Blame It on Bianca Del Rio_The Expert on Nothing With an Opinion on Everything

by Bianca Del Rio

  My neighbor next door always walks around his house naked, with the drapes wide open. Our houses are very close to one another with floor to ceiling windows. If he was hot it might be okay but he’s not. He’s old, fat and hairy. It’s beyond distracting, it’s disgusting. I’ve asked him to close the drapes or wear shorts or something, but he says it’s his house, he has every right to be naked. Is there anything I can do?

  Eddie

  Nashville, Tennessee

  Dear Nauseous in Nashville,

  Yes, there’s something you can do: pretend you’re at a Ben Stiller movie and look away.

  BDR

  * * *

  Dear Bianca:

  My roommate Arlene and I moved to Los Angeles together two years ago and things were fine until recently. I have a boyfriend (she doesn’t), Mark, who comes over periodically to have dinner, hang out, spend the night. Mark and Arlene get along okay. Arlene’s always been introverted but I think she’s crossed the line from homebody to shut-in and it’s affecting my relationships, both with her and Mark. It’s been a struggle to find some private time with Mark because Arlene is ALWAYS home. Mark and I can’t have a quiet dinner or cuddle up to watch a movie because she’s ALWAYS there. I’ve asked her to give me and Mark some private time, alone in the apartment. I’ve asked her to go out with friends, go to a movie, whatever. I’ve offered to pay for her nights out, but to no avail. She just won’t go out. Any advice?

  Michael

  Santa Monica, California

  Dear Michael,

  Your situation is not uncommon. Years ago, Anne Frank called me to complain that she had no privacy and that her family and roommates refused to leave the apartment. For years! Can you imagine? I don’t know how Anne worked it out, I lost track of her.

  Anyway, speaking with Arlene hasn’t done you any good, so it’s time for Plan B: kill her in her sleep. And don’t forget to discreetly register with RoomateFinders.com ahead of time.

  * * *

  Dear Bianca,

  My downstairs neighbors are very nice, but they talk VERY loudly, especially the father, and especially in the mornings. It’s almost like they walk around with megaphones. While it doesn’t usually wake me, I have to keep all the windows closed and stay in the back of the house to get away from the noise. But because I have a dog who jumps around, sometimes until 11:00 pm, and they’ve never, ever said a word to me about it, I feel like I shouldn’t complain or say anything to them. What do you suggest?

  Danny

  Garden Grove, California

  Dear Danny,

  Unlike you, I don’t have any pets . . . but I do have a lot of “foot traffic” coming in and out of my apartment late at night. And Rajib has never said a word to me about it. Not once has he passed me in the hall and said, “Hey, dick-tucker, what’s up with all of the sailors and firemen?” While you and I were in similar positions, I did say something, because while my parade of “guests” might have made Haji nauseous, the smell of curry actually makes me vomit. I was very nice about it. I knocked on his door and said, “I know I may not be the best neighbor [big lie], but I’m actually allergic to curry [huge lie], so if you could open windows or turn on a fan when you’re cooking, I’d really appreciate it.” He was great; he said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll take care of it.” Problem solved! My suggestion to you? Lie; tell him you have a sleep disorder or a sound-related nerve condition or some other bullshit.

  Hope that helps, Danny. —And oh, by the way, I offered to blow him once a week.

  * * *

  Dear Bianca,

  I live in a gated, suburban condo complex. For the most part I have really nice neighbors. We all chat and have our dogs run and play together. Except for the guy next to me, Dan, who, for no apparent reason, just doesn’t like me. Which is fine, except he’s rude. Example: Yesterday, my neighbors Alan & Sue, Dave & Arlene & Dan were out playing with the dogs. When I joined we all exchanged pleasantries, except for Dan, who ignored me, as though I hadn’t said hello to him. He then left. Alan asked me, “What was that about?” and Arlene said, “Who knows? He’s always like that to Larry.” I have zero interest in being friends with this asshole, but I don’t like being publicly embarrassed for no reason. Any suggestions?

  Larry

  Laguna Niguel, California

  We’re a perfect match. He has a six-pack, and I just drank one!

  © Jovanni Jimenez-Pedraza

  Ahhh, Larry,

  First thing you need to do is get out of the suburbs. Where I live, in West Hollywood, EVERYONE acts like Dan—snarky, cunty, and rude—but we consider those good qualities!

  When dealing with jerks, my mother always used to say, “Kill ’em with kindness.” Except when talking about my father, when she’d say, “Kill ’em with Clorox . . . or maybe a pillow over his head, or a not-so-gentle shove down a flight of concrete steps.” I digress. Try following my mother’s advice: Kill him with kindness.

  Whenever you see him (especially in front of your neighbors) force him to engage with you in conversation. Be nauseatingly friendly and ask him a million questions. “Hey, Dan, how are you? Love that shirt; where’d you get it? Can you tell me the best place to buy new tires? Your garden looks great. You must have twenty different kinds of plants. Can you tell me what each one of them is, and how can I grow them?”

  If he feels shame answering your questions, while he’s talking, yawn really loudly for a long time, and then say, “Oh, I’m sorry. That was just sooooo boring.” Then walk away.

  If he doesn’t answer, say to your friends, “See, I TOLD you he was an asshole.” Then let your dog off the leash and sit back and enjoy while Cujo mauls Mr. Nasty Pants.

  * * *

  Dear Bianca,

  My neighbor keeps putting Trump signs up on his front lawn and porch, and I keep taking them down. I’m getting tired. (I live in a very progressive town, and he is our neighborhood bigot.) What can I do?

  Frannie

  Long Island, New York

  Frannie,

  Acetone, carbon disulfide, lacquer, gasoline, and fuel oil are all wonderful accelerants. Wear gloves, and make sure Archie Bunker’s not home at the time.

  B

  Xoxo

  * * *

  Bianca,

  My best friend, Kate, and I are sharing a house. We’re really close, like brother and sister. We’re both in our fifties. But there’s a problem: Kate says she’s allergic to cleaning products so she can’t do any cleaning—which would be fine, except SHE’S A SLOB! Actually, she’s beyond a slob, whatever that would be. She leaves food out on the counters, dirty clothes all over the floors, doesn’t clean up the dog poop in the yard, etc. I don’t know if she’s really allergic to cleaning products or she’s just lazy, and won’t do anything because she knows I’ll do it. When I complain, she tells me I’m too “rigid,” and should “lighten up.” I don’t know what to do. I just think that if she can’t clean, then she can’t be messy. Help!

  Michael

  Princeton, New Jersey

  Dear Michael,

  Easy. Take a giant shit in her bed. Every day. And tell her you can’t clean it because you’re allergic to bedding. I’m pretty sure she’ll start dusting and vacuuming faster than you can say, “I had cabbage for lunch.” Just a suggestion!

  * * *

  Dear Bianca:

  A talented writer friend of mine has fallen on hard times. He’s facing losing his home and living out of his car. He’s sixty years old, not exactly a hot commodity in the job market. Any good advice I can pass on to him?

  Marla

  Santa Monica, California

  Dear Marla,

  You’re right; it is hard to get a decent-paying job at sixty years of age. Maybe he should look into being a “lab rat” for pharmaceutical companies looking to do testing for new drugs; they must pay something, and he’ll be helping the future of mankind! And if he dies from one of the experimental drugs, well, he’s a sixty-year-old homeless guy; who
gives a shit?

  Depending on the car, living out of it may not be such a bad idea. (Smart Car, not good; SUV, fine.) If the car has decent head and leg room—and your friend maintains a cheap membership at a gym (where he can shower, pee, poop, and cruise the steam room for casual sex with strangers—or so I’ve been told), his situation is quite doable. Plus, he can park on Rodeo Drive and tell people he lives in Beverly Hills! So quit being so negative; I think you’re the one with the problem, Marla. FYI, on the upside, he won’t be offended by this entry; he’s not reading this; books cost money.

  * * *

  Dear Bianca:

  I’m a fifty-eight-year-old gay man. My neighbor’s twenty-year-old son keeps coming on to me (makes suggestive remarks, wears revealing shorts, etc.). I’m not sure what to do. The kid is really hot and I’d love for him to spend the summer in the back of my throat. I don’t know if he’s out to his parents or not and I don’t want to ruin his family life, or make this an uncomfortable living situation for everyone. What should I do?

  Michael

  Danbury, Connecticut

  Dear Michael,

  Fuck him, suck him, let him call you Debbie and cum on your tits! Who cares what his parents think? That would be HIS problem. He’s twenty, he’s LEGAL, he’s hot. And if he’s hung, move him in.

  Kisses,

  BDR

  P.S. I’m jealous, you old fuck.

  P.P.S. SOMEONE has to diddle the children now that Michael Jackson’s dead.

  * * *

  Dear Bianca,

  My best friend, Tom, recently lost his wife after 35 years of marriage. She was almost twenty years older than he was (he was 58, she was 77) so it’s not surprising she went first. It’s been almost a year and I’d like to try to set him up on dates and help him get on with the rest of his life. Any suggestions on how I can be of service?

  Jeff

  Seattle, Washington

  Dear Jeff,

  If you truly want to be of service, suck his dick. You may not get a thank-you, but sometimes a good moan is more than enough.

  Before I go on, I assume that when you say Tom “lost his wife,” you mean she croaked, and didn’t just wander off in some dementia-riddled stupor and three years from now we’ll find her in a Walmart parking lot or living in the woods, like a feral cat or Nell.

  You don’t mention how the old lady—I’m sorry, I mean dearly departed—died. Did she die of natural causes (and by that I mean disease, organ failure, or the clichéd “fell and broke her hip, and two days later she was gone”) or was it a freak accident or something a tad more sinister?

  A lot of old people die in freak accidents. (I’m still amazed Blanche Hudson survived when Baby Jane pushed her wheelchair down the steps. I think her eyebrows must’ve broken the fall.) The old farts get their walkers stuck in a sidewalk grate and tumble into oncoming traffic; they mistake Krazy Glue for Polident; they go to give their pet dog a kiss, but forget they don’t have a dog and have accidentally wandered into a wild animal preserve and gotten mauled to death trying to kiss a lion.

  Or was your friend Tom so tired of trying to get it up to satisfy the withered old crone he slipped her Viagra instead of her blood pressure meds, and her heart stopped just as she was getting moist?

  Unless there’s an ongoing police investigation, I say it’s perfectly okay for you to try to ease your friend back into the dating scene. Since he obviously likes older women, maybe throw a Golden Girls marathon party (although he’d likely meet more gay men than old women). Perhaps you could both start volunteering at an assisted living facility? You could be serving lunches while Tom cruises the halls looking for nana-pussy?

  I think the best thing you could do is direct him toward websites and online dating sites that cater to his tastes. The ones I recommend are: guesswhoscoughing.com, #IthinkIfoundalump, and @grandmasmellsfunny. Keep me posted, and good luck to Tom!

  * * *

  Dear Bianca:

  My new neighbors are from a foreign country and for the life of me I have no idea which country it is. I want to be a good neighbor and welcome them to our community but I’m at a loss; they speak a language I can’t identify. Even though they’re Mediterranean-looking I know they’re not speaking Spanish or Italian (I have a regular gardener and a pizza-guy). I don’t think it’s Greek or Portuguese either. My best guess is that they’re Muslim and I’d like them to know that they’re safe and welcome in our neighborhood. How can I find out without asking them directly, and making them either scared or uncomfortable?

  Lisa

  Brooklyn, New York

  Dear Liberal Lisa,

  Easy-peasy, my commie friend! (I AM KIDDING! You are not my friend.) Regardless of the weather, go outside in a full burka, and sit on your front porch (do you have porches in Brooklyn, or just stoops?) reading the Koran. When you see the new neighbors, if it’s the woman or a daughter, wave hello; if it’s the father or a son, look down at your feet (a) in shame, and (b) because you can never let a strange man look at you—you KNOW what he wants. If they respond positively, they’re probably Muslim. Or you can bring them a “Welcome to the hood” basket of hummus, grape leaves, live goats, and desert sand—and wear a “Fuck the Jews” T-shirt when you swing by their place. If they smile and invite you in, then they’re probably Muslim or Steve Bannon’s family. Hope that helps.

  * * *

  Dear Bianca:

  Our new neighbors have a large, very aggressive pit bull. We have three small children. We don’t know what to do. Any suggestions?

  Jim & Debbie

  Los Angeles, California

  Jim & Debbie,

  Yes.

  Don’t send your kids to play in the yard wearing clothing made out of luncheon meat.

  Always keep one of the children indoors, you know, as a backup.

  If you have elderly parents or in-laws, invite them to stay with you. Even at an advanced age they’re probably larger than the children, and will leave plenty of leftovers for Cujo for weeks to come.

  * * *

  Hey Bianca,

  I’m 16 years of age, and at school I seem to make friends with all the seniors. When school’s out for summer, all the seniors graduate and I never get to speak to them again. So please, what should I do to have friends?

  Chloe

  Boise, Idaho

  I’m two tequilas away from buying the fat thing on the left.

  © Jovanni Jimenez-Pedraza

  Chloe,

  I love that you’re only sixteen and already following me! You’re going to have PUH-LENTY of friends! They’ll all be gay men who failed at musical theater, but they have a lot of free time to do your hair and tell you that you look pretty in your Instagram photos (which have been filtered, Photoshopped, and highlighted).

  Plan A: Hang out with the dumber students; they’ll never be seniors, let alone graduate. You’ll be BFFs 4eva!

  Plan B: Do what everyone else does: go trolling on Craigslist for friends. You might meet some great people. Of course, you might also meet a dangerous creep, which, again, might not be so bad. Think about it—which is more exciting, going to a slowly paced foreign film with some new friends, or being bound and gagged in the trunk of a Chrysler LeBaron? Try it; it’s fun. Would I lie to you? A sixteen-year-old tied up in a trunk? Get real, girl, that’s a Saturday night where I’m from. ☺

  * * *

  Dear Bianca,

  I came home recently to find my BFF/roommate, Angie, in bed with my ex-boyfriend of five years (we broke up three months ago). Needless to say I was shocked. They say they didn’t start hooking up until recently and I believe them, but I still feel betrayed. I’m a ball of conflicting emotions and I don’t know what to do. Any advice?

  Jennifer

  Merrick, New York

  Dear Jennifer,

  THIS is your BFF? How low are your standards for friendship? Having a BFF like this is like having Charles Manson as your favorite family member. Anyone who would sleep with your
ex-boyfriend in your house is not your BFF—or at least she shouldn’t be. I’d make a laundry list of all of your friends and acquaintances and start looking to replace her. (If you want to be a bitch, start with HER ex-boyfriend.) BFF stands for Best Friend Forever. Angie is not your BFF, she’s your BCF—and don’t make me spell it out.

  My advice? Either she moves out or you move out. And if it’s you, (a) move out in the middle of the night, and (b) on your way out the door light a prayer candle for them . . . after you’ve “accidentally” doused the floor with gasoline.

  * * *

  Dear Bianca,

  Every time I have friends over, my dog immediately starts licking his balls. Help!

  Nate

  Taos, New Mexico

  Dear Nate:

  That’s disgusting. Put Fido in another room. Unless, of course, when he’s done licking his thing, he lights up a cigarette and sings Johnny Mathis songs, in which case you should put him on videotape and sell it to a fetish website. You may lose some friends, but it’s a win-win for you and Bow-wow.

  Chapter 4

  You’re the Top!

  Sex is funny and love is serious.

  STEPHAN JENKINS

  Sex is funny and love is serious. And semen is hard to get out of your hair.

  BIANCA DEL RIO

  Unicorns ARE real. And he’s hung like a horse.

  © Jovanni Jimenez-Pedraza

  The majority of questions I received were about sex. And the majority of those questions were about fisting, toilet play, and “exactly what the fuck is it that lesbians do in bed?” And even though I’ve cruised every men’s room, trailer park, and truck stop in America (as well as parts of Canada, Australia, and that village in Uganda where they put plates in their lips—talk about sloppy head), I am NOT an expert on sex. I’m just a cheap slut. (One year for my birthday, my Nana bought me a T-shirt that said, “Let Go of My Ears, I Know What I’m Doing.” I was seven.) The sex questions covered a wide range of topics, from “How do I get my wife more interested?” to “How do I get those salad tongs out of my ass?” Enjoy!