Seed

Day Fifteen: Wonder something.
I wonder why guides to planting seeds always have to make it fake, as when they say, 'Do such-and-such to imitate winter', when really you can just use the REAL winter and plant those seeds accordingly. Be like the squirrels, man, be like the squirrels.

Beefcookie

Day Fourteen: make a beefcookie.
Or invent a funny word. Either one will win my heart.

Underwear

Day Thirteen: shop once at Victoria's Secret, and thereby get rid of all your money.
Also true. Don't go to this place. They don't even have comfortable underwear. And they call it by strange names.

Blood

Cola tastes like blood. Deny it and you're obviously a vampire.

Hausarzt

Day Twelve: explore a book that is in a language you don't speak.
This can be amazing. I found a big hardbound, metal-edged German ladies' 'house-arts' book today. The index [which apparently is in the front, where we usually put contentses] contains a surprising amount of a] English and b] German that looks just like English. Thanks to this, I just realised that my new book is chiefly concerned with women's reproductive health. I didn't know things like that were published way back in 1880.

Space

Day Eleven: read some futuristic space fiction that doesn't suck!

I know you are skeptical. It does exist.

Fat

Day Ten: become morbidly obese!
Contrary to popular belief, this does not include eating lots of tasty food.

Lice

Day Nine: contract lice from unwashed clothes at Goodwill Bins.
You will feel more real.

Sign

Day Eight: make descriptive signs and post them on everyday objects, providing instruction to the lesser aware.
For example: make a sign for your neighborhood stoplight describing its uses and abuses to the uninitiated. Also can do this for 'One Way' street signs. An old woman drove past me today going quite the wrong way on a four-lane, one-way street. She also tried to right-turn into my car. In special cases such as these, it might be more productive to make a sign to post on the old woman.

Subdivision

Day Seven: pitch someone your outlandish or otherwise improper idea for a subdivision name.
For example: satirize the naming of subdivisions after the landscapes they have destroyed. "Blackberry Meadows" sounds nice, at first, but once you really start to picture it... not the best for frolicks or any other pastime [except receiving war-worthy wounds].

So yeah

Day Amendment-to-day-one: avoid beginning [or ending] sentences [or topics] with "So yeah..."
It is worse than "well". It can go to... cue day four.

Map

Day Six: consult an old map, and find out what used to be where you live.
Bonus, if your home is built over a sausage factory of dubious renown, a monastery, or a landfill.

Test

Day Five and One/half: get tested for STDs.
This can only improve your mood.

Dig

Day Five: discover a new way to dig up a tree.
Digging up trees is tiring, but today I found that once you start to dig, pouring some water around the root ball of the tree can speed things up considerably. I can't imagine that the tree doesn't enjoy it, too.

Rhyme

Day Four: carry out a conversation in rhymes.
This will work, if you try, most of the time.
If it gets too hard, you can always try mime.
Just, don't say 'orange'--

Toast

Day Three: write a speech, brief or epic, that could make someone cry.
I don't mean the mean kind!

Hold, please

Day Two: Call up someone at a business from your home and put them on hold.
Bonus: Sing your own elevator music, live.

"Well."

Day One: Don't start any of your sentences with the word "well" today.
Bad or mediocre news often begins with "Well...." Even otherwise cheerful news can dull under the corrosive influence of this woolly word.

Letter

I drew this funny shape on my hand today, funny little shape, and it was made with a scar that I got but I don’t know how, and first it because a bird, a somewhat ugly bird, with a slouch, but then I added a knob on the back of its head, and now it’s a bunny with its head way tilted back so that it can see the fireworks that are exploding between my knuckles. The rabbit is much happier and more innocent looking, and also more attractive, than the bird or penguin. I wanted you to see it because I thought it was kind of cool, but time didn’t happen, so I transferred it onto a white paper cup and made it stronger so you can see it.
Those guys we were talking about from the debate seemed not only petty when they attacked their opponents’ characters [for example, they strongly insinuated that their opponents don’t recognize that people in wheelchairs “are people too”]; they also were like guys who were trying to be suave and con you with their charming, regular-José demeanour. I guess from far away it was more apparent.
Speech today sucked more than I thought it was going to.