Only 5 more days until
WALRUS DAY!
WALRUS DAY!
WALRUS DAY
Everything you need to know to celebrate your favorite holiday
October 8 is Walrus Day. What is Walrus Day and why does it matter to you? Well, it only matters if you enjoy things that you like. Do you fit that type? Are you the sort of person who enjoys things that you like? Then Walrus Day is for you, friend!
Walrus Day is a holiday I invented when I was a kid. I took my favorite animal, favorite number, and favorite month, combining them and voila! (That’s French for ‘that’s how that muthuhfuggin’ happened’.)
Below you’ll find a Walrus Day FAQ. You can read it with your eyes which will magically make thoughts form in your brain! Big fun!
WALRUS DAY FAQ:
Q: When is Walrus Day?
A: Walrus Day is always celebrated on October 8, regardless of what day of the week it falls on, or whether you’re Jewish, Chinese, or Yusef Lateef. Mark your calendars!
Q: How does one celebrate Walrus Day?
A: Walrus Day is perhaps the easiest holiday on the calendar to celebrate well. The goal is to treat yourself: buy yourself a gift. Want cake for breakfast? Do it. Want to call in sick to work and go to the beach and frolic? This is the day.* Wanna make sweet, sweet love to Beyoncé? I say, if you can, go for it! This is your day, your chance, your excuse to pepper your day with whatever perks and joys you dare. Get creative! Unless you hate getting creative, in which case, Walrus Day is your perfect excuse to stay uncreative the whole day! Very simply: Pamper and splurge as much as possible. Diets be damned!
Hello, Earthlings! I have returned after being ill for the past week. I’m still not at 100%, but can at least sit at my computer without succumbing to vertigo and mistaking my iTunes for an episode of Battlestar Gallactica.
It’s all the fault of the 2009 Emmy Awards. Yes it is! I’ll explain…
The boyfriend and I were (again) invited to attend the HBO Emmy Award after-party. As he considered which of his designer suits to don, I sifted through the post-punk, vintage mess that is my wardrobe, desperately trying to Frankenstein something passable to wear, grateful that most people at industry parties are too self-absorbed to notice me at all.
Once we got there we took our place in line in the underground garage that served as a holding tank for men and women dressed to the nines. (Front entrance was limited to red-carpet types.) Cramped into lines of two and everyone decked-out fancy, it looked as though we were about to be slaughtered in the most glamorous concentration camp ever.
We made it in.
Now, there’s a reason why I love going to the HBO after-party. Normally, I would eschew going to industry parties in favor of getting my fingernails torn out or having bedtimes stories read to me by Carol Channing. The HBO party is an exception to this rule because it is kind of awesome.
