You’re The Funny Drunk Day!

You’re the funny drunk and people love to see you do funny things when you’re drunk which is how you lost your hand. You were drunk while working at the grocery store and your co-workers were like, “Hey funny drunk, do a handstand on the meat slicer.” You did, but you accidentally turned the meat slicer on while you were getting situated, so bye bye hand.

Yesterday one of your friends shouted, “Hey funny drunk, go call Sharon and tell her you don’t love her anymore.” You said you had to drink on it. Sharon is the girl you love more than anything in the world. She’s stood by you through the years, even as you did things like losing your hand to a meat slicer handstand and whatnot. You don’t want to be without her, but you also don’t want to disappoint everyone who loves how funny you are when you’re drunk.

Your shrink says you should either quit drinking altogether, or you should break it off with Sharon. Not just because it would be really funny, but she deserves better.

You decide to tell your friend that you’ll do anything else. Anything but that. Anything funny that he can think of.

“Sorry,” he’ll say. “But it has to be the phone call.”

You decide then and there to quit drinking. Your friend will get pissed and tell you that he is in love with Sharon and he was trying to trick you into freeing her up and now he’s furious so he’ll throw a punch which is why they call him the angry drunk. You’ll take the punch and later you’ll want a drink but you won’t get one because you’ve made a decision. Everything will feel kind of blank from now on, and since you’ll be sober you’ll finally be able to mourn the hand you lost.

Happy You’re The Funny Drunk Day!

Crowded Airplane Day!

Crowded Airplane is tired.

“So many people,” Crowded Airplane sighs.

“What?” you say from your seat (18D).

“You heard that?” Crowded Airplane says.

“Yes is that you, the airplane I’m on?”

Crowded Airplane starts to cry.

“No one’s ever heard me before,” it says. “No one’s ever listened.”

“I’m listening,” you tell Crowded Airplane. “And the battery ran out on my Kindle so if you have anything you want to get off your chest, I’m all ears.”

Crowded Airplane will thank you, then it will spend the next three hours and forty-five minutes talking about eugenics.

Happy Crowded Airplane Day!

Your Haiku About The Day Your Dad Died Is Terrible Day!

It’s just a bunch of short, straightforward statements about what the sky looked like above your house as the ambulance pulled away with no siren. Great, thanks for the introspection Weather Dot Com (that’s your nickname because of this Haiku). So you matched up the syllable count (thanks to one contraction). Big deal. It’s not going to bring your Dad back so try a rewrite until you come up with a haiku that does because that’s what this is all about, right? Getting him back?

Happy Your Haiku About The Day Your Dad Died Is Terrible Day!

In This Town Day!

You ended up here, you after doing some good things in magazines, him after giving all he could to the financial services industry. Both of you had ideas and plans and predictions and this town never entered into any of those things.

“That’s what makes it seem so fated,” he says through a bed sheet.

In this bed, in this apartment, on this street, in this town of all places, “Every choice we made brought us here,” he insists.

“So did every mistake, every accident, every time we decided to say fuck it I don’t care anymore we let ourselves get swept a little closer together.”

You say you’re just refuse that happened to get whisked into the same dustpan but he says you’re star-crossed lovers and the universe applauds every time you kiss, but the arguing doesn’t change the fact that you’re in this bed, you’re in this town, whether you searched for it or tumbled blind from the trunk of a speeding car on Main Street, whether you finally arrived or this is just where you ended up, you’re both here and your plans and predictions say you’ll both stay here till the end. And it doesn’t really matter if that’s just because neither of you has anyplace else to go.

Happy In This Town Day!

Oops All Alone Now Day!

7:43 am - Jeffrey Bixby walks with Heather Moran down a lovely street in Chicago when Heather leans over for a kiss not noticing the manhole underneath her next step leaving Jeffrey oops all alone now

9:20 am - Pamela Oliver jogs alongside her dog Jamiroquai three blocks from her home in Memphis, TN when Jamiroquai starts barking at a squirrel dragging Pamela into the street just as a piano truck turns the corner leaving Jamiroquai oops all alone now

12:41 pm - Tracy Mets is sitting at home with her father who recently had stents put in his heart. Taking care of her father is the first thing Tracy has done in her life that’s made her feel like her existence is making a difference somehow. When her father gets up to go to the bathroom, Tracy asks if he needs help. He says nope, goes inside the bathroom and catches sight of himself in the mirror, so he blows himself a kiss with the last gust of air he’ll ever expel, and he falls on the floor of the bathroom with a thump that tells Tracy she’s oops all alone now

4:10 pm - One fish is named Lou and the other fish is named Dobbs and Dobbs just stopped swimming and started floating so guess what Lou you’re oops all alone now

6:12 pm - Jennifer Tisch has a gun pointed at her head by her ex-boyfriend Max. “You weren’t good to me but you were the only one I’ve ever wanted,” Max tells Jennifer. “I can’t just go on like this if you won’t let me have you.” Jennifer begs Max to think this through and Max thinks it through for a sec then pulls the gun away from Jennifer and fires into his own head leaving Jennifer oops hooray all alone now

Happy Oops All Alone Now Day!

Beer Commercial For The Sad Day!

They love your pitch for the beer commercial where the guy is trying to drink his beer but he’s crying too hard so he says to himself, “Get it together Kevin.” Then he takes some deep, pained breaths, and finally manages to stop crying long enough to take a sip, but he’s cried into his beer so much that it tastes salty, so he throws the bottle across the room and it shatters all over a photograph of a dog. He picks up the photograph, bleeding now from having touched the shattered glass, the blood mixed with the beer, and he whispers, “Here’s to you Caspar. You were a heck of a pal.” From his fingertip he licks a drop of the mixture of blood, beer and tears and finally, his grief is sated.

“We love it,” the account reps say. “Now which Black Keys song do you want to use for the music?”

Happy Beer Commercial For The Sad Day!

Own Snakes Day!

Time for you to start owning snakes. You have to own at least two snakes by midnight tonight.

“I have a funeral today,” you say.

Pet store closes at 9. More than enough time to get there after the funeral.

“People are flying in from all over. Friends I haven’t seen since college. The guy who died was really popular and we need to spend some time trying to figure out why he killed himself,” you say.

He killed himself?

“Yeah,” you say.

Tough. Get some snakes.

“I’d really like to–”

Stop it. Get some snakes. You have until midnight.

“Maybe I can sneak away. Just so broken up about Arthur. I mean, why? Why now?”

No one gives a shit. Fuck your dead friend. Get some snakes or God help you.

Happy Own Snakes Day!

Your Real Dad Owns A Cigar Lounge Day!

Show up and tell the weird middle-aged dudes smoking cigars, “Out.”

Then proceed to smash up the shop with a baseball bat. Your real dad will try to stop you. Knock him out and throw him onto the sidewalk. Then set fire to the cigar lounge.

When your real dad wakes up say, “I’m your real son. I couldn’t establish a relationship until the cigar lounge was gone. Sorry, but I couldn’t live a life as the son of a guy who owns a cigar lounge. Just a thing for me. Anyway, mom died and she asked me on her deathbed to forgive you for running out on us. I’m doing that, but no more cigar lounge, dig?”

He’ll dig.

Happy Your Real Dad Owns A Cigar Lounge Day!

The Severed Heads In Your Date’s Freezer Are More Handsome Than You Day!

You didn’t mean to pry. You just went looking for some ice. Then you found yourself staring at a half-dozen of the handsomest severed heads you’ve ever seen.

“That was when I was really into looks,” your date will say.

You’ll feign being hurt to hide how hurt you actually are.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she’ll say. “I mean, there’s a lot more going on with you than just your looks. There’s so much to you. I sometimes worry I’ll never get enough.”

Ask her if she got enough of the guys in the freezer.

“More than enough,” she’ll say.

Ask her, “Did this just get serious between us?”

She’ll cross the kitchen to where you’re leaning against the freezer door and kiss you on the lips. As real as the kiss feels, you think you can hear the heads in the freezer laughing at you. They’re laughing at your saggy jawline, your pinched eyes. They’re laughing at your hairline. Heads like that have always laughed at you.

“Good luck measuring up to us,” you hear them say.

At that moment, with her kiss on your lips, you almost believe that you can.

Happy The Severed Heads In Your Date’s Freezer Are More Handsome Than You Day!

You And Your Mom Are Dating Again Day!

No you’re not dating each other, thank goodness. It just so happens that at age 29 you just got divorced from your wife of 3 years, and your mom at age 55 just got divorced from your dad (he’s in Europe with the new wife). So you and your mom are hitting the dating scene at the exact same moment. Neither of you feels like you have any skill at this kind of thing, so tonight you’re going to use the novelty of a mother and a son going to a singles bar together to see what kind of ass you can reel in.

The women who approach you will be especially mannered in an effort to win approval from your mother. The men who approach your mother will make a point of rubbing your head and calling you sport to try to appear as a potential father figure to you. One man named Steve will offer to buy you a moped.

At the end of the night you’ll go home to your apartment with a girl named Shannon, and your mother will go home to her house with Steve.

The next day you and your mom will call each other to compare notes. She’ll say she enjoyed Steve but all he seemed to do was talk about you and about how he had a son who died drunk driving on prom night who looked like you. You’ll laugh because Shannon couldn’t stop talking about how great it is that you’re so close to your mom, since hers ran off when she was six.

You and your mom agree to throw away your respective partners’ phone numbers and hit a different bar tonight so your mom can help you reel in all that puss in need of someone maternal in their lives, and you can help score your mom some of that “always wanted a son” dick.

Happy You And Your Mom Are Dating Again Day!

Your Hug Buddy Wants To Go A Little Further Day!

You and your friend Laura are Hug Buddies. It’s like fuck buddies, except you don’t have intercourse. Occasionally when you’re lonely you call each other up and say, “Wanna hug for a while? No strings attached.” Then you meet up and hug for a few hours but you never go any further and you both agree it means nothing.

Today mid-hug Laura’s going to decide she wants to go a little further.

“Tit-fuck me,” Laura’s going to say.

“But I thought we were just Hug Buddies,” tell her. “That sounds like something people in a relationship might do, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

Laura will argue that it doesn’t have to mean anything serious. “It’s just two friends hanging out with the one friend’s dick in between the other friend’s tits. Love has nothing to do with it.”

You and Laura shake on it and then Laura will take off her shirt and bra and you’ll tit-fuck until you climax on her chest.

“See,” Laura will say. “No big deal! Why are you crying?”

Tell Laura you started to feel something after the thirtieth rub of your dick against her cleavage.

“We shouldn’t have let my dick get so close to your heart!” tell her. “Now I’m falling for you!”

Tell her you’re crying because now that you have feelings for her, you not only lost a Tit-Fuck Buddy, but you lost that Hug Buddy you so enjoyed. Both of them were murdered by the half-naked gooey-chested girl you just fell in love with.

Happy Your Hug Buddy Wants To Go A Little Further Day!

March For Maurice Day!

You’re Maurice and today millions of people are holding a march to increase awareness of how much you miss your ex-girlfriend Diane, who broke up with you seven weeks ago. They’re waving banners that read, “She Was Just So Sweet To Him And Then All Of A Sudden She’s Gone?” They’ll carry signs with photos of Diane that say, “He’s Just Supposed To Forget This Face?” They’ll chant, “Hey Hey, Ho Ho. Maurice Misses Diane Because She Let Him Go!”

While many people will be made aware of your heartbreak from this march, it won’t affect Diane in the slightest since she is traveling in India for the next four months. But still, it’s just nice to know that millions of people bothered to get the permits required to shut down thoroughfares so they can peacefully but vocally announce to the world that they know what you’re going through.

Happy March For Maurice Day!

Ricky Rocket The Fireworks Guy Day!

You’re Ricky Rocket The Fireworks Guy and you just lost your left foot. So that makes it your entire right hand, three fingers off your left hand, a chunk out of your right calf and two of your right toes, an ear, one nipple, a melted-closed nostril, the hair on the front of your scalp, and now your left foot.

It’s time to start replacing your body parts with fireworks so you can become an evil villain who wants to exact revenge on the people for enjoying the explosive entertainment you provided without caring in the slightest about how it was eating away at you piece by piece.

Implant roman candle and bottle rocket launchers into the sockets where your fingers and toes used to be. You should replace your foot with the “Grand Ole Flag Finale Blaster,” a rocket launcher that shoots an unholy hell fire of patriotic explosives ideal for the big finish of any fireworks display. Your other gashes can be used as storage for firecrackers, smoke bombs, and maybe a few snakes.

It’s time to show the kids what happens when you play with fireworks. This 4th of July, it’s time for the big finale.

Happy Ricky Rocket The Fireworks Guy Day!

Death At Panda Express Express Day!

Today is the grand opening of the Panda Express Express, the new no-frills branch of Panda Express where you can get your delicious Panda Express food without all the fancy hoopla. You’ve been saving for years to get the money to open this franchise and now the big day has finally come and you want everything to go perfectly. At the ribbon cutting, the panda you rented will lose control and open your throat and you’ll die. Corporate will take over your branch and turn it into just a regular Panda Express. Your dream will wash away with the mop-water used to sop up all your blood.

Happy Death At Panda Express Express Day!

Give Your Buddy Arthur Twelve Dollars Day!

Got a buddy named Arthur? Today, give him twelve dollars. When he asks, “What are you giving me twelve dollars for,” tell him it’s because you can’t make it to the movies so you wanna pay him to entertain you. He’ll look at the money in his hand and ask,  "Are you serious?“ Tell him, "I paid good money for some diverting amusement from you and so far you suck. Pick up the pace okay? I wanna see some heart. I wanna see a boy trying to be a man and a man trying to recapture how he felt when he was a boy. I wanna see a lady trying not to make the wrong choice even though it feels so right. I wanna see someone fight city hall and win for once. I wanna see a family reunited only to burst apart again. I wanna see my life up on that screen. Also I wanna see two aliens fuck like they did in The Avatars.”

When Arthur refuses and tries to give you a refund, you beat him. You beat him good for wasting your time. You beat him to teach him a lesson about entertainment.

“The audience votes with their feet,” say as you stomp your foot on Arthur’s face.

Happy Give Your Buddy Arthur Twelve Dollars Day!

We Used To Be Rich Day!

You and your dad will be gyrating shirtless in front of a webcam for the entertainment of viewers at jeffandhisadultsondancesuggestively.com. The viewers have to electronically “tip” $20 at a time to keep the two of you dancing. When the tips stop coming and the webcam pauses its broadcast you’ll stop dancing and say to your dad, “Wait we used to be rich. What happened?”

Your Dad will say, only, “Karen.”

You forgot about the robot woman your dad spent six years trying to build and date. She was lovely, but she ran off.

A new tip will come in. The webcam will come to life, and you and your Dad will begin one of your trademark numbers, a kind of Jitterbug Tango combination you call “Don’t Forget Your Lunchbox.”

Happy We Used To Be Rich Day!

You’re Henry And You Wax Straight Guys’ Balls Day!

You’re trying to get your own business going and you figured, what’s real big right now? Manscaping, right? Guys shaving their balls so the ladies don’t have to see nothing wild and dirty when they go down yonder. Now the ladies, they been doing it for a while now, and they have professionals wax their stuff off for em. So you figured, why can’t we have that kinda thing for guys? So you opened up “Henry’s Ball Waxers” advertising skilled and careful waxing of balls for straight men only. “So It’s Not A Gay Thing” it says on your sign.

You’ve had a few guys call up and ask you what the process is like. You’ll start to explain that first they undress, then you come in and slather warm wax onto their balls, and that’s when they hang up. You’re hoping they just realized that your answer was pretty much what they assumed so they didn’t need to hear the rest, but so far no one’s come in yet.

Today to ease people’s worries, you posted a video demonstration of you waxing someone’s balls. You hired a male model off of Craigslist and videotaped yourself waxing his scrotum and pelvis, moving his penis around with your hand while you applied the wax and then pulled it off to reveal his clean, bare genitals. The model unfortunately became aroused during taping, but you were fine with that. You just looked into the camera and said, “Hey it’s okay if this happens. Because this isn’t a gay thing! And look, the penis is easier for me to move around this way because it’s not so floppy.” So far the video has gotten 30,000 views and has been reposted to a lot of male-oriented websites so you think this should do the trick.

Happy You’re Henry And You Wax Straight Guys’ Balls Day!

You Fuck Food Day!

You fuck food on camera and upload it to the internet. You fuck a different food every day, and you’ve been doing it for 18 months now. The idea came to you in your third month of collecting unemployment after getting laid off from your job as an investment banker. “I’ve gotta start giving back,” you thought as you stared at your morning oatmeal. “What is it that I love more than anything, and how can I make money by sharing that love with others?” The answer was food, and since you don’t know how to cook and even if you did restaurants are a very risky investment, you decided the next obvious solution was to video record yourself fucking food and uploading it so that people who enjoy watching food get fucked lovingly can share the moment with you. Since that first video when you sloshed your cock in and out of a bowl of oatmeal, you’ve fucked hundreds of different kinds of food, from salmon to eggplant parmigiana to Mattar Paneer. This week is Cajun Week. Yesterday you fucked a bowl of gumbo. Today you’re going to fuck a plate of Étouffée. Tomorrow you’re going to stick your dick in between a bunch of crawdads. Your videos average 83 views per, but that number is dropping.

Happy You Fuck Food Day!

Say Goodbye To The Super 8 Day!

She remembers the room because she spent enough time there. You were 16 months old at the time, and your parents were supposedly taking a trip to the Grand Canyon. But after they pulled into this Super 8 in Flagstaff, your mom took you to the pool, and your dad said he was going to take a nap. When your mom came back to the room, your Dad was gone.

“Lived here for three weeks,” she says. “Just you and me, taking turns crying.”

The room was on his credit card so she just stayed there with you, waiting, hoping that he’d change his mind. You examine the space. It’s a white box with a window and a desk and a closet. It’s definitely been updated in the last 20 years, but not with much.

“What made you finally check out?"

"The manager told me our room was reserved for a convention. He offered to move us, but I took it as a sign that we should move on. What are you looking for?”

You’re not sure. You’re peeking into the closet, lifting drawers to see what’s been written underneath, pulling at the edge of the carpet. You want a clue.

“Guess I just wanted to check one last time to see if he left us any note.”

“One last time?” your mom will ask.

Open the curtain to show her the tractor.

“Bought this Super 8,” tell your mom. “Gonna keep it in operation, every room except this one. I’m wrecking this room and leaving the space flat. I’m wiping all evidence of him being my father off the face of the earth.”

Your Mom will say, “But even if you destroy the room won’t he still be out there somewhere living his life?”

Say, “Not for long.”

Your Mom will make out the Lincoln Towncar in the parking lot, and the man gagged in the backseat. He’ll be watching the tractor as it starts its engine and moves toward your room.

“We’d better go, Mom,” tell her.

She’ll grab your face in her hands, overjoyed to have instilled in you such a strong family bond that you’ll murder those who try to violate it.

Happy Say Goodbye To The Super 8 Day!

Breakfast Club At Turnpike High Day!

Your mother and many other mothers in the area no longer trusted your school district to not teach you about homosexuality or science, so she pulled you out of it. She considered Home Schooling, but your mother worried that while you were at home a visiting mailman or UPS delivery carrier might ring the doorbell and tell you that gay love is okay or that there’s physics. So your mom joined together with some other mothers to start a school in the woods bordering the New Jersey Turnpike between exits 7A and 8.

Today you and some other kids are in the woods for Saturday detention because your teacher caught you reading a Time Magazine, which is on the pornography list in your library. There are five of you, all from different cliques. Kevin is a jock and an anti-abortionist. Maria’s the prom queen and she loathes evolution. Peter’s the nerd who hates that the travel of gays isn’t trackable by embedded GPS chips. Patty is the weirdo who hopes that one day her vagina is declared illegal. And Arthur’s the badass who wants to one day build a prayer-only hospital.

You’ll start off the day feeling standoffish with each other, but by the end of the day you’ll realize you all have something in common: all of you start the day by throwing up on your own genitals to curb the urge to masturbate.

But will you say hi to each other when you see each other in the New Jersey Turnpike woods on Monday? Or will you be afraid of what your friends will think? I think we all know the answer. Hey look, Arthur just punched his fist into the air as he walks up the off-ramp for exit 8.

Happy Breakfast Club At Turnpike High Day!

Steve And Esther Day!

Today you’re Esther and your ex-boyfriend has kidnapped your current boyfriend, threatening to kill him if you don’t break up with him.

“I’m sorry Steve,” tell your current boyfriend over the phone. Your ex is holding it up to his ear. “I like you too much to ever break up with you.”

Steve will beg you to break up with him. Tell him the feelings you have for him are too strong to disavow them just because some shitty ex-boyfriend is threatening his life.

“But my feelings aren’t that strong for you!” he’ll shout into the phone. “Please!”

Explain that it’s natural for one party of a relationship to be more deeply in love than the other.

“Oh my God I said the L-word!” say. “Wow. Guess I really feel it.”

Steve will beg you one last time to break up with him. Tell him it’s okay because your love will live on beyond this world. Then you’ll hear the gunshot.

Now mourn Steve. If you date anyone else, try not to let your ex know about it.

Happy Steve And Esther Day!

You’re One Of Those Ghosts Who Lives In Someone’s TV Day!

When you live in a person’s TV, occasionally popping out to haunt but mostly just hanging around inside the TV, you have to pick a channel to live on. You picked A&E when you arrived in the TV three years ago, and you’re kind of bummed because you have to watch A&E all the time, it’s all over the place, and unfortunately A&E just can’t quite settle on an entertaining, cohesive lineup. When you live on a channel you can never not be viewing that channel, even when you’re asleep, so you’re sick of waiting for A&E to commit to an identity and you want to switch channels. You put in for a transfer.

“We don’t take these requests lightly,” the administrator of channel assignments will shriek when you meet with him today for an interview. “We can’t have ghosts switching channel spaces all the time. You sure you want to leave A&E?”

Shriek, “Yes.”

The administrator will glare at his assignment sheet.

“ESPN?” he’ll shriek. “Sports?”

Shriek, “I’ve always wanted to get interested in sports.”

The administrator will maul your shoulder.

“Hope this one works out,” he’ll shriek.

Go home and move your stuff from A&E to ESPN. There’s some running happening at ESPN. Good luck haunting a new channel.

You’re One Of Those Ghosts Who Lives In Someone’s TV Day!

Your Mother’s Underwear Day!

You and your dad are fighting over your mother’s underpants. Your mother’s in the hospital and she said she needs some more pairs of underpants. You went home and asked your dad where she keeps them.

“There maybe?” like he either wasn’t sure which drawer is your mom’s underwear drawer, or he feels like it’s polite to pretend not to be sure about underwear drawers.

You opened it and found one pair of beige granny panties. It’s appropriate to call them granny panties because your mother is also a grandmother, and her panties are fucking huge.

Your Dad flipped out. “How can she only have one pair left!”

You said it’s okay. She must have brought a bunch to the hospital and they’re all in the wash. You’ll just go buy her some more if she needs.

“But how!” your dad shouted, holding the underwear in his ruined fist.

You reminded him of the Gap Body right near the hospital.

“We have to call the girls!” he shouted, meaning your sisters, because in his mind only a woman is allowed by law to purchase a women’s undergarment. You could have begun to explain to him that times have changed and these days everyone is buying and wearing different kinds of underwear just for the thrills, but he was hysterical and it wasn’t the time.

“Let’s just take this pair to her and we can worry about getting more later,” you said.

You reached for the panties. He pulled them away.

You reached again and got some of the fabric in your grasp. He tugged. You pulled.

You’re pulling. He’s pulling back. You’re having a tug-of-war with your father for possession of your mother’s underwear. It’s all come down to this.

Your father yanks backward, trying to regain full possession. You don’t let go, your grip far stronger than his. He politely but impatiently says your name, trying not to call attention to what you both know is happening. A battle. The battle. The one you always knew was brewing since you were a boy but you never knew would come. You’re going to win this.

It’s kind of sad how inevitable your win ultimately is. You give one final hard tug, freeing the underwear from your father’s tired fist, then you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him because he looks like he might lose his balance. Then the two of you quietly head out to the car.

You drive your father to see his wife. Neither of you say a word, both of you knowing the truth. The battle is over. Your mom’s underpants are in your jacket pocket. You’ve done it. You’ve finally won.

Happy Your Mother’s Underwear Day!

Spraypaint A Couch Day!

You check Craigslist every morning for “curb alerts” of couches people are abandoning if anyone wants to pick it up, then you race to the couch and spraypaint a confession onto its cushions. It’s kind of mean to anyone who might need or who could use the couch, but you don’t care. Everyone has that thing they’ve decided they need to do in order to keep bother to not open their wrists, this one’s yours.

Today you’re going to find a Crate and Barrel sectional on the corner of 6th and Pine. Sectionals give you the space to really unload. In red paint you’re going to spraypaint onto it, “Lied about where I was on 9/11 three times. Once said I was in the lobby of Tower 1 but got a bad feeling and decided to turn around. Another time said I was in France and all the waiters at a cafe started holding me and crying. Third time said I was in the airport arguing with a ticketing agent that she had to get me a seat on United 93, but the agent refused. Really, I was asleep in California.”

Happy Spraypaint A Couch Day!

Your Tanning Consultant Fell In Love With Your Stubbler Day!

You’re super-loaded and one problem with being super-loaded is when people on your staff show up in your study and remind you that they’re human and they have hearts and humans with hearts sometimes fall in love with each other.

“But I have rules about this,” tell them. “I can’t have two people in love working here. You’ll get distracted.”

Your tanning consultant will say that he would never let a thing like love come between him and giving you the right shade.

Your stubbler will add that there’s absolutely nothing she cares about more than maintaining your face stubble.

“Except for Alan,” tell her.

Alan’s your tanning consultant. Just saying his name will make her blush.

“I’m sorry,” say to them. “One of you has to quit.”

Your tanning consultant and your stubbler will tell you that neither of them can make the other quit, so they’re both going to quit.

They passed.

“I wanted to be sure your love is real. If one of you could live with the other quitting, it wouldn’t have been meant to be. You can both stay. I’ll only allow people who are truly in love to work on my staff.”

They’ll hug each other, and then they’ll hug you. Order them to have sex in front of you now or you’ll dock their pay. Staff members in love have the best sex.

Happy Your Tanning Consultant Fell In Love With Your Stubbler Day!

Help Sally Run Away From Her Husband Day!

She’ll knock on the back door while you’re eating dinner. Invite her in and she’ll explain the situation and ask you to drive her out of state.

“Just across state lines,” she’ll say. “You can’t take love across state lines.”

You’ll argue that it’s Sunday and you shouldn’t have to break up people’s marriages on Sunday, even if you’re the best.

“Her husband sucks,” your wife will say. “You just have to get her to the eastern border of the state. Then he can’t follow her. Them’s the rules.”

Say okay. Give your wife a kiss goodbye, then you and Sally hop into the truck and start driving fast to the border.

“Think he’s looking for me?” Sally will ask.

Just then a pair of headlights will swerve onto the road behind you.

“That’s affirmative,” you’ll say, stepping on the gas.

You know the way. You’ve gotten three friends out of marriages before, and this old truck knows how to keep an unwanted spouse in the dust. Now’s the time to get some taste of the meat of what you’re doing today.

“So…” you’ll say after making a hard right down a narrow alley.

“I was disappointed,” she’ll tell you. “He gave me a lot of talk about how he’d turn out but he turned out to be nothing special.”

“That’s enough for a wife to take off?” you’ll ask her.

She’ll look at you and she’ll nod. There will be an apology in her eyes.

The state lines are just up ahead but you’re not speeding for them anymore. The car behind you could gain on you easily, but he’s not even trying. You pull across the border and come to a stop.

“When’d she put you up to it?”

Sally will say, “It’s been in the works for months.”

The driver of the follower car will get out and come walking up to your window. It’s not Sally’s husband. It’s Pamela, your wife’s friend from way back in high school.

“Sorry,” Pamela will say. “Come on Sally. I’ll drive you home.”

You’ll shift into gear and head back to your house, knowing full well that it’s empty. Your wife wouldn’t have had to drive very fast to get herself across the western border. With you headed east like a bat out of hell, she might have even taken the time to write you a note. Maybe it’s waiting for you back there, which is why you should take your time, maybe a few days, before heading home again.

Happy Help Sally Run Away From Her Husband Day!