Idea 100 - Give Me A Book Deal: The Book

My exciting story so far:

I've spent nearly nine months leaking amazing book ideas all across the pages of this fine web log. Nearly one a day, which is incredible. And yes, I'm offering every idea for individual purchase to book publishers or anyone else with money.

Among the 100 highlights (still available at prices that'll make ya smile):

• Idea 17 - Silky Embraces
• Idea 25 - The Year In Novelty Pet Clothes
• Idea 42 - Woodwinds In The Ether: A Collection of Verse
• Idea 64 - Fat Guys In Pastel Shirts
• Idea 21 - Even More Corrections
• Idea 66 - Sock Puppets In Jail

I don't want to overwhelm potential money-givers with too many options, so I figured I'd stop -- FOR NOW!!!!! -- at 100 little chunks of genius.

THRILLING NEWS:
I'm a nice guy. So I'll offer you -- just you -- the chance to buy EVERY SINGLE IDEA AS ONE BOOK. You'll get all of the amazing previews in this blog (already written, no lead time) which you can publish as "Give Me A Book Deal: The Book". Or whatever else you want to call it. I'm flexible. Text me.

Lastly, a big thank you to all the celebrities and readers who've been "spreading the word" about this great project. You're welcome.

Idea 99 - Leon and The Magical Slacks

Who says children's books have to just be for children? You? Well shut up then, because I think grownups deserve some patronizing empty-headed fluff too.

Imagine a wonderfully shallow fairy tale set in the modern workplace... better yet, I'll imagine it for you:

All the other workmen at the smelting plant were amazed by the beauty of Leon's magical slacks.

"Gee Leon, my workpants are dingy on the outside and scratchy on the inside! How did you find such beautiful slacks?" asked foreman Bob.

Leon smiled a happy smile. "Foreman Bob, I didn't find these slacks! They found me! They chased me through the forest, tackled me from behind, yanked off my other pants, climbed onto my body, and now it hurts if I try to take them off!"

All the dirty workmen in the sooty factory were crowding around Leon, hoping for a chance to touch Leon's magical slacks. "Cough, cough!" said the factory workers. "I'm next, cough cough! I'm next!"

This story was inspired by that feeling you get when you try on a new pair of pants for the first time, and they just fit perfectly. It feels like you were born to wear them, or vice versa. I think there's magic in that moment.

Idea 98 - Shining Foreheads of Hope: Men Who Weren't Completely Destroyed By Baldness

One of the things I think about alot is male pattern baldness. Or just male baldness, I don't think it really matters if there's a pattern involved or not. See, as several hundred of my readers know, I have a really nice head of hair. But I'm getting older, so now I spend my mornings staring at my hairline and quietly screaming. What if it leaves me? What'll I do? More than anything, the purpose of this book is to make me feel better about the possibility that I'm gonna be a shiny-headed freak.

Patrick Stewart
Beloved Pontiac pitchman, Shakespearean actor, pretend spaceship captain
Stewart definitely put his eerily bald head to work. He used it to hook up with the raven-haired space-woman Deanna Troi on that space show he was on, and as I recall she was the closest thing to hot they had on that ship. Her character was supposed to be psychic, so maybe she could focus on Stewart's soul and not his horrifically exposed scalp.

Dwight D. Eisenhower
Beloved West Point junior varsity football coach, guy who orchestrated the Allied invasion of France and Germany as depicted in the beginning of Saving Private Ryan, pretty sure he was President
Hitler wasn't bald. Eisenhower was. Ike was famously enraged by this. It was his order to "scalp them Germs!" which inspired the real-life scalping purveyed by the real-life death squad which inspired the hysterical Holocaust movie 'Inglorious Basterds'. Of course, when you scalp a guy, you make him bald. 'Nuff said.

Marie Curie
Hottie, flirtatious Frenchwoman, discovered something
Whatever it was that Curie discovered, it apparently caused her to go head-hairless later in life. But "Skinhead Marie", as she was affectionately called, rarely let her repellent appearance drag her into a foul humour -- in fact, she owned a wonderful collection of wigs and drugs.

Obviously I realize that Marie Curie isn't technically a man, but I figure that once a woman goes bald she's definitely not female anymore either, so it's only fair that I include her in this book.

Idea 97 - Happily Angry: The Conundrum At Work In The Minds Of Girlfriends

I saw a cool-sounding book title in a review I almost skimmed: Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions. Turns out it's all full of amazing sociological experiments and junk like that. Basically, bait for intellectuals. So here's my amazing spin: I figure about 40% of those geeks are male heteros, and I bet I can trap them with a brainy sciencey book about how their failed relationships aren't their fault. Check this bitch out:

In one experiment, we offered 110 girlfriends a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why we hadn't cleaned the apartment like we said we would while she was away for Ladies' Weekend.

Our control group was made up of 106 girls from work who seemed like they'd be cool and not freak out about little stuff like that. Because, I mean, come on, no one's going to die just because I had some other stuff come up and then Jeff came over on Sunday and my mom called later on and she WOULD NOT shut up. So, whatever.

I don't want to give away the results, partially because I haven't done the research yet. And I generally wouldn't be interested in actually doing the research at all -- sounds too much like work to me (LOL) -- but then again those girls from work sound pretty cool.

Idea 96 - Nuggets o' Fun

I'm an early adopter, so I always bring my iPhone into the bathroom. But lots of people still read paper stuff while "indisposed" in the "shitter". Aside from magazines and game manuals, people seem to love those cool "bathroom reader" books -- collections of simple puzzles, old-timey jokes, quirky facts, brain-teasers, mind-fuddlers, and so on. I love this genre because a) the quality bar is very low, and b) I can have the book printed in the shape of a toilet (saw one like that at a friend's house the other day -- hysterical! Who knew that was even possible?) Anyway, let's get down to business:

Q: What did the limerick say to the haiku?
A: Not sure, but I bet it was dirty!
(Remember, these people are in the middle of crapping, they can't leave!)

Did you know?
70% of all facial tissues aren't used for the face.

Little Timmy was walking down the road with his fishing pole. Mr. Abernathy stopped his van to chat.
"Hey Timmy, how was the fishing down at the creek?" asked Mr. Abernathy.
"I wasn't at the creek," said Timmy.
"Oh -- well then how was the fishing at the pond?" asked Mr. Abernathy.
"I wasn't at the pond," said Timmy.
"Well gee, Timmy -- where the heck did you go fishing, for Pete's sake?!"
Timmy frowned. "Went fishing for brassieres in the girls' locker room. But they were all too small -- had to throw 'em back!"
(The nerve of that kid!)

Jesus, this is easy. Talk about a captive audience! And desperate, too -- I know I've found myself staring blankly at the ingredients on a shampoo bottle, just so I wouldn't overthink what I was doing in there. After that, I usually start singing to myself.

Idea 95 - Green Is Murder

Holy God, I haven't jumped on the green bandwagon yet! I had been waiting for 'giving a shit' to go out of fashion, but apparently there's still some life left in the fad. I've been hearing a ton about all these damn DIY projects where people try to live off the land for a year and all that -- then they write non-fiction memoirs and get fucking book deals out of that boring garbage.

Wait a second... something brilliant just hit me... maybe I can split the difference between those stupid things and Super Size Me...

By the 18th day, I could hardly stand to look at an ounce of raw goat's milk cheese from my neighbor's sustainable farm, much less eat an entire pound for breakfast. My cheeks had become sallow and pale, and I had begun sweating a clear liquid that smelled like rotting grass clippings. The emergency herbalist who was overseeing the project was just about fed up.

"This is disgusting. You're disgusting. Why are you doing this? You're wasting the food these people and animals are working so hard to make. I honestly don't understand the point of this." Sandy was cracking, but I couldn't afford to give up.

The family was out in the fields, trudging through a sweltering July morning. As I lay on the picnic table, fading in and out of cheese-shock, I was dimly aware that lunch was coming, and with it another 11 pounds of suckling pig and endangered heirloom tomatoes. Thankfully, a cool woman-shaped shadow appeared above me. "Please... please leave," intoned the farmer's wife. "And please don't call me 'the farmer's wife' in your book -- I'm a farmer too. Are you even listening to me? If you keep stealing our food, I'm calling the cops."

I appreciated her concern, but we both knew I had to keep pushing.

As she walked away, I let out a braying burp that was literally purple. It reeked of beets, bile, and carrob. "I may not survive this," I thought. "But the movement will."

Is it possible to inspire yourself? Because that's what I just did. So yeah, I guess it is.

Idea 94 - David And God In The Bathroom

Apparently young adults are reading books, which is weird. Regardless, people are making a shitload o' dough off the little tykes, which means I need to grab some of it. I'm thinking of a male version of Are You There God? It's Me Margaret. NO, I DIDN'T READ IT. But I do know that she talks to God about periods. Listen to this:

David's armpit hair had become impossible to hide. Even when he tried hugging his bicep to his ribcage, it looked like he had a Troll doll in a headlock. "Gross!" he cried aloud, revolted by his sweaty garden. "Why me?! The guys in the locker room are gonna call me 'Pube Pits' and 'Triple Crotch!'" His desperate eyes swung wildly around the bathroom. "Scissors! I need scissors!"

"Wait, David. I made that funky hair. And I didn't intend for you to trim it. That would be weird." The Voice of God was male, but British.

David plopped himself down onto the fur-covered toilet seat. "Oh. Hi God. Hey, didn't we decide that You wouldn't talk to me during bathroom time?"

"Don't be a baby," God intoned. "I've seen it all before, pal. Anyway, quit being embarrassed about your pit hair. A lot of guys wish they could have as much as you. Especially guys who have been severely burned."

David couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. I guess you're right. It's just that... why won't my... other hair start growing? I look like a Greek statue of a cherub down there."

Man, I can't help but think about how valuable this book would have been to me when I was 14. I was about half as tall as most guys, and my voice was higher than my sister's -- it didn't end up changing until my mid 20's. Turns out that one of my testicles hadn't dropped yet. A doctor finally had to coax it out with this little toilet-plunger thing he pressed up behind my scrotum. Nice guy.