Many of you darling bloggers and blog readers out there will be aware that a common theme employed by internet posters is that of the pseudo-advice column. Every country has one of these real honest-to-god ‘experts’, be it a magazine columnist or a TV personality (often a big oxymoron), who dispenses life changing advice to the unwashed masses who feel the only way to solve their most intimate and vexing problems is to air them to the entire public in the hope of finding some vague validation or their poor life choices. So, intrigued by the idea of getting to pry into other people’s lives without a ski mask and a ladder, and spurred on by the thought of a free blog topic involving absolutely no research on my part, I recently issued a challenge to you, my adoring fans (cough.), to send me your dilemmas for my expert (cough again) evaluation. And my god, did you all ever respond. My thanks to those who failed to make the cut due to repetition, lack of interest, laziness on my part or potential legal issues – good luck finding help elsewhere.
Fortunately, it appears that the majority of you are messed-up little freaks with a host of mind-bending clusterfucks in your lives. Here then follows what can only be described as the most fun I have EVER had sticking my nose into other people’s business. Some of you requested anonymity, and I have respected that where requested. Others have no shame, and have included their identities and links so you can track them down and laugh openly at them. I encourage you to do so – it’s good therapy for them, helps toughen them up. Let’s lead off with an email from a smart and sassy lady with a sad story of addiction…….
FUCK MY LIFE
Dear Social Assassin,
I suffer from this thing called Bad Boy Syndrome and it hinders my ability to be attracted to a nice, normal, regular guy. Well recently a couple of nice guys have asked if they can stop over for a beer or two (or 5) and I am having a difficult time even picturing it in my head because I already assume I will be bored to death and turned off. Yet, when I picture the last bad boy I had an affair with, I can feel my juices start to flow! I am in some sort of self-sabotage, self-fulfilling prophecy where I have convinced myself that good boys all suck and I won’t like them, so I don’t even bother trying to meet one! I even told one that I would have to be wasted drunk in order to even introduce myself!! And he was OK with that. So what do I do? How can I force myself to leave the bad boys behind and find a good guy that will worship me in all my fabulousness?
Where the FUCK is prince charming?
Dear Where the FUCK,
Your addiction to the archetypal ‘bad boy’ probably stems from a need to compensate for the mundanity and repetition in your daily life. I suspect that your addiction to the kind of man who at any moment might be caught in your laundry room getting a hummer from a Filipino crack-addict is your way of over-compensating for what you perceive to be the boring mindless daily grind of being a full-time supermom and caring for your children unsupported. Whilst a nice guy might well help take care of the kids and ask about your day, none of this is particularly exciting or daring – you’re looking to blow off some built up tension goddamnit, and you want a man who’ll ride you like a bucking bronco then toss you like a used tissue. You want EXCITEMENT!!
Here-in lies the solution to your problem. If you seek out and are endlessly hurt by couldn’t-care-less Badboys because it brings welcome relief from the more structured and unavoidable side of your life, then you need to spice up your daily life. Go shopping at the mall naked. Punch a nun in the face. Speed through intersections with your eyes closed. Offer your priest a hand-job during confession just to see his reaction. In short – live dangerously. The wilder and potentially lethal new lifestyle will provide so much adrenaline and excitement that at the end of the day you will welcome the chance to come home to someone who wears sweaters in summer and cares about your kids educational development. And possibly has leather patches on his jacket elbows. A man who offers to make you lemon tea and give you a foot massage is the perfect counter to having just streaked the local baseball game. During Little League.
I love my husband to bits, but he has a most annoying habit I’m finding it hard to deal with. When he gets home from work late at night and undresses for bed, he throws his dirty socks on the floor. Right next to the laundry basket. Not only do I find that unforgivably lazy, but it then means that I have to pick up his smelly foot apparel. Since he sometimes works twelve hours a day constantly on his feet in a hot kitchen, this can only be safely accomplished whilst wearing a full biohazard outfit, for which I have no matching shoes. How do I stop him from being such an inconsiderate fool?
Yours faithfully, Mrs SocialAssassin.
Dear Ungrateful of England,
Your husband sounds like a very hard-working man, who doubtless finds that ridiculous twelve-hour shifts are the only way he can afford to pay the mortgage and utility bills and still keep up with your wasteful addiction to pretty sparkly shoes. Perhaps you should offer some kind of incentive scheme to encourage him to be more fastidious. Three days successful laundry depositing equals a blowjob before work, and a weeks worth involves that thing with the celery and the dwarf. Or try mounting a basketball hoop above the laundry basket – men love the opportunity to succeed at ridiculously easy sports to validate their manliness. Either that, or place the bloody laundry basket somewhere well-lit so he can find it without treading on the cat or stubbing his toe on your shoe mountain.
Dear Mr S Assassin,
(names have been changed to protect the guilty).
Dear Mr Uth,
Firstly I can see why you requested anonymity on this matter. As a professional I shall of course respect your wishes, and not include this link in my response. Firstly, let me observe that I’m surprised to find you sexually involved with the class of woman who didn’t see this revelation as an opportunity for a foursome involving some hot girl-on-girl action in a bath of Vaseline. You are clearly screwing above your station. That said, you clearly have a problem, and one which I am most unwilling to help solve directly, since you have a reputation for being willing to copulate with anything regardless of appearance, sex and even species as long as you can penetrate it. Have you considered allowing Jesus into your life?? No, scrap that idea, you’d end up tainting the whole basis of Christianity when the National Inquirer prints pictures of you and Jesus in a titty bar in Tijuana. Perhaps you should try Catholic all-girls schools, I understand they are a hot-bed of sexual promiscuity and poor moral judgements. Or perhaps the local societies for blindness and mental health issues could point you in the right direction for a small fee. No, not payable in penis, I’m afraid. Ah sod it, failing all else man, private e-mail me – I know of this hot mamma just outside New York who’s addicted to bad boys, ….. and she has sisters.
Dear Social Faggot,
My problem is that there’s this blogger who seems to think he has the right to diss someone he has never met, and be disrespectful to someone who has millions of fans worldwide. Without knowing what the fuck he’s talking about or doing any proper research he has published on the internet an article slagging off a highly successful actor and humanitarian who donates millions of $ to charity every year, and is constantly involved in trying to make America a safer and more eductated place. I’d like to know how I can find out where this cocksucker lives so I can go to his house and kick several tons of shit out of him to teach this fucking homo a lesson. Any advice on where I can find this nasty little cunt and beat the fucking shit out of him????
Dear Brian Wilkins of Daphne, Alabama, USA,
First, if you’re going to be a hater, do it from an email address that doesn’t contain your full name you muppet. Secondly, way to mis-spell the word educated – perhaps you should have spent more time actually attending school, and less time watching Steven Seagal films whilst interfering with your sister. As for tracking down this highly intelligent and, frankly, physically huge former security guard and prison guard, turned chef and part-time writer, I suggest you use one of his email addresses to ask him directly. If he’s as angry as I think he is about narrow minded people who are openly homophobic and aggressive I’m sure he’ll not only publically out you to the whole internet, but positively welcome your attendance at his house thousands of miles from your home amongst his closest friends, where he can call them round to watch him turn a gob-shite idiot into minced moron. Bring Seagal with you, it’ll save
me him time.
4. Because KFC is filled with enough un-natural chemicals and preservatives to keep even Dame Edna Everage’s body preserved for decades. They use the same stuff on David Hasselhoff’s face. There is no known cure beyond not eating KFC, but since one of the ingredients in KFC is crack, you may find it difficult to break the cycle of addiction. Try a daily enema with soapy liquids – no-one will notice your foul odour as they chase the pretty bubbles…..