You’ve heard of cooking the books?
An apple pie in the oven is a realtor’s trick, murmuring softly of mothers rolling out dough. But bake a phonebook for twenty minutes and you’re the man, reeking of ink and commerce and industry.
The paper might be brittle but the applause won’t be…
Make three hundred paper airplanes. You will be so practiced at your craft that you could put out the eye of the creep in third period math who picks on you. If you wanted to.
One heaping scoop of protein powder after another.
A personal gym paid off in installments.
A tendency towards spandex. And flexing.
There is no such thing as ‘a phonebook.’ You live in a particular place.
Feats of strength favour those living in supervillages, in RMs and along RRs. Attempting the NYC phonebook is like filling in the NYT crossword in pen. Not for the faint of heart. (Literally.) Empty out your local phonebook by converting everyone to cell phones:
You might as well have a landmine in your yard as a landline in your living room!
(Cell phones are to thinking people as pacemakers are people riddled with heart disease! Saviours!)
Eat a five-pound hamburger because you’re, like, really hungry. Enter a twenty-four hour dance marathon even if you have to resort to jazz hands. Shave every square inch of your body…just to see what it feels like.