Being human:
You can tell other real human beings by pinching them and noting the fleshy consistency. Fake, plasticine people will tend to stay in the pinched shape. Don't pinch them on the arse, though, because it could be illegal and lead to you being beaten by plasticine truncheons.
Real human beings have secret conclaves where they meet and discuss topics of the utmost import, like "where shall we have lunch?", and "have you ever had sex with a plasticine person?" Fake, plasticine people, on the other hand, usually talk about politics.
Saucy videos? Everyone in them are made of plasticine. Time to rethink that trip to the video store, eh, buster?
First Contact:
One thing to sort out right away is that you are actually dealing with beneficent aliens from Galactic Utopia Central and not some other aliens that stole their ship.
I'm willing to bet a substantial amount that the first thing aliens say won't be "Hey! I know, let's start up another religion". I think it will be more like *bubbley frothey glooo*, or perhaps an ultra-sonic yeep. That's why it's important to practice making weird noises at every possible occasion, like at work, in the supermarket, or during sex. Remember - "so I'll be ready when the aliens arrive" is a good excuse for practically anything, including this.
If an alien accidentally misses the secret headquarters of Earth's ruling cabal and lands on your front doorstep, bear in mind that tea and scones could be absolutely poisonous to their digestive system. Instead, try to ascertain their tastes by subtle signals like slavering or mandible excitement whenever small bipedal mammals are present, and then offer it up. After all, you can always have more kids, but first contact only comes once.
The Internet:
Take a 'what kind of x are you' quiz, where the value of x is inversely proportional to the complete lack of geekitude you possess. For those who are interested - I am the Swedish chef, Elmo, thunderbird 1, sociopathic, and a pair of old socks.
Hack into that huge government database and leave enough evidence to get arrested. Watch them try and pin something on you for writing 'I am a piggy and my name is Ripper' on your own permanent record.
Remain calm. Even if no one can tell you're a dog, they can probably tell if you're rabid..
Humility:
Learn a good recipe for humble pie - it tastes a hell of a lot better than crow. I think that's due to the lack of eyeballs in the diet of pie, but I could be mistaken, not having spent much time watching pie in the wild.
You must absolutely avoid making all-encompassing statements. Goes without saying really, because the moment you do you end up in the realm of paradox along with all those smart-arse philosophers. Have you ever tried having a conversation with Xeno? You wouldn't believe how long it takes him to get just half-way through a sentence. Not a good dinner party invite.
Once you're really good at humility, it's fun to play humility death-match because of the exceptionally high body count.
The protagonist of classical Greek literature:
I have often thought that it would have really sucked to be Oedipus - plucking out your eyes and only then noticing that nobody had invented braille yet - so you can't read books in bed while keeping your hands warm.
Lysistrata, Medea, Electra, Antigone - all kick-arse women - and yet only one has been made into a comic-book superhero! Surely we need more dead, baby-killing women who won't put out in comics today - or the genre will never be taken seriously.
It's bound to be a good plan to listen to the Chorus, because they usually have a fair idea what's going on, even if they are a bunch of musical frogs. If you saw a musical frog in real life - I bet you'd stop thinking about what colour to paint the pantry or whether to piss off some deity by announcing you can macrame better than they can long enough to pay it some serious attention.
Invisibility:
Don't just pick up a piece of wood and start swinging at the people that stole your lunch money. Plan, plan, plan. Think mid-range banks and a few jewellery stores, then work your way up to state secrets and top restaurants.
You know, if light isn't bouncing off your retina at all, how are you seeing? Didn't think of that did you, Mr smartypants invisible blind dude. It's not so great being the invisible except for bits of your eyeball person, is it?
Stop following me. I mean it.
Playing pool:
Pool is a game best played by sharks. However, because they have no arms you can usually beat them. Just don't try the "every movie with a killer fish in it gets fended off by a bit of wood between the jaws" trick because they really hate to be stereotyped and cues are expensive.
Much has been said about the 'sweet spot' - that between drinks time when you're sinking balls with reckless abandon, just before you're legless, and just after when you merely suck at pool. It's a myth. You suck at pool.
Undoubtedly the greatest victory on the pool table occurs when you kick the arse of someone that works in the establishment - because we all know hospitality workers are slackers who spend all their time practising. Otherwise they'd have real jobs, staring at computers all day, and getting momentarily excited by Elijah Wood and some other hobbits passing by their window carrying paper bags, or possibly conversations about how men *can* multitask because they can read the paper and say 'hmmm yes' simultaneously.
Public speaking:
Many people out there are more afraid of public speaking than death, which is odd, because death is just like going to sleep for a long time after, say, you've been brutally murdered, whereas public speaking isn't. I don't think anybody ever said "there are no atheists speaking in front of large groups of people" so get a grip.
Whatever you do - don't do the imagine people in their underwear thing. It's way too sexy which is a million miles from where you want to be, and you might accidentally imagine yourself in your underwear and bingo - welcome to the nightmare zone. Instead, imagine people listening to your speech, as that's much less metally taxing and trouser rumpling.
Some people like writing their speech out word for word - others just leave little keywords to remind themselves of what they're going on about. Personally, I write mine on my belly, because nothing breaks the ice with an audience faster than flashing my belly button. Strange, but true.
Curmudgeonitude:
Young people. Young People? Don't get me started on young people! With their txt mssgng and their big, wobbly, exposed midriffs, and androgeny pour l'homme. Good stint in the navy, that'd sort 'em out. Bit o' the old rum, sodomy and the lash.
In my day, sure, a few rugby players dressing up in tutus down at the clubrooms for the Christmas party - where's the harm? But nowadays just going to the pub is like Priscilla, Queen of the Desert exploded nearby. I may be forced to give up my daily brandy and cigar, and I will certainly be writing to the Times.
We all know how important it is to go to war and give one in the eye to the hun, but not many people fully understand the necessity for a war in our own neighbourhoods. There's a large group of people who need a right good sorting out, and it's impossible for God to do that if they're not dead. So grab that musket off the mantlepiece and let's go.
Fandom:
Always wear your least stain-covered jeans when you go to the convention so that cute guest of honour from that SF show you like will only have to overcome your hygiene issues in order to fall madly in love with you. Seriously, this happened to me once, so I know of what I speak. I can't mention any names, but it wasn't that muppet that looks like six-day-old dog poo, if you know what I mean.
Boasting about scoring with TV stars is a no-no. Comics professionals, on the other hand, are fair game, because everyone knows they're just hornbags.
One interesting thing about fandom is that people rise through the ranks. Yesterday's callow, sycophantic youth is tomorrow's callow, sycophantic media pop-tart, so it's important to be nice to almost everybody - though we're pretty sure you can make an exception for the author of "Hermoine and Ron get it on (as Smurfette watches)"
Happiness and Joy:
Always look on the positive side - that's the side that isn't all skanky and festering and smelling like somebody just vomited up urinal cakes.
If life sends you lemons, turn your frown upside-down and start up a rent-a-cliché business.
Remember, every cloud has a silver lining, which it sometimes wears on the outside so it can be a futuristic space cloud.
Celibacy:
I'm pretty sure sex is out of the question.
If you feel at all pressured to give in to societal standards and do the deed of darkness, remember this simple mantra: Thatcher and Limbaugh sitting in a tree. kay.eye.ess.ess.eye.en.gee.
Think of all the bonuses that celibacy gives you in life. There's.... Well, there's....Um,...you're more like the Pope than most people. Go, you good thing.
Haircuts:
Hiding in the dark and crying won't make it grow back any faster.
If you work in a place where the dress code permits you to wear a paper bag over your head, take full advantage of the situation. To diffuse any impertinent questions, write something on the front of it like "Head lice treatment in progress" or "My other bag is a Prada".
If forced to expose your new 'do to the world, a good trick is to divert attention elsewhere - perhaps by sticking a salami down your trousers (for a girl) or alternately (for a guy) sticking two salamis down your trousers.
Domestic cleanliness:
It's always your turn to do something or other, so find a nice big pile of rubbish and hide in it. Now wait until someone gets so sick of your pile that they clean it up and then jump out at them yelling "Garbage Surprise!". It could take a while for them to show, so don't forget to bring a magazine.
More stuff than you might expect is biodegradable (although, oddly, skeletons aren't) and what isn't is likely to be edible to a dog, or, in a pinch, a goat. Make this fun fact part of your domestic cleanliness strategy, perhaps by renting a goat on rubbish days. You could call him Billy the Kid and make jokes about how horny he is, though you don't have to.
Remember, if you don't happen to have a dishwasher you might just as well go and end it all now - by buying a dishwasher (or shooting yourself, thought that may negatively impact overall domestic cleanliness).
Sadism:
Whenever I'm feeling low, I whistle a happy tune. I can't whistle in tune, however, and this really annoys the people around me, which perks me up no end because I am a sadist.
Sadism has gotten a pretty bad name for itself recently - mostly the fault of the Marquis de Sade. Imagine how much better it would be if he was the Marquis de Strawberry.
Strawberryism is about more than merely enjoying inflicting pain on other people, though. Just not much. But, truly, many people do forget that Strawberryism performs a valuable service to humanity. For example - where it not for the excessive strawberryism of the Backstreet Boys inflicting aural pain upon the unsuspecting, society as a whole might waste time listening to the radio, diverting valuable production funds from cheesy television and leaving me with nothing to watch on yet another lonely Saturday night. Sniff.
Rock and Roll:
Rock and roll is bourbon, heroin and Patsy Kensit - not shandy, Hormone Replacement Therapy and Margaret Thatcher. Yes, I realise Patsy has already had a good innings, but rock and roll is no spring chicken either, when you think about it.
Sunglasses aren't just a fashion statement, they're venetian blinds for the windows of your soul. They're the velvet rope around the Mona Lisa. They're wrinkle preventative.
When trashing hotel rooms, leave the mini-bar until last. That way, if you get tired heaving the TV out the window, you can have a drink and a breather before moving on to the stereo. Don't keep drinking and pass out though, because that's so New Kids on the Block.
When life sucks:
Take it out on your pimples. Everybody has some somewhere. Even if you just had your face ironed you can squeeze the bit between nostril and cheek for some curly pus action. Extra points if you hit blood. If you're lucky enough to have an understanding partner - squeeze theirs too. In fact, just walk down the street offering pimple-popping to people.
Go for a walk in the park and whistle a happy tune on a dog whistle, then threaten to call dog control if Fido doesn't stay the hell away from you. Extra points for doing this when there's a dog around. If you have an understanding partner with a dog, take it with you and have it destroyed just to show you're not kidding. Make sure the dog knows how to play dead, or you may have to destroy it for real to get the effect, which probably won't improve your quality of life.
Get a tremendous amount of chocolate and ice-cream and sweeties, dress up as Santa Claus and head down to the gym to give it away. Sure it's not Christmas and you don't belong to the gym, but it's Santa Claus - who's going to bar him from entry? - he can just go down the chimney. Extra points if you make an emaciated stick-person cry. If you have an understanding partner, you suck.
Medicine:
Although it might seem like a good idea to glue cornflakes to your mouth and pretend you have herpes, it very rarely is.
Doctors are extremely well trained and it behooves us all to afford them the measure of respect that their experience and education warrants. If they stuff up, you can do it with a big blunt stick.
It's extremely important to finish all of your prescription, in case bacteria develop resistance and become super-bacteria. In some countries, super-bacteria have become rife, and the skies are full of bacteria in spandex, leaping around foiling the best conceived plans of harmless multi-national pharmaceutical companies.
Mad science
If you're not involved in a line of research where you get to stab chickens and decapitate goats, I think it could be time for a change of direction. Offhand, I can't think of one Mad Scientist that has managed to take over the world without these important skills under their belts, even if they did control giant robots.
Remember - a tidy laboratory greatly undermines your chances of a terrible chemical accident that will give you amazing special abilities. Quite frankly, if you don't have some amazing special abilities, most other Mad Scientists will laugh at you, leaving only your beautiful daughter to give you any sense of self-esteem, and you just know she's going to fall in love with the first do-gooder who washes up on your remote island, especially if he has a square jaw and rugged features, and then they'll conspire against you so your diabolical plans to develop a ninja-monkey-rocket to hold the world at ransom will end up with you being atomised in your own ninja-monkey generator and where's your precious self-esteem then, loser?
Not all Mad Scientists choose to take over the planet, however. It's perfectly possible to be mad in myriad other ways that don't get you killed for plot reasons. Rather than megalomania and paranoia, have you considered the benefits of absent-mindedness, perhaps with a light dose of oedipal complexity and a slight hint of dendrophobia (fear of trees)? If you absolutely must achieve world domination, it may be best to develop alternate personalities so you have someone else to blame. Remember - if all else fails - have sex with a decapitated goat. It worked for my Uncle Toby.
Being an egg:
Get on top of a bunch of other eggs and then jump around so your shell wobbles. Bonus points for doing it on a cooking show.
Avoid boiling water. I can't stress this one enough.
Eventually, the time will come when you have to break out of your shell. Don't be afraid, it's an exciting new world out there, filled with opportunity and promise. It's a chance for you to discover who you are and be all you can be. For you to make friends, lovers, admirers. You will be rich beyond your egg-bound dreams, free to chase the endless rainbows of possibility. Unless you're a battery chicken, in which case it pretty much sucks to be you.
April Fools Day (or justified paranoia in the urban environment):
Trust no one. That's not your mother on the end of the phone - that's a shock jock from The Morning Zoological Society trying to see if he can get you to stick your head in a bucket of formaldehyde. That's not your boss, that's a suit with a balloon on top and a tape player in the pocket. And it's certainly not time to go to work yet - your spouse just set the clock forward a couple of hours. But you're hip to their little game: tell them all to fuck off.
Whoops - maybe that was your mother/boss/spouse. There's such a thing as overly cautious, you know. Damage control. Clearly the best thing to do is to get them back with a prank of your own - perhaps wait until they enter the room while you're holding the phone with your back to them and say "I can't talk now, X is around...yes, the blind fool...but that's mur...ok...I'm not wearing any as it happens...cocaine, I think...all right then, goodbye". Then hang up and appear to notice them. Classic! Any moment now you'll all be looking back on the whole thing and laughing.
Ok, so you lost your inheritance/job/partner and your life is crashing around your ears. Cold? Maybe burn some of those outstanding bills you don't have a chance of paying. That bottle of whiskey is looking rather seductive - it'll keep you company 'till the rent runs out. Now go back to bed and curl up in a fetal position, shot glass at the ready. Congratulations. You're now perfectly qualified for a job as a humourist. Happy April Fools Day.
Enlightenment:
When deciding if you're going to go for full enlightenment now, or whether you're going to postpone it in order to help all sentient beings get there too, think about this: If everybody goes for the latter option, it's just going to take frickin' forever, isn't it?
Do not assume you will recognise your own enlightenment. See that guy with the Groucho mask heading the conga line? It could be him.
You must be like clowns, riding the unicycle of samsara (the wheel of birth and death) yet remaining perfectly balanced. If a big red nose and giant shoes helps, I say go for it.
Enjoying life:
Take time to smell the flowers. Take all day. Sod work. Who cares if you lose your job, get kicked out of your house and your partner leaves you? You've got all these flowers to sniff. Also, it helps if you're not allergic to pollen.
Start writing the Great (insert adjectival form of the name of your country here) Novel, this time without having Buffy, Capt. Picard, or Scully as one of the central characters. Willow's ok, though, as I think I ably demonstrated with my chart-topping Zen and the Art of Sexual Fantasies about Gay Witches Played by Alyson Hannigan.
Learn a new skill and use it to fleece gullible idiots out of their hard-earned cash. I recommend homeopathy, television evangelism and automotive repair.
Budgeting:
Write down a budget. Pin it up on the wall. Ignore it. Budgets are there to make you feel good for having one. Paying attention to it, on the other hand, can drastically cut into your levels of sex, drugs and rock and roll and make you one of those awful people who always remembers every detail of the time they didn't have very much fun.
It's important to get horrendously into debt every once in a while, but only if you can pay it off immediately, so that you can grow a credit rating. In other words - only ever borrow money if you don't need it, so that you can borrow more money that you don't need later on in life.
At the end of every day, put all your small change into a bag or a sock. After a while, you'll find that you have accumulated enough to go into a bank and hit the teller with it unless they give you more money.
Being a big, kick arse Japanese robot:
The name is important. Good names are Voltoth, Omegawat, and General Zorkolian. Bad names include Tim the Pixy, Dishwasher and Beatmetoapulp
If you can swing it, be the robot's head, as it's always a much smaller target. On no account be the arm as you're likely to be ripped off and used to bludgeon your team mates (of which they are always resentful).
Invest heavily in armourguard, because no-one admires shitty looking giant robots
Communicating with the dead:
Harry Houdini swore that should there be any way to communicate with the living from 'the other side', he would find it. Thus, if your chosen medium makes excuses about not being able to contact Harry Houdini, it's time to choose another. Harry is clearly bending over backwards (in a metaphorical sense, I don't think he'll be escaping his coffin that way) to get a word in, and if it's still no go with that to work with then chances are you're buying a one way ticket to fool/money partedness.
If you do manage to have a chat with a few dead people, you should ask them to keep their voices down because I bet a whole lot of the others are just trying to get some sleep. Somewhere else in the spirit realm it's 3:00am and I don't think they have soundproofing, so show some consideration.
How come mediums are always talking about recently departed family and friends? What if you were just some lonely guy who was really into talkback radio before you died? You'd be showing up every time someone was doing readings. "Forget about Aunt Bootsie, I wanna talk about Dukakis". And how come those family and friends never say anything like "It's bloody hot down here, and this red hot poker isn't doing my hemorrhoids any good at all."?
Alcohol:
The word 'pixilated' means 'drunk', in the sense of 'away with the pixies'. 'Pixelated', on the other hand, just means something all computer imagey and has nothing whatsoever to do with funky fey folk who like to party. They sound almost exactly the same, though, which explains a lot about graphic designers.
There are few problems in life that cannot be solved by the liberal application of toasted cheese sandwiches and vodka, with the possible exception of the aftermath of too much toasted cheese sandwiches and vodka.
One really good bar trick that you can amaze your friends with is to walk up to the bar person, buy a drink, and then consume it. Repeat this for a while, then, when you've had enough, you go home by taxi. The secret is that you're not actually buying alcohol - you're buying rat piss! Gets them every time.
Christmas:
Don't start drinking until at least 11:00am. Not even if Grandma does - in fact, especially not if Grandma does. You don't want to end up snogging her like uncle Phil did last year.
There's nothing quite like waking up by yourself in a house on Christmas day, unwrapping the lone present under the tree, and then giving it to cat. Especially if it's a catnip mouse.
Eat yourself silly (you probably knew this one already, but it bears repeating). Now is the time to lay in fat to keep you going through the leaner months ahead. If your food isn't tickling your uvula by the end of the day - you're not trying hard enough.
Loving life:
I love it when the universe points out that I can be a bit of an bastard, because no shit, Sherlock. You also get to say "Oi, universe, you all-encompassing git, tell me something I don't know, or just sod off." This often leads to being mowed down by a stampede of drunken elephants, but that just proves my point. Bastardry is universal.
I love it when the drugs kick in.
I love it when you're doing some Christmas shopping with a friend and you see his ex working in the store with a santa hat that says Ho!Ho!Ho! and he says "I wonder how they got one with her nickname on it".
unLife:
If you're a mummy, I think it's really important to have a good supply of clean bandages. Appearances count.
Zombies - have you considered a career in neurosurgery. It could cut down on the amount of lumbering you have to do by a significant percentage.
Skeletons, it's time to ditch the scimitars, and get with the 21st century. Automatic weapons are the way to go. And maybe you should start smoking while you're at it, because that would look pretty cool.
Megastardom:
You should eventually go off and have an affair with Tristam the Wombat Boy so that the tabloids have something true to write about. After all, they're the ones that keep your star shining, so it's good to give something back.
Never reveal your true feelings about Oprah - because whichever way that goes, it's going to be ugly.
At the end of a hard day's megastardom, nothing is more relaxing than sliding into a warm pool of naked admirers.
Aging:
Dye your hair grey and shave '2 old 2 die!' on the back of your head.
Wander into newsagents and declare to all the covers of photography magazines 'For God's sake, girl, put some clothes on. You'll catch your death. Oh, very well. If you if that's the way you want to play it, you whippersnapper'. Then strip.
Drive to one of the youth hangouts in your area, stand in the middle of a large group, and show them how to shoot up.
Once you can no longer look after yourself, simply stride off into the deep bush and starve, carrying a notebook filled with details on where in the sewers you hid your 'life savings'.
Spam:
They pay people to find valid email addresses. Never put your email address on the Internet, your business card, or on a piece of paper that might end up in the rubbish somewhere. Only ever mention it in soundproof rooms to people you either know you can trust, or who are shortly about to be executed, or both.
Never reply to a piece of spam. This is how they learn you are a real person. Not even if it says replying can make you rich. Not even if it says replying can get you a hot date with a scanned image from the 1984 June issue of playboy. Especially not if it says 4475UuQy8-336YmoY5209LQpN8-891ZbIg482l35 in Korean, which an alarming amount of it does for some reason - but trust me - you do not want to know what that reason is, especially if you're fond of kittens.
Never use the Internet in any way, shape or form. I don't know about you, but when I worked as an Internet Developer I found this made my job a whole lot easier. And shorter, come to think of it.
Recreation:
Looking for a hobby? Have you thought about the wonderful world of food massage? Did you know that every part of a banana can map to one part of the adult male body? Or that cheese manipulation can cure the common cold? Or that by sticking pins into corn cobs you can alleviate arthritic aches and pains? To say nothing of melons, because, quite frankly, I'm starting to get a bit uncomfortable with the way this is panning out.
Too many cooks spoils the broth, which can suck, because we all know how good it is to come home after a hard day at the office secure in the knowledge that waiting for us is a nice broth. But how many cooks is too many? Thankfully, modern science has come to the rescue with a definitive answer. Five.
It's important to take a stance on recreational dugs. My own stance is 'pretty wobbly and heading home for a bit of a lie down'.
Food:
Do not eat an entire salami in one sitting. Salami has a highly evolved sense of revenge.
Invent some salami wrapping that actually comes off easily. You could be the first salami billionaire. Think of the machismo in that, eh? What's sexier than salami? Cucumber? Don't make me laugh.
If you are a vegetarian, salami can still be your friend, thanks to tofu, pepper and roll-your-own tobacco (smoked liberally to disguise the taste). One vegetarian friend of mine swears by it, and he has a black belt in tofu.
Being a teddy bear:
Go with the bow tie - you're the one thing on the face of the planet that can get away with wearing one, so flaunt it.
You're allowed another name if that stupid kid keeps calling you 'Teddy'.
Contact lenses that make it seem like you have real eyes might seem a jolly jape at the time, but in reality it's exceptionally freaky. Don't be that bear.
Etiquette in difficult situations:
Don't eat with your elbows. I can't stress this strongly enough.
Find out if the people you are dining with are napkin people, serviette people, handi-towel people, or sleeve people. Adjust your behaviour accordingly, and, just as an aside, maybe you should start hanging out more with actual humans.
Dinner conversation. This one is always tough. Don't mention politics, religion, that time you slept with the host's daughter, how poorly the wine goes with the mains, your incessant rectal itch, farting in general, or how pollution is finally freeing the world from the tyranny of the whale. Unless your host does first, in which case you may show them the error of their ways quickly and with aplomb. The true art of dinner conversation lies not in holding forth intelligently on a wide range of subjects, but on saying as little as possible coated with a ludicrous degree of wit and style. Observe: "How about that pack of skanky losers we call a football team?" "Skanky losers? Had I a ha'peny for every unsullied maid that uttered that sentiment, I could afford a shiny new ha'peny. Ah ha." Quick, pithy, and virtually meaningless - just don't say it with a mouth full of mashed potatoes.
Not being involved in war:
Cuddle a friend - a good friend, not of those fair-weather acquaintances that always complains when you eat tuna.
Buy a new book, maybe about the ferocious knitting koalas of Kuala Lumpur, or a historical romance about a young girl who bravely survived the brutality of the sixteenth century, with only her odd lack of smallpox scars and her innate psychic ability to get her through.
Learn to cook - or, if you already now how to cook, invite me out for dinner, because, after fifteen years without learning, I'm pretty damn hungry.
Special bonus tip for those who really want to empathise with the lads and lasses overseas:
Take a shit load of speed.
Continuing irrelevancy in the face of world changing events:
First, and most importantly, nobody mention the war.
Second, buy weebles. Scan discount bins and garage sales and flea markets until you have lots and lots and lots of weebles. Proudly display them on your mantlepiece in all their not-falling-downess. If you absolutely cannot find any weebles at all, try old petitions for world peace.
Third, form a large international body based around the victors of world war two and some other people drawn out of a hat. Be bloody, bold and make some resolutions.
School:
Don't swap sandwiches with anyone named Stinky Pete or Roachmouth.
If the other kids laugh at you, take control of the situation by threatening them with your daddy's revolver.
Demand to be taught how to read so you can start getting playboy for the articles (or playgirl... I dunno, do they even have articles?)
Winter:
Have a traditional winter prunefeast. Invite some people you don't know very well. That guy who lives in the cardboard box at the end of the street. A lost child. Some neighbourhood pets. Play party games and award edible prizes you made yourself out of prunes. Finally, lock the bathroom door..
Go to some radio station and wait for them to start reading the weather. Immediately rush the audio booth, and offer your own weather report - then stick your arm out the window, wait for its component water molecules to freeze, and bring it back in. Now snap it off at the end and wave it at the radio guy shouting "Here's your weather Mr Meteor freaking ologist". Try to keep a straight face, even though its radio.
Pass the cold nights by planning a vigilante raid on Jack Frost's fortress of freezitude. Then take the sucker down, and demand to know why he's been nipping at your toes. Bring Frosty the snowman for additional muscle. If Jack refuses to receive it like a fictional anthropomorphism, bring out the flamethrower (mine's called ChillBane). He'll probably escape, but that's OK, because I don't like to hold a grudge.
Koans:
A darkened one sat in front of the enlightened one, and asked how one attained the definite article. An enlightened one answered with, "I could never tell a difference". In that moment, the darkened one lit up and they all had a puff.
If all is reducible to the one, who does the one call for a night of pool playing, cigarettes and whiskey?
What is your face before your parents were proved right?
Pirates:
Instead of a wooden leg, why not try one of pure stainless steel?
If you suddenly start dancing and singing about a sailor's life, or the Pirate King, you have fallen into a parallel dimension where showtunes are real. Don't panic. Most people escape within fifty years, but time is distorted in such a way that it seems like five hundred, yet you don't age, because it's only makeup. Many famous pirates have had this happen to them, including Captain Pugwash and Bluebeard.
In olden days, pirates were measured by how many men they could fit on a dead man's chest, but lately this important pirate tradition has fallen into disuse. Contemporary pirates are measured by impersonal measuring machines, which can be cold, so wear your longjohns.
Trials:
Look the jury in the eye, it makes it seem less like television.
If your lawyer hasn't slept with the prosecution yet, demand to know why not. This is the twenty-first century, for god's sake. What are you paying them for?
You never did it, and you will never do it again.
Finding flatmates:
When looking for a flatmate, it doesn't help to have a list of questions prepared. While it may seem very 'Shallow Grave' to ask "religion: a) a necessary evil b) necessary c) evil" chances are you're going to get answers like a) I'm a philosophy student and that question is crap b) I can tell you haven't felt the lord in your life c) is your cat a virgin? Well, it's not my cat, so I can't really say. Maybe. It certainly seems frustrated as heck.
Never let a real estate agent choose the wording for your ad. Unless he's also the landlord and wants to pay for the privilege. So he thinks "uptown villa with palatial rooming extravaganza opportunity" is good copy. So what? That's thirty bucks in your pocket you'd never otherwise see again. And it's his fault if nobody answers.
Never, ever, let someone move into your flat because you think they're in to you. You're wrong. You must always, always wait until they move out, when the path of dysfunction is not littered with the hatred-wracked bodies of those in immediate surrounds. You'll still end up as the rat-faced demon of their personal social pantheon, but at least the washing up is their responsibility.
Good Eatin':
On no account learn anything on the topic of food. Ignorance is bliss - especially when something is crawling across your plate and towards your fork.
You get a particularly delicious flavour that can really make a meal from foodstuffs that used to be able to read.
On the Internet - nobody knows you just ate your pet.
The beginning of winter:
It's vitally important not to blow your brains out through your nose during the first instance of the winter sniffles. Should this happen, run, don't walk to your doctor - assuming you still have motor functions, otherwise you're pretty well stuffed. Bummer.
Many birds fly south for the winter, except for penguins who are already as far south as they can go and so no longer need to fly. Consider emulating them (not the penguins) and heading for warmer climes, which can be found anywhere there is frequent lava activity.
If forced to stay for the duration, the time will pass more quickly if you take up one of the many winter sports on offer. You can't say it won't be fun to be on a wet field in on a cold day up to your shins in freezing mud chasing some shaped ball or another around, either with a stick or not - because no one will believe you. To be honest, I have no idea why as it makes perfect sense to me.
