Six Degrees of Updatieness
All the President's Pissed-Off Men

Ask Amalah Redux

Back by popular demand, it's the Wednesday Advice Smackdown!

(And by "popular demand" I mean Lee asked for it. Three times. It could have been a comment malfunction but I'm choosing to believe he really and truly wanted an advice column today more than anything else on earth. And I deliver!)

But y'all are slacking on the questions. I can only ask myself questions so many times before I start looking kind of crazy. I mean, more kind of crazy. So here's the thing: Moments ago, I opened up a brand-new email account. A Google Gmail account, which is so, so cool because you have to be INVITED to open one. Or something. But that's totally elitist enough for me. So I'm asking y'all to help me christen and sully my beautiful virgin account. Send questions to amalah @ gmail . com. Bonus points to the first question I receive.

(Disclaimer: Bonus points have no cash value and cannot be redeemed for anything at all.)

And now! To the advice! Hurry!

Dear Amy, My younger brother, he's ten, has been trying to convince me to show him how to make a potato(e?) gun. As I am twelve years his senior, I feel it may be my duty as a brother to teach him the ways of low power ballistics in the backyard. But, in a world where it seems that the last thing we need is another person with a working knowledge of explosives, is it right that I teach him to make a portable spud shooting cannon? -Stu Dude, my brother makes those! I went to visit him once? And he was all, "POTATO CANNON!" And proceeded to shoot about three dozen potatoes at various targets in his backyard. Then I think we ran out of potatoes and started loading in other random things in the cannon. Apples, yams, and many, many beer cans. It always comes back to the beer cans in my family. Anyway, that thing was cool. My brother's son, who is surprisingly also my nephew, was about six months old at the time. So really, your little brother is way, way behind. What kind of brother are you? If you're a good one, you'll build him that potato cannon and maybe move on to making trebuchets with which to launch watermelons or more hardcore produce before his next birthday. You know, be that gateway weapon. Dear Amalah, Hi! My name is Stheth, I am stheventeen yearth old, and ath you can probably thee, I have a listhp. The listhp really isthn't my problem (I come from a long line of listhperths). The problem ith my job. I work for a well known fasth food chain. My sthpethialty ith working the drive-thru window. My problem ith that every time I take an order my bosth tellth me that I have to ask if the cuthtomer wantth it "Sthuper-Sthized", even it it'th already the biggethed combinathion pothible. Often, people asthk me to repeat mysthelf and thnicker at me. Their cruel jesths are an annoyanth, but I try not to let it bother me. Altho, my both requireth me to addreth him by "Mithter Sthilversthein" when everyone elth juthst callth him bosth. I feel that I am being treated unfairly. When I brought thith to Mithter Sthilverstein's attenthion, he juthst thaid that thinth I have been working in the window that thalesth have increathed by 300 perthent! Amalah, sthould I sthtick it out and contiunue to work at thith plath without the resthpect that I detherve? I really need the money tho that I can buy tith Ford Pinto that my couthin Tham ith fikthing up for me. Then I want to move to Sthan Franthithco with my sithter Thethelia after I graduate nexth year (Thethela thays that my listhp will barely be notithable there). I live in a thmall town and there jutht aren't that many jobth available. What do you thuggestht? Thighn me, A few frieth sthort of a Happy Meal My head is all hurty now. First of all, Sethie, that's all sad about your lisp and all, but you lisp when you TYPE? What? I cannot help such an idiot. Because usually? My advice would be to get a blog and reinvent yourself with an online persona. Because normal people DON'T LISP ONLINE. So it really would be perfect advice for you if you weren't so thilly. You would not believe the real-life problems some of the blogging elite have, and how they use the sweet, sweet Internet to hide from the world. For example: Chris is morbidly obese. Coleen has 17 toes. Lauren has a mullet. Leigh is deathly afraid of the color burnt sienna. Dawnie attends QuakeCons all the damn time. Diana was the marketing genius behind New Coke. Zoot makes her child wear a mask out in public like Michael Jackson. Mindy doesn't use deodorant for religious reasons. Lee suffers from OCD and must ask all questions in triplicate. Go ahead, name a blogger, any blogger, and I'll tell you what's really wrong with them. And you know I'm right, because I read InTouch Weekly.



Wow, I'm one of the "blogging elite"?


Wow, I'm one of the "blogging elite"?


Wow, I'm one of the "blogging elite"?

Apparently not anymore - well after this series of comments.


God, Amy. It's all becoming so clear to me now....


But its a BARNEY mask. Its cool! I know he's 17, but still...BARNEY. You cant go wrong making a 17 yr old wear a Barney mask, ya know.


Hey! What's so wrong with QuakeCons! It's a great place to go, and, um... uh... meet people? No. Um... uh...

OK. You got me there. Damn.


I don't have 17 toes!!!

But I do like to take it up the pooper every now and again.


Okay, part of me would really, really like to know what's wrong with me (besides the obvious) but the other part of me is just so afraid....


I'll tell you Mir. Or rather, I'll tell everybody.

Mir's "children" are actually two monkey sock puppets she stole from a nursing home.

Anybody else??


Me! Me! Do me! Oooo! Oooo! Ooooo!


Don't worry honey... I'll tell them myself.

I have...goddamnsonofabitch cocksucking asshole.. TERRETS SYNDROME. shit.fuck.

maybe not.

No really... ME! ME!!!!!Do me too!!!! (wait, didin't we discuss THAT already???)


Okay then...

By day, Michelle works long and hard as a welder at a steel plant. By night, she's a stripper. But her lifelong dream is really to be a policewoman by day and a hooker by night.

And Cyn? Oh my god. She's actually just the online alter-ego of "comedian" Andy Dick. Run.


You say "New Coke" as if it's a bad thing! What you DON'T know is that New Coke was all part of my plot to get people all excited about OLD Coke, which in turn would get them to stop buying DIET Coke. That way, the stores will never be out of my sweet nectar of life and I won't be forced to almost buy Diet Coke with Lime/Lemon/Vanilla/Pickle (which was actually the brainchild of, I remember correctly, evil clown midgets).

It takes a lot of pretzel logic to be an evil genius, but I'm totally up for it.


Okay - you have GOT to keep this going somehow - this is hilarious.


I'm afraid to even ask! LMAO :)


You don't even HAVE to ask!

"Sweety" is really not that sweet at all. She's actually quite salty.

Suzanna Danna

My momma told me I was perfect.... and pretty... and that my butt wasn't too big.


Thanks for reveiling this Amalah! It's been a load on my shoulder for 25 longgggggg years. At least I can get rid of my expensive shrink now. Which is a whole other secret in it self.


Amy! You rock! Knowing that my children are only puppets has freed me from the decisions surrounding packing for them for their trip! All they need is a coupla hair bows! PHEW! ;)


I have some ammo for Stu's potato cannon over at my blog today, cheap!

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