Been a Long TIme

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...

I haven't written in more than a month. But I have excuses. I had a stupid corporate video to work on. I moved in with my fiance. And I had to look into subletting my old apartment for a month.

So, I haven't updated in more than a month. So, I've been lazy. So what.

Anyways, I decided to do a bit of research on advice columns. And the only research tool that has lasted the test of time is Wikipedia.

Did you know that advice columns are known as Agony Aunts?

I didn't.

I now feel like Jackie Harvey.

Great. Well, the good news is: I'm going to try and post more. Really.

Sidetracked

I was going to write about today's Savage Love, but it's actually a rather normal article with good advice.

So instead I'm going to write about my new favorite guy.

Ladies and Gentleman, meet John Dyer!

This man is soooo KICKAWESOME! He loves Tesla Coils. And he sells "Unique and Used KEWL stuff available for auction on eBay."

I just can't explain how much I want to meet this gentleman.

"If my wife dressed better, would gay guys stop hitting on me?"

This is by and far the best subject line for a "serious" advice question, I've ever seen. Again we visit Cary Tennis and his "Since You Asked..." column.

The advice-seeker starts off with his situation: "[My wife] is hot but has always chosen to downplay her looks. On the other hand, I was frequently referred to as a metrosexual (when the word was in). I always iron my shirts, wear form-fitting clothes like leather pants, polish my shoes, etc." After a quick google image search, I think I found what he looks like.

He continues, "I suggested that if my wife took the trouble to dress up more then perhaps gay men would not hit on her husband. We have been debating that issue since then."

Mr. Tennis's's' answer was long. And boring. I would like to answer with a quote from Lewis Black:

"A woman of 25 uttered the dumbest thing I'd ever heard in my life ... She said, 'If it weren't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college.' I'll repeat that. I'll repeat that because that's the kind of sentence that when you hear it, your brain comes to a screeching halt. And the left hand side of the brain looks at the right hand side and goes, 'It's dark in here, and we may die.' She said, 'If it weren't for my horse...' as in, giddy up, giddy up, let's go - 'I wouldn't have spent that year in college,' a degree-granting institution. Don't! Don't think about that sentence for more than three minutes, or blood'll shoot out your nose."

Thinherentnt narcissism and blind stupidity of the questioner (Remember, there is no such thing as a stupid question, just stupid people who ask questions) makes my head spin a bit. I would like to take the insipid possibilities percolating in Don Juan De Leatherpants' head a few steps further. "If my wife dressed better, would gay guys hit on both of us?" Or, "If my wife dressed better, might I have a fiveway with my wife, a midget stripper, and two members of 'Thunder from Down Under'?"

And to finally answer this guy's question: "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

Hey, I DO need help!

Q: My coworker with whom I share a cubicle wall talks to herself. Alllllll day long. And she talks at just the right volume so you're left wondering whether or not she is indeed talking to you. When she's not talking to herself, she's either yawning audibly, making noises by sucking on her teeth or sharpening 34 pencils consecutively. How do I tell her she's bothering me without creating an office war?

From: M. M. in Michigan

A: Well hello. Your initials seem vaguely familiar. But I'm not sure why. Well, the bad news is you have a coworker. The good news is there are several possibilities for what you might do. The bad news is that you'll probably not do any of them.


Option 1: Turn them even more crazy than they already are. You could buy this lovely device, the MIND MOLESTER! "It produces a one-second electronic chirp about once every 3 minutes. Due to the chirp's duration, frequency, and sound characteristics, it's a very difficult, time-consuming, frustrating and maddening task to locate the unit. And even if they find it, they'll have no idea what it is."

Option 2: Talk to management. That's what they're there for. To make sure that all their employees have a pleasant and productive work environment. (Damn it, there's no sarcasm font!?!)

Option 3: Get a fan or white noise machine. Drown out the sounds of "Babbling Brooke" with the gentle sounds of a babbling brook.

Option 4: Tell her to suck it.

Option 5: Tell her to suck it in a very passive aggressive way. Like this gentleman, who works with a woman who... well he says it best. "Every day you bust out the stick o' butter, cut it into pats and then pop them one by fucking one into your filthy mouth like they were big, fatty bonbons. Trust me people once you've witnessed this image you can never, ever get it out of your head. It's worse than seeing your parents fucking."

Option 6: Challenge your coworker to a dance off. Tell her to "Bring it on!"

Option 7: Poison. The band. Play it loudly. With the speakers facing away from your desk.

Option 8: Poison. The not band.

Well, M. M. from Michigan, I hope that helps you out. If not, remember that you're not working with butter lady.

Worst Advice Question EVER!!!

Salon's Advice Column "Since You Asked..." by Cary Tennis is an occasionally refreshing advice column because it sometimes delves into the more existential human quandaries. And then there's today's POS question. The question itself is over 800 WORDS LONG! And the response is over 900 WORDS LONG! It is possibly the most boring piece of self-important Q&A ever. The only way it could be topped is if James Lipton interviewed himself on Inside the Actor's Studio.

How you doin'?

Q: "I've got two competing problems and at the moment, they're crashing into each other in the most ironic, but laughable, train-wreck kind of way...I usually can't ever feel how much someone loves me in a relationship." Add 750 blahs to that, and you have the idea of the question.

A: "Ha! Ha! Ha! We never fill the emptiness! But that's not what I mean. I don't mean we fill it up. We just try to fill it up. In trying to fill it up, we empty ourselves, and thus grow lighter and freer." Add 850 blahs to that, and you have an idea of the answer.

Here's what the Q&A should have been:

Q: I feel disconnected from the emotions of my partners in a relationship. What can I do?
A: Shut up, and stop narcissistically gazing at your problems, and try talking with your partner.

S(av)age Advice

In this week's issue of Savage Love, Dan advises someone who dislikes the "creepy old man"/fiance of her sister, to just let it go and advises an old woman to get out of the house in order to get some. Good, sage-ish advice.

Buuuut, I suggest the person with the "creepy old man" in the sister's life do some crazy hidden camera stunt which will expose the truth as the truth. Just like in the sitcoms. Hooha, I gotcha all in check.

And the old lady should just buy a battery operated boyfriend, and tape this image to her ceiling.

If her 12yo daughter is grossed out by it, she can just get a job and move out. MMM-hmmm. I know you heard that.

Do You Need Help?

Then maybe you should read my advice. Or use some of that special software that reads out loud in that crazy Stephen Hawking voice my advice. In fact that will be my first piece of advice. If you are blind, but not deaf, get some of that software. The friend of yours that is reading this out loud to you doesn't need to be here reading this.

I will also make comments on other people's advice.

If you need advice, please email horribleadvice@gmail.com