Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Incidentally, it is also the third-to-last day of the rest of your life.
Congress will approve the creation of a 51st state, Assholia, for the sole purpose of naming you the state bird.
Your total lack of understanding of the principles of advanced fluid dynamics results in your tragic drowning while attempting to use a drinking straw.
Bloody noses don’t usually kill people. Then again, most people’s bloody noses don’t usually become infested with weasels, like yours.
You will acquire a fifth housecat this week, officially signaling your withdrawal from human society.
You will fail to sell any of your home-made Eskimo pies, despite using fresher Eskimos than your competitors.
You will panic while under the influence of drugs this week and become known as “The Boy Who Cried Giant Purple Man-Eating Walrus.”
A divided nation will be brought together by its collective desire to see you finally get rid of that ridiculous beard.
You will successfully lobby for political asylum in the produce department of your local Safeway.
Leslie Uggams will finally return your calls and coldly explain that she is not your “funky chocolate soul sister.”
Witnesses to your trip to the corner store will be unable to explain to police what happened after the blinding flash.
You will be warmly greeted by your new peers when they welcome you into what they call “The Great Big Sextuple-Amputee Family.”
