The American and The Brit: Unsolicited Advice

by K A Young

  "Maybe us telling that woman that she's so stuck up we think she has a broom up her arse is too much." Panic again radiated off me. Phoebe came around to where I was sitting in front of the laptop and hugged me from behind.

  "It'll be fine." Then she hit send.

  "Oh shit, Phoebs, why would you do that?" My heart was pounding in my chest as sweat started to bead on my palm-dented forehead. "Maybe Mr. John Thomas isn't in yet. We can sneak into his office and delete the email." I was deadly serious. I’m not sure what it was about Mr. Thomas that rubbed me the wrong way. He was nice enough, extremely accommodating and supportive, but there was just something about the bloke that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  "Stop panicking. We couldn’t get into his laptop if we wanted to and he probably receives alerts on his phone anyway. It’s done and I bet he'll be in here within the hour congratulating us and wanting to take us out for lunch." Phoebe headed to her desk, sat down, and swung her feet onto it. "We, my dear, are amazing." She made flamboyant arm gestures toward me and continued to smile.

  "You, my dear, are deluded," I retorted and imitated her arm gestures and threw in the finger to show her I was serious. It didn't work.

  “Deluded or not, I’m a superstar!” Just perfect, here comes the Saturday Night Live oldie rerun impersonations.

  After twenty minutes Phoebe got bored of teasing me and proceeded to check her emails, which was a great relief as I was beyond over her improv games. All I could think about was rushing to Mr. Thomas' office and getting rid of the evidence. I probably would have acted on the impulse if there wasn’t validity to Phoebs’ argument about the password issue and the backup email on his phone. Hmm. "Just going to the ladies’ room, Phoebs." She waved and I headed for the door.

  "Ollo." I jumped. Chrissi was laughing at her desk. "Phoebs told me about your new neighbor. How funny is she?" For a split second I’d thought Hairy Mary was here. God, if Hairy Mary had gotten a job working with us I’d quit on the spot. There was only so much a person could take.

  "Ha, very funny." I continued down through the offices until I reached the main reception. There was no one around. I made a mad dash toward Mr. John Thomas' office, I could do this, I reassured myself; not everyone had their work email linked to their phones, and even if he did it was worth the risk. I could crack his password. I was sure of it.

  As I stood outside his door and taking a deep breath I knocked, praying to God that he didn't answer. No answer. Yes! I reached for the handle and opened it.

  "What are you doing?" Phoebe stood behind me with her arms folded over her chest and tapped her foot. Not a good sign.

  "You scared the shit out of me, Phoebs—you're worse than Hairy Mary!" Clutching my chest I backed into the office. "I'm deleting that email, Phoebs, and you can't stop me." I slammed the door shut and she rattled the handle, pushing the door open a few inches. "Phoebe Hawkins, stop being so childish," I scolded through the crack in the door. My feet were slipping and she was grunting through the crack.

  "Here's Johnny!" She knew I hated the film The Shining and used that line all the time, usually when I was in the bathroom. "Lizbeth Bates, if you don't let me in now I'll bling all of your jeans while you sleep with a Bedazzle!"

  “You wouldn’t dare!” I was horrified that she would stoop so low. She would do it too. She was that vindictive.

  “Try me!” Phoebs said as she pushed full force against the door and glared at me.

  The sound of a throat being cleared made me halt and jump away from the door. Phoebe plummeted headfirst into the office and landed on her knees. "Mr. John Thomas, I, er…well, erm, I thought you were out." Mr. John Thomas stood in the doorway of his private bathroom and dried his hands. "I'm sorry, we'll be on our way." I grabbed Phoebe's arm and drug her to her feet.

  "Ladies, wait—I'd like a word, and Liz we’ve been over this. Please, it’s just John." He closed the bathroom door and gestured for us to take a seat.

  “Of course, sorry. Mr. John Thomas.” God, it had been ingrained in me to always be polite and address those in authority by either Mr. or Mrs. Things were obviously different here.

  We both sat like naughty schoolgirls in the principal's office and waited to be expelled. "I was just reading your email." Oh no. "They're certainly interesting." I let the word interesting bounce around in my brain for a few seconds. He didn't say terrible or diabolical. "The one—” he cleared his throat again and I nearly wet myself, “where you told the underwear sniffer to go out and buy a wig… you certainly have an interesting approach." There was that word again. I couldn't fathom whether he actually liked them or just thought we were stupid.

  "Great stuff. We'll get back to work then." Phoebe stood and straightened her skirt. I still sat glued to my seat waiting for the dreaded but to come.

  He continued. "Is this how you would honestly give advice?" There it was again, my ultimate nemesis, doubt. The blood drained from my face. Phoebe took her seat again and looked at me to answer his question. Why does she always do that?

  "Well, Mr. Thomas, we don't actually give advice, not in the traditional sense anyway. We just tell them what we think—actually we tell them what everyone is thinking but are too afraid to say." That made sense. After the words left my mouth I believed them. "Straightforward, no messing about, no filter, just our opinions." I glanced at Phoebe who smiled and nodded like one of those head bobbing dogs you sit on your dashboard. Her support and agreement gave me a bit more courage.

  "Interesting." Is that his word of the day?

  "Is that interesting good or interesting bad?" Phoebe questioned. I was so happy that she had asked that. We waited for his response as he debated his answer.

  "It's certainly a different approach,” He rubbed his chin. “Well, we were looking to shake things up a bit and this certainly does accomplish that. Yes,” he smiled, “I'm going to go with it. We'll run it Monday and see what happens. We'll let the public decide." He stood and we were so relieved that he had dismissed us.

  “Thank you, John.” Phoebe smiled and I nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. John Thomas.” I think I curtsied before we bolted from the office, a little more confident than when we had entered.

  ~ ~ ~

  We got back to the apartment in record time. I just wanted a long soak in the bath and a large glass of wine. Phoebe was looking for our keys as we walked toward our door when I noticed that the big artificial potted plant was shaking. I grabbed Phoebe's arm and pointed toward it. Feet stuck out at the base but we couldn't see anything else. "What's that?" I whispered to Phoebe, who was going all Kung Fu again. "Oh. My. God. It's Hairy Mary—she's trying to scare us again. Shall we go back to the car?"

  "No, I've got a better idea. Follow me," Phoebe commanded and it was obvious that she was desperately having to battle to contain her giggles. I stood and watched Phoebe tiptoe to the plant. She motioned for me to follow. The plant continued to shake and we heard Hairy Mary snickering to herself. When she felt she gotten close enough Phoebe jumped out and shouted "Ollo!" Mary shot from behind the plant like a bullet from a gun. I couldn't help but laugh; it was like a cartoon. Phoebe was in hysterics and the shock on Mary's face made me crack up too.

  "You got me! That's one all. I'll get you next time." And without another word Mary shuffled off down the corridor.

  "I fear this is a game you won't win, Phoebs. She'll be hiding around every corner now trying to get one up on you and she seems to have a lot of time on her hands. You've got your work cut out for you." I was finding this too amusing and Phoebe knew it.

  "Cut out for us!" she pointed out.

  "Nope, Hairy Mary has claimed you as hers. You're her new toy." I was really loving this. I don't think Phoebe had measured the consequences when waging this scare war with Mary. "We'll get in training like Monsters Inc. From this day forward, my friend, you will be known as Sully and I will be Mike." The laughter now sounded more like a cackle. Phoebs just looked at me like I had
escaped from the madhouse. "Come on, Sully, I need alcohol."

  Phoebe

  Airing Your Dirty Laundry on Facebook

  Liz and I had stayed up late drinking to calm our nerves, and I for one was ready for this weekend to be over. The waiting game was one that I had never been good at. When God was handing out patience he neglected to give me mine. I sat on the kitchen counter and waited for Mr. Coffee to finish percolating while Liz still sawed logs. The chick could wake the dead with her infernal snoring. How she could sleep when our lives hung in the balance was beyond me. My moods were swinging like a pendulum and it gave me a major case of whiplash. Yes! My morning fix was brewed. After I doctored my cup with artificial diet crap I sat down at the kitchen table and flipped open my laptop. While I sipped on my one true love I started perusing Facebook. I had fifteen friend requests. Don’t know her, don’t know him… I started deleting requests until I reached the next one on the list and my finger froze on the delete button. No way! There was Hairy Mary in a selfie shot from the parking garage that had Liz and me in it. I was hunched over, adjusting my bra strap with my skirt hiked up hooker style while standing next to Wilf. Liz had been caught crawling out of the driver’s side door. The shot had Liz half in and half out, her face contorted in a sour pucker, her hair the epitome of disaster, a frizzy Afro. It would be flippin’ hilarious if I hadn’t looked so horrendous. And the kicker was that Hairy Mary’s huge face was in the corner of the image where she had put a giant sticker of a heart around me and Liz along with a My BFFs sticker written in pink bubble letters off to the side.

  The chair slammed against the floor as I launched myself up and stomped into Liz’s room. “Wake up! You are not going to believe this!”

  Some unintelligible garble left Liz’s lips that sounded like “Gerfockuself.”

  Liz had no idea the gravity of our situation; she’d thank me later. With my hands I grabbed the bottom of the duvet and jerked the blankets off of her to make my point perfectly clear. “This is an all hands on deck, red alarm emergency, Lizbeth! Get your ass up!”

  Her eyes cracked open as she shouted. “Are we fired?”

  “Worse. You know those People of Walmart pictures we get a kick out of? We’ve topped some of them with the pic of us floating around Facebook!”

  She shot out of bed like a rocket. “How is that possible?”

  “I’ll tell you how it’s possible…Hairy Mary!” I was so upset I couldn’t stand still. This was one of the most mortifying moments for two single women at this point in our lives. “Stupid Hairy Mary!” Liz followed me to the kitchen table and I pulled the picture back up.

  Liz let out a scream. “Look at me! You can see the bean burrito stain on my boob!”

  “Oh. My God! Look closer.” I zoomed in on the photo and couldn’t help myself but to add, “It’s a good thing you were wearing underwear or this would have totally been an embarrassing Britney Spears moment.”

  “I’m going to kill her. Untag us now!” Liz shoved me aside. “Never mind, I’ll do it myself.”

  “We’re too late!” I wailed, “look at the comments.” We both stood there mortified as we saw that there were seventy-five comments from people on our friends list. “That’s it! I’m unfriending all those assholes.”

  Lizbeth began reading a few of the comments. “Lookin’ good, Liz! LMAO! Love your new ride! Lmao. You two chicks are a hot mess. Hahahaha No wonder you’re single, Phoebe, you have enough to handle with your street johns. Lolol. If you’re desperate for a good time call one nine hundred liznphoebes.”

  “Asshats!” I shouted as Liz untagged us. She looked incredibly bewildered by the whole ordeal. I could totally relate. “I am so pissed right now and I don’t know who I’m angrier at, Hairy Mary or all those moronic fools.”

  “I’m going to kill her,” Liz ground out. “I’m going to kill her, then chop her up into itty bitty pieces and flush her down the toilet and you’re going to help me.”

  I walked over to Mr. Coffee and poured her a cup. “Can’t. We’d never get away with it.”

  “Yes, we would. Who’s going to miss Hairy Mary?” She was beyond irritated with her.

  Taking a seat across from Liz I slid her cup over. “Your plan has way too many holes in it.”

  Liz sat back and folded her arms. “Like what? I watch CSI—we could totally get away with it.”

  “You can’t chop her up, too messy.” I sipped on my coffee. “Besides, with all that hair she’d stop up the toilet.” And that would be a real mess.

  Liz let out a snort. “What on earth was she thinking?”

  “She is just wants to be friends. I sort of feel sorry for her now that the anger has abated slightly.” Then I laughed, “We really are total disasters, aren’t we?”

  Liz started laughing with me. “Yes, but I don’t want it recorded down in history.”

  “Too late for that, it’s practically gone viral.” Oh, I had an idea! I clapped my hands together and let out another chuckle as Liz flinched. “Let’s take A&B to Facebook!”

  “A&B? And do you have to be so loud?” Liz rubbed her forehead.

  “Our acronym for The American and The Brit…A&B.”

  “Wouldn’t it be TAATB?” She drank her coffee slowly.

  “That’s too long. A&B is better.”

  “Fine. But how are we taking it to Facebook?” She looked a little worried.

  “We’ll start a fan page—target all those idiots by doling out our advice and opinions on their etiquette and behavior.” I grinned like a loon; this was the most perfect plan of revenge I’d ever come up with. We were going to hit every one of those idiots with both barrels and right now I was loaded for bear.

  “Okay, but to use A&B don’t they have to solicit our advice? I can’t imagine anyone we know asking us for advice.” Liz looked skeptical.

  “They won’t know it’s us, and it will be a different A&B than our jobs. We’ll target them. I mean, really, Liz, we’ll be doing a public service on Facebook.”

  “And that would be what exactly?” Liz asked skeptically over her coffee mug.

  “To point out all the bullshit and call it like we see it. Think about it—how many times have you read something on your feed and thought, that chick needs a good slap? Others think the same. We’ll do the virtual slapping.” I sat there waiting, allowing my words to sink in.

  A slow smile spread across Liz’s lips. Now we were on the same page. “I think you’ve got something here, Bullshit Man.”

  “Damn straight I do.” Not wasting another second I snatched the computer from her and began setting up a page for A&B. “We’ll start with the clique chicks! Mandy is in need of some serious advice and we are going to give it to her by outing one of her backstabbing, cheating besties.” Since the clique chicks were on both my and Liz’s friends list we could tag them no problem in our little bust.

  “Oh dear God,” Liz grumbled as she read over my shoulder. I’d laid it all out there but made sure to be kind to Mandy since she wasn’t in the wrong. Sandra, on the other hand I blasted, outing her as the nasty backstabbing bitch that she was. After a quick tag to all the clique chicks I hit post and sat back to admire my work. It was all out there that Sandra had cheated with Mandy’s man and that the thongs she found in her cheating low life’s pocket belonged to the tramp that posed as one of her best friends.

  As I closed the computer I grinned at Liz. “Well, we’ve done our good deed for the day.”

  “Mandy is really lucky to have us around.” Liz returned my smile. “All this charity work makes me ravenous. Since we’re up with the sparrow’s fart let’s get some breakfast.”

  “Good idea. How about we go out dancing somewhere later? It’s been forever since we’ve gone out.”

  “Oh, yes. Should we invite the brothers? We’ve been neglecting them lately.” Liz made a pouty face. “Poor hotties, up in their apartment all alone.”

  Liz’s pout needed some major work, but now was not the time to get into t
hat. “Why not? We could use a little eye candy after the week we’ve had.”

  “So Phoebs, we giving Hairy Mary a pass?” Liz asked before taking her coffee cup to the sink.

  My knee jerk reaction was to say no way, but after taking a second to consider the situation I decided against causing her bodily harm. Hairy Mary had called us her best friends. “Yeah, she’s just a little misguided I think. Besides, without her indiscretion we wouldn’t have come up with this amazing Facebook idea.”

  “You’re right. She gets a pass this time.” Liz and I gave each other a nod of agreement and we went to our separate rooms to get ready.

  American and Brit

  Dear American and Brit,

  My fiancé and I have an amazing relationship and I love him dearly but he is obsessed with Plastic Man, a DC comic super-hero whose unique completely malleable body chemistry allows him to stretch to great lengths and contort himself into any position imaginable. It’s getting out of hand. He now wants me to roll around the bed pretending that his dick is wrapping around me. He insists on calling me Woozy Winks, Plastic Man’s bumbling best friend and sidekick during the whole ridiculous ordeal. I’m getting so sick of hearing ”What a tight ass you have, Woozy Winks”. Please help me!

  So over it,

  Woozy Winks from the US

  Dear Woozy Winks,

  There is nothing wrong with roleplaying in the bedroom. Your fiancé sounds like a fun guy. Admittedly, Plastic Man is a weird choice of super hero, but look on the bright side...you can be anyone you want to be behind closed doors. We did a lot of research about Plastic Man before writing back to you and Plastic Man is pretty cool.

  Why don’t you play along and pretend to be Acid Tongue - a criminal who can spit acid at a target from several yards away? We bet and would put money on it that he won’t want Acid Tongue anywhere near his penis. Men love their penises more than comic book characters.