Today, June 17th, is “You Day”! Do Something Utterly Self-Indulgent (“Just For You!”)

(Originally appeared on Sweet Fancy Moses, September 3 2002)

Fun Suggestions . . .
Perform saucy somersaults for strangers; it’s free.

Deflower young virgins in order to extract their youthful spirits.

Throw ping-pong balls at that family of con artists, they live in your grandmother’s basement, they tend to become easily startled; especially the shy one who wears the tube socks on his arms.

Weave macramé pant-slings from found dental floss; the mint-flavored variety might just be the best route to take, color wise.

Convince yourself and your imaginary science tutor that sunbeams can, indeed, be removed (successfully) from cucumbers. If he expresses doubt, gently remind him that you haven’t been quite right since that waffle-maker incident.

Spill your glorious seed on a gigantic rock; slowly, carefully.

Administer nitrous oxide to kittens.

Also: Vamp in a spastic manner without music.

May I suggest that you perform an interpretive dance-number that somehow relates to your newfound affection for the word “yummy”?

Soul kiss your gorgeous image in a bathroom mirror.

Why are you giggling, can you not imagine that somebody loves you?

Touch your belly-button . . . it’s high-time that You pampered You.

With closed eyes and open mouth, pen a fanciful essay to be entitled: “Ladies and Gentlemen, A Pickle for the Knowing Ones!” Pen this essay in grape jam, your absolute favorite . . .

Make the “younger set” flip by travelling to church in a sheep-drawn mini-carriage. You will be wearing a veiled wimple. Your handsome, homosexual chauffeur: slightly tipsy from the dandelion wine, yet so elegant in those leather jodhpurs! Where did you find this gem? He looks future fantastic!

Take a day off from work, you deserve it!

Cook a gourmet meal without using your hands. Or food.

Spend an afternoon reclining on fluffy throw pillows, sipping hot cocoa. You are so comfy! Let your thoughts wander . . . try to imagine how you will eventually die. On the top of a Formica kitchen counter? In a rented Ford Explorer? In Potomac, Maryland, beneath the water tower with the declaration “Go Bulldogs” written across it? There are so many locations, you must be able to think of a few, no? In the basement of a Troubled Teen Center?

Place a call to a dim-witted stranger; talk to him or her about what you did last night, minus that trip to the convenience store for the odor-free deodorant.

Take a long, solitary walk in the woods. Pretend that you are being chased by a ferocious pack of backwoods clowns, one of whom is wearing flip-flops.

Make a stinky on your boss’s chair. How can life be so utterly delicious?

Nickname your genitals after the deceased. Recommendations: “Uncle Johnny,” “Aunt Melanie,” “Cousin Matt,” “Daddy.” The choice is all yours, please make the most of it, this is important.

Finally, treat yourself to an exotic massage. Then wash your hands thoroughly. A large wheel of cheese awaits in the kitchen. Do not make a fuss. This day is YOURS! How can YOU possibly not understand that?