Category Archives: Letters

Dear Woman I am Going to Marry: My Bed’s Not Made

I don’t mean to be an asshole and tell you how to do your job. I know that you’re doing the best you can with what you have. Now I wouldn’t be with you if you were a smartard, so I won’t chalk this up to stupidity, or otherwise ‘spacing’ on this. However, there are certain things that can’t ever go unnoticed. An unmade bed is one of those things.

See, I am a firm believer in breaking in one’s surroundings. Therefore, I see little point in making my own bed. However, you are always trying to impress my parents, and that would be good practice. I’m a little torn here.

My father is a firm believer in the Bed Making Unicorn Fairy of Justice (cousin to the Meal Making Leprechaun of Truth). For him to see that you made a bed would blow his mind, may make him crap his pants. I would suggest bringing an extra pair of 38 waist briefs along. You would effectively double your ‘wow’ factor in being an intermediary for the Streakfree Fairy of Purity. He’s a little supersticious.

My mother is a little more difficult to impress as she is not huge into the fairy deal. Turns out she has been a fairy in training for some time. Also related, she made my bed a bunch when I was a kid when she became frustrated with my lack of fairyness. That is not a homosexual jab, folks. That’s just saying I wasn’t cut out to be the Streakfree, Meal Maker, nor the Bed Making Unicorn fairy. I’m just too lazy for such tireless deeds.

See, my problem is I get tired.

When I get tired, there are several key points to note.

1 – I want to be comfortable.

2 – I have trouble sleeping.

3 – I’m scared of dying a la The Pulse

To address the first point, I see a lot of effort not in making a bed, but rather in making the nightly nest of solitude to my liking. To dispel the myth, it’s not like I refuse to make my bed either. I will when the the situation calls for it. That is, times when my parents come to visit, if company stays the night, or if the Predator is on the loose, I will make my bed. Each scenario dictates a made bed, and I’d prefer not to go into it. But I wrote it, so it’s gospel, so deal. Bam. In any of the three cases, I do not want to make the bed.

I like my covers piled in a post-cocoon phase fashion. This way, when I return to my bedrotory I may slip back into the cocoon, and temporarily hybernate for science. And by science, I mean I get rest so I can rip/tear ass everywhere. Spending energy every night re-creating said cocoon is both a waste of energy and a drain on our economy. Here’s the math:

For every minute I stay up beyond my allotted bed time, I spend that much less money on things to throw at passersby. For example, I did not get a full 6 hours sleep last night. So, instead of buying a dozen donuts, I instead spent the money on coffee. The only trickle down benefits of my drinking coffee are for toilet paper companies. However, had I had the energy to chuck donuts for a bit, the ripple effect would touch many industries at home and abroad.

Allow me to explain.

A car turns off of the highway on an offramp going 55MPH/88.5KPH. During deceleration, a donut is masterfully hurled at the vehicle, colliding with the windshield in an indirect impact. The sugar crusted, and jelly filled (raspberry) pastry explodes across the windshield. A master of the automobile, the driver immediately turns on their windshield wipers, effectively smearing the donuts delicious contents across the windshield. The ever careful driver increases their rate of deceleration until they come to a complete stop. At this point, the operator of the vehicle employs their command of the English language as well as their field scouting abilities. The driver exits the vehicle and begins shouting in tongues, spinning on their heels and flailing their arms wildly. This technique is regarded in the survival community as the ‘Wut-thefukmudderfuker’. In the throes of the ‘Wut-thefukmudderfuker’, the vehilcle operator says some key phrases in English that will dictate the ultimate outcome of this everyday sceneario. For this example, the following are used:

* Alright you punkass, show your face or I’m calling the cops!

* I know where you live, and when you’re sleeping tonight, I’m going to break into your house and poop in your mouth while you’re sleeping!

* I called the cops.

This is where the story ends, and it may not seem like a happy ending. Or maybe it is, and you’re sick. And that’s why we’ll be BFF. If you’re a renob, or you haven’t seen a teenager in a decade, that means ‘Best Friends Forever (You magnificent beast)’. The parenthetical is implied.

I digress…

But hey! Just look at how much I stimulated America!


I keep the local bakery employed. They love that I love their buns.

Windshield Wipers

Classic mistake. Especially when dealing with raspberry jelly, you are dealing with a substance your car simply cannot handle without machetes strapped to the front of your vehicle. That said, raspberry jelly sneaks past your defenses and its seeds are little ninja bombs of justice. They effectively disable the windshield wipers, keeping them from wiping flush with the windshield. Jelly also dries quickly, and when that driver thinks they are going to just use their clean function for their windshield, oh boy howdy, they’re in for a surprise. In optimal conditions, the wiper blades will stick to the windshield and the rubber will rip right off.


This is often overlooked. In a panic/crisis situation, a good driver will always have a knife of some sort to cut the seatbelt holding them in the seat. It is absolutely crucial for the driver in this scenario to do so. They wouldn’t want those ‘punkasses’ to get on their ‘skateboards’ and get all ‘crunk up in ‘the hood’ with their ‘LOLcats’ and their ‘Numa Numa’ and their ‘Red Bulls’.

Car Paint Job

Since I also assume that someone who would actually do this must also be a master of stealth. So, I will use myself in this short example. Since I am sleek and fleet afoot, I would be able to sneak away, completely undetected, and be eating Easy Mac in a tree miles away before they begin spouting obscenities. Their natural reaction would be to syphon gas out of their vehicle, drizzle some out across the hood of their car and light it on fire as they dance and wail and flex atop their now beaten metal beast. The flames will kiss the sky signaling my triumph. And as I sit in that tree, playing my PS3, I will see the flames as they wave from afar. We did good, donut. We did good.


Cops, much like ambulances, perscription drugs, and prositutes all come at a serious cost. Their vehicles take fuel, their salaries must be paid, and they need new computers in their cars. Just by calling the cops out to witness a shirtless human scratching at their chest and elbow dropping the roof of their car like a baboon, the person paid for processing, being released from custody, a future court date, AND a new shirt for one of the officers (NOTE: Assuming the mad driver chose to fling feces at an officer as a sign of dominance over the car).


Of course, by the time they get there, the fire would have died down and everyone taken a turn urinating on the fire. However, getting the fire department there would cost a pretty penny. Those trucks are massive. And it’s all fun and games until they need to nail the driver with the firehose to subdue them. Truly this jelly donut windshield fiasco did a number on this unwitting driver.


Naturally, the driver will need to clean the clothes they haven’t shredded in rage. Same for the emergency workers.

All of that money generated because I got to sleep in my uncorrupted cocoon.

What I’m trying to say here is don’t make the bed, so I have enough energy to huck donuts at people. I noticed you didn’t make my bed, so this is my thank you. And you didn’t just not do it for me, you did it not… did… for science!

Sincerely Yours,