Eight Ways To Get The Most Out Of Life

Everyone wants to be happy in life. And you know what? Everyone can be! Just follow the eight simple steps below, and soon you’ll be on your own private cloud nine.

1. Be incredibly wealthy

What’s that you say? You’re still trying to pay off your college debt? Well, whose fault is that, Mr. I-Wasn’t-Born-Into-A-Family-Fortune McNoTrustFund? If you don’t have cash, though, don’t worry! You can always bypass this crippling shortcoming. All you have to do is…

2. Be exceptionally smart

We’re talking like top 0.1% of the population here. On second thought, maybe that’s asking just a bit too much. Here, we’ll compromise: Top 49%. Slightly above-average. How’s that? Doable? No? In that case, save your dessert paste for later and pay attention to the next step.

3. Be inordinately good-looking

Whoops! Looks like someone caught a case of the uglies! Don’t worry yourself with looking pretty, because frankly it just ain’t gonna happen. Instead, focus on hiding your incredible shame so no one ever wonders what you did to make that sledgehammer so upset.

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I made you a hat.

4. Be outrageously lucky

Right place, right time. Catch a big bag of money as it falls from the sky. Win the lottery three times on your first go. It doesn’t matter, just somehow stumble your dimly lit way into fame and/or fortune (both is ideal). You say you’ve been struck by lightning five times, three of which were immediately followed by a van to the face? And your fiancée left you on your birthday? Take some responsibility, man. Move on. She’s much happier now. You’re still coming to the wedding, right?

5. 

Okay, man, look. There’s no need for tears. Yeah, maybe I was a bit harsh. I didn’t think you’d take it this rough. Let’s… let’s just let this sit for now. She’s… Well, no. I’ll give you some time to digest these facts, and we can try again tomorrow. I’m sorry. Maybe it’s best if we just… you know, spend a bit of time apart. Okay? Okay.

Quiz: Are You Beyoncé?

No.

Teetotalers Have Great Fuel Economy

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I always practice responsible refueling, but every so often I flood the engine.

Mr. Smucker

With a name like Smucker’s, good luck in high school.

Pavlov Responds to Spam – “Sex”

As probably nobody remembers, a few months ago we launched a feature called “Pavlov Responds to Spam,” wherein spammers send us their junk, and we shine it into gold like the freakin’ alchemists we are. Then we stopped, because alchemy is really hard. But now we’re back, and boy, have we got some spam for you.

Today’s letter comes to us from Sex. Sex says,

Well thanks, Sex. I think you’re pretty decent too.

Tune in next time, when we tackle the tough issue of which fake Uggs are the best deal.

Conventions

Now that I’ve learned how to play bridge, it’s time to learn some of its conventions. Among the more popular conventions are the Stayman, used to determine your partner’s major suit; Blackwood, which hints at how many aces they have; and Geneva, which prevents you from torturing victorious opponents when you inevitably lose.

The Subtle Voice Retooler Machine

Have you ever wanted to call in sick, but didn’t have the acting ability to pull it off? Well, have I got the product for you. The self-patented Subtle Voice Retooler Machine that Makes Yourself Sound Sick on the Phone is now available at stores near you, provided you live in our warehouse. For anyone else, call now! Only $99.95, or whatever you would earn in any given week, whichever is larger. Our operators are standing by, because we won’t give them chairs. As previously stated, call now!

So the television ad ran. With advertising like that, how could I refuse? I didn’t have to call, because I live in a box in their warehouse. When my landlord handed me the device, I instantly tried it out. Essentially it was a machine that made you sound ill when calling into work. It had features like “Raspy,” “Hoarse,” “Coughing,” and “Rude gaseous explosions.” How could it fail?

So, I called into the office. My boss picked up the phone. “Hello?” he said in his trademark nasal tone.

“Yes, hello, I would like to call in sick, please.”

“Who is this, Hillary Clinton?”

There was a pause and shuffle as I turned off “Hillary Clinton” mode. “Um, no, this is loyal employee #512-83. I’d like to call in sick.”

“Yeah, you sound pretty bad,” he said. This was it. I was in. Or, um, out. “You should take the day off.” A pause. “I really have no idea who you are. Why did we assign all of you those stupid numbers? I wanted to name people after various types of fruit. But no, they said. Numbers are much better than fruit. But now look. I’m talking to someone I could very well see every day, and have no clue about it. I mean, it sounds like I’m talking to Danny DeVito, but who’s to know? Really, I’m quite sorry. Take the day off.”

“All right,” I said. “Thank you.”

Before I could hang up, though, my boss said, “But don’t expect a job when you get back, Watermelon,” and hung up.

Confused, I decided to conduct an experiment. I called my cell phone from a pay phone near my box, and heard this recorded message: “The following is a call from an actual hypochondriac. It is not recommended for people with heart conditions, who have a history of cyanide poisoning, or who are extremely gullible. Listener discretion is advised for anyone who would actually believe this jerk. This call may be monitored for quality purposes.”

How there was time for that before the boss answered is still a mystery to me.

Until next time, this is Xavier Yes. Stay classical. I’m going out to get a good spot in the unemployment line.