365 Ways to Live Happy
Simple Ways to Find Joy Every Day
by Meera Lester
This gives a basic tip for every day of the year, a delight for beginner humans such as aliens in disguises or head attack victims. While I read it I found that there was something dark
about it. Something I'm only beginning to unravel the edge of...
Wait, the secret to joy is calling the cops at the exact time a person is supposed to call the cops? Was there a second, more depressing option I didn't know about? That man is stealing a car! Hand me your phone! I want to take a picture of these poisoned bunnies fading away while he makes his escape!
Meera wasn't very specific here, but I got the idea that her idea of sexual adventure is not getting dick delivered through the fly of white Fruit of the Looms. Let me explain something: If you're writing a book about happiness tidbits, everyone in the world is having crazier sex than you. While you were discovering the sublime beauty of flower arrangement, we were fucking a hot tub full of people we bought on Craigslist. Plus, keep your advice consistent. Do you want me to Try New Positions During Sex or Call the Police When I've Witnessed a Crime? You can't have both.
This is another piece of advice that seems to directly violate Try New Positions During Sex. Because for what I have in mind, the lubricant is going to have to glow in the dark
kill sharks. Which doesn't bring me to my point at all: Meera, I've come to expect obvious advice in books like these, but this is on a whole new level. Before this stupid shit was published, was there some sort of emotional dilemma that morons went through when they came across toxic chemicals? I love to swim, but I hate the way factory runoff melts me into a shambling mutant! Latex caulking makes my teeth itch, but pie is so expensive!
You're probably not. Still, if you are and you never even tried it, that'd be stupid.
So judging by how none of my money went flying out the window to stick on you, you weren't really a money magnet. That's OK, because if you tape your dream salary on your computer, you can now financially masturbate while you regular masturbate. You're still not happy? How about this: Try picturing your ideal body weight while you fuck a favorite jar of olives. Ooo, la la!
Gasp! Because when your dreams can soar, your whole face is a rainbow! Judging by how stupidly obvious Meera's advice is and how quickly she trails off into this kind of nonsense, I think she wrote the title for this book before she knew 365 actual things. She should have called her book
Useless Words To Make Your Coffee Mug Look Gay.
I'm starting to think that Meera's "dream" isn't some kind of abstract concept. In her last entry, she equated our dreams to some kind of facility-incubated flying chicken. Now she wants to give it rocket power while it's in the air? That's absurd. No sane person chases a metaphor that far. Plus, giving rockets to a chicken only makes flying soup. Wait... flight, toxic chemicals, rockets... these are encoded plans for Nazi warplanes!
? Meera, did me shopping in the self help section at Borders give you the impression I was a sorcerer? Hold on, I was kind of kidding about the Nazi warplanes, but mixing metaphysical artifacts and rocket-planes is exactly
what Hitler used to do. This book makes so much more sense now!
Oh yeah, this was definitely written by Hitler.
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