Shopping For Beds Day!

You met this guy just now and you both agree you want to go to bed together so it's time to go shopping for beds.

"How about this bed?" you ask, pressing down on a mattress with your palms.

"Too firm," he says. "I like to bounce when I fuck."

You move through the Sleepy's to a pillow top.

"Eh?" you say, jumping up and landing on the bed a couple of times so he can see how high you bounce.

"Could work," he says. "Do you tend to fuck lengthwise or do you like to spread out across the width?"

"I fuck lengthwise," you tell him. "I told you I'm from Michigan. We go by the book."

He kisses you once while you're both sitting on the edge of the bed you're going to buy and fuck on. It's your first kiss. It's nice.

"Split it down the middle," you tell the bed salesman when you both hand him a credit card.

"How fast can you deliver it?" he asks the bed salesman. "Like, I think we want it as fast as possible."

"Because you're gonna fuck on it?" the bed salesman asks, not looking up from his monitor.

You laugh. "Soon as we can!" you say.

"Shipping time depends," the bed salesman says. "Where is it being delivered?"

Time to go shopping for houses!

Happy Shopping For Beds Day!

Your Clown College Professor Is Done Denying What's In His Heart Day!

He never sleeps with his students, no matter how strong a bond he feels with them.

"In the past," he says. "I didn't want anything to get in the way of my students' developing their clowning craft and bringing the art of clowning into society. But now, with the way things are in this country—"

"There might not be any society to clown in very soon," you say, your breath growing short.

"No amount of happy clown makeup can hide the longing I feel for you," your clowning professor says.

You move close to him, stepping up onto his giant shoes so your face is just an inch from his.

"It's unethical," he says. "But watching the world crumble around me, knowing we never made love when we had the chance, that's unthinkable."

He takes off his nose. You take off yours. You trigger the flower on his lapel so it sprays your face, drenching it to remove some of the makeup, the water dripping onto your shirt causing it to cling to the shape of your breasts. He takes off one of his giant gloves and you place his hand over your right breast. When you kiss, your black lipstick and his blue lipstick mix to form a color reminiscent of the night sky. You kiss frantically, tangling your wigs until they both rip from your heads in a clatter of bobby pins. You grip his behind and cause the horn attached to his pants to honk. He grips your behind and an airbag pops and shoots confetti out from what crowds are meant to think must be your anus. Your struggle out of your rotund clown suits and fall to the floor of the classroom and make love, the mess of wigs and floppy shoes and squeeze horns serving as your bed for this one ecstatic moment when there are no happy clowns, there are no sad clowns, there are no drunk children's party clowns, there is only flesh.

When it's over, you hoist yourself back into your clown suit and he does the same. Once your suits and horns and props are in place and your makeup is immaculate, it's like nothing ever happened. You're once again two clowns, amusement is your sole purpose n this earth, and if underneath your artifice there is any stirring of passion for each other, the makeup hides it well.

Happy Your Clown College Professor Is Done Denying What's In His Heart Day!

Tell The Court Which Parent You Prefer To Continuing Living Off Of Until The App You're Developing Gets Accepted Into The iTunes Store Day!

It was a tough blow when your parents came down to the basement to tell you they're getting a divorce.

"We wanted to wait until you got out of college," your Mom said.

"Then we decided to wait until you finished grad school," your Dad said.

"Then when it was clear you weren't going to get any teaching positions anywhere, we decided to wait until you finished that 14 week coding school," your Mom said.

"Which we also paid for," your Dad added.

Once you were out of coding school, they decided you were mature enough to handle the news of their split.

"But your honor," you say. "It's hard for me to pick one of my parents to continuing living off of since this decision to divorce at this point in my life is so typically selfish of both of them."

"Objection!" both of your parents shout.

"Overruled," the judge says. "Continue."

"Even though I'm done with college and grad school and coding school, my parents know this is a very intense time for me. I'm waiting to iron out the kinks in my new app so I can send it in to the iTunes store and see if they accept it," you explain. "How am I supposed to handle all that stress on top of this new stress of finding out their love is a lie?"

The judge, crying now, asks your parents if they realize what kind of harm they're doing to their 34-year-old son.

Your mom addresses the court. "We considered his feelings your honor, and we weighed them against our desire to live the lives we choose to live before we—"

"His app's stupid!" your dad interrupts.

"It's not stupid!" you shout back. Then to the judge, "It's not stupid, your honor. I put my life into this app."

"He put his life into his app," the judge says, still crying. "Why won't you support him?"

"It's called 'DachHunt.' It's an app that tells you how far you are from the nearest Dachshund," your dad says. "It hinges on Dachshund owners allowing their dogs to be chipped so Dachshund fans can track them down via GPS."

The judge looks your way.

"People love Dachshunds," you shrug. "But they might never have the app they need if I am too emotionally wounded to complete the app and get it to iTunes."

"So your parents aren't hurting only you, but Dachshund lovers everywhere," the judge says, glaring at your parents now.

"This court sucks," your mom says.

"It sucks bad," you dad says.

"Yeah well you suck too," says the judge. "Now then, which parent do you want to continue living off of?"

You think for a second.

"Both," you say. "They can get a divorce but they have to continue living together in my childhood home and let me sleep in the basement until my app is finished."

The judge bangs his gavel.

"You heard the boy," the judge says. "If you don't like it, maybe next time think twice before falling out of love."

Your parents are devastated that they aren't legally allowed to separate but you don't care because you're going away with some friends on a ski trip this weekend.

Happy Tell The Court Which Parent You Prefer To Continuing Living Off Of Until The App You're Developing Gets Accepted Into The iTunes Store Day!

You Finally Got Up The Nerve To Ask Out Your Doctor Day!

Your doctor has cared for you since you were a baby. He was your parents' primary physician, so once you and your siblings were born he looked after your whole family. It's safe to say he knows you more intimately than anyone, even your wife! It's time to take this relationship to the next level.

"But I'm married," he'll say. "So are you. We're both married to women."

You concede that your marriages are great, but you also know that you only go around once in this life, and with your family history of heart disease you might only have another 20 or 25 years to do what you really want to do.

"And what I really want to do," tell him, "is take you out to a nice romantic dinner and see where this goes."

That night at dinner you're both nervous, but you break the tension with a joke about how you'd better watch what you order since he knows exactly what your cholesterol levels are. You both laugh pretty hard at that.

"I like your blazer," you tell him, picking some lint off his shoulder.

"Thanks," he says. "My wife helped me pick it out. She was excited that we're going out after I've talked so much about you."

You're thrown.

"You talked about me?"

"Didn't you talk about me to your wife?"

You say sure, but you thought your crush was one-sided.

"You never let on," you say to him.

Your doctor places his hand on your knee, the knee he hits with the little rubber reflex hammer during every physical he's every given you.

"I was being professional," your doctor says.

After dinner you go back to your doctor's office and you both take a cocktail of pills that he says will make your orgasms more powerful. Boy does he end up being right about that.

In the coming months your innocent crush turns to an animal need to make love to your doctor every chance you get. The two of you take more and more pills, and after the sex is over, the comedown from those pills is so great that he starts prescribing pills to get you back on track, giving you a boost so you can go back to work or go home and be a father to your children.

Your wife notices a difference in you. You're sluggish, easily set off, and you soon lose interest even in sleeping with your doctor. You just want the pills.

Your doctor is having trouble with the pills too. He says it's been a challenge for him his whole career. One night he swallows one too many and goes into cardiac arrest right there in your arms. You get him to the hospital but he's 78 and his years of drug abuse have taken their toll. He dies with you by his bedside.

With your doctor gone, you have to find your pills on the street. You empty your bank account, your kids' college fund, all the money you can find to get what you need. Your wife leaves you just before you're caught embezzling from your firm.

Detoxing in prison is easier than you would have expected, and though you've lost everything, you're overjoyed to have your mind back. It's nice to have a clear head again so you can spend your days stretched out on your bunk, losing yourself in memories of those sensuous afternoons you spent in complete surrender to your insatiable, ravenous hunger for your family physician.

Happy You Finally Got Up The Nerve To Ask Out Your Doctor Day!

Ask Him If He's Scared Day!

You've had your eye on the guy who lives in the building across the street. You see him in line when you get your morning coffee and you see him down the platform when you're waiting for a train and you see him chatting with the bartender when you're getting a drink but you haven't come up with a way to start talking to him.

Just ask him if he's scared. All guys are.

He'll appreciate being asked since guys want to reveal that everything's scary but they don't like to bring it up with strangers because strangers are scary too. So you'll have to broach the subject.

Since he might get scared if you just walk up to him out of nowhere and start talking, ask him if he's scared by writing "SCARED?" on a brick and throwing it through his window.

He'll pick up the brick and it over to the blank side and write "YEAH THANKS FOR ASKING I REALLY AM GOD IT'S LIKE I JUST WISH I COULD HIDE UNDER MY BED FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN" in really small letters, then he'll throw the brick back at you.

When the brick hits your head he'll have to choose whether to be a hero and run downstairs and carry you to the hospital or stay inside and let you bleed out because hospitals are scary. If he carries you to the hospital, he was lying about being scared and you shouldn't date him. Don't date a liar.

Happy Ask Him If He's Scared Day!

Make Conversation With The Woman You Sometimes See Pissing On One Of The Neighboring Graves Day!

You show up every week to piss on the grave of the loan officer who foreclosed on your father's house when you were ten, resulting in your father committing suicide not long after he moved you and your mom into a two-bedroom apartment across town. You like coming here to piss on the loan officer's grave because, first of all, the loan officer deserves to have all totems and monuments to his life defiled with as much human waste as you have time to expel. Second of all, it's always good to have an excuse to get outdoors on your lunch break. The loan officer's grave is in a very pretty part of the cemetery, so sometimes you take a scenic walk on your way to his tombstone. Even with your bladder overflowing from all the coffee and water you filled up on before you got out of the car, you don't like to rush such a pretty walk through nature.

Every once in a while you've spotted a woman squatting over a grave just a few rows back. You've nodded hello once or twice when your eyes have met, but you haven't said anything since you know the act of pissing on a grave can be very meditative and you wouldn't want to disturb her mental repose. But one day you catch her while she's still downing some Snapples and she raises one of the bottles to you in a "Cheers!" gesture before guzzling it down.

"Mary Wiggims," you say, reading the name on the gravestone she's getting ready to piss on. "What'd she do, if you don't mind my asking?"

"She was my sister," the woman says. "Poisoned my mother's mind with lies when she was in a home with dementia, convinced her to cut me out of the will. I wasn't even allowed to attend her funeral."

You give the gravestone the finger. "My guy over there tricked my dad into a crap mortgage. Took our house, my dad's pride, ultimately his life."

The woman gives your dad's loan officer's stone the finger in turn. She tells you her name is Alice.

"Lucky for us they were buried in such a nice part of the cemetery, right?"

You nod. "I like to park far away just to have more of a walk."

Alice downs her last bottle of Snapple, then tosses it to the soil in front of her sister's grave, letting you know she's at go-time.

"I'll leave you to it," you say. "It was nice meeting you, Alice."

You take a few steps away, then you stop and think about how rare it is to meet someone who shares your interests. You turn and catch Alice before she's entered her squat.

"Hey, I hope this isn't too forward," you say. "But maybe we could meet up sometime beforehand, get to know each other over some diuretics?"

Alice nods, her thumbs resting on the waistband of her pants.

"I'd like that," she says.

After that you and Alice get together every week to share some conversation over coffee, beer, and various other bladder-filling beverages before you both head out to defile your respective graves. Soon you move in together and marry, and when the time comes you find a gorgeous joint burial plot right in between your father's loan officer and Alice's sister, so you can spend eternity side-by-side in the soil muddied week after week with your co-mingled urine.

Happy Make Conversation With The Woman You Sometimes See Pissing On One Of The Neighboring Graves Day!