He was found several towns away. It’s a miracle. Someone’s driving him up your driveway right this minute.
“Starsky!” you shout as he slides out of the car.
You run down the driveway and wait on your knees with open arms. Starsky trots up the driveway towards you.
“Come on, Starsky!” you shout.
Starsky slows as he approaches you. His shoulders fall. His head bows, reluctant. But also, ashamed.
You hold your arms out, but you don’t know if Starsky wants your embrace.
He halts just a few steps before you. Finally, he looks up and meets your eyes with his own.
You see it then. This runaway. It was no accident. Starsky wasn’t lost.
Your arms lower. You nod at him.
“It’s okay,” you say. “It’s okay boy. I understand.”
Starsky turns from you. He trots away. The man who returned him to you moves to stop him but you raise your palm to tell him to let the dog go.
You know when it’s over. You know when someone’s done with you.
Happy Your Dog Ran Away Day!
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Your Dad Says He’s In Love With One Of The Aides At His Home Day!
“I just felt an instant, mutual connection,” he says.
You stand stock still, waiting as your soul rises out of your body.
“I hope I don’t jinx this by talking about it.”
Say to him, “Well, that’s nice.”
Remember that you have power of attorney so his money’s locked down. If he wants to start a new relationship at the age of 82 now that your mom’s been in the ground for over a year, so be it.
“So is she around your age? Younger?”
“Younger.”
“How young?”
“Around 25.”
Hold on to something, steady yourself. The back of a chair. Something.
“And when did you meet her?”
“In Spain.”
He’s never been to Spain.
“You might have dreamed this whole thing.”
“I don’t think so.”
You let it go.
“Just don’t tell my son about this okay, Pete?”
You’re his son. Your name’s Lance.
Happy Your Dad Says He’s In Love With One Of The Aides At His Home Day!
You stand stock still, waiting as your soul rises out of your body.
“I hope I don’t jinx this by talking about it.”
Say to him, “Well, that’s nice.”
Remember that you have power of attorney so his money’s locked down. If he wants to start a new relationship at the age of 82 now that your mom’s been in the ground for over a year, so be it.
“So is she around your age? Younger?”
“Younger.”
“How young?”
“Around 25.”
Hold on to something, steady yourself. The back of a chair. Something.
“And when did you meet her?”
“In Spain.”
He’s never been to Spain.
“You might have dreamed this whole thing.”
“I don’t think so.”
You let it go.
“Just don’t tell my son about this okay, Pete?”
You’re his son. Your name’s Lance.
Happy Your Dad Says He’s In Love With One Of The Aides At His Home Day!
Friday, January 29, 2016
You Stopped Sleeping Day!
Your boss noticed you’ve been looking tired.
“You doing okay?” she asks.
Tell her, “I stopped sleeping. My dreams have gotten as bad as my waking panics. Worse, some nights. I haven’t tried giving up sleep yet. They say I’ll go mad but I’m already mad so maybe a madness I know the cause for will be a better madness than the one that showed up one day and wrapped me in its great dark arms promising to never let me go. It’s been eleven days now and I can’t quite see anything but blurred shapes and I can’t quite hear anything but elderly people’s sobs but trust me that’s an improvement.”
Your boss will say that’s all, then she’ll go home and throw away her bed hoping for lack of sleep to overtake her lack of will to do anything but curl up in a ball and moan faintly.
Happy You Stopped Sleeping Day!
“You doing okay?” she asks.
Tell her, “I stopped sleeping. My dreams have gotten as bad as my waking panics. Worse, some nights. I haven’t tried giving up sleep yet. They say I’ll go mad but I’m already mad so maybe a madness I know the cause for will be a better madness than the one that showed up one day and wrapped me in its great dark arms promising to never let me go. It’s been eleven days now and I can’t quite see anything but blurred shapes and I can’t quite hear anything but elderly people’s sobs but trust me that’s an improvement.”
Your boss will say that’s all, then she’ll go home and throw away her bed hoping for lack of sleep to overtake her lack of will to do anything but curl up in a ball and moan faintly.
Happy You Stopped Sleeping Day!
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Date With Loretta Day!
You have a date with Loretta tonight but you’re not going to make it on time because you’re going to get kidnapped.
“Please,” you say to the masked men who threw you in their van. “I have a date with a girl I’ve loved from afar for years. This could be the most important night of my life. Please don’t deprive me of it.”
“Godammit Steve,” one kidnapper screams at the driver.
“No real names!” the driver screams back.
“Sorry. Goddammit Kevin! We said no one would get hurt.”
Kevin/Steve yells back, “We’re not hurting him!”
“Standing in the way of true love? I’d say that’s pretty hurtful!”
“He’s got a point Ste– Kevin,” the third kidnapper says.
“Fine,” Steve/Kevin says. “Where’s this date supposed to be?”
They drive you to the restaurant and say they’ll be parked outside all night. If you try to escape they’ll kill you both.
The date goes wonderfully. You talk about your hopes, your fears, your childhoods, and your favorite episodes of Mr. Robot. At the end of the date you walk her home while the van follows. She invites you up and you make love. The next morning you come downstairs, the van still waiting for you.
“Looks like it went well,” one of the kidnappers in the back says. You can see his smile through the hole in his ski mask.
“It did,” you say, blushing.
“Ready to get on with this?” Steve/Kevin says.
“Wait, I told her I’d bring back bagels.”
They follow you to the bagel store and back, and they wait outside while you eat bagels and make love again upstairs.
Hours later, you come back downstairs.
“Now you ready to get on with this?” Steve/Kevin asks.
You nod, staring up at her window. “I am,” you say. “Now that I know my love will be here waiting for me, I’m ready to survive however long a kidnapping you have planned.”
They throw you in the van and speed away. Three days later your rich father delivers the money, but he ignores their demand for no cops. You’re killed in the shoutout. Loretta falls for one of your coworkers at your funeral.
Happy Date With Loretta Day!
“Please,” you say to the masked men who threw you in their van. “I have a date with a girl I’ve loved from afar for years. This could be the most important night of my life. Please don’t deprive me of it.”
“Godammit Steve,” one kidnapper screams at the driver.
“No real names!” the driver screams back.
“Sorry. Goddammit Kevin! We said no one would get hurt.”
Kevin/Steve yells back, “We’re not hurting him!”
“Standing in the way of true love? I’d say that’s pretty hurtful!”
“He’s got a point Ste– Kevin,” the third kidnapper says.
“Fine,” Steve/Kevin says. “Where’s this date supposed to be?”
They drive you to the restaurant and say they’ll be parked outside all night. If you try to escape they’ll kill you both.
The date goes wonderfully. You talk about your hopes, your fears, your childhoods, and your favorite episodes of Mr. Robot. At the end of the date you walk her home while the van follows. She invites you up and you make love. The next morning you come downstairs, the van still waiting for you.
“Looks like it went well,” one of the kidnappers in the back says. You can see his smile through the hole in his ski mask.
“It did,” you say, blushing.
“Ready to get on with this?” Steve/Kevin says.
“Wait, I told her I’d bring back bagels.”
They follow you to the bagel store and back, and they wait outside while you eat bagels and make love again upstairs.
Hours later, you come back downstairs.
“Now you ready to get on with this?” Steve/Kevin asks.
You nod, staring up at her window. “I am,” you say. “Now that I know my love will be here waiting for me, I’m ready to survive however long a kidnapping you have planned.”
They throw you in the van and speed away. Three days later your rich father delivers the money, but he ignores their demand for no cops. You’re killed in the shoutout. Loretta falls for one of your coworkers at your funeral.
Happy Date With Loretta Day!
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Cater Waiter Your Ex-Husband’s Wedding Day!
You don’t get any info about who’s getting married. You get a phone call with the address of the events hall and a one hour window to confirm you’ll take the shift. It’s not until you’re there in the thick of the reception, a tray of canapés held high above your head, that you start recognizing ex-mutual friends’ faces.
“Holy shit, Christine,” one of his work friends says to you.
“This is pretty messed up,” says Clara, who you got really close with but who ceased talking to you when the divorce went through since she’s married to his high school best friend.
“You guys, who’s getting married?” you ask.
A cheer erupts through the room as the double doors to the dance floor open. You see only the top of his haircut through the crowd and you know today is the wrong day to have been available to fill in for Melanie, who has the flu.
“And now the bride and groom invite you to witness their first dance as man and wife,” says the DJ before he spins “At Last.” (Your song was a Sugarcubes song, at your demand.)
The crowd parts and you find yourself standing in the center of the dance floor, holding your tray of tiny food.
He sees you.
She sees you.
They all see you.
“Congrats?” you say to him.
They don’t move. Their first song keeps spinning. You do the only thing you can think to do.
You dance.
It’s an elegant, solo routine. You glide and sway across the floor, occasionally miming someone in your arms, someone whom, over and over again, breaks free of your embrace, leaving you to wave goodbye to the apparition.
The song ends. Your ex and his bride are stunned. A slow clap begins. Your ex’s father. He always liked you. Others clap along, growing louder, faster.
They believe it was planned. A gift to the bride and groom. Before they can dance, his ex must dance him free of her, a farewell spin across the floor. Tonight’s the night the “Ex Dance” is introduced to wedding planners as a new tradition in matrimony. You leave the venue, get in your Corolla, and make a plan to go back to being an office temp in the morning.
Happy Cater Waiter Your Ex-Husband’s Wedding Day!
“Holy shit, Christine,” one of his work friends says to you.
“This is pretty messed up,” says Clara, who you got really close with but who ceased talking to you when the divorce went through since she’s married to his high school best friend.
“You guys, who’s getting married?” you ask.
A cheer erupts through the room as the double doors to the dance floor open. You see only the top of his haircut through the crowd and you know today is the wrong day to have been available to fill in for Melanie, who has the flu.
“And now the bride and groom invite you to witness their first dance as man and wife,” says the DJ before he spins “At Last.” (Your song was a Sugarcubes song, at your demand.)
The crowd parts and you find yourself standing in the center of the dance floor, holding your tray of tiny food.
He sees you.
She sees you.
They all see you.
“Congrats?” you say to him.
They don’t move. Their first song keeps spinning. You do the only thing you can think to do.
You dance.
It’s an elegant, solo routine. You glide and sway across the floor, occasionally miming someone in your arms, someone whom, over and over again, breaks free of your embrace, leaving you to wave goodbye to the apparition.
The song ends. Your ex and his bride are stunned. A slow clap begins. Your ex’s father. He always liked you. Others clap along, growing louder, faster.
They believe it was planned. A gift to the bride and groom. Before they can dance, his ex must dance him free of her, a farewell spin across the floor. Tonight’s the night the “Ex Dance” is introduced to wedding planners as a new tradition in matrimony. You leave the venue, get in your Corolla, and make a plan to go back to being an office temp in the morning.
Happy Cater Waiter Your Ex-Husband’s Wedding Day!
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Your Love Just Killed A Guy Day!
You and your girlfriend are so in love some guy just died.
“This is the news,” a TV newsman says while you and your girlfriend are kissing for like the hundredth time this hour. “Some guy died today because these two are too in love.”
A photo of the two of you is on the TV. You can’t see it because you’re busy getting naked again. You just put clothes back on. Naked again?
“Apparently this couple’s love is so strong that it needs to feed on the life force of others,” the Newsman continues. Not that you two would know. You’re too busy holding each other’s naked bodies and crying.
“If anyone can think of some way to break these two up,” the newsman says. “Please contact the police with your plan. Before their love comes for us all.”
You’re inside each other as the police meet with several of your respective ex-lovers who are busy detailing your emotional pressure points and relationship deal-breakers that might be exploited to bring an end to your love affair.
“This just in,” the newsman says. “A family of six was just found dead. They were just lying there in their house, like they all just dropped. It’s assumed the mass death occurred when these two came at the same time.”
Your picture on the TV again, not that you’d see it since you’re still marveling at the simultaneous orgasm that just made you both scream at God.
Happy Your Love Just Killed A Guy Day!
“This is the news,” a TV newsman says while you and your girlfriend are kissing for like the hundredth time this hour. “Some guy died today because these two are too in love.”
A photo of the two of you is on the TV. You can’t see it because you’re busy getting naked again. You just put clothes back on. Naked again?
“Apparently this couple’s love is so strong that it needs to feed on the life force of others,” the Newsman continues. Not that you two would know. You’re too busy holding each other’s naked bodies and crying.
“If anyone can think of some way to break these two up,” the newsman says. “Please contact the police with your plan. Before their love comes for us all.”
You’re inside each other as the police meet with several of your respective ex-lovers who are busy detailing your emotional pressure points and relationship deal-breakers that might be exploited to bring an end to your love affair.
“This just in,” the newsman says. “A family of six was just found dead. They were just lying there in their house, like they all just dropped. It’s assumed the mass death occurred when these two came at the same time.”
Your picture on the TV again, not that you’d see it since you’re still marveling at the simultaneous orgasm that just made you both scream at God.
Happy Your Love Just Killed A Guy Day!
Monday, January 25, 2016
Your Two Dads Day!
They’re fighting with knives.
“Dads, stop it!”
Your adoptive dad slashes your biological dad across the face. Your biological dad digs his blade deep into your adoptive dad’s gut. Your adoptive dad uses the last of his strength to land his blade in your biological dad’s heart.
“She’s my…daughter,” your adoptive dad whispers.
“No, she’s…my daughter,” your biological dad whispers back. They both die.
You really shouldn’t have gone looking for your real parents.
Happy Your Two Dads Day!
“Dads, stop it!”
Your adoptive dad slashes your biological dad across the face. Your biological dad digs his blade deep into your adoptive dad’s gut. Your adoptive dad uses the last of his strength to land his blade in your biological dad’s heart.
“She’s my…daughter,” your adoptive dad whispers.
“No, she’s…my daughter,” your biological dad whispers back. They both die.
You really shouldn’t have gone looking for your real parents.
Happy Your Two Dads Day!
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Lose At Pool Day!
Tonight at the bar, challenge another bar patron to a game of pool. Don’t make any shots.
“Are you losing intentionally?” the other player will ask.
Say yes.
“Then I don’t want to play,” the other player will say.
Tell him you’ll start playing for real, then don’t.
“Were you lying when you said you would play for real?”
Say yes.
“Then I don’t want to play!”
Tell him, okay, you admit that you were losing intentionally and you were lying when you said you’d start playing for real, but it’s just because you like to give yourself big challenges, so you let him get a major lead on you. Now, though, it’s a big enough challenge so you’re going to try to come back from your deficit by playing the best game you’ve ever played.
After your next few shots are just horrible, the other player will say, “Were you lying about that wanting a challenge stuff?”
Say no.
“Are you lying now?” he’ll ask.
Say, “What is truth?”
The other player will beat you with his pool cue until you’re dead. Hooray, you died in a bar, just like you always wanted.
Happy Lose At Pool Day!
“Are you losing intentionally?” the other player will ask.
Say yes.
“Then I don’t want to play,” the other player will say.
Tell him you’ll start playing for real, then don’t.
“Were you lying when you said you would play for real?”
Say yes.
“Then I don’t want to play!”
Tell him, okay, you admit that you were losing intentionally and you were lying when you said you’d start playing for real, but it’s just because you like to give yourself big challenges, so you let him get a major lead on you. Now, though, it’s a big enough challenge so you’re going to try to come back from your deficit by playing the best game you’ve ever played.
After your next few shots are just horrible, the other player will say, “Were you lying about that wanting a challenge stuff?”
Say no.
“Are you lying now?” he’ll ask.
Say, “What is truth?”
The other player will beat you with his pool cue until you’re dead. Hooray, you died in a bar, just like you always wanted.
Happy Lose At Pool Day!
Saturday, January 23, 2016
King Fun Day!
Today you’re King Fun.
“Chop off everybody’s heads,” you tell the people who do whatever you say.
Everyone in your kingdom is lined up and one by one their heads get chopped off. Until one small boy is about to be placed on the chopping block when he says, “For a guy named King Fun, you sure are a downer!”
You think about what the boy said. You take off your crown then hold your head in your hands.
“Oh my God! He’s riiiiight! I am a dooooooowner! I’m supposed to be King Fuuuuuun but instead of I’m King chop off everybody’s heeeeeeeads!”
You cry and cry and cry until everyone gets sick of hearing it and they start asking to have their heads chopped off so they don’t have to hear you anymore.
You wake up the next morning feeling better after having a good cry. You resolve to change your ways and live up to the name King Fun by being a little more positive and fostering an enjoyable atmosphere in your kingdom, but everybody’s already dead. Even the executioner. He cut off his own head. That’s how sucky it is to hear you cry.
Happy King Fun Day!
“Chop off everybody’s heads,” you tell the people who do whatever you say.
Everyone in your kingdom is lined up and one by one their heads get chopped off. Until one small boy is about to be placed on the chopping block when he says, “For a guy named King Fun, you sure are a downer!”
You think about what the boy said. You take off your crown then hold your head in your hands.
“Oh my God! He’s riiiiight! I am a dooooooowner! I’m supposed to be King Fuuuuuun but instead of I’m King chop off everybody’s heeeeeeeads!”
You cry and cry and cry until everyone gets sick of hearing it and they start asking to have their heads chopped off so they don’t have to hear you anymore.
You wake up the next morning feeling better after having a good cry. You resolve to change your ways and live up to the name King Fun by being a little more positive and fostering an enjoyable atmosphere in your kingdom, but everybody’s already dead. Even the executioner. He cut off his own head. That’s how sucky it is to hear you cry.
Happy King Fun Day!
Friday, January 22, 2016
Don’t Break Up With Lance Day!
His mom says he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“Not today,” his mom begs. “Please. Just wait a little.”
“I don’t want to break up with your son,” you tell her.
His mom laughs.
“Come on, of course you do,” she says. “You’re so much hotter than him. And he’s so lame. But please, just keep dating him a little while longer?’
"Mrs. Sanford,” you tell her. “I really like your son. And part of me wonders if he could be the one.”
Lance’s mom laughs so hard at that one that she starts to cough. You pour her a glass of water. She thanks you, then hugs you.
“You’re so considerate. Lance doesn’t deserve you,” she says. “Which is why I’ve drawn up an eight-week plan for you to let him down easy. Take a look.”
Lance’s mom unrolls a large calendar across the kitchen table. It lays out exactly when you should start being cold around Lance (week 2), when you should fight with him over something small that represents a larger problem (week 4). Week 6 is when you should suggest that you and Lance spend some time apart. In week 7, you’re supposed to tell Lance you want to go on a date, just like in the beginning. You’re to tell him you want to see what it’s like if the two of you pretend all this fighting and questioning hasn’t been happening, so you can just enjoy each other’s company. In week 8, on the day of the final breakup, you’re to tell Lance how much fun you had on that pretend do-over date, and it reminded you what a great guy he is and why you liked him in the first place. But you also realized a relationship can’t exist within a pretend do-over date. Those weeks of fighting really did happen, and you think it would be better to just cut your losses and cherish what you had.
“Seem doable?” Lance’s mom asks.
“Look,” you say. “I like dating your son. I don’t want to break up with him. And I need you to get through your head that no matter what you think of him—”
You stop talking when Lance enters the kitchen.
“Hey, whatcha doin’?” he says. “Ready to go to the movie?”
He looks down and sees the calendar.
“Oh,” he says. “My mom showed you the eight-week calendar.”
There’s a moment of silence. You don’t know what to say.
“So,” Lance says. “Seem doable?”
Happy Don’t Break Up With Lance Day!
“Not today,” his mom begs. “Please. Just wait a little.”
“I don’t want to break up with your son,” you tell her.
His mom laughs.
“Come on, of course you do,” she says. “You’re so much hotter than him. And he’s so lame. But please, just keep dating him a little while longer?’
"Mrs. Sanford,” you tell her. “I really like your son. And part of me wonders if he could be the one.”
Lance’s mom laughs so hard at that one that she starts to cough. You pour her a glass of water. She thanks you, then hugs you.
“You’re so considerate. Lance doesn’t deserve you,” she says. “Which is why I’ve drawn up an eight-week plan for you to let him down easy. Take a look.”
Lance’s mom unrolls a large calendar across the kitchen table. It lays out exactly when you should start being cold around Lance (week 2), when you should fight with him over something small that represents a larger problem (week 4). Week 6 is when you should suggest that you and Lance spend some time apart. In week 7, you’re supposed to tell Lance you want to go on a date, just like in the beginning. You’re to tell him you want to see what it’s like if the two of you pretend all this fighting and questioning hasn’t been happening, so you can just enjoy each other’s company. In week 8, on the day of the final breakup, you’re to tell Lance how much fun you had on that pretend do-over date, and it reminded you what a great guy he is and why you liked him in the first place. But you also realized a relationship can’t exist within a pretend do-over date. Those weeks of fighting really did happen, and you think it would be better to just cut your losses and cherish what you had.
“Seem doable?” Lance’s mom asks.
“Look,” you say. “I like dating your son. I don’t want to break up with him. And I need you to get through your head that no matter what you think of him—”
You stop talking when Lance enters the kitchen.
“Hey, whatcha doin’?” he says. “Ready to go to the movie?”
He looks down and sees the calendar.
“Oh,” he says. “My mom showed you the eight-week calendar.”
There’s a moment of silence. You don’t know what to say.
“So,” Lance says. “Seem doable?”
Happy Don’t Break Up With Lance Day!
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Voodoo Doll Day!
You bought a Voodoo Doll but it’s broken.
“I’ve been stabbing it in the head with needles a million times but Karen’s head’s fine. Doesn’t even have a headache.”
The doll salesman will ask who Karen is. Explain that she’s the woman who sits in the cubicle next to yours at work and she hums too much.
“So I want to blind her. But your doll blows.”
The doll salesman says that you need to hide the doll under Karen’s pillow and have her sleep on it before it will work.
So you break into Karen’s house and hide the doll under her pillow. Then you call in sick the next day so that when she’s at work you can get the doll back.
Unfortunately, when you go to look for the doll, it’s not there. You search everywhere in Karen’s bedroom, then everywhere in her house. You get so tired that you fall asleep on her couch.
Karen shakes you awake, holding the doll up to your face.
“Looking for this?” she asks.
She found the doll last night. So she tucked it away, and when she found you asleep on her couch she slid the doll under the couch pillow you were sleeping on. Now she’s holding a pin to the doll’s head.
“Say you like me as a person,” Karen commands.
“But I don’t,” you say.
She pokes the doll head with a pin. You feel a sharp pain at your temple.
“I like you as a person,” you tell Karen.
“Say it again,” she says.
You do as she tells you. She makes you say it a dozen more times. Then she hands you the doll and lets you go.
“That’s it?” you ask. “That’s all you’re going to use the doll for?”
“No one’s ever said that to me before,” Karen says. “And if I used the doll for worse, you might not like me as a person anymore.”
You leave while Karen cries. Then you go to the doll salesman and tell him his doll backfired big time and now you still have to go into work and listen to Karen’s humming for forever.
“And I had to say I like her as a person,” you tell him. “So gross.”
“Quit and come work for me,” the doll salesman says. “I don’t hum.”
You tell him you don’t want to sell stupid dolls. So the doll salesman holds a flame near the doll you just returned to him and you feel a burning on your skin. You accept the job, and that’s how you embarked on a career selling Voodoo dolls, which you’ll do until you die or you get that doll back from him, whichever comes first.
Happy Voodoo Doll Day!
“I’ve been stabbing it in the head with needles a million times but Karen’s head’s fine. Doesn’t even have a headache.”
The doll salesman will ask who Karen is. Explain that she’s the woman who sits in the cubicle next to yours at work and she hums too much.
“So I want to blind her. But your doll blows.”
The doll salesman says that you need to hide the doll under Karen’s pillow and have her sleep on it before it will work.
So you break into Karen’s house and hide the doll under her pillow. Then you call in sick the next day so that when she’s at work you can get the doll back.
Unfortunately, when you go to look for the doll, it’s not there. You search everywhere in Karen’s bedroom, then everywhere in her house. You get so tired that you fall asleep on her couch.
Karen shakes you awake, holding the doll up to your face.
“Looking for this?” she asks.
She found the doll last night. So she tucked it away, and when she found you asleep on her couch she slid the doll under the couch pillow you were sleeping on. Now she’s holding a pin to the doll’s head.
“Say you like me as a person,” Karen commands.
“But I don’t,” you say.
She pokes the doll head with a pin. You feel a sharp pain at your temple.
“I like you as a person,” you tell Karen.
“Say it again,” she says.
You do as she tells you. She makes you say it a dozen more times. Then she hands you the doll and lets you go.
“That’s it?” you ask. “That’s all you’re going to use the doll for?”
“No one’s ever said that to me before,” Karen says. “And if I used the doll for worse, you might not like me as a person anymore.”
You leave while Karen cries. Then you go to the doll salesman and tell him his doll backfired big time and now you still have to go into work and listen to Karen’s humming for forever.
“And I had to say I like her as a person,” you tell him. “So gross.”
“Quit and come work for me,” the doll salesman says. “I don’t hum.”
You tell him you don’t want to sell stupid dolls. So the doll salesman holds a flame near the doll you just returned to him and you feel a burning on your skin. You accept the job, and that’s how you embarked on a career selling Voodoo dolls, which you’ll do until you die or you get that doll back from him, whichever comes first.
Happy Voodoo Doll Day!
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Love For A Year Day!
The dystopia you live in has a rule that people in love can only stay together for a year. At which time they have to apply to the government for an extension. If they aren’t granted an extension they have to either break up or commit suicide.
“It’s not fair,” you tell Greg.
“Better to have loved and lost,” Greg shrugs.
“It’s because the government is scared of love you know. The government doesn’t ban anything unless it’s a threat to their power.”
“What power does love have?” Greg asks.
The clock strikes midnight. Your year is up. You pull Greg’s face to yours and you kiss him.
A siren sounds. You both go on the run, hand in hand, a beacon for governmentally-thwarted lovers everywhere. The nation celebrates your love as the love that will set them free.
One night the president issues a pardon for your crime.
“It’s all right for them to stay together. The law only applies to lovers. Greg’s not that into her.”
You become livid. “He’s only doing that to try and break us up.”
Greg bites his lip. “Actually…”
You break up and Greg starts dating someone else, but the revolution continues. Lovers all across the land continue to love each other in violation, which pisses you off because now the whole country knows you just got dumped, and getting dumped used to be easier when it was the law.
Happy Love For A Year Day!
“It’s not fair,” you tell Greg.
“Better to have loved and lost,” Greg shrugs.
“It’s because the government is scared of love you know. The government doesn’t ban anything unless it’s a threat to their power.”
“What power does love have?” Greg asks.
The clock strikes midnight. Your year is up. You pull Greg’s face to yours and you kiss him.
A siren sounds. You both go on the run, hand in hand, a beacon for governmentally-thwarted lovers everywhere. The nation celebrates your love as the love that will set them free.
One night the president issues a pardon for your crime.
“It’s all right for them to stay together. The law only applies to lovers. Greg’s not that into her.”
You become livid. “He’s only doing that to try and break us up.”
Greg bites his lip. “Actually…”
You break up and Greg starts dating someone else, but the revolution continues. Lovers all across the land continue to love each other in violation, which pisses you off because now the whole country knows you just got dumped, and getting dumped used to be easier when it was the law.
Happy Love For A Year Day!
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Steal From Your Kids Day!
Your son has a toy truck. You want that toy truck. It’s not fair that he has it when you want it. Take that toy truck from your son and bring it into the office to play with.
Your son will visit you at work and ask if you’ve seen his toy truck. Lie to him. Say, “Psssh. That truck sucks. I didn’t take it.”
Your son will explain he has a play date and he needs his toy truck back if you have it. Stand your ground.
“I’m the president of a massive corporation. I don’t have your stupid fucking truck.”
Your eyes flash on the floor safe. Your son notices.
“It’s in the floor safe isn’t it?” he says.
“What floor safe,” you say, but he’s already out of his chair and spinning the combination dial.
“12. 16. 6,” he says as he spins, then pulls the door open to reveal his toy truck.
“Shouldn’t have used my birthday as the combo, dipshit,” he says, inspecting the toy truck for blemishes. “Have your secretary call me a car.”
You do as he says, happy that your son didn’t lift up the stacks of cash and bonds to find the Boba Fett action figure you stole from him.
Happy Steal From Your Kids Day!
Your son will visit you at work and ask if you’ve seen his toy truck. Lie to him. Say, “Psssh. That truck sucks. I didn’t take it.”
Your son will explain he has a play date and he needs his toy truck back if you have it. Stand your ground.
“I’m the president of a massive corporation. I don’t have your stupid fucking truck.”
Your eyes flash on the floor safe. Your son notices.
“It’s in the floor safe isn’t it?” he says.
“What floor safe,” you say, but he’s already out of his chair and spinning the combination dial.
“12. 16. 6,” he says as he spins, then pulls the door open to reveal his toy truck.
“Shouldn’t have used my birthday as the combo, dipshit,” he says, inspecting the toy truck for blemishes. “Have your secretary call me a car.”
You do as he says, happy that your son didn’t lift up the stacks of cash and bonds to find the Boba Fett action figure you stole from him.
Happy Steal From Your Kids Day!
Monday, January 18, 2016
What To Do At Game Night Day!
Tonight’s Game Night with you and the Palmers and the Costners and what you should do is you should stand up in the middle of Scattergories and shout, “I am done playing games with you people!” Then tell them about the hit and run in ‘93.
Pam Costner will stand up and shout that she’s also “done playing games with you people.” Then she’ll plant a kiss on your wife’s mouth and tell her she’s been in love with her for years.
Richie Costner will also stand up and shout that he, too, is effectively finished “playing games with you people.” He’ll walk out the front door, get in the car, and that’s all she wrote for Richie. You’ll never see him again.
Michael Palmer will similarly rise from his seat and say that he’s not going to be playing any stupid games with you people any longer. He’ll go to the bathroom and draw a bath in the tub and the blood from his open wrists will float out like ribbons.
Patty Palmer will announce in a whisper that she doesn’t want to play games with you people anymore. The rest you won’t understand because she’ll say it in Russian. She’ll be tried as a spy later this year.
Your wife, Debra, once she’s done being made out with by Pam Costner, will sit back down on the couch and say that she’s done playing games with you people, and she’ll take out a deck of cards and begin a game of solitaire. You won’t notice because you’ll be on the phone with the police confessing to vehicular manslaughter.
Happy What To Do At Game Night Day!
Pam Costner will stand up and shout that she’s also “done playing games with you people.” Then she’ll plant a kiss on your wife’s mouth and tell her she’s been in love with her for years.
Richie Costner will also stand up and shout that he, too, is effectively finished “playing games with you people.” He’ll walk out the front door, get in the car, and that’s all she wrote for Richie. You’ll never see him again.
Michael Palmer will similarly rise from his seat and say that he’s not going to be playing any stupid games with you people any longer. He’ll go to the bathroom and draw a bath in the tub and the blood from his open wrists will float out like ribbons.
Patty Palmer will announce in a whisper that she doesn’t want to play games with you people anymore. The rest you won’t understand because she’ll say it in Russian. She’ll be tried as a spy later this year.
Your wife, Debra, once she’s done being made out with by Pam Costner, will sit back down on the couch and say that she’s done playing games with you people, and she’ll take out a deck of cards and begin a game of solitaire. You won’t notice because you’ll be on the phone with the police confessing to vehicular manslaughter.
Happy What To Do At Game Night Day!
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Emily’s Sad Day!
Emily Connell, the president of the multi-national conglomerate where you temp, is sad today. You spotted her in a café staring out the window at the rain.
“Should I go in and see if I can cheer her up?” you ask your 7-year-old daughter.
“Do it. It could be good for your career. I can go see The Good Dinosaur some other day.”
Your daughter hails a cab and you go into the café and stand at the edge of your company president’s table.
“Why so sad Ms. Connell?” you ask.
She looks up at you through her tears.
“I know you.”
You sit down across from her. You wave to a waiter and tell him you’d like a glass or Port.
“This one’s on you, since you make 1500 times my salary at our shared place of employment.”
“Oh,” she says. “You work for me.”
“Tell me,” you say.
At that she unloads a tale of her third husband’s confession that he’s in love with her brother, a prominent member of British Parliament. He’s going to divorce her and announce his relationship with her brother, which will likely cause the board to oust her from her position as CEO due to a ridiculous “undue controversy” clause in her contract, and her brother will also have his government post threatened. Meanwhile, her (soon-to-be-)ex-husband has refused to offer testimony in a corporate malfeasance case, testimony that would be necessary to exonerate her of accusations that she manipulated the stock price with false accounting.
“So I’m facing public humiliation, professional disgrace, jail-time, and a broken heart,” she tells you.
You do the only thing you can do, the only thing you know how to do in situations like this. You try to cheer her up by farting the National Anthem.
It works.
“You’re quite talented,” she says, laughing through her tears.
“Thanks,” you say. “If you’re feeling better, I’d better hit the men’s room and check my underpants.”
When you come back from the men’s room, she’s gone. The waiter comes by and says she paid ahead and told them you could have whatever you want for the rest of the night. You get drunk on port and eat a half dozen scones, stuffing yourself until they lock up for the evening, making sure to bring one scone home for your daughter, who hasn’t eaten in hours.
Happy Emily’s Sad Day!
“Should I go in and see if I can cheer her up?” you ask your 7-year-old daughter.
“Do it. It could be good for your career. I can go see The Good Dinosaur some other day.”
Your daughter hails a cab and you go into the café and stand at the edge of your company president’s table.
“Why so sad Ms. Connell?” you ask.
She looks up at you through her tears.
“I know you.”
You sit down across from her. You wave to a waiter and tell him you’d like a glass or Port.
“This one’s on you, since you make 1500 times my salary at our shared place of employment.”
“Oh,” she says. “You work for me.”
“Tell me,” you say.
At that she unloads a tale of her third husband’s confession that he’s in love with her brother, a prominent member of British Parliament. He’s going to divorce her and announce his relationship with her brother, which will likely cause the board to oust her from her position as CEO due to a ridiculous “undue controversy” clause in her contract, and her brother will also have his government post threatened. Meanwhile, her (soon-to-be-)ex-husband has refused to offer testimony in a corporate malfeasance case, testimony that would be necessary to exonerate her of accusations that she manipulated the stock price with false accounting.
“So I’m facing public humiliation, professional disgrace, jail-time, and a broken heart,” she tells you.
You do the only thing you can do, the only thing you know how to do in situations like this. You try to cheer her up by farting the National Anthem.
It works.
“You’re quite talented,” she says, laughing through her tears.
“Thanks,” you say. “If you’re feeling better, I’d better hit the men’s room and check my underpants.”
When you come back from the men’s room, she’s gone. The waiter comes by and says she paid ahead and told them you could have whatever you want for the rest of the night. You get drunk on port and eat a half dozen scones, stuffing yourself until they lock up for the evening, making sure to bring one scone home for your daughter, who hasn’t eaten in hours.
Happy Emily’s Sad Day!
Saturday, January 16, 2016
New Dad Day!
You’re a new dad, which means everyone’s counting on you to not fuck up. So put the gun down.
“Will you just let me go?”
The bank manager says for the sake of your new baby daughter, yes, he’ll let you walk out the door if you don’t hurt anyone.
“What about the police outside?”
The police chief says into his megaphone that if you leave the money and you don’t hurt anybody and you promise to be there for that little angel, they’ll look the other way.
“What about the Feds?”
The FBI agents in the helicopters hovering over the bank call in on their dedicated line and tell you they have terrorists to catch. They don’t want to waste time keeping a new dad from his little girl.
“Okay,” you say. “Here I go.”
You put down your gun. You walk out the door of the bank. You walk all the way to the hospital. You kiss your baby on her forehead. You begin your life as a new dad, focused on taking care of your daughter and honoring the agreements you made with law enforcement.
That REALLY worked out!
Happy New Dad Day!
“Will you just let me go?”
The bank manager says for the sake of your new baby daughter, yes, he’ll let you walk out the door if you don’t hurt anyone.
“What about the police outside?”
The police chief says into his megaphone that if you leave the money and you don’t hurt anybody and you promise to be there for that little angel, they’ll look the other way.
“What about the Feds?”
The FBI agents in the helicopters hovering over the bank call in on their dedicated line and tell you they have terrorists to catch. They don’t want to waste time keeping a new dad from his little girl.
“Okay,” you say. “Here I go.”
You put down your gun. You walk out the door of the bank. You walk all the way to the hospital. You kiss your baby on her forehead. You begin your life as a new dad, focused on taking care of your daughter and honoring the agreements you made with law enforcement.
That REALLY worked out!
Happy New Dad Day!
Friday, January 15, 2016
The Sing To Your Food Diet Day!
The best way to manage your eating is to express appreciation for your food before you eat it. When you have your lunch in front of you, don’t just plow into it. Let your lunch know how much it means to you by singing a song you just wrote about it. Like let’s say you have a bowl of three bean chili. Sing it a ballad.
Oh well I know we been estranged
The road between us was steep and hilly
But now you’re here with me
And my life is great with you, my three bean chili
Or let’s say you’re about to eat a meatball hero. Sing that sandwich a song of positivity and joy.
It’s a neeeeew day
And everything feels just fine
Cuz I got a meatball hero in my hands
And I can feel the future is miiiiiiine
Really hit the high note on “mine.”
If you’re eating a salad, go with one of those twinkly high-pitched gnome-like indie singer songs that always play over yogurt commercials.
When I look into your eyes
I see a grassy sunlit meadow
And it’s green and bright and free of strife
I’ll meet you there
Whenever you’re ready to say hello again, salad
Because you’re just the sweetest treat of my sweet life
Once you finish singing, wait for your food to applaud. When it doesn’t applaud, ask your food who the fuck does it think it is. You worked hard writing that fucking song and it just sits there. Tell your food to go fuck itself then throw it at the wall. Don’t clean it up either. Just walk past the splash of food on your wall and give it the finger, day after day, then hold your phone to your ear and sing into it so your food thinks you’ve met other food to sing to. Your food will get jealous as it dries into a permanent stain that you’ll one day paint over. You should expect to lose two pounds a week.
Happy The Sing To Your Food Diet Day!
Oh well I know we been estranged
The road between us was steep and hilly
But now you’re here with me
And my life is great with you, my three bean chili
Or let’s say you’re about to eat a meatball hero. Sing that sandwich a song of positivity and joy.
It’s a neeeeew day
And everything feels just fine
Cuz I got a meatball hero in my hands
And I can feel the future is miiiiiiine
Really hit the high note on “mine.”
If you’re eating a salad, go with one of those twinkly high-pitched gnome-like indie singer songs that always play over yogurt commercials.
When I look into your eyes
I see a grassy sunlit meadow
And it’s green and bright and free of strife
I’ll meet you there
Whenever you’re ready to say hello again, salad
Because you’re just the sweetest treat of my sweet life
Once you finish singing, wait for your food to applaud. When it doesn’t applaud, ask your food who the fuck does it think it is. You worked hard writing that fucking song and it just sits there. Tell your food to go fuck itself then throw it at the wall. Don’t clean it up either. Just walk past the splash of food on your wall and give it the finger, day after day, then hold your phone to your ear and sing into it so your food thinks you’ve met other food to sing to. Your food will get jealous as it dries into a permanent stain that you’ll one day paint over. You should expect to lose two pounds a week.
Happy The Sing To Your Food Diet Day!
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Be The Kind Of Person Who Brings In Donuts To Work Day!
Today you’ll try and be the kind of person who brings in donuts to work. You’ll try and be a generous person with enthusiasm for the day ahead who delights in making things a little sweeter for your coworkers.
You’ll stand in front of your bathroom mirror barking at your reflection, “You can fucking do this Sharon! Stop fucking crying and go buy some goddamn donuts for motherfuck’s sake!"
When the negative thoughts invade your mind telling you it can’t be done, punch the mirror and feel the shards cut into your skin. Focus on that pain.
"Get the fuck out of here I need to focus,” you scream at the guy in your bed. He scrambles into his clothes and slams the door behind him. You check your wallet and this one didn’t steal all your money and credit cards for once.
“See! New day, new you! Now go buy your coworkers some fucking donuts and don’t fucking spit on them Sharon!"
On the bus to the donut place you get into three fist fights and you win all of them. Outside the donut place you have a panic arrack but you spy a pigeon eating a dead rat and it calms you.
Once inside the donut place you scream at the girl, "I don’t fucking care which kind. Just fill the fucking box!” When an armed robber comes in and tries to hold up the place you aren’t having it.
“Fuck you if you think you can fuck this up for me! That box is almost full!” You wrestle the gun from the robber. It goes off, grazing you in the side and killing the robber.
The next day a photo of you in the hospital is on the front page of the newspaper under the headline DONUT HERO. The article tells the story of a sweet girl who just likes to do nice things for her coworkers, but when a stranger put others in harms way, she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. “Sharon was always the kind of person who put everyone else first,” a coworker whose lunch Tupperware you once farted into will be quoted as saying.
Happy Be The Kind Of Person Who Brings In Donuts To Work Day!
You’ll stand in front of your bathroom mirror barking at your reflection, “You can fucking do this Sharon! Stop fucking crying and go buy some goddamn donuts for motherfuck’s sake!"
When the negative thoughts invade your mind telling you it can’t be done, punch the mirror and feel the shards cut into your skin. Focus on that pain.
"Get the fuck out of here I need to focus,” you scream at the guy in your bed. He scrambles into his clothes and slams the door behind him. You check your wallet and this one didn’t steal all your money and credit cards for once.
“See! New day, new you! Now go buy your coworkers some fucking donuts and don’t fucking spit on them Sharon!"
On the bus to the donut place you get into three fist fights and you win all of them. Outside the donut place you have a panic arrack but you spy a pigeon eating a dead rat and it calms you.
Once inside the donut place you scream at the girl, "I don’t fucking care which kind. Just fill the fucking box!” When an armed robber comes in and tries to hold up the place you aren’t having it.
“Fuck you if you think you can fuck this up for me! That box is almost full!” You wrestle the gun from the robber. It goes off, grazing you in the side and killing the robber.
The next day a photo of you in the hospital is on the front page of the newspaper under the headline DONUT HERO. The article tells the story of a sweet girl who just likes to do nice things for her coworkers, but when a stranger put others in harms way, she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. “Sharon was always the kind of person who put everyone else first,” a coworker whose lunch Tupperware you once farted into will be quoted as saying.
Happy Be The Kind Of Person Who Brings In Donuts To Work Day!
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
Haunted Life Raft Day!
You and the other survivors of the capsized cruise ship have been floating for three days. Everything would be fine if it wasn’t for the ghost that’s haunting your life raft.
“I don’t think she even died on our cruise,” one of you says. “Do they reuse life rafts from other sunken ships?”
“Maybe she died on the boat itself,” someone responds. “Like of a heart attack. Or she got on the boat and her husband was supposed to meet her in their cabin but he never showed and sent a note saying he left her so she killed herself and then decided to haunt a life raft.”
“Maybe she died building the life raft,” someone else suggests. “Like in the factory?”
You all agree that that’s the most logical explanation. She must have been a life raft factory worker who died building the life raft so she haunted it.
Just then her apparition appears. You tell her you think that she died building a life raft and you want her to know her death wasn’t for nothing. That life raft she built is saving all of your lives.
“I never worked in a life raft factory you dumbasses,” she screams. “Time to take another one of you.”
She goes to the back of the boat and reaches her ghostly arm into a woman’s mouth, then pulls her insides out of her mouth until she’s turned the woman inside out completely.
You all help shove the spasming bloody inside out woman into the water. You have ten more hours to again guess why the ghost is haunting that life raft before she pulls the internal organs from another one of you.
Happy Haunted Life Raft Day!
“I don’t think she even died on our cruise,” one of you says. “Do they reuse life rafts from other sunken ships?”
“Maybe she died on the boat itself,” someone responds. “Like of a heart attack. Or she got on the boat and her husband was supposed to meet her in their cabin but he never showed and sent a note saying he left her so she killed herself and then decided to haunt a life raft.”
“Maybe she died building the life raft,” someone else suggests. “Like in the factory?”
You all agree that that’s the most logical explanation. She must have been a life raft factory worker who died building the life raft so she haunted it.
Just then her apparition appears. You tell her you think that she died building a life raft and you want her to know her death wasn’t for nothing. That life raft she built is saving all of your lives.
“I never worked in a life raft factory you dumbasses,” she screams. “Time to take another one of you.”
She goes to the back of the boat and reaches her ghostly arm into a woman’s mouth, then pulls her insides out of her mouth until she’s turned the woman inside out completely.
You all help shove the spasming bloody inside out woman into the water. You have ten more hours to again guess why the ghost is haunting that life raft before she pulls the internal organs from another one of you.
Happy Haunted Life Raft Day!
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Why You’ll Never Close The Party Store Day!
Tell him that your mother couldn’t afford to throw you a birthday party with the money she made working as a grocery store cashier.
“So she got a job at the party store, which would give her an employee discount so she could buy me some balloons.”
She kept looking for a better job, but one never came along. And since you kept having birthdays, she ended up trapped in that party store job.
“But soon she got an even better employee discount. And I got even more balloons on my birthday.”
It became your mom’s goal to get you so many birthday balloons that you’d be in danger of floating away. So she started sabotaging her coworkers, framing them for stealing from the register etc., and as they got fired one by one, she got promoted.
“But the real employee discount would come if she owned a piece of the store,” tell him. “If she owned a piece of the store, she’d be able to get balloons at cost.”
So your mom seduced the store owner and carried on an affair for a few months, making sure that his wife would find out and divorce him. The party store owner was so infatuated with how giving a lover your mom was that he married her as soon as the divorce went through.
“As his new wife, she was part owner of the store. I got so many balloons. But that wasn’t enough for my mom. Her new husband was too controlling over the store’s inventory and he wouldn’t buy the right balloons sometimes.
It was a slow-acting poison that she put into his food in small doses over the course of several months. When he died, the doctors only said it was a degenerative illness of the blood that they couldn’t quite pin down. Your mom owned the store outright, and when she eventually died, she passed it on to you.
"I have this party store because my mom wanted me to have a good birthday. And she devoted her life to giving me that good birthday by systematically climbing through the ranks of the store’s staff, seducing the owner, and eventually murdering him. And you want me to close it down?”
Your husband will say he was only thinking you might want to work less and be with your daughter more.
“I’ll be with my daughter when it matters. I’ll be with her on her birthday. She’ll know me because I’ll be the one behind the giant ass fucking wad of sick motherfucking balloons.”
Your husband will shrug. Increase the dose of poison in his food tonight.
Happy Why You’ll Never Close The Party Store Day!
“So she got a job at the party store, which would give her an employee discount so she could buy me some balloons.”
She kept looking for a better job, but one never came along. And since you kept having birthdays, she ended up trapped in that party store job.
“But soon she got an even better employee discount. And I got even more balloons on my birthday.”
It became your mom’s goal to get you so many birthday balloons that you’d be in danger of floating away. So she started sabotaging her coworkers, framing them for stealing from the register etc., and as they got fired one by one, she got promoted.
“But the real employee discount would come if she owned a piece of the store,” tell him. “If she owned a piece of the store, she’d be able to get balloons at cost.”
So your mom seduced the store owner and carried on an affair for a few months, making sure that his wife would find out and divorce him. The party store owner was so infatuated with how giving a lover your mom was that he married her as soon as the divorce went through.
“As his new wife, she was part owner of the store. I got so many balloons. But that wasn’t enough for my mom. Her new husband was too controlling over the store’s inventory and he wouldn’t buy the right balloons sometimes.
It was a slow-acting poison that she put into his food in small doses over the course of several months. When he died, the doctors only said it was a degenerative illness of the blood that they couldn’t quite pin down. Your mom owned the store outright, and when she eventually died, she passed it on to you.
"I have this party store because my mom wanted me to have a good birthday. And she devoted her life to giving me that good birthday by systematically climbing through the ranks of the store’s staff, seducing the owner, and eventually murdering him. And you want me to close it down?”
Your husband will say he was only thinking you might want to work less and be with your daughter more.
“I’ll be with my daughter when it matters. I’ll be with her on her birthday. She’ll know me because I’ll be the one behind the giant ass fucking wad of sick motherfucking balloons.”
Your husband will shrug. Increase the dose of poison in his food tonight.
Happy Why You’ll Never Close The Party Store Day!
Monday, January 11, 2016
Six Ways To Make Your Friend Be Attracted To You Sexually Day!
There are only six ways to get a good platonic friend to become attracted to you sexually. Let’s count them down backwards, though it should be noted that number six is no less effective than number 1. Sexual attraction is sexual attraction, period. Anyway, here they are.
6. Show your friend how physically attractive you are. Ask your friend, “Which body parts do you like?” If your friend says “Boobs” or “Feet” or “Nostrils,” tell your friend, “I have some of those!” Then prove it. Your friend will probably go, “Want! Oh Christ. I want your dying bag of blood and guts. Want to stuff it inside me and stuff me inside it. Shit!” Then start sex.
5. Show your friend what an attractive mind you have. Ask your friend what they want from an erotic partner intellectually. Your friend will probably be like, “I want to talk to my erotic partner about books.” So you should say, “I’ve read books. Four books.” Say that even if you haven’t because who has? Your friend will demand to know which books. Tell your friend, “I’ll only tell you which books after 10,000 sessions of intercourse.” By the time the 10,000 sessions of intercourse is over and you tell your friend you lied about the books, it won’t matter because you had intercourse 10,000 times which is enough.
4. Smell like stuff that turns your friend on. If your friend thinks a sexy night is a cozy time spent by the fire, cover yourself in the ashes of the nearest arson aftermath. If your friend is turned on by lavender because that’s what your friend’s mom used to wear before she died and it became a sex trigger in a weird way, pour a vat of lavender over your head then shove your friend’s face against your body until your friend is visibly aroused.
3. Taste attractive. Oysters are an aphrodisiac so rub yourself with oysters. The next time your friend licks you, the taste of oysters will make your friend think, “Wow. I was just platonically licking my friend like I always do, but this time for some reason I’m turned on.” Next comes nudity then comes the wedding then kids then death.
2. Give your friend all your money. Tell your friend, “I want you to have everything you want in life. Here’s everything I have.” Your friend will feel obligated to pleasure you sexually, which is the most awesome thing for your friend to feel obligated to do.
1. Change your wardrobe and your physical appearance so that you look exactly like your friend. We’re living in a narcissistic age and sometimes friends won’t be attracted to you because they’re too into themselves. So get plastic surgery to look exactly like your friend. That way, loving you will be the same as self-love. Sex with you will be no different than masturbation. You should also change your personal beliefs so that you and your friend agree on absolutely everything and there is never any discord whatsoever between the two of you. Enjoy being so loved by your friend you’ll both lose your grasp of the boundaries of personal consciousness and go mad!
Happy Six Ways To Make Your Friend Be Attracted To You Sexually Day!
6. Show your friend how physically attractive you are. Ask your friend, “Which body parts do you like?” If your friend says “Boobs” or “Feet” or “Nostrils,” tell your friend, “I have some of those!” Then prove it. Your friend will probably go, “Want! Oh Christ. I want your dying bag of blood and guts. Want to stuff it inside me and stuff me inside it. Shit!” Then start sex.
5. Show your friend what an attractive mind you have. Ask your friend what they want from an erotic partner intellectually. Your friend will probably be like, “I want to talk to my erotic partner about books.” So you should say, “I’ve read books. Four books.” Say that even if you haven’t because who has? Your friend will demand to know which books. Tell your friend, “I’ll only tell you which books after 10,000 sessions of intercourse.” By the time the 10,000 sessions of intercourse is over and you tell your friend you lied about the books, it won’t matter because you had intercourse 10,000 times which is enough.
4. Smell like stuff that turns your friend on. If your friend thinks a sexy night is a cozy time spent by the fire, cover yourself in the ashes of the nearest arson aftermath. If your friend is turned on by lavender because that’s what your friend’s mom used to wear before she died and it became a sex trigger in a weird way, pour a vat of lavender over your head then shove your friend’s face against your body until your friend is visibly aroused.
3. Taste attractive. Oysters are an aphrodisiac so rub yourself with oysters. The next time your friend licks you, the taste of oysters will make your friend think, “Wow. I was just platonically licking my friend like I always do, but this time for some reason I’m turned on.” Next comes nudity then comes the wedding then kids then death.
2. Give your friend all your money. Tell your friend, “I want you to have everything you want in life. Here’s everything I have.” Your friend will feel obligated to pleasure you sexually, which is the most awesome thing for your friend to feel obligated to do.
1. Change your wardrobe and your physical appearance so that you look exactly like your friend. We’re living in a narcissistic age and sometimes friends won’t be attracted to you because they’re too into themselves. So get plastic surgery to look exactly like your friend. That way, loving you will be the same as self-love. Sex with you will be no different than masturbation. You should also change your personal beliefs so that you and your friend agree on absolutely everything and there is never any discord whatsoever between the two of you. Enjoy being so loved by your friend you’ll both lose your grasp of the boundaries of personal consciousness and go mad!
Happy Six Ways To Make Your Friend Be Attracted To You Sexually Day!
Sunday, January 10, 2016
A Hang Glider Just Crashed Into Your House Day!
His hang glider is implanted into the siding along the second floor.
“Fuck!” you shout. “I can’t have this now!”
“Mmph!” he mumbles. His head’s stuck in your house.
“Goddammit!” you shout. “The teen I seduced just killed my husband and he’s supposed to get rid of the body but with you faceplanted into the side of my house and your stupid giant kite hanging over the lawn for everyone to see, the news crews are gonna be here any minute.”
Mmph!“ he mumbles.
"Sorry dickface, but the murder just got pinned on you.”
And so your husband will forever be remembered as having been killed by some guy who thought he could commit a murder and then escape by hang gliding off the roof but then the wind just crashed him back into the house. You’ll make a killing from the life insurance, yo.
Happy A Hang Glider Just Crashed Into Your House Day!
“Fuck!” you shout. “I can’t have this now!”
“Mmph!” he mumbles. His head’s stuck in your house.
“Goddammit!” you shout. “The teen I seduced just killed my husband and he’s supposed to get rid of the body but with you faceplanted into the side of my house and your stupid giant kite hanging over the lawn for everyone to see, the news crews are gonna be here any minute.”
Mmph!“ he mumbles.
"Sorry dickface, but the murder just got pinned on you.”
And so your husband will forever be remembered as having been killed by some guy who thought he could commit a murder and then escape by hang gliding off the roof but then the wind just crashed him back into the house. You’ll make a killing from the life insurance, yo.
Happy A Hang Glider Just Crashed Into Your House Day!
Saturday, January 09, 2016
Waaaaaay Before Sunrise Day!
Her Courtyard By Marriott hotel room has a balcony in the middle of an office plaza that looks out on a dark corporate sprawl of office buildings. She sits out there drunk at 1 am when she sees a guy in a suit walk out of one of the buildings.
“Working hard or hardly working?” she shouts down to him.
“I don’t fucking need this!” he shouts back to her. “I just found out my company is doing business with the mafia!”
She apologizes. “I was just having some fun,” she says. “Drunk. You know.”
“Well maybe think about who you yell stuff at next time!” the guy shouts. “I thought I was working for a legitimate firm. But it turns out, they’re doing business with the mafia!”
“Want a drink?” she asks.
He climbs up the balconies to hers and they enjoy Scotch together.
“What do you think I’m gonna do?” he says after she asks him what he’s going to do about the mafia thing. “I’m going to report it to the local police station as soon as the sun rises.”
“What if we’re still making love?” she asks him.
They make love but they finish waaaaaay before the sun rises.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” she says when they’re laying in the afterglow like, seriously, hours before the sun comes up. “But if you rat on the mafia, that’s probably what will happen.”
“Could you do it?” he asks. “Could you go on working for a firm that does business with the mafia?”
“Yeah. Who cares? Besides, the mafia’s cool.”
He catches her drift and decides to not care who his firm does business with and so he becomes rich instead of dying, plus he had sex earlier (waaaaaay before sunrise),
Happy Waaaaaay Before Sunrise Day!
“Working hard or hardly working?” she shouts down to him.
“I don’t fucking need this!” he shouts back to her. “I just found out my company is doing business with the mafia!”
She apologizes. “I was just having some fun,” she says. “Drunk. You know.”
“Well maybe think about who you yell stuff at next time!” the guy shouts. “I thought I was working for a legitimate firm. But it turns out, they’re doing business with the mafia!”
“Want a drink?” she asks.
He climbs up the balconies to hers and they enjoy Scotch together.
“What do you think I’m gonna do?” he says after she asks him what he’s going to do about the mafia thing. “I’m going to report it to the local police station as soon as the sun rises.”
“What if we’re still making love?” she asks him.
They make love but they finish waaaaaay before the sun rises.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” she says when they’re laying in the afterglow like, seriously, hours before the sun comes up. “But if you rat on the mafia, that’s probably what will happen.”
“Could you do it?” he asks. “Could you go on working for a firm that does business with the mafia?”
“Yeah. Who cares? Besides, the mafia’s cool.”
He catches her drift and decides to not care who his firm does business with and so he becomes rich instead of dying, plus he had sex earlier (waaaaaay before sunrise),
Happy Waaaaaay Before Sunrise Day!
Friday, January 08, 2016
Fun Couple Day!
He slams the vacuum cleaner against the carpet to try to shake loose whatever’s stuck up there.
“Maybe you vacuumed up some of my dreams?” his wife says over the rim of her highball glass.
He jokingly searches the inside workings of the vacuum looking for her dreams.
“Don’t see any of those in here,” he says with a chuckle.
“Check the garbage disposal. Maybe you shoved my dreams down there! I haven’t seen them in so long, maybe you ground them up in the sink blades like they were just some leftover kale leaves from last night’s forgettable dinner!”
He jokingly checks the garbage disposal to see if there are any dreams in it.
“Nope. No dreams down there!” he shouts jovially.
“Maybe you threw them out with the trash. My dreams are so old and neglected that I could see you mistaking them for garbage. Did you happen to take my dreams and stuff them into a garbage can with the stripped toilet paper rolls, the soiled q-tips, and the junk mail pleas for charitable donations that we tear up and throw away without even fucking reading?!”
He jokingly goes down to the sidewalk to untie the garbage bags and root through the trash searching for her dreams.
“Can’t find any dreams in these Hefty cinch sacks!” he shouts up at their window.
She opens the window and shouts back at him, “Have you checked the grille and tires of our car? Take a flashlight and inspect the grille and tires for the blood of my dreams! You might have accidentally run down my dreams some night when you weren’t paying any goddamn attention to them. So you obliterated them against the grille of the car, then dragged them under the tires. Then to be sure they were dead you might have shifted into reverse and backed over my dreams until the life bled out of them into the street. Then you might have peeled away without even bothering to get out of the car to try and help.”
He jokingly goes upstairs to grab a flashlight, and then jokingly heads out to the car to inspect the grille and tires. There’s blood everywhere.
Back in the apartment, “My God, you drove home? I begged you never to drive when you’re like this.”
“He came out of nowhere. I thought I could live with the guilt but I can’t.”
When she finishes her drink, he takes her to the police station so she can turn herself in for the hit and run.
“Honey,” she barks at him. “Check the other jail cells for my dreams! See if they’ve been locked up in here for life without the possibility of parole.”
He asks the police if he can jokingly check the jail cells for his wife’s dreams, but the police remind him that a man is dead. This is no time for jokes.
Happy Fun Couple Day!
“Maybe you vacuumed up some of my dreams?” his wife says over the rim of her highball glass.
He jokingly searches the inside workings of the vacuum looking for her dreams.
“Don’t see any of those in here,” he says with a chuckle.
“Check the garbage disposal. Maybe you shoved my dreams down there! I haven’t seen them in so long, maybe you ground them up in the sink blades like they were just some leftover kale leaves from last night’s forgettable dinner!”
He jokingly checks the garbage disposal to see if there are any dreams in it.
“Nope. No dreams down there!” he shouts jovially.
“Maybe you threw them out with the trash. My dreams are so old and neglected that I could see you mistaking them for garbage. Did you happen to take my dreams and stuff them into a garbage can with the stripped toilet paper rolls, the soiled q-tips, and the junk mail pleas for charitable donations that we tear up and throw away without even fucking reading?!”
He jokingly goes down to the sidewalk to untie the garbage bags and root through the trash searching for her dreams.
“Can’t find any dreams in these Hefty cinch sacks!” he shouts up at their window.
She opens the window and shouts back at him, “Have you checked the grille and tires of our car? Take a flashlight and inspect the grille and tires for the blood of my dreams! You might have accidentally run down my dreams some night when you weren’t paying any goddamn attention to them. So you obliterated them against the grille of the car, then dragged them under the tires. Then to be sure they were dead you might have shifted into reverse and backed over my dreams until the life bled out of them into the street. Then you might have peeled away without even bothering to get out of the car to try and help.”
He jokingly goes upstairs to grab a flashlight, and then jokingly heads out to the car to inspect the grille and tires. There’s blood everywhere.
Back in the apartment, “My God, you drove home? I begged you never to drive when you’re like this.”
“He came out of nowhere. I thought I could live with the guilt but I can’t.”
When she finishes her drink, he takes her to the police station so she can turn herself in for the hit and run.
“Honey,” she barks at him. “Check the other jail cells for my dreams! See if they’ve been locked up in here for life without the possibility of parole.”
He asks the police if he can jokingly check the jail cells for his wife’s dreams, but the police remind him that a man is dead. This is no time for jokes.
Happy Fun Couple Day!
Thursday, January 07, 2016
You’re a Private Detective Day!
She walks into your office with long legs and a face.
“My husband’s having an affair,” she says.
“I’ll take the case,” you say.
The two of you have sex. On the desk?
A week later you confront her because her husband’s dead and you’ve been framed for the murder.
“Yeah,” she says. “Yup.”
The two of you have sex. Against the file cabinet?
Using your detective skills you find out this murder affects all branches of government in every country, even Philadelphia.
“Walk away,” President Obama says to you.
“Fine,” you say.
The two of you have sex. In the Oval Office?
Happy You’re a Private Detective Day!
“My husband’s having an affair,” she says.
“I’ll take the case,” you say.
The two of you have sex. On the desk?
A week later you confront her because her husband’s dead and you’ve been framed for the murder.
“Yeah,” she says. “Yup.”
The two of you have sex. Against the file cabinet?
Using your detective skills you find out this murder affects all branches of government in every country, even Philadelphia.
“Walk away,” President Obama says to you.
“Fine,” you say.
The two of you have sex. In the Oval Office?
Happy You’re a Private Detective Day!
Wednesday, January 06, 2016
The Last Hair Stylist In America Day!
Nuclear war. Millions killed. Only a few will survive, including you. You’ll be the last hair stylist in America.
“We need someone who knows agriculture,” the settlement Governor will say when you approach the gate. “And we need physicians of course. And carpenters to help us rebuild, electricians to see if the grids in the area can be up and running again.”
“Your hair looks awful,” tell him. “I can fix that.”
He’ll start to close the gate on you. Stick your foot in the gate to block it.
“Hey,” tell him. “You want to be governor of this little settlement? Or you want to go on to be governor of all the settlements? Because we’re all going to need someone to look up to, but we’re not going to look up to anyone with hair like that.”
He thinks about it. “You can tell I’m ambitious, can you?”
Shake your head. “I can tell you’re a man with bad hair. Let me ply my trade.”
The gate reopens and you begin grooming the future president of the newly risen settlements of the fallen world.
Happy The Last Hair Stylist In America Day!
“We need someone who knows agriculture,” the settlement Governor will say when you approach the gate. “And we need physicians of course. And carpenters to help us rebuild, electricians to see if the grids in the area can be up and running again.”
“Your hair looks awful,” tell him. “I can fix that.”
He’ll start to close the gate on you. Stick your foot in the gate to block it.
“Hey,” tell him. “You want to be governor of this little settlement? Or you want to go on to be governor of all the settlements? Because we’re all going to need someone to look up to, but we’re not going to look up to anyone with hair like that.”
He thinks about it. “You can tell I’m ambitious, can you?”
Shake your head. “I can tell you’re a man with bad hair. Let me ply my trade.”
The gate reopens and you begin grooming the future president of the newly risen settlements of the fallen world.
Happy The Last Hair Stylist In America Day!
Tuesday, January 05, 2016
Be The Girlfriend Of His Dreams Day!
He’ll say, “I really like tea.”
Next time he comes over, have a pot of tea brewing for him. Bam, super girlfriend!
He’ll say, “It sure is cold in here.”
Put your body on his and hold him close to keep him warm. Girlfriend supreme!
He’ll say, “I wish I had a stepladder to reach the shelf above the cabinets in the kitchen."
Over the weekend, hit the Target and buy him a stepladder, then leave it in his kitchen with a little bow on it. Huzzah! You’re the best girlfriend a short dude ever had.
He’ll say, "Jeff at work is really bugging me.”
Break into Jeff’s apartment and hide in his closet until he gets into bed. Pull on your burlap mask, burst out of his closet and pin Jeff to the bed. From the bag on your shoulder, remove the python you bought from Petsmart and let it slither over his face. Tell Jeff if he isn’t nicer to his coworkers, he’s going to find out what it’s like to have his head slowly digested by a reptile. Jeff will agree to be nicer and you’ll have unlocked the Excellent Girlfriend Achievement. Return the python for cash.
He’ll say, “I’m stuck in here.”
Go to a higher floor and pry open the elevator doors, then shimmy down the elevator cable to the roof of the car he’s stuck in. Pop open the escape panel on the roof of the car and tell him to take your hand. Then pull him up out of the car and instruct him to shimmy up the cable to the floor where the doors are open. Encourage him with supportive comments the whole way, letting him know you think he’s really strong to be climbing to safety like this, and he looks handsome when he panics. Awesome girlfriend = You!
He’ll say, “Will you marry me?”
Tell him you appreciate the offer but you’re really trying to get the hang of this girlfriend thing, and if you have to suddenly become his wife, you’ll be starting over at zero and everything you’ve been working toward will just be thrown into the trash. You do that enough, jumping from project to project any time things get challenging, and you don’t want to do it with this. Tell him you should be able to really nail your girlfriend shtick in about four to six more years, then you can start looking into whether or not you want to try and pursue wife stuff, or maybe law school and then, perhaps, politics? He’ll support you because you’re such a good girlfriend, how could he not!
He’ll say, “Then I think we should see other people.”
Introduce him to some friends of yours who you just know would be perfect for him. You’ve got that one friend who always seemed to get a little too physical when she talked to him, resting her hand on his wrist while making a point (Hi Pam!), and you bet they’d hit it off. Arrange a dinner party and sit him next to Pam and watch the sparks fly thanks to some help from little old you, the perfect girlfriend!
He’ll say, “Pam and I are in love and you have to accept this. You said you’d be moved out by today.”
Show him that not only have you moved out, but you’re only hanging around to help Pam move in! You want this to go smoothly for him and you’re not going to let some uncaring movers ruin her things on the first day of their shared life together, because you’re the best girlfriend he could ask for and you better goddamn believe he knows it!
He’ll say, “What are you doing here? Pam and I have been married for years and we have a son who just turned three.”
No duh, that’s why you’re parked outside his house dressed head to toe in a clown costume. Every three-year-old deserves a clown on his birthday, and who better to be that clown than daddy’s unbelievably awesome girlfriend (who just so happens to have taken a semester of Clowning when she was at Brandeis, thank you very much!). Congratulations, you just became the girlfriend of his dreams!
He’ll say, “Pam’s just too busy to pay attention to me anymore. Anyway, it’s been a such a long time since I’ve heard from you and I was wondering what you’re up to. Remember that time you rescued me from a stalled elevator? You were such a good girlfriend.”
Such a good girlfriend? Girlfriend of his dreams! Goddammit, get it right! And once you achieved all you could achieve in the girlfriending realm, you went to law school, killed it, and now you’re a congressional representative for his district. Tell him you’re ready to listen to any concerns he has about how the country is doing and what can be done to make a better America because you are ready to be THE CONGRESSIONAL REPRESENTATIVE OF HIS DREAMS!!!!
Happy Be The Girlfriend Of His Dreams Day!
Next time he comes over, have a pot of tea brewing for him. Bam, super girlfriend!
He’ll say, “It sure is cold in here.”
Put your body on his and hold him close to keep him warm. Girlfriend supreme!
He’ll say, “I wish I had a stepladder to reach the shelf above the cabinets in the kitchen."
Over the weekend, hit the Target and buy him a stepladder, then leave it in his kitchen with a little bow on it. Huzzah! You’re the best girlfriend a short dude ever had.
He’ll say, "Jeff at work is really bugging me.”
Break into Jeff’s apartment and hide in his closet until he gets into bed. Pull on your burlap mask, burst out of his closet and pin Jeff to the bed. From the bag on your shoulder, remove the python you bought from Petsmart and let it slither over his face. Tell Jeff if he isn’t nicer to his coworkers, he’s going to find out what it’s like to have his head slowly digested by a reptile. Jeff will agree to be nicer and you’ll have unlocked the Excellent Girlfriend Achievement. Return the python for cash.
He’ll say, “I’m stuck in here.”
Go to a higher floor and pry open the elevator doors, then shimmy down the elevator cable to the roof of the car he’s stuck in. Pop open the escape panel on the roof of the car and tell him to take your hand. Then pull him up out of the car and instruct him to shimmy up the cable to the floor where the doors are open. Encourage him with supportive comments the whole way, letting him know you think he’s really strong to be climbing to safety like this, and he looks handsome when he panics. Awesome girlfriend = You!
He’ll say, “Will you marry me?”
Tell him you appreciate the offer but you’re really trying to get the hang of this girlfriend thing, and if you have to suddenly become his wife, you’ll be starting over at zero and everything you’ve been working toward will just be thrown into the trash. You do that enough, jumping from project to project any time things get challenging, and you don’t want to do it with this. Tell him you should be able to really nail your girlfriend shtick in about four to six more years, then you can start looking into whether or not you want to try and pursue wife stuff, or maybe law school and then, perhaps, politics? He’ll support you because you’re such a good girlfriend, how could he not!
He’ll say, “Then I think we should see other people.”
Introduce him to some friends of yours who you just know would be perfect for him. You’ve got that one friend who always seemed to get a little too physical when she talked to him, resting her hand on his wrist while making a point (Hi Pam!), and you bet they’d hit it off. Arrange a dinner party and sit him next to Pam and watch the sparks fly thanks to some help from little old you, the perfect girlfriend!
He’ll say, “Pam and I are in love and you have to accept this. You said you’d be moved out by today.”
Show him that not only have you moved out, but you’re only hanging around to help Pam move in! You want this to go smoothly for him and you’re not going to let some uncaring movers ruin her things on the first day of their shared life together, because you’re the best girlfriend he could ask for and you better goddamn believe he knows it!
He’ll say, “What are you doing here? Pam and I have been married for years and we have a son who just turned three.”
No duh, that’s why you’re parked outside his house dressed head to toe in a clown costume. Every three-year-old deserves a clown on his birthday, and who better to be that clown than daddy’s unbelievably awesome girlfriend (who just so happens to have taken a semester of Clowning when she was at Brandeis, thank you very much!). Congratulations, you just became the girlfriend of his dreams!
He’ll say, “Pam’s just too busy to pay attention to me anymore. Anyway, it’s been a such a long time since I’ve heard from you and I was wondering what you’re up to. Remember that time you rescued me from a stalled elevator? You were such a good girlfriend.”
Such a good girlfriend? Girlfriend of his dreams! Goddammit, get it right! And once you achieved all you could achieve in the girlfriending realm, you went to law school, killed it, and now you’re a congressional representative for his district. Tell him you’re ready to listen to any concerns he has about how the country is doing and what can be done to make a better America because you are ready to be THE CONGRESSIONAL REPRESENTATIVE OF HIS DREAMS!!!!
Happy Be The Girlfriend Of His Dreams Day!
Monday, January 04, 2016
You Share A Cubicle With Your Girlfriend’s Dad Day!
“Mr. Palmer?” you exclaim as he wheels a chair in and places his briefcase on the stretch of desk you’re not occupying.
“When you’re out of work at my age, after a while you take what you can get,” he says. “So I’m back to temping. Don’t tell my daughter.”
It’s pretty weird to work with your girlfriend’s dad every day, especially keeping it a secret from your girlfriend. But he turns out to be the best cubicle mate you’ve ever had. And the two of you are working together to fulfill your daily tasks and you’re meeting your monthly goals with ease and style.
“The dream team,” your supervisors call out to you as they pass your cubicle.
The only problem is the part about not telling your girlfriend that you temp with her dad.
“We work great together, sure,” her dad says to you over lunch one day. “But my daughter can’t know that her dad’s a temp. And I can’t have you lying to my little girl.”
When you end it with her, she wants a reason. You say you two don’t have enough in common, but you say it like it’s a question and you want her to confirm the answer. She says she thinks there’s something more going on.
“Is it because since your mom started working as a pizza delivery girl at our pizza parlor and I’m her boss now?”
You shake your head no. You try “it’s not you, it’s me,” but she doesn’t buy it. You try everything you can to avoid telling her that her dad is a temp, and he’s the best coworker and cubicle mate you ever had.
“Fine,” she says. “But I’m going to make your mom’s life hell. She’s only going to deliver pizzas to bachelor parties and senior citizens living on tight budgets.”
You shrug. “Like I care. Fire her if you want. My mom’s a big girl.”
You know she won’t. She’s told you over and over that your mom’s the best pizza delivery person she ever had. A natural.
If only you could tell her the same about her dad and his admin assistant skills. But it’s better this way. If pushing her out of your life means her dad can do his work unencumbered by the shame of disappointing his daughter or coercing her boyfriend to lie to her, it’s what has to be done. For the cubicle.
Happy You Share A Cubicle With Your Girlfriend’s Dad Day!
“When you’re out of work at my age, after a while you take what you can get,” he says. “So I’m back to temping. Don’t tell my daughter.”
It’s pretty weird to work with your girlfriend’s dad every day, especially keeping it a secret from your girlfriend. But he turns out to be the best cubicle mate you’ve ever had. And the two of you are working together to fulfill your daily tasks and you’re meeting your monthly goals with ease and style.
“The dream team,” your supervisors call out to you as they pass your cubicle.
The only problem is the part about not telling your girlfriend that you temp with her dad.
“We work great together, sure,” her dad says to you over lunch one day. “But my daughter can’t know that her dad’s a temp. And I can’t have you lying to my little girl.”
When you end it with her, she wants a reason. You say you two don’t have enough in common, but you say it like it’s a question and you want her to confirm the answer. She says she thinks there’s something more going on.
“Is it because since your mom started working as a pizza delivery girl at our pizza parlor and I’m her boss now?”
You shake your head no. You try “it’s not you, it’s me,” but she doesn’t buy it. You try everything you can to avoid telling her that her dad is a temp, and he’s the best coworker and cubicle mate you ever had.
“Fine,” she says. “But I’m going to make your mom’s life hell. She’s only going to deliver pizzas to bachelor parties and senior citizens living on tight budgets.”
You shrug. “Like I care. Fire her if you want. My mom’s a big girl.”
You know she won’t. She’s told you over and over that your mom’s the best pizza delivery person she ever had. A natural.
If only you could tell her the same about her dad and his admin assistant skills. But it’s better this way. If pushing her out of your life means her dad can do his work unencumbered by the shame of disappointing his daughter or coercing her boyfriend to lie to her, it’s what has to be done. For the cubicle.
Happy You Share A Cubicle With Your Girlfriend’s Dad Day!