight around.”

When you arrive at the theater you’re surprised to find that there isn’t a line of people camping out to see it. You sniff some glue, then you buy your ticket and head inside. Once inside the auditorium you discover that for the first time ever in your movie-going life you’re the only one in the theater.

After waiting a few minutes, instead of the lights going down they get brighter. That’s when all of your friends and family file in and tell you that there’s no such thing as a movie called Elephants! This is just your intervention. You’ve been sniffing so much glue that the only way to get you to show up someplace is to make you believe that a summer movie about murdering elephants is in theaters, waiting to appeal to your deteriorated brain.

“But I saw commercials for it on TV,” you say.

Your rich brother Mark raises his hand and says, “Guilty.”

“But Matthew McConaughey was interviewed by Byron Allen about what it was like to live with elephants for three months,” you say.

That’s when you see Matthew McConaughey laying down on the floor behind everybody.

“Sorry bro,” he says. “Your folks wrote me a letter saying you were a real fan. Hope you get better.”

You protest some more but eventually your family just gathers around you and tells you all the ways in which you suck. You pretend to listen, but all the while you’re trying to envision in your head how the movie Elephants! would have played out if it existed.

Happy Elephants! Day!

Teenagers Not Gonna Turn Their Backs On Love Day!

You're stopped at a stoplight when you glance toward the high school campus and see them walking toward each other across the football field. Jeff's been showing up to summer football practice. He thinks they're gonna have a real good year. Mary's teaching SAT prep to sophomores. She's got early admission to Penn but she's planning to make her last year count.

They wave when they're ten feet away from each other. They stop and put their hands in their pockets when they're four feet apart, like they're signaling that they don't wanna fight. They smile and nod their heads a lot when they talk. You can't hear them. But you have an idea what they're saying.

Did you have a good summer?

How's the team?

Ready for senior year?

Guess you'll be real busy...

Guess I'd better get back...

Look beyond Jeff and Mary and you'll see the audience has grown. Students scattered all around the campus have stopped where they are to watch Jeff and Mary talk for the first time since their blowout fight last June. They're divided between students who want Mary to take a swing at Jeff, and students who want Jeff to take Mary in his arms and give her a kiss that lasts till graduation day.

Your light has changed but you're not moving, and no one is honking. The whole intersection is waiting to see this play out.

Jeff shrugs. Mary shrugs and smiles. She reaches out a hand and brushes Jeff's shoulder lightly. Jeff lifts his hand in a little wave. And they turn away, backtracking across the field, like two generals returning to their armies.

Ten paces and Jeff stops. Mary gets five paces further than Jeff then she falls to her knees on the field, her hands over her face. Jeff finally turns and sees what we all see, sees Mary on the ground.

Jeff starts running.

He reaches Mary and pulls her up from the ground and she cries into his chest, his shoulder, his cheek, and then they're kissing. They're kissing an apology, an explanation, a declaration that they've been dying every summer day. They're kissing like they used to. And the whole world starts again.

Happy Teenagers Not Gonna Turn Their Backs On Love Day!

You're Tom Sizemore Day!

Today when you go to your local diner to get breakfast you're going to swear while you eat even though you're alone because you're Tom Sizemore. A child will be seated at the table next to you and you'll apologize to the child's mother for swearing. Then you'll get angry that you had to apologize to anybody and you'll throw your plate at the window and stalk out like a fast moving Frankenstein because you're Tom Sizemore.

Outside the diner, you'll pick up a newspaper box and throw it into the street. Then you'll run over to the box and check inside it to see if there's any toast or toys inside. Pissed off that the box is only holding newspapers, you'll sit in the middle of the street and sob at clouds.

A woman will shake you awake and you'll know by the light in the sky that you've been asleep in the middle of the street for several hours. "You're Tom Sizemore," she'll say.

She'll leave without waiting for you to confirm her accusation. You'll get up and run headfirst into a wall and fall down on your rear end. You'll get up and run headfirst into the wall again, not so hard this time though. You'll stay on your feet.

"Tom Sizemore has his wits about him now," you'll say to yourself. You'll spot a woman going into labor so you'll deliver her baby. Then you'll climb a fence and fall thirty feet into a construction pit. You'll live, but you won't wake up again until the next morning when you're not Tom Sizemore anymore.

Happy You're Tom Sizemore Day!

Run Through a Field of Tall Grass Holding Hands Like a Couple of Dickheads Day!

When you and someone you love come upon a field of tall grass, you should clasp hands and then take off running through the tall grass like a couple of dickheads. Make sure to wear big stupid smiles on your faces like you've figured out a way to pretend that everything isn't diseased. Keep running past the guy lying face down in a suit and tie. Keep running past the overweight child who just got beaten up by bullies and left there to bleed. Keep running past the acres of tall grass where those new condos are going up soon. If you can manage it, let your smiles hang low and open enough that you start to drool a little. That way people can look at you and think, "Are they high or just dickheads?" When you're done running one of you should tackle the other and then you should roll around in the tall grass, laughing like fuckwads.

Happy Run Through a Field of Tall Grass Holding Hands Like a Couple of Dickheads Day!

Papergirl Day!

You’re a ten-year-old girl who delivers newspapers, and that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a lesbian.

“At least I think I’m a lesbian,” you tell your customers when they ask. “I’m only ten. But it’s looking like that’s the way I’m headed.”

Still, you didn’t take the job as some kind of political statement. Yes, delivering papers is traditionally a boy’s job. But there’s no reason for it to be. All you need is a stolen supermarket shopping cart and a throwing arm.

“I just like getting the word out to people,” you say. “I like knowing that my neighborhood gets their morning news directly from my fingertips. It makes me feel important.”

But your customers won’t let up. It’s gotten so that they won’t even pay you on collections day until you’ve convinced them that you didn’t take the job just because you know you’re going to be a lesbian when you grow up.

“Who I decide to kiss when I want to start kissing folks has no bearing on what I do to make some extra scratch so I can buy my GI Joes,” you like to tell them. That always seems to shut them up.

Happy Papergirl Day!

Learn To Surf Day!

You’ve wanted to learn to surf your whole life but you’ve been afraid to try it because in movies whenever someone tries to learn to surf all of the long-time surfers just try to stab him with switchblades they keep taped to the bottom of their boards. But you aren’t going to let them scare you.

You’ll swim out on your board (it’s got a yin-yang symbol on it, which you figured people would think is pretty cool). The other surfers will ignore you at first. You’ll do your best to stay out of their way. You’ll wait for a wave. You’ll wait and you’ll wait and you’ll wait while all the waves rise and break in the area where all of the other surfers are.

You’ll want to go over to their area, but you’ll know it will only cause trouble so you’ll just stay where you are.

After about an hour of waiting, your wave arrives.

“That’s my wave,” one of the other surfers shouts. He’s so far away it would take him five minutes to swim to where you are. This wave is twenty seconds away. There’s no way he could ride it. It’s yours.

“Ride that wave and you die,” the surfer shouts.

You look at him. Then you look back at the growing wave.

“No joke. Ride that wave and you die.”

The surfers, a dozen of them, reach under their boards and grab the sawed-off shotguns they keep duct-taped there in plastic bread bags so they don’t get wet. Twelve guns, still wrapped in plastic, are aimed straight at you. These guys really don’t like novice surfers.

You consider swimming into shore and saving your ass, but that’s the way you’ve lived your whole life.

With twelve guns ready to fire on you, you hop up on your board and you ride your wave with grace, with dignity, with experience far beyond your skill level. The surfers just watch, their guns still ready to fire, but no one pulling the trigger. Out of respect for the waves, they let you ride into shore.

“You got a lotta guts,” one of the surfers, the one who first threatened you, says. “We surfers have a saying: ‘Live to surf. Surf to live.’ You clearly understand that it’s better to die this morning on a wave than live another fifty years on a stretch of carpet.”

The surfer hands you a sawed-off shotgun, a Stroehmann bread bag and some duct tape.

“If you want to really surf, you’re gonna need these. Now let’s go catch some waves."

You and your new surfer friends run out into the water. You still feel the need to prove yourself, so the first time you see some novice surfers try to catch a wave, you shoot them both dead without even giving them a warning. They’ll be a teenage couple, a boy and a girl, just a couple of kids who picked the wrong beach.

Happy Learn To Surf Day!

Blankets Day!

Today’s the day for everyone across the nation to stay wrapped up in blankets, at least three. The blankets should be wrapped tightly enough that no one will be able to walk. That way, no one can go outside. Make sure you keep the blankets away from your mouth so you can still breathe, drink bourbon, and scream at God.

Happy Blankets Day!

You Are The Last Person On The Planet Who Doesn’t Know Jon Hamm Personally Day!

He’s had drinks with your closest friends on nights when you had work to do. He’s gone on a tubing trip with people at the office because one of them used to be his roommate. Even your parents love to tell the story about the time they broke down by the side of the road and Jon Hamm pulled over to see what he could do.

But you. Somehow you’re the only person you know who has managed to make it through his life without having had a personal interaction with actor Jon Hamm.

You’re so sick of it that tonight at a party you’re going to just make up a story about the time you and Jon Hamm went out for sushi together.

“But Jon Hamm hates sushi. Everyone knows this,” someone will say.

The party will go silent. Suddenly all of their eyes will roll up into their heads and they’ll all point at you and shriek. You’ll be abducted for experiments.

Happy You Are The Last Person On The Planet Who Doesn’t Know Jon Hamm Personally Day!

You Are The Nation’s Number One Star Of Antacid Commercials Day!

You topped the heap several years ago and you never looked down. It’s become the accepted reality of the industry that whichever antacid company can get you to endorse their product, that company will have the top-selling antacid on the shelves. It was rumored that in 2003 two competing antacid companies forged a secret pact to “share” you, having you appear in spots for one antacid for nine months and then switching to the other antacid’s spots for the next nine, just to be sure that a lesser antacid wouldn’t get the chance to steal you and build their market share.

You’ve been asked many times why you won’t make the jump into films or television. You evade this question, since your honest answer is not the kind of thing that belongs in the sort of trade magazines that interview you.

“Because films and television won’t help me destroy my father.”

Your father is the founder of the number five antacid company in the world. It used to be number one, until you started appearing in commercials for his competitors. Year after year you’ve delighted in watching his product’s sales tumble further and further. You only wish you could be there in his living room when your face appears on the TV commanding American viewers to join you in buying your father’s competitors’ products and help make your father a laughing stock. You have a gift, and you’ve devoted all of your energies toward honing that gift and using it to ruin the man who brought you into this world.

You and your father haven’t spoken in fifteen years. He’s never tried to confront you about your commercial acting. Not until today.

“You’ve made quite a career for yourself,” he’ll say to you from behind his desk in his far-too-air conditioned office.

“It’s good to have a goal,” you’ll say.

Your father will pick up a pen, stare at it like he had notes for his end of the conversation written on it, then he’ll put it down and say:

“What if I were to apologize to your mother? Would that make you stop?”

Apologize?

“You’d better hurry,” you’ll say. “Her last appeal was rejected. She’s going to be executed Friday evening.”

Your father’s face will go pale. His features will clench and he’ll clutch his chest.

“Do you need an antacid?” you’ll ask.

Happy You Are The Nation’s Number One Star Of Antacid Commercials Day!

Tell Your Dad He’s Gonna Miss Everything Day!

Your dad has been so focused on his career that he’s going to miss out on your entire childhood. You know how upset he’ll be if that happens, so it’s time to go confront him at his job and let him know what’s really important.

“How old am I Dad?” you’ll ask.

He’ll say, “I don’t know. Six? Look I’m really busy.”

“I’m eight,” you’ll say.

“Congrats,” your dad will say. “How about we talk about this when I get home.”

Tell your Dad that he always comes home too late for the two of you to talk. He’s never there to tuck you in. Never there to ask you what you learned today. He works so hard that he’s just never there for you at all.

“If you don’t try and become less focused on work, before you know it I’ll be eighteen and moving out of the house and you won’t have a clue how you missed it all.”

Your Dad will start to cry. Then he’ll realize what’s really important and he’ll throw down his apron and tell his boss, “My son needs me! I quit.”

His boss will shout, “You’ll never bus tables at a Denny’s again!”

Your Dad will lift you up into his arms and carry you outside.

“Wanna go play catch?” he’ll ask. “I have a few hours before I have to go to my second job as a night watchman. I kind of need to keep that one if we want to try and pay the back rent on our apartment.”

Tell him you realize that true change might take a while, and if he wants to continue to pursue his career for a little while longer, that’s fine. “But remember,” say to him. “Every hour you’re at work is an hour that your son doesn’t have a father. So try not to be so selfish.”

Happy Tell Your Dad He’s Gonna Miss Everything Day!

How To Wipe Your Ass Day!

Stop crying. You'll never get off of the toilet and on the train to the funeral if you don't stop crying and wipe your ass.

Is there toilet paper on the roll or is it on the shelf? If there's none on the roll, you'll have to stand up from the toilet and walk to the shelf where the extra toilet paper is with your buttocks clenched to be sure nothing falls off of you. Nothing ever does when you go through this process, but it's still terrifying. Even though the shelf is only a few steps away. The terror of loosing a remnant of filth onto the floor makes this walk comparable to crossing a rickety rope bridge that's about to give under your weight. You can do it. (Make a note to store your extra toilet paper closer to your toilet and never do it.)

Unroll a foot and a half of toilet paper and ball it up in your hand. If the sink is next to the toilet, wet the ball under running water. You'll get cleaner this way. If you've been wiping your butt without wet toilet paper all your life, start using wet toilet paper. You've been doing it incorrectly and you might die.

Wipe once with the wet toilet paper and let it drop into the bowl.

Unroll another foot from the roll, ball it up, and use this to wipe yourself dry.

Now you're clean and ready to get on the train to go to the funeral. You can cry on the train, but set aside some time to work on what you're going to say to people at the funeral to let them know that you're feeling the right things.

Happy How To Wipe Your Ass Day!

Inside The Touring Band’s Van Day!

You love your favorite band so much and you wish you could find out what goes on inside their touring van. Tonight after the show you’re going to find out.

The van will be sitting right there in the parking lot. The band will be inside and you’ll hear them hooting and hollering since the rear door will be cracked open.

You’ll get closer. Then you’ll lean your ear near the door and give a listen.

“You sang well,” someone in the band will say, probably to the lead singer.

“Thank you. You played guitar well,” the singer will say, probably to the guitarist.

“Thank you. I think we can all agree Rodney played his bass perfectly tonight.”

Rodney’s the bass player. You’re starting to get disappointed.

“What about me?” You’ll assume that’s the drummer.

“Best drumming ever!” the others will shout.

Then there’ll be an awkward silence that will last for what seems like an eternity. Finally, one of them (the guitarist you think) will say, “Why are we so guarded around each other?”

No one will answer. Two girls will shove you out of the way to climb in the van but the band will shout, “No girls allowed. Boys only!” and slam the doors shut.

You’ll walk home, wondering why people can’t just say what’s in their hearts. In the end you’ll realize, that’s just rock n’ roll.

Happy Inside The Touring Band’s Van Day!

Remember The Rubdown Your Babysitter Gave You Day!

You were eleven. She was twenty and early in her matriculation at massage school. At eleven, you weren’t much in need of massage. When she asked you if she could practice on you, you said okay.

“Change into your bathing suit,” she said.

You went upstairs and got out of your clothes fast. You hurried into your bathing suit, fumbling with the drawstring and pulling it way too tight so that it would leave a red mark later.

You walked out of your room to the top of the steps and you saw your babysitter in the living room, waiting for you. She’d laid a bed sheet over the couch and was staring up at you in your suit like she was waiting for you to dive off the steps.

“Ready?” she asked.

Without speaking you went down the steps and lay down on your back, like you did at the doctor.

“Turn over on your belly,” your babysitter said. You did as you were told.

Then your babysitter drenched her hands in warm oil and began to rub your eleven-year-old muscles. She rubbed your shoulders. Your neck. The middle of your back. Your thighs. Your calves. Then back on up.

It hurt. Especially around the shoulders and calves. You just didn’t have anything in need of kneading at that age. But you wouldn’t have stopped her for the world. The rubdown made you tenser, in fact, trying to hold still. Trying not to flinch in pain or when you were tickled for fear of any reaction from you making her stop. So you went stiff as a board, hoping to make your babysitter rubdown last as long as you could. Hoping to spend the whole evening under her methodical, mechanical, studied touch. She spread her palms across your flesh and leaned her pelvis against your side like her very future was dependent on how she touched your skin that night.

You didn’t understand what you were supposed to be feeling, but you knew this was a lucky break. It was something you kept quiet about. It was something you don’t tell your parents about, and you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to tell your friends about it. It might have gotten you made fun of, you had no way of knowing. All you knew was to lie still and let this twenty year old girl touch you until she was done.

When she was done, she rubbed you with a towel and told you to go take a bath and get ready for bed. You’re not sure if your parents ever found out. All you know is she stopped babysitting for you soon after. Maybe she finished massage school and didn’t need the money anymore. Or maybe you just got big enough that you were able to stay home alone. Regardless of what became of your babysitter, you know that all of your massages have been letdowns ever since.

“And that’s why I don’t go to massage parlors,” you tell your friends over beers. “That and the whole human trafficking thing. Most of those girls have been kidnapped.”

Then you and your friends drink your beers silently, all of you basking in the vision of a twenty-year-old girl helping an eleven-year-old boy relax.

Happy Remember The Rubdown Your Babysitter Gave You Day!

You Switched Bodies With Another Zombie Day!

You are a zombie who loves to shuffle across the earth very slowly and eat brains. You also love to groan. Thanks to a freaky occurrence last night (you bumped into an old fortune telling machine that people used to put quarters into before the zombie apocalypse) you appear to have switched bodies with another zombie. So you are still the same zombie, except you're in a completely different zombie body. And that other zombie is walking around as you. This is going to be nutty!

You've been getting a lot of looks from other zombies who know the zombie whose body you're occupying and they are confused by how that zombie is suddenly so different-seeming (he used to drag his left foot, and now all of a sudden you're dragging his right). Meanwhile, your body is walking around with this other zombie inside it and you're worried that he's going to destroy the zombie life you've built for yourself. What if he tries to slowly attack the wrong people and gets your head knocked off your body with bats?

You and this other zombie need to figure out how to switch back before your careers are ruined. There's only one way you know how to pull it off. That's by shuffling around, groaning, and eating brains. You can do it!

Happy You Switched Bodies With Another Zombie Day!

Get Struck By Lightning Day!

Today you’re going to get struck by lightning so that you can acquire new magical powers. It’s going to hurt and you’ll be in a coma for a little while so you’re going to miss your Dad’s birthday, but it’ll be worth it when you’re able to touch people and find out how they’re gonna die or whatever.

“So what’d I get?” you’ll ask the doctor when he takes the bandages off your head.

“You got struck by lightning,” he’ll say.

“No, I know that. What powers do I have now? Can I see through walls?”

The doctor points to the wall. “I don’t know. Can you?”

You look at the wall. “Nope. Can I hear people’s thoughts?”

The doctor will look at you and wait. Then, “Did you hear that?”

“Nope,” you’ll say.

“I was thinking you were an idiot.”

“I didn’t hear it. Come on Doc. What’d I get from the lightning? I don’t want to have to wait a few weeks until one day I see a flash and all of a sudden I’m turning sand into pebbles.”

“That’s a power?”

“Could be.”

“Okay,” the doctor said. “I can’t be sure. But I think you might be able to kill people just by saying the word ‘really.’”

“Really?” you’ll say. The doctor will drop to the ground.

“Oh shit!”

The doctor will get back up, laughing hysterically.

“I’m just kidding. You didn’t get any magical powers. You just got struck by lightning you moron. Why does everyone think getting struck by lightning can turn them into superpeople? It's sad. Your life must be really empty that this is all you're hoping for.”

You’ll get so angry that you’ll grow twenty times your size and burst through the roof. After squeezing the doctor into goo with your fist, start running from helicopters.

Happy Get Struck By Lightning Day!