As part of my quest to remain The Queen of Everything and The Boss of You, I've decided to start giving everybody advice about how to live their lives. Behold, the first of what is sure to be an immensely popular feature here at amalah.com: The Wednesday Advice Smackdown. (I go with what works, people, shut up.)
Send all your stupid problems to amy[at]amalah.com with the subject line: "I'm a big four-eyed lame-o and I wear the same stupid sweater every day." Or just "Advice", your choice.
Disclaimer: This is in no way anywhere as good and pure and lovely as The Vine or The Crazy Lin Chao Motherly Advice Column, nor am I qualified to give any type of advice whatsoever. You should probably be advised to do the opposite of what I say, because it's all nonsense. But since I just gave you that advice, you might not want to do that either. Also, the links provided with the signature of each question are completely coincidental and in no way mean that person is actually the questionee. I also lie a lot.
I have this friend who just told me she's giving up alcohol for six months, because she's running or some shit like that. What the fuck is up with that? How do I talk her out of it? If I can't, is it wrong to put some Tito's in her cranberry juice when she's not looking? She can't do this to me. She can't!
Your “friend” (if that is her real name) has a serious problem. It is probably a chemical imbalance and is probably all her boyfriend’s fault. Many folks fail to recognize that running can actually be addictive and bad and unhealthy. Here are some warning signs that your friend may have a running problem:
1) You alter your lifestyle to accommodate your “running.” This includes giving up things and activities that you previously loved.
2) You spend money on lycra of any kind.
3) Your friendships suffer because you’re suddenly the buzzkill on the fucking running/healthy kick.
4) You find yourself needing that early-morning “jog around the block.”
5) Frighteningly large calf muscles that look just awful in capris.
Friendship. It’s the Anti-Running. Spike her drinks and tie her shoelaces together with really tight double-knots.
Dear Awesome Amalah,
My momma is hooked on crack. She says its coke, like the soda, but I know better. How can I let her know that crack is whack? And also, how do I make my daddy stop hitting on my babysitter?
It depends. If the “K” in your last name stands for Kennedy? There’s really no sense in doing anything, because you and your entire family are going to die very soon. So instead of bugging your mother about her crack use, let her know that most rich people prefer the more expensive powdered forms of cocaine. You have a certain image to uphold as a Kennedy, my dear, so don’t let us down. Run people over in your SUV, get drunk and bludgeon the babysitter with a golf club, learn to fly a plane and only ski triple-black-diamond-death trails at Aspen. Stop worrying about your parents and start living for yourself, because you’re pretty much doomed.
On the other hand, if the “K” in your name stands for Kristina, as in Bobbi Kristina? You need to write a tell-all book very soon and possibly record a rap album. Then a few years after your mother overdoses and dies, come forward and admit a heroin problem of your very own and record a “duet” with some old recording of your crack ho mother’s. “I Will Always Love You” would be a nice choice.
Dear Almighty Amalah,
So I have this friend who had a big crush on Bobby, but Bobby has a thing for this skank-ho Susie who's sleeping with Jim but he's sleeping with Sally and Susie doesn't know about it, and my "friend" really wants Bobby to ask her to the prom but I think he's going to ask Susie even though she'll go with Jim but Jim will totally be making out with Sally the whole time they're there, and then Susie will get all pissed off and get drunk because Fred spiked the punch and she'll end up making out with Bobby in the corner.
So should I wear my long pink dress or the short blue one?
Signed, Amanda Bynes
The blue one, but only if it’s low-cut, because it sounds like you’ve some tough skank competition if you hope lose your virginity on prom night, which is totally what you want to do, unless you’re a total loser. I also hear that duct tape dresses are really popular these days.
I have a girlfriend who on a daily basis sends me SO MANY damn stupid joke e-mails, prayer chains, "Women are strong!", "You remember the 80's", "We're friends so send this back if you really think we are" "An amazing thing will happen if you forward this to ten people within the next ten minutes" STUPID e-mails. They drive me crazy. I've kindly asked her not to send them in the past, but she continues. And the worst part? She asks for an e-mail receipt to be sent back to her, so it slows my shit down just to have these come down the pike. HOW do I tell her this is no longer 1995, and to cut that fucking shit out already. Also? She is a little delicate flower, and I'm afraid her world will come crashing down if I get all "take me off your list please."
LAUREN HAS A GIRLFRIEND LAUREN HAS A GIRLFRIEND! NA NA NA NA LESBIAN!
What? Oh, right. Your friend sounds annoying as all get out.
Here’s what you do. Find that old email forward about Aspartame being responsible for every illness known to mankind as part of a worldwide conspiracy between the Monsanto Corp. and the American Heart Association. At the end of it, put the poem about the girl who was killed by a drunk driver at her prom. Then type some ASCII drawings of flowers and cookies. Finally, tell her that if she doesn’t forward it to at least 25 people within five minutes of receiving it, each and every time she receives it, she will die and so will some puppies.
Then send it to her 743 times.
Is there such a thing as finding true love on the Internet? Also, what’s the best tactic for Internet love-gone-badly revenge?
Signed, Red-Headed Woman
Of course you can find true love on the Internet. You just have to believe and shit. And also need to make sure that the guy? Is not a complete and utter pussy.
Remember our Serenity Saying: There’s insecure, and then there’s pussy. These are incredibly wise words and you should print on a T-shirt or embroider on a little pillow.
As for the best revenge, I’d go with secretly making fun of him via snarky sidebar comments on various awesome Web sites. And by always referring to him as “Dunston the Chimp from Dunston Checks In Only Not As Good-Looking.”
And then letting go, moving on, living well and being hot.
My boss recently invited our whole team to his Naked Yoga class for a "Team Bondage Activity." I told him he had a typo in "Team Bonding,” but he insisted it was right. What does he mean?
Signed, Delicate Little Flower
As long as he doesn’t say “Teen Bondage Activity,” I don’t see what your fucking problem is. He just wants to play Twister. Bring a dessert and a waterproof camera. It’ll be fun!
Dear Queen of Everything,
My Baby-Daddy wants to start a Bon Jovi Cover band. What should I do? How am I supposed to support me AND the 7 kids AND pay for the doublewide without his unemployment check every month - Cause the unemployment agency wont give him money if he's in a band instead of lookin for a real job. Cause you know that eventhough there is a HUGE market for a Bon Jovi Cover band, it will take them awhile to get known and stuff, so until then we'll only have my unemployment check every month. More importantly - without that check I cant keep the smokes lit, and my nails done with the cute little lighnin' bolts on them, that I just love, and I cant keep the tanning bed visits going and if I'm not tan, then our love life suffers - if you know what I mean...What should I do? And what should they name the band?
Signed, Big Hair With a Big Problem
Holy crap. Ok, before we start, I’d like you to look into this little blinking red light right here. Just for a second…good…
Ok, you’re going to dump his sorry ass. Go stay at your mother's for a few days and get over it. Decide you're better off, 'cause he never appreciated you anyway. And now that he's gone, you’re gonna go into town, you’re gonna go to Bloomingdale’s and you’re gonna find yourself some nice dresses. And some shoes. You know, maybe, you could get a facial. And hire a decorator to come in here quick, 'cause...damn.
As for the kids…individually, on a scale of 1 to 10, how fucked up are they already? Now refer to the following scale for my advice:
1-4: Take him with you. He’ll probably get a good job and support you someday.
5-7: It depends. How cute is he on a sub-scale of 1 to 10? If he’s already fat or wears glasses, he might hurt your dating prospects. Get a new one that’s cuter and younger.
8-10: Leave him behind with a note pinned to his diaper that says: “Born Jovial.” There’s your band name.
Dear All-Knowing Amalah,
My girlfriend is always talking about how her ass looks fat in a skirt or jeans. But she is beautiful and fit! Is there any way to properly answer the dreaded "Do I look fat?" question?
Signed, El Dukay
The correct answer is always: Shut the fuck up, Fatass.