I just had a dream where I was in a prison tower and a large bear started attacking me because it was angry. I am concerned because in the dream, someone I don’t know brought the bear to my house in a plastic igloo and said, “Look, it’s my pet!” Is this an omen?
Liz, age 18
What kind of a bear was it? Grizzly? Polar? Teddy? Chicago? What kind of prison tower? An old one, like the Tower of London? Older, like the one Rapunzel tossed her hair out of? Or modern, like the kind the guards stand on at San Quentin? And what kind of igloo was it? One of those dog house igloos? If so, the bear couldn’t have been that big. It wasn’t an Igloo-brand cooler, was it? The bear would be even smaller if that was the case. If you want my help, I need details, girl. Maybe you eighteen-year-olds think this whole vague description thing is the bomb, but for us guys in our forties, we need specifics. You wouldn’t be this ambiguous if I was Dr. Phil, now would you? Write me back and get that thesaurus out.
Please provide your insight to the following two topics: The bikini line: shave or wax?
Lathering up in the shower: washcloth, loofah, or direct application of soap?
First of all, let me say what a pleasure it is to not answer a question from someone whose name begins with an L. Secondly, do you really think I’m gonna tell you how to run your genital life? How can I possibly win at that game? I say, “Sure, shave away!” You get out the old Lady Schick and sneeze at an inopportune moment and the next thing I know I’m sitting in court being sued for destruction of property. I say, “Hey, wax that thing!” You head to the salon, the beautician had greasy French fries at lunch, the hot wax container slips out of her slippery ﬁngers just as she’s attending to your lady parts and the next thing I know I’m back in court getting sued like McDonald’s did when that old lady dropped a cup of hot coffee on her hoo-ha. No way, Annette. I ain’t playin’ that game.
being sued for destruction of property. I say, “Hey, wax that thing!” You head to the salon, the beautician had greasy French fries at lunch, the hot wax container slips out of her slippery ﬁngers just as she’s attending to your lady parts and the next thing I know I’m back in court getting sued like McDonald’s did when that old lady dropped a cup of hot coffee on her hoo-ha. No way, Annette. I ain’t playin’ that game.
For years I have tried to make my Hungarian grand-mother’s cucumber salad. She improvises her recipe so she wrote down the steps for me to follow. But try as I might, mine never tastes as good as hers. What am I doing wrong?
You’re trying to crash your grandmother’s party, that’s what you’re doing. Did you ever stop and think that maybe your grandmother isn’t giving you the exact recipe because she wants your salad to be worse than hers? What’s next? You going to try on her clothes? Steal her boyfriend? Pretend that you’re from Hungary, too? My advice is to let your grand-mother be the master of her cucumber recipe. Tell her she’s the only one who can make it, then take a bowl of it to a lab and have it analyzed. Then, you can make the exact recipe in the privacy of your home and she’ll still believe she’s the queen of the cucumbers.
I am twenty-ﬁve years old, but people often mistake me for a seventeen-year-old. I wouldn’t mind so much if it meant I was getting discount bus fare, but it’s all the wrong people who think I’m a minor. Do I have to wear make-up and shave my legs to be taken seriously?
St. Louis, MO
Get out a piece of paper and write down the pros and cons of being mistaken for a seventeen-year-old. Cons: You get carded at bars and 7-11s, your parents still feel like they can treat you like a child, and high school guys hit on you. Pros: You’re al-ways going to look younger than you are, you can act like a teen-ager and no one will tell you to “grow up,” and you can help out in that To Catch a Predator program by luring creepy Inter-net stalkers into the house so Chris Hansen can come out with his cameramen and humiliate the pervy perpetrators. I’d say the pros list wins. Relax and enjoy your perpetual youth.
My girlfriend’s birthday is coming up in two weeks, and I only have ﬁve bucks to my name until I get paid next month. Any ideas?
What your girlfriend needs for her birthday is a new boyfriend with a better paying job. I’m just kidding. Hittin’ you with a little tough love because even though I’ve only known you for ﬁve seconds, you’re like a son to me. You sound like a good, ear-nest guy, and the fact that you would spend your last ﬁve dollars on a present for your girlfriend and not something crazy like food or paying your electric bill makes me want to help you out. I’d say take that ﬁve bucks to an ofﬁce-supply store, buy one hundred sheets of paper, a roll of tape, and a Magic Marker, write “Happy Birthday, (your girlfriend’s name)!” on each piece of paper and then tape the papers all along the route your girl-friend takes to work in the morning. She’ll love the gesture and if she doesn’t, well, then break up with her. She’s not worth spending your hard-earned cash on.