by The Believer
Paul F. Tompkins
Dear Paul:
When there’s food in my office, I’ll eat it all, regardless of how many cashews I ate on the way to work. How do I stop myself from compulsively overeating?
Doug Prentiss
Santa Fe, NM
Dear Doug:
Wait, wait, wait. How much food is in this office? How much could there be? Do you people work more than eight hours? Do you work on an oil rig? You’re very mysterious about the food and how it gets into the office. Are you eating your coworkers’ stuff? Not cool. Confess that you’ve been eating their Lean Pockets and the overeating will stop when they knock your teeth out. Do you work alone and suddenly food is just … there? Perhaps you are a sleepy cobbler and the industrious elves, in addition to doing your job, are leaving behind deli trays and pudding packs. I don’t know the situation. If you won’t be straight with me, the best I can do is advise you to give up on that cashew-as-appetite-suppressant plan. I think those nuts are just whetting your appetite for all the food that is contained in a building.
Paul
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Dear Paul:
I’ve been infected with poison oak or ivy. Research and doctors have told me that there is no cure and I will suffer from constant itching, oozing, and blisters for the next two to three weeks. I don’t believe the doctors. I think they are hiding something just so those of us who are highly allergic to this evil plant can suffer. Do you know of home remedy that will make the pain go away?
Jennifer
Austin, TX
Dear Jennifer:
I fear for your safety now that you have revealed this conspiracy. Poison oak is the least of your problems. You’d better get out of the country and I mean now. Also, I’m mocking you. Stop being ridiculous! That’s what the doctor cabal picked as the official affliction they’re gonna fold their arms over and do nothing about? Do you know how many kinds of insane cancers there are out there that they’ve probably just given up on? Come on. Tough it out. Watch where you’re walking next time. Also, “Do you know of home remedy”? Did you think talking like a villager in an old Wolfman movie would make me cough up some secret Gypsy cure?
Paul
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Dear Paul:
My roommates and I have trouble making friends. We recently moved to a new city and every time we go out and meet new people, we never hear from them again. We are getting tired of hanging out with each other. How do we get these people to be friends with us without coming across like stalkers or cult [sic]?
Peter Green
San Francisco, CA
Dear Peter:
Maybe these people are picking up on the obvious hatred you and your roommates have for each other. It seems like you all would be better off away from each other, finding your own individual pals instead of surrounding innocent people and forcing your gang-friendship down their throats. Divide and conquer. Give San Francisco a break.
Oh, and “coming across like stalkers or cult”—who are your roommates? Jennifer from Austin? Borat? Tonto?
Paul
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Dear Paul:
Smoking marijuana makes me afraid of everything. I still love to joke about it, though, and talk about it all the time, and end up smoking it at every opportunity. How do I kick the habit?
Marsha Knesbitt
Colorado Springs, CO
Dear Marsha:
If I had to listen to you make a bunch of tired, unfunny pot jokes and endure endless hours of your yammering about pot and how great it is and how it needs to be legalized and how you can make clothes out of hemp and glaucoma blah blah blah, and then found out you didn’t even smoke pot anymore, I would murder you and then kill myself. Don’t kick the habit. For both our sakes.
Paul
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Dear Paul:
I just moved into a new apartment and my room is right off of the living room. My roommates watch a lot of TV, always after midnight and always very, very loudly. I hate my new roommates. Should I just move out or sit down with them and try to defuse the situation?
Smiles,
Greg Klondike
Dublin, CA
Dear Greg:
Ha! Are you talking about calling a “house meeting”? That is rich! Those never work! Never! You will only be left with the cold comfort afforded you by having taken the high road, while your roommates label you an uptight, patronizing old grandma. And they will start eating your organic peanut butter out of the communal fridge like a pack of Doug Prentisses.
If you can drive the thirty-six miles from Dublin to San Francisco, there is an awesome roommate situation waiting for you! Greg, you are just what those Moonies need to shake things up! Pack up your earplugs and persecution complex and hit the road!
Paul
Sarah Vowell
Dear Sarah:
Over the last few months, I’ve developed a crush on a librarian. He’s not exactly a hottie, but there’s something about him that I find irresistible. Maybe it’s the argyle sweater or the pear-shaped body. It just drives me wild. But I don’t have the guts to ask him out. Do you have any suggestions?
Kelly Lawson
Salt Lake City, UT
Dear Kelly:
Why not enlist his help on a research project explaining the etymology and implications of the phrase “Adlai Stevenson moment”? This might allow you (a) the hair-sniffingly close physical proximity involved with the presentation of research materials—and here I suggest, assuming his library has yet to transfer its analog collections to digital, that you “accidentally” drop a roll of microfilm, unspooling it across the room so the two of you, on all fours, can rewind it together—and (b) a casual way to assess his position on verbal bravery. Like, if he seems turned on by Stevenson’s rhetorical gumption toward Soviet ambassador Zorin in 1962, he might be similarly impressed if you ask him out in 2009. If he hesitates to answer, just bark, as Stevenson did so famously and so adorably, “Don’t wait for the translation—yes or no?” He will be very charmed by this, especially if you follow up with black-and-white aerial photographs of possible first-date locations. If you have limited helicopter access, you may simply type in the library’s ZIP code and order one of the U.S. Geological Survey’s photos taken from 20,000 feet (www.usgs.gov).
Sarah
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Dear Sarah:
I have an abundance of dryer lint in all different shades of grays and whites. I usually fashion baby wigs with the stuff. Can you suggest other creative uses for my fuzzy matter?
Gary Brewer
Mesa, AZ
Dear Gary:
I cannot. However, I would caution you to remember it’s not the destination but the journey where dryer lint, like so many things in life, is concerned. According to the Consumer Product Safety Commission, there are more than fifteen thousand dryer fires every year in the United States, causing tens of millions of dollars in damages. So your seemingly stupid hobby turns out to be quite civic-minded and safety-firsty. Way to go, you!
Sarah
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Dear Sarah:
I’ve found lately that the hints I read from Heloise every Sunday in the newspaper are becoming less funny and more useful. Am I getting old, or just more practical?
Jamie Spears
Aspen, CO
Dear Jamie:
I wouldn’t know. My hometown newspaper, a little old rag called the New York Times, does not stoop to publishing comic strips or ladylike advice columns, unless you count the op-ed pages under the current reign of editorial page editor Ms. Gail Collins. At press time, Ms. Collins’s page counsels our president to dissuade his visiting Nigerian colleague Olusegun Obasanjo from amending the Nigerian constitution to allow for a third presidential term, a “foolhardy” tactic the Times fears will spark a civil war. Advice which, to answer your question, is both practical and hilarious, except for the glaring omission of how club soda might also help.
Sarah
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br /> Dear Sarah:
As a sales representative for a large pharmaceutical concern, I spend a considerable portion of my day behind the wheel and have taken to preparing hot meals on the engine block of my company-issued automobile. The meats and shellfish come out just fine, but I’m having trouble with the grilled asparagus. I’m not sure if I’m wrapping the foil too tightly, or if my choice of olive oil is to blame. Please help.
Thomas Mullen
Washington, DC
Dear Thomas:
Gee, that’s terrific that you can take time out of your busy schedule of turning America’s elderly into Canadian drug smugglers while further guzzling the gas that ensures our dependence on foreign oil and simultaneously contributes to the global warming that will eventually drown the entire tristate area so as to Alice Waters up your otherwise Willy Loman existence. According to Ms. Waters’s Chez Panisse Vegetables, she parboils asparagus spears in boiling salt water for one minute before throwing them onto a grill.
Sarah
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Dear Sarah:
I am an Orthodox Christian and have always dated Orthodox guys until now. I met a wonderful man at Trader Joe’s and am now head over heels in love. My family won’t accept our relationship, however, and now I don’t know what to do. Should I break up with him in order to please my family?
Kate Mobley
Portland, OR
Dear Kate:
A Trader Joe’s just opened here in Manhattan! What are their snacks you recommend? I remember enjoying some of their cheddar soy crisps in the Bay Area a couple of book tours ago, thanks to a thoughtful media escort who uses the phrase “socially conscious” more than one hears back east, but lately I have more of a thing for sweet potatoes.
Sarah
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Dear Sarah:
I recently celebrated a milestone birthday (the big four-oh!) and I’m suddenly plagued with self-doubt. I guess you could say that I’m part of the so-called intellectual elite. I read several books a day, I’m fluent in five languages, and I regularly attend the opera. But since my birthday, I’ve become acutely aware of my shortcomings. I don’t know how to change the oil in my car, for instance. And I don’t enjoy professional sports. Is this something I should be concerned about?
Jason Sanders
New York, NY
Dear Jason:
Is one of the languages you speak pussy? I ask you: What requires more masculine stamina, lollygagging on a couch in one’s pajamas during the NBA play-offs while receiving constant noisy sustenance from the good people of Frito-Lay, or sitting in a stiff seat wearing a stiff tuxedo suffering through two straight nights of Wagner’s eleventy-hour Ring Cycle and getting the evil eye from stout divas in horned helmets if you so much as unwrap a cough drop? And if you really want to learn how to change the oil in your (lemme guess) Saab, I’m thinking a guy who’s managed to effortlessly conjugate five kinds of subjunctive verbs can speed-read Auto Repair for Dummies, for crying out loud. Plus, according to Camus’s The Myth of Sisyphus (Le Mythe de Sisyphe to you), “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide.” Hope that cheers you up—if you’ll pardon my split infinitive.
Sarah
David Wain
Dear David:
Lately my wife has been withdrawn and pretty bummed out. When I ask her what’s wrong, she says, “For no particular reason.” Is she mad at me?
Eric Fetterman
New York, NY
Dear Eric:
You have obviously not yet learned the fine art of “reading” women. A woman is a creature that can be studied. It took me years, both in the United States and in Sun City, but now I know—I mean really know—women. The benefits of this knowledge are endless: hours of achingly lurid sex; meals cooked at the snap of a finger any time of day or night (and I’m not just talking about the standard meat loaf. Try these sample dishes on for size: caramelized beef au jus in a blazed reduction of rice and cream; tuna à la king; Moroccan noodle surprise; chocolate cake—and that’s only a sampling). In your case, the read could not be easier: Your wife’s refrain of “For no particular reason” is a thinly veiled signal that she wants you to take her to a rodeo. I promise you, after one afternoon of ridin’ and ropin’ (and barrel racing), your wife will be chipper, horny, and ready to pork.
David
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Dear David:
I’ve got a group of friends I really love. Unfortunately, some of them can end up playing mind games with each other and with me. How should I handle their aggressive or patronizing behavior?
Ian
San Francisco, CA
Dear Ian:
I assume by “mind games” you mean brain teasers. My advice is to simply break it down into pieces and make a chart. For example, if the butler is in the room next to Duane, then the butler cannot be Duane, so you just put an “X” on that part of the grid. If you keep eliminating all the possibilities, I’m confident you’ll find that Mrs. Leeverlily was the only one in the study at the time of the murder and so she had the opportunity to shoot General Thornbush with the silver revolver and hide his body in the convertible couch.
If your friends are still patronizing after trying the above, they’re not good friends and you should try to get some new ones. I suggest joining a club where you’ll meet people with similar interests. In your case, check out the fag club.
Good luck!
David
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Dear David:
My cat likes to eat raw cookie dough, so I often leave a few tablespoons of it in her dish after I’m finished baking. Is this inhumane?
Julia Mordaunt
Burlington, VT
Dear Julia:
Oh, Julia. Where to start? First of all, just because she eats cookie dough doesn’t mean she likes it. She might eat it because it’s all she gets. Why don’t you ever give her regular cat food? Cookie dough is filled with sugar and carbs. At least make it with Splenda and low-fat chocolate chips. Also, why don’t you call Richard back? He’s so fond of you, and so what if he was a little boring on the first date? He was probably nervous. He’s a nice guy and he’s got a good job, and it’s not like you’ve got men lined up around the block, no offense. Would it kill you to just meet him again for a cup of coffee and see if you might like him a little more? I hear he’s been rock climbing. Maybe you guys could go together. I hate to see you always showing up alone at weddings. Give him a call. I told him you would. Okay, that’s it. I’ve said my piece. I’ll shut up now and you do what you want with your life.
Much love,
David
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Dear David:
I have a chronic problem. I’m always dropping things, or losing things. At the bar or in my home, it doesn’t matter. If there is a liquid, I usually spill it. I was wondering, what is the best way to handle this?
Cory
Los Angeles, CA
Dear Cory:
Luckily, yours is a problem that has a simple solution. Stop being a putz! Let’s role-play: You’re in a nice restaurant and the waiter brings you a martini. You do not put the full martini glass in the breast pocket of your blazer! This is not as suave as you think it is. Plus, there’s a very good chance the martini will spill. Better bet: keep the martini on the table and carefully sip it. Same goes for bug juice and Coke. Another tip: don’t butter your honeydews. They’re harder to keep a hold of, especially if you only have one hand. (Are you an amputee? Your letter didn’t specify.) Keep on keeping on, Cory. I’m rooting for you, and so are all of my staff.
David
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Dear David:
Is it ethical to dispose of one pet (dead) by feeding it to another?
Yulia Strizheus
Cicero, IL
Dear Yulia:
Yulia? That’s your name? I’m not even going there, girlfriend. Anyway, regarding your question: in our family we had three ways of disposing of pets—flushing (for iguanas), b
urying (for dogs), and a bullet to the brain (for cats). Feeding one pet to another is barbaric, medieval, and sick. But with a name like Yulia, my guess is you’re some kind of dirty, scab-covered foreigner. So go ahead, knock yourself out.
With great respect,
David
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Dear David:
Sometimes I like to surprise my wife and come home in the middle of the day for lunch and a massage. But lately, when I arrive, I find her playing around in the yard with Bosco, one of the neighborhood dogs. He’s a red-and-brown collie and he’s friendly with everyone, but there’s something about the way he licks her knee that doesn’t sit right with me. What should I do?
Chris Heffernan
Queens, NY
Dear Chris:
As awkward as it sometimes can be, the only solution is to sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk with Bosco. If he’s unresponsive (as collies can tend to be—I tell you from experience), then you’ll have to be proactive and structure the conversation. Give Bosco ample opportunity to tell you if he’s attracted to your wife, and if so, which parts of her specifically. Be prepared: in situations like this, Bosco might not offer much more than a “ruff-ruff” or “bow-wow.” Don’t be discouraged by this. It could be the only way Bosco knows how to communicate. Another tactic is to talk to your wife about the situation. If she only offers you a “bow-wow,” then my guess is your wife is something of a hound and should be dropped faster than a hot potato.
Much love,
David
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Dear David:
I only shave every three days. Do you think this is enough, or should I do it more frequently?
Jason McKinney
Denver, CO
Dear Jason:
There was an old middle school rhyme I used to sing that’s a good rule of thumb:
Shave your beard every four days
Balls every two
Your butt is like another face
And from it comes a doo.
Follow these words and you, too, can enjoy the true relationship that I have with God.
Keep in touch,
David
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Dear David:
I get really angry whenever I watch TV. Not just at the news, but at sitcoms and dramas and pretty much everything that’s on. I start screaming and throwing things at the screen and my blood pressure goes through the roof. Is this my problem or does TV owe me an apology?