by The Believer
Hope it helps.
Fred
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Dear Fred:
When she saw me attempting to clean my ears with a Q-tip, my mother would chide me and say, “The only thing you should put in your ear is your elbow.” What is the proper way to clean one’s ears and how often should they be cleaned?
Ben Brown
Marietta, GA
Dear Ben:
There’s a chemical solution that I like to use. I buy it online. It’s a boric protein mixed with dubnium (I think the chemical compound is Db2?) that I insert as a powder before I go to bed. After it settles into my ear canal, I wait an hour and add two drops of calcite (you can get calcite drops at drugstores in Brooklyn and Oakland) that immediately create a loud froth. I then go to my sink and spit out the waxy, bloody remnants. I know it’s a little involved, but it does create a thoroughly clean ear.
Fred
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Dear Fred:
Are there any meats not worth boiling?
Chris Elzinga
San Francisco, CA
Dear Chris:
Do not boil meats! Wow, Chris! What are you doing? Use your grill. Use a pan. Are you from a third-world country? If you are, here’s a message to all your countrymen: Don’t boil meats! It’s one of the main reasons tourists don’t visit your third-world country. We get grossed out when we see a pot of boiling water with meats rolling around in it.
Fred
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Dear Fred:
A couple of days after being washed, my hair forms a sort of natural gel that holds any style I desire. Many people have told me that this is disgusting and I should just wash my hair and purchase a commercial hair product. Is it wrong that I choose to save money and go with the styling gel that God gave me?
Mark Iosifescu
New York, NY
Dear Mark:
The people who tell you this are not your friends. You are a punk. Remember that. They don’t even know what punk is. They think it’s the Police but they are wrong. You know what they are? Preppies. Tell them to go buy another alligator shirt.
Fred
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Dear Fred:
I just got out of rehab and I’m wondering how to get back into the swing of “normal” life. Do you have any pearls of wisdom on how to feel at ease in society without the handy dandy use of any narcotic?
Lorelei Leslie
Santa Monica, CA
Dear Lorelei:
The healthiest thing to do would be to replace your addiction with another (gambling, alcohol, rage, etc.). I went to an addictions specialist and she told me the opposite, but let’s ignore that advice. Also, don’t forget that it’s perfectly fine to lie to yourself about whether or not you’re using narcotics.
Fred
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Dear Fred:
How is it that the mangoes I buy in a jar are so uniform? Is it done by a machine? Who cuts them? When I purchase the jarred and perfectly luscious slices, am I supporting some horrible sweatshop full of miserable mango fabricators, hunched over with fingers puckered and slippery with the mangoes’ sweet nectar?
Susan Shuemake
Dallas, TX
Dear Susan:
I forwarded your letter to a mango jarrery in California. This is from the employees:
Dear Susan:
We are writing to you from a horrible sweatshop. It is very sweaty in here. We are mango fabricators and are miserable because it is full of us here. We are hunched over with fingers puckered and slippery with the mangoes’ sweet nectar. Please visit us. You can come in on our breaks. 10:15 to 10:30 a.m. is the first one, so do that one.
You should do it, Susan!
Fred
Maria Bamford
Dear Maria:
My little sister is engaged to a total slimeball. I haven’t told her how I feel, because she already thinks I want to sleep with him (long story). How can I sabotage their relationship without making my sister hate me forever?
Reluctant Bridesmaid
Glendale, CA
Dear RB in GC:
Slimeballs are a great addition to any family! Does he work long hours, carefully weighing out precise one-ounce packets of crank? Does he wait outside bars in his Mercedes SUV with a baseball bat for his family’s collection agency? Whatever his characteristics, he’s clearly fun. Enjoy! He’s bringing a long-overdue, dramatic, triangular element to you and your sister’s boring, resentful back-and-forth. Who cares whom she “loves”? You do. Awesome. Go for it. Fight, manipulate, flirt with him and your sister! Let me know what happens!
Maria
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Dear Maria:
I know that your age is just a number, but recently I feel like I’m becoming old. Not for the obvious reasons—going to sleep before 9:00 p.m., enjoying brunch specials, hating modern music—but because I’m pretty sure I’m shrinking. I saw it happen to my grandparents and parents, and now it’s happening to me. Is there any way to reverse this process, or should I just check myself into a retirement community?
Jack P.
Brooklyn, NY
Dear Jack:
Get a wheelchair, a baked-potato-size dog, some sweatpants combos, and start really living! Gone are the isolation and self-consciousness of the middle ages. Fart, tell intimate stories to strangers, fly a Confederate flag on one side of your walker and a gay pride balloon on the other. Let go the constraints of youth. Embrace weakness, confusion, and simple woodworking projects. Our deepest fear is often our greatest wish. I congratulate you on your upcoming retirement.
Maria
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Dear Maria:
At what point in a relationship is it appropriate to ask your spouse if he or she has a secret family in another state?
Worried in Denver, CO
Dear Worried:
I don’t know how many times I need to say this. Enjoy! Your spouse and you share something very rare and special: a secret secret. Together you are building a legacy. That said, asking can be done at any time. And if it’s done properly, it can even add to the fun! Here is a sample inquiry that you can use word for word or edit for your special case:
YOU: (In a light, friendly tone, preferably at a relaxed time in the day, after dinner but not right before bed) Cabbage Sweetie, I need to ask you something. And before I do, I just want you to know that I trust you implicitly and this is my “issue,” not yours. I feel a little ashamed and silly for even asking, but here goes! (Laugh.) This is ridiculous. Okay, um, when you were in Las Vegas for the Best Practices conference at the Riviera? Right! And I was so glad that you called me and you told me about how that crazy rep from Chicago was getting on your nerves about how you need to change servers—that made me feel like you needed me and trusted my advice. Anyways, I was just looking at the Riviera’s website (for fun) to see what the bad pool looked like that you described so hilariously, and by accident I saw that the Best Practices conference was in fact two weeks before, when you said your mom was sick and you had to drive up to Minneapolis. And here’s the weird thing. I was taking out the trash—which I know you forgot to do and it’s okay. No, it’s fine! You’ve been busy!—and I find all these receipts and they’re from the weekend you were supposed to be in Vegas, and they were from a few suburbs over from us, in Dearborn, and I thought, That’s weird! One of them was for Applebee’s with a pretty big total, like seven entrees with drinks. And another big tab was from Chuck E. Cheese and with your signature. So you know me; my mind is racing, putting all this stuff together like some crazy person, because my friend Judith said she saw this guy who looked just like you over in Dearborn that weekend but it was some guy who could’ve been your doppelgänger with four or maybe five or, well, let’s just say a bunch of kids who looked just like our kids but different, I guess, and this woman, who looked a lot like me but she was Vietnamese, and Judith saw all of these people at this church where her sister goes. I don’t know if you’ve met Judith. We met at Curves; she�
��s so funny. So, this family, who of course had a different last name and all of that, but I guess this guy is pretty good at computer stuff and set up the church with a website and loves kids, is just like you. You’re a great dad, by the way, if I haven’t told you lately! So I just thought, What’s going on here? Do you have a brother I’ve never met? And if so, I’d like to meet him. And if that’s it, if you have a brother—and I’m not saying you do, but if you do—I want to meet him. Whenever you’re ready, and of course, whenever he and his family are ready. I love you and, by association, I know I’ll love your brother.
Maria
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Dear Maria:
I’m thinking about having kids, but now I find out that by wearing “tightie-whities” rather than boxers for the past thirty years, I may have drastically reduced my sperm count. Is there a way of reversing the damage or am I doomed to a future of infertility?
Larry Jagodowski
Detroit, MI
Dear Larry:
First, get a lady friend or Fertile Myrtle. Then, have unprotected intercourse. Over and over again. Let me know what happens, but I think that should do the trick. Your future is bright.
Maria
Todd Barry
Dear Todd:
Is there anything—animal, vegetable, or mineral—that shouldn’t be used to make a bong?
Sincerely,
Fucked-up in the Northeast
Dear F.U.I.T.N.:
Rather than answer your question, I’d like to give a couple of thank-yous. First, thank you for taking time away from burning copies of the latest Moe album and writing me. Second, thank you for signing your letter “Fucked-up in the Northeast.” Most people who announce that they’re “fucked-up” aren’t thoughtful enough to include the region of the United States that they’re “fucked-up” in. This is really handy for travelers. Maybe some family is headed toward the Northeast. They don’t want to expose their children to someone who is “fucked-up”—even if that person is hilarious—so they now know that it is potentially safe to head northwest. (Although I’ve been there, and they have more than their share of people who are “fucked-up.”) Anyway, to answer your question, I’m not a pothead but I’d probably make a bong out of any animal, any vegetable, but not the mineral wollastonite.
Todd
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Dear Todd:
What’s the difference between a transsexual and a transvestite? Which is the one where you tuck it instead of snip it? I just don’t want to make a mistake that I’ll regret for a long, long time.
Greg Sawyer
Macomb, MI
Dear Greg:
That’s an easy one, Greg. A transvestite is someone you fuck. A transsexual is someone you marry.
Todd
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Dear Todd:
I’m pretty sure that my girlfriend is cheating on me. I know this because I’m cheating on her and I’ve learned to recognize the signs. How can I expose her infidelity while protecting my own house of cards? (And please, no wise-ass “maybe you should stop cheating” advice. If I wanted a morality lecture, I would’ve asked my mom.)
Mr. Cake-and-Eat-It-Too
Savannah, GA
Dear Mr. Cake-and-Eat-It-Too:
It’s really difficult to focus on your question with your girlfriend’s lips around my cock. Not your mistress’s lips. Your girlfriend’s. I’m seriously involved in a torrid sexual relationship with your current girlfriend, and I’m actually having sex with her as I type this (selfish, I know). You want to expose her infidelity? Log on to my Flickr account and click the album titled Mrs. Cake-and-Eat-It-Too. Or, better yet, log on to her Photobucket account and click on the album titled My Man-ah Who’s Not from Savannah. I could also e-mail you some evidence (unless you’re one of those uptight assholes who “won’t open anything with an attachment.” Actually, scratch that. I’m one of those assholes). But to get back on track, your girlfriend is cheating on you. With me. Are we using protection? I don’t know, are we? Let me check. Nope! No wonder it feels so extra good to have sex with your girlfriend.
Todd
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Dear Todd:
When somebody tells me that I’m “balding gracefully,” I can’t help but think that they’re secretly insulting me. For one thing, I’m confused by the word “balding.” How can “bald” be a verb? I’m not actively doing anything. Balding is something that happens to you. I’m just standing there, watching my hair fall into the sink. And “gracefully” implies that it’s some kind of physical performance. Somebody can do ballet gracefully, but balding—which, as I mentioned, isn’t a real activity—doesn’t possess any of the attributes that I usually qualify as grace. Maybe I’m just being overly sensitive, but I think my friends don’t realize that using sloppy phrases like “balding gracefully” may not insult my vanity, but it does insult my intelligence.
Up My Own Ass?
Cleveland, OH
Dear Up My Own Ass?:
Yes.
Todd
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Dear Todd:
I have a crush on Camille Paglia. At first it was just a silly fantasy, but now it’s starting to affect my dating life. I broke up with my last girlfriend because she wouldn’t deconstruct the cultural values placed on gender inherent in our lovemaking. I wish that were a joke, but it really isn’t. Please help!
Bob
Santa Rosa, CA
Dear Bob:
I’ll say to you what I say to all the young men who tell me they have a crush on Camille Paglia. Get in line. But seriously, Bob, I’m guessing that a guy who makes a Camille Paglia joke in 2009 should have his pick of women, perhaps even Ms. Paglia herself. Why don’t you pursue her? I mean, she’s alive and well and living in Philadelphia. Fly over there and hit her with that “deconstruct the cultural values” line. She’ll melt like provolone on a cheesesteak. Make it happen, Bob.
Todd
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Dear Todd:
I never thought I’d become that type of girl, but now it looks like I might be. Does this happen to everybody or is it just me?
Lucy Franklin
St. Augustine, FL
Dear Lucy:
I wanted to give you an informed answer to your question, so I decided to do a little fact-finding. I caught a red-eye to St. Augustine, checked into a four-star hotel, and had the concierge point me in the direction of the city’s “hot spots.” The plan was to go to various bars and restaurants, meet some locals, drop “Lucy Franklin” into the conversation, then wait for a reaction. Based on your letter, I expected a series of “Ooh, she’s bad news” looks after uttering your name. Instead, I got an onslaught of “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think she’s that type of girl” looks. I left town before I was made to leave town. So that should make you feel better. You are clearly not that type of girl.
Hey, Lucy, I have a question for you: Why St. Augustine?
Todd
Samantha Bee
Dear Samantha:
I was wondering if you could give me some investment advice. I’m about to retire and I’m a little freaked.
Leah Dawson
Sarasota, FL
Dear Leah:
I’m freaked for you. I’m so freaked I don’t even have any jokes. I was trying to think of a kind of jokey answer and then I just felt like a horrible person and I deleted it. I am really scared for you. Seriously scared. You are in serious trouble. I hope you’ve been hoarding conflict diamonds and Cipro, because you are about to enter the s-h-i-t, the Heart of Darkness. Take everything you ever thought you knew about investing and do the exact opposite. The currency of the future will be heirloom seeds, so good luck with that one. Panic. Learn how to field dress a wild pig and distill your urine into potable water. Most important, if you take anything away from this response at all, just know that the best thing for you to do is to exercise a lot and stay really sinewy, so that when the cannibals come they will not want to eat you.
; I should probably also mention that I just finished reading The Road. I don’t know if that makes a difference at all.
Samantha
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Dear Samantha:
I’m a youngish woman, neither gorgeous nor spectacularly ugly. If a dude shouts at me while I’m walking down the street, do I respond? I mean, it seems rude not to. When he just won’t stop with the “Hey, babys,” that must mean he really NEEDS me, right?
Good-looking Samaritan
New York, NY
Dear Good-looking:
I am appalled by your insensitivity. You mean you’ve been letting these poor dear gentlemen call after you in vain all this time? Maybe look down from your ivory tower once in a while and check out all the regular Joes on the ground floor. Guys who are married with kids but need nothing more than a quick hand release in a Port-O-Let from a woman who is neither gorgeous nor spectacularly ugly. Lonely fellows who could really use the soft touch of a youngish woman’s hand as they crouch furtively behind the Dumpster at the 7-Eleven. Don’t you understand how horny they are?!
Your Lady Flower is a gift to be shared with anyone who asks. Or shouts at you. Especially if they keep shouting at you. That’s really macho.
Samantha
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Dear Samantha:
I’m awesome. Sometimes I can’t even deal with how awesome I am. The bigger problem is that I’m so awesome that other people don’t want to be around me because they’re jealous of my awesomeness. What’s the most awesome way to approach my awesome problem?
Eileen Burke
Provo, UT
Dear Eileen:
Your name is very old lady–ish. There hasn’t been a single Eileen born since 1935. In fact, the only Eileen I know is so old that her face is like a topographic map of the tribal regions of Pakistan. Also, as an old lady, maybe you can answer my question: Do old ladies really say “awesome”? Because there is nothing awesome about old age. Maybe nobody wants to be around you because all the other old ladies in your seniors’ aqua-aerobics class don’t understand your hip “lingo.”
