Sunday, January 27, 2008

Dear Dick:

Advice? Yeah, we got that.

Much like my mommy dispensing Kaopectate to my unsettled tummy, such is the way with my dolling of nurturing guidance to troubled souls. For some time now, I've enjoyed an astonishingly successful side career giving out pipping hot servings of advice to the socially retarded via Dear Abby-esque writings, syndicated in PennySaver mailers across this great land of ours, under the guise of my pen name, Dick.

Since we've grown so close over the past year and a half, I decided that it was time to reveal with you, my valued readers, my true identity and impart some of my wisdom to you. My goal here is to not only share queries and my advice, but to also create a dialogue wherein we can freely express our feelings, have a good cry and ultimately end up in the sack. That being said, welcome to the world of "Dear Dick: Pearls of Wisdom for the Socially Inept."

DEAR DICK: I just love "Dutch Ovening" my girlfriend. For your readers who are not familiar with what this is, it is a little prank where, when in bed with my girlfriend, I fart and pull the covers over her head to create a cocoon that contains my gastric gift. Oh, I just laugh and laugh. She does not. Is there any way that I can make her more receptive to my affinity for this activity?


DEAR GASSY IN GAINESVILLE: Any way you slice it, Dutch Ovening is decidedly funny. The skill it takes to time your fart, gather your covers and encapsulate your significant other is genuinely admirable. My advice to you is to carry out other pranks that, by comparison, make "the Oven" seem hilarious. For instance, try duct taping her eyes shut while she's sleeping, so that when she wakes up she thinks she's blind. After that, she'll be begging you to fart and pull the covers over her head!


DEAR DICK: Everyone in my life is criticizing me for spending too much time on Facebook & MySpace and not interacting with real people. On average, I spend about seven hours a day stalking girls with large bottoms and leaving clever comments on friends' pages. My "friends" say this is unhealthy, but I don't think it is a problem. How do I get them to stop pestering me about it?


DEAR PLUGGED-IN IN PEORIA: I understand your plight, for I also enjoy girls with large bottoms. You just want to grab those bottoms and take a bite out of 'em. Am I right or am I right? Heh? Heh? Heh?

In any event, one of my college professor's once said, "you change others by changing yourself." Maybe this is true, I don't know. What I do know is thinly veiled, passive-aggressive statements like, "the internet doesn't give me a hard time like this" or "if I could set an option to approve your comments, I would, like, totally do it" or "if you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to SuperPoke you right in the nose" are extremely effective. If this doesn't work, change your tactics from passive-aggressive to aggressive-aggressive.


DEAR DICK: My boyfriend of two years recently broke up with me, and I am totally crushed. He told me that I had let myself go and was turning into a Wookiee. He specifically said that my nose hair had grown to "epic car wash proportions" and that my arm hair reminded him of his creepy uncle, Earl. After it happened, I was so devastated that I Nair'd my entire body, and now I closely resemble a Chinese Crested dog. After doing this, I rushed to him to show him how I had changed for him, and he asked if I was molting. HOW DO PEOPLE GO FROM BEING SO CLOSE TO BEING COMPLETE STRANGERS?


DEAR BARE IN BURLINGTON: How do people go from being so close to being complete strangers?!! I'll tell you how that happens. One of those two people poses bullshit, cliche questions like, "how do people go from being so close to being complete strangers," that's how. Oh, and the hairy bit may have had something to do with it. Better luck next time.


DEAR DICK: I have recently read many of your columns while clipping coupons for the seven 7's of Dial 7 Car & Limousine, and I have come to the conclusion that you are just a Negative Nancy and your advice is really unhelpful. Why so contrary? Growing up, my mom always said, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Maybe that would be some good advice for you?


DEAR WORRIED IN WESTCHESTER: Thank you for your genuine concern. The answer lies in my upbringing. You see when my parents, Sour Sal and Melancholy Mary, had me it was pretty much in the cards that I would end up a Negative Nancy. I'm sure growing up in Defeatism, Delaware probably didn't help things. Then there were the summers. Oh, the summers.... Having to do heavy manual labor under the unforgiving eyes of my grandparents, Hurtful Harold & Combative Carol, was no cakewalk either, believe you me. Luckily for me I've got helpful people like you, WORRIED IN WESTCHESTER, to give me crappy criticisms and snide swipes -'cause that totally helps. Thaaaaanks.


DEAR DICK: I have had rough time on the dating scene. I am fat-necked, have a sweat gland problem that makes me look like freshly misted produce at all times, and get so nervous around girls that I can't even speak. It's gotten to the point where I just want to give up on dating entirely. Any advice?


DEAR FAT-NECKED: Give up. Who needs a "real, living, breathing girl anyways?" Not me. Try my friend, Tim Minchin's solution:

Helpful? Of course, don't mention it.


So there it is. Who knew I was such a sage? I did. Now I open the floor. Let's let the conversation begin. Tell me your problems, your woes. I promise we can cuddle when it's all over.

1 comment:

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