Congratulations Worm!

Today you’re a giant psychic worm who lives on a planet that consists almost entirely of sand who tends to like wrecking machinery.

Today you’re going to see a pod of other worms making their way through the deep duneseas of Arrakis.

“HEY GUYS!” you’ll shout to your worm friends.

They’ll act like you didn’t say anything and keep worming along to wherever they’re worming.  Probably some place sandy.

You’ll sigh.

“Whatever, dicks.”

You won’t realize that you’re the only giant psychic worm in this particular area who communicates verbally with others, because you’re not very perceptive and even though no one’s ever spoken to you in life ever (except for screaming people attached to or around the machinery you wreck) your haven’t caught on that you are well and truly alone in the world.

You’ll decide to burrow your way up to the ice caps and hang around water for a while, even though it can kill you, just so you can feel a little alive for a change.

It is difficult to be a giant worm with the power of speech

Congratulations Worm!

Congratulations Awesome Rabbit!

Today you’re a rabbit.  But not just any rabbit.

You’re a mid-sized dutch bunny, about four pounds and a foot and a half in length.  You clomp around willy nilly and tend to startle at things that you shouldn’t necessary be startled for and remain calm at times when panic is appropriate.  You have a habit of peeing on annoying people and click your teeth together when you’re scratched in the right fashion, a hooking gesture that encompasses the back of your head and the space just underneath your neck.  Your fur is black and white, patterned in a way that make it look like you’re wearing a crudely fashioned black mask and a pair of black bloomers without a shirt.

You are quite adept at escaping and have, on occasion, been known to stand up on your hind legs.

You once face humped a young male rabbit who strongly resembled Robert Smith of the Cure into submission during  a brief period of cohabitation.

Today you’re going to sit and eat some hay.  Then take a nap.  Then eat some hay again.  Later, you’ll eat food pellets, followed by a little more hay.  Then another nap.  Followed by a frenzy of activity, then more hay.  After that you’ll be lifted out of the basement enclosure where you live to watch an episode of Blue Planet about eels.  You’ll be quite puzzled by the concept of eel at first.  Then you’ll grow distracted and begin hopping around the room where the eels are eeling on the screeny screen.  You’ll find some black tubes underneath one of the people-sitters and nibble on them to see if they’re tasty. They won’t be, but you’ll keep nibbling to see if there’s something tasty inside because, hey, you never know.

About mid-way through the cable it’ll taste sparky and your fur will stand on end and the eels will stop and all the people will get angry for a few minutes.  You’ll stop chewing on the cables and just hide under the people-sitter and watch them cautiously until they calm down.  Then you’ll clomp out and into the Curly Haired One’s arms and go into the Bright Place and eat a carrot over the course of fifteen minutes while your claws clatter across the floor.  You’ll get frustrated and pee in the corner and the people will laugh again and then pick you up and towel you off in yellowtowel (their word for it) and then carry you back down to the basement enclosure, where you’ll resume eating hay, considering your next course of action: frenzy of activity or nap.

Congratulations Awesome Rabbit!

Congratulations Bosom Buddies Fan 69!

Online dating is tough. Especially when your profile is designed to proudly announce your love of the seminal 1980 sitcom that launched Tom Hanks’ career and the act of performing oral sex on a partner who is also performing oral sex on you.  It’s not that these things aren’t universally beloved: they are!  But they aren’t necessarily things you announce about yourself upon meeting.

That means your OkayCupid profile, which primarily centers around your love of 80s TV and a sense of sexual openness, has been a barren wasteland of no messages for nigh on three months now.  You take quizzes and answer questions and find matches, but none of them seem to pan out and become dates.

But today you’re going to get a message from a young woman.  Her profile picture will show her stretching out a t-shirt as big as it can go, making a mockery of the concept of obesity, as she beams outward at the world.  The shirt will have a screenprinting of Balki and Larry embracing uncomfortably.  Her other pictures will consist mostly of her wrapped in blankets in front of televisions.

Hey, her message will proudly announce, I’d love to hang out with you and drink beers and maybe watch TV if you’re down please let me know on here you seem cool!

Her frantic sentence will warm your heart.  Her come hither look will make you message her back right away with a:

i’d love to meet you

and then two nights later you’ll be there at her house in Southeast Portland, a six pack of Deschutes in one hand, a nervous smile on your face.

You’ll sit on that couch and watch Night Rider and Three’s Company and reaching over to her knee after three beers and letting your hand rest there underneath her hand and then letting her lean in and awaiting the moment before the moment where PerfectStranger88 lets her lips rest on yours and for a moment the television of the 80s isn’t the only endearingly stupid thing in the room because the two of you will, for a few moments, become the kind of people we love and find annoying instead of the kind of people who just annoy the shit out of us.

Congratulations Bosom Buddies Fan 69!

Congratulations on Ruining Spiderman!

We all thought Sam Raimi did a pretty good hatchet job on the last Spiderman movie.  Adding more musical scenes than fight scenes, building the dumbest, most extravagant imaginable setpieces and stringing them together in a nonsensical plot that even the most diehard Spiderman fans couldn’t defend.  But it turns out that, nope, he didn’t quite pull it off and yep, people would still like to make a Spiderman movie.

Seeing this, you did what any good person would do: you up and ruined Spiderman as a film franchise.  Step one: you hired yourself as a director.  Excellent choice there.  John Carpenter’s Spiderman might’ve had some curve appeal, and Tyler Perry’s Spiderman would’ve been a box office smash.  Shit, with Tyler Perry playing Spiderman it would’ve been more than just a box office smash; it would’ve been a masterpiece.  You were the only person we could hire who was this capable of squandering on-screen chemistry and ham-handedly constructing action scenes out of flash cuts.

The next step was to hire an incredibly talented cast and crew, and then hand them the worst script ever.  Check there.

Step three was to direct Andrew Garfield to act like Ben Schwartz’s character Jean Ralfio from Parks and Recreation.  Once you stumbled upon that element of the film, you knew you were all set to absolutely destroy the Spiderman movie franchise that Universal had struggled so hard to retain.

But you done fucked up, son.  You forgot how dumb people are.  Your last name, Webb, and the overall handsomeness of everyone involved in the production, paired with the fact that people just don’t know what good movies are anymore meant that The Amazing Spiderman was a box office and critical success.  People praised Andrew Garfield’s handsomeness and the idea that Emma Stone might actually speak to a movie reviewer or viewer as two of the film’s strongest suits.

So now you’ve got to make another Spiderman movie.  You’ve already used up the best terribly stupid ideas like “lizard bombs” and “tattoo hunts.”  And Spiderman can’t get any more annoying, so you can’t make a plot centered around trying to develop his terribly established character.  So we recommend going the boring route: just have Spiderman shop for groceries for around ninety minutes.  Then have him fight the best Spiderman villain ever: Typhoid Mary.

We’re not entirely sure what she does, but we’ve got one word: tits.  And three more words: Scarlett Johansen’s tits.

We think you’ll do just fine.

Congratulations on Ruining Spiderman!

Congratulations on Dying While Eating a Blizzard!

Today, after exiting the Dairy Queen in downtown Lindstrom, located just down the road from the world’s largest water tower in the shape of a Swedish teapot and just up the road from the famed downtown Lindstrom Swedish Bakery, you’re going to immediately eating the Blizzard you acquired.  It’ll be a custom creation, spawned by your own foul imagination: three kinds of cookie, paired with cookie dough in the thickest choco-vanilla swirl ice cream ever conceived.  It’ll be so good, so attention getting, that you won’t be able to put it down after taking even a single bite.

This means you’ll be driving with zero hands, since it takes two hands to eat a Blizzard.  And anyone who’s ever driven in any place knows that driving without hands is ill advised even under the best conditions.  In Lindstrom, near the Dairy Queen, it’s particularly ill-advised because of a conspicuous stop sign at a major intersection.  This stop sign will add to the challenge of pulling off a left hand turn without any hands.  Paired with an incoming freight truck, prepared to deliver thousands of to-be-pressed apples to Lindstrom’s bakery, it will make the normal exercise of turning and moving your car through traffic all but impossible.

You’ll die, spoon pressed into your mouth, Blizzard splayed about the car, about your body.  As you perish the paramedic who fishes your mangled form out of the car will hear your last words:

“Try…some…of…the…Blizzard…if you can…”

Then you’ll die, and go to a sphere of hell which is exactly like Lindstrom except the Dairy Queen has permanently closed and the apple tarts are all just so-so at the bakery.

Congratulations on Dying While Eating a Blizzard!