Posts Tagged ‘advice’

You Can’t Be Helped: Naked Cellphone Pics

April 23rd, 2011

John May asks:

When I was in the shower, my girlfriend was looking through my phone and found naked pictures of my ex on it. I was looking at them last night and left that page open on my iphone. Well, she wasnt impressed. She kicked me out of my apartment and I’m staying with a friend at the moment. Is there any way to fix this? I think she said she wants to break up while she screamed at me, but I think that was just anger or did she really mean it? Would you break up with someone over this? I mean it’s just pictures not really cheating Please, no INSULTs, just proper advice

 

Here’s what you should have done, stupid.

 

Upload all naked pictures of people who aren’t your girlfriend to your computer. Then delete pics from cellphone. Memories are forever preserved, especially if you lock that shit up and hide it in a folder she won’t bother to look in when she’s on your computer like “2007 tax return” or “Guided By Voices music”.

 

Here’s a hypothetical for your girlfriend: when has looking through your gf/bf’s phone ever turned out well?

 

You say she threw you out of your apartment? Do you live with her, or is she at your place? I suspect you live together but you could’ve stood your ground and been Mr. Practical and said, “Bitch, whatever. I aint leaving. You got a problem? You go, dammit!” but here’s the thing, you idiot: You were looking at them as recently as last fucking night. And. As. If. That. Were. Not. Enough. You also left the iPhone open which let her see that you’d been looking at it recently.

 

Also, keeping old pictures of your ex-girlfriends makes it look to your gf like you’re a hunter collecting beaver pelts. There’s no telling what she thinks about those pictures. What if you had been beating off to those old pictures last night? Were you? Maybe you were! You have to admit you were quite wrong on this one and perception informs reality even if you forgot you had the damn things until the other night.

 

When I was your age, I had to hide Polaroids of my naked ex-girlfriends in the CD booklets of Dead Milkmen albums. Kids have it so lucky these days.

You Can’t Be Helped: Loving A Mariner

April 16th, 2011

Michelle asks this question on Yahoo Answers about the end of her relationship:

 

Why mariners can’t have a normal relationship?
I’ve been with this guy for almost one year. He said , before he will go on ship, he will set me free.Now, he will go on ship and he told me to forget him.Why did he continue this relationship ,even if he knew we will break up?Do they have net or phone service on ship?He promised me an amazing future with him and now he tells me to forget him (because he doesn’t want me to spend my life waiting for him).How’s that?I sent to him 3 mails but he didn’t answer. He wants me to hate him.He’s acting like a child,like he’s afraid talking to me on messenger.What should I do?Please help ! 🙁

 

Dear sweet Michelle,

 

Here’s some very sad news. Please sit down for what I am about to tell you. The life of a mariner (or sailor) is very different from the life of a civilian. Oh, boy, the nautical lifers have a code and subculture that people who sleep on solid ground can’t or don’t want to understand.

 

Today’s merchant ships are equipped with many of the technological upgrades that we have come to depend on in normal life. E-mail, cellphones, Skype, etc. There is no reason why you would not be able to communicate with your loved one from that standpoint. Shoot, you might even be able to get a telegraph to him if you really had to.

 

Have you ever heard of the term “in the barrel,” Michelle? I’ll be glad to post this note on “in the barrel” from the good people at Urban Dictionary. This particular definition has 469 likes and 27 dislikes, so it’s safe to assume this is an accepted colloquialism.

 

A phrase taken from a popular joke. To say someone is “in the barrel” or “taking a turn in the barrel” means it’s their turn to do an unpleasant task or to suffer an unpleasant experience. The joke is as follows:
A sailor on a Navy ship had been out to sea for weeks, and was beginning to go through sex withdrawals. Fed up with the lack of sex, he asked one of his shipmates what he did when the pressure was too much to take. “Well, there’s a barrel with a hole in it near the mop storage. When it gets to be too much for us, we use that.”

So the sailor went over to the barrel and decided to give it a go. Finding it was better than he’d expected, he began using it regularly, and his problems seemed to vanish.

After a couple of weeks, his commanding officer began to take notice, and said, “You seem to be a lot more relaxed. What’s your secret?”

The sailor, embarrassed to give a straight answer, simply said he’d been getting better rest.

“Well good, sailor. You’re going to need it,” replied the officer. “Today’s your turn in the barrel.”

 

Now, sweet naive Michelle, picture your boyfriend alone at sea. Alone with his pent-up sexual needs. Picture him getting his rocks off in front of a barrel with a hole in it. Then imagine him inside the barrel. Then perhaps you can understand why he can never come back to you. Because of all the ritual sodomy that occurs between men at sea.

 

How can this man expect you to jump into his loving arms upon docking in the harbor when the memory of widespread shipmate fraternization is on his conscience? How can he embrace you in earnest when he has made love to all those sailors with his mouth? This is why he broke up with you.

 

But why, Michelle? Why would he even date you in the first place if he knew it would end this way? Why go through the trouble of creating love only to end it so abruptly? Well, dear sweet Michelle, it is because he craves companionship much like any other person, whether on land or on the high seas. The mariner’s life is his, probably for a very long time, and there’s no reason to subject such a beautiful spirit such as yourself to the dark, seedy underbelly of sea life.  Especially not for the rest of your life.

 

You should be dating Tiger Woods. At least he’ll cheat on you with women.

You Can’t Be Helped: Teenage Lust

April 12th, 2011

Here’s another thing from Yahoo Answers. A fourteen-year-old girl writes with a sincere query:

 

Kay, my male guy friend is 16, and I’m 14.

So I was describing a hectic day at school, where some kid was gawking at my chest. So then afterwards he said : ( online)
He says: LLOLOL i wanna look at your chest now <3


I say: GAH T___T

He says: can i touch them too

And the conversation mainly goes on like that.
I called him a pedo many times.
I’m sure he was just joking around but gah. >_<
What should I say next time? ( just in case)

 

 

Okay, let’s be honest. He definitely wants to touch your teenage boobies. He is not kidding, even if you think he is. He’s too horny to think straight and he straight up asks because that’s not smooth. Teenage boys are not smooth. Not in the slightest.

 

A sixteen-year-old boy who wants to look at fourteen-year-old boobs is also NOT a pedo. You must be British to call him that. He is sixteen, you are fourteen. I think two years is an acceptable buffer.  If this guy were, say, eighteen or older, the “pedo” tag might be in order.

 

He is a sixteen-year-old and this is how his mind probably works.  He thinks if he asks to touch your boobs, you’ll let him on the condition that he lets you touch his cock. He thinks you’ll want to barter sexual favors with him. He is stupid and filled with cum.
As to what you say to him when he asks to touch your boobs, how about “No!” That’s a good answer if you don’t like this guy asking over and over again about touching you. I can’t tell if you showed him your chest or not. Either way, he can go to hell. If you don’t want to show him your tits or let him feel you up, tell the motherfucker. Say “no”.

 

It may not be enough to call him “pedo”. Just start yelling “RAPE” over and over again if he can’t get it through his head. Stupid bastard.

 

Don’t show your tits to anyone until you’re fifteen. I’m kidding. Wait until you’re fifteen-and-a-half, at the least.

You Can’t Be Helped: Second Date

April 6th, 2011

Here’s a dating question from Yahoo Answers:

 

I’m 18, he’s 20… we’ve known each other for a couple of months now and we’ve been out on one date to a cafe, now he’s invited me to his place to “watch a movie something”… i honestly don’t know what to expect? should he make a move? or is that too much for now? guys, what would you do? im confused haha thanks in advance! 🙂 

 

Okay, I got this. If he’s anything like most guys, he’s gonna want you to show up on time. Punctuality is key when it comes to romance. That’s the first rule of dating, I don’t know if you knew that. Be on time. If you need to pack your suitcase, take the time in advance to do that. Don’t waste valuable time doing something you could have done already. That’s why I never make my bed or clean the house.

 

The most important thing about packing your suitcase is that it has all the tools necessary to make the evening go by smoothly. Rubber suit (goes without saying), ball-gags (goes without being able to say), and strap-on attachment are the bare minimum on most second dates. The suitcase should go into the bathroom shortly after you enter his place, for convenience.

 

At some point, he will put the movie in and you will pretend to watch it together. Needless to say, you are too preoccupied with your thoughts to watch it. Same goes for him. You do not touch each other. You sit a comfortable distance from each other. You don’t even talk to each other. You stare at the screen in silence and contemplate your life, your bank account, your growing, untamed horniness. This is what scientists call “foreplay”.

 

At some point, you ask him to pause the movie so you can go to the restroom. “I’ll just be a minute, I really have to pee”. Those are the ten words that make a man’s phallus swell up like it got caught in a garage door. You will excuse yourself, walk to the restroom and open the suitcase with the rubber suit, the ball-gags, the strap-on attachment and whatever other goodies you could fit in there. Here’s a tip from the pros: bring a carrot and some ear candles.

 

When you return from the bathroom, the last traces of your humanity should be gone. You are no longer just a nice 18-year-old girl on her second date, you are Lady Iodine Capybara or whatever your mistress name is, clad in a tight rubber suit from head to toe with a strap-on attachment dangling around your waist. You should not be surprised to find that not only is your date completely naked, he has his own ball-gag firmly inserted into his mouth making your own ball-gag obsolete on this occasion (Pro tip: Always think to bring a ball-gag in any event. Be Prepared, wise men say).

 

If he’s any kind of good lover, he has already put on some mood music while you were in the bathroom. Something to really put this date over the top, something that captures the moment.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ih2mqYBiLvo

 

What happens there is really up to you. You’re the boss, lady. More specifically, you’re his boss.

 

One last thing. If by some fluke he freaks out and says he’s not into that sort of thing when you walk out of the bathroom in your rubber suit, he may just want to be your platonic friend.

You Can’t Be Helped: Pet Edition

April 5th, 2011

Another question from Yahoo Answers. I forgot to post the link; I lost it.

 

There are two cats who live in my house. One’s partially an outdoor cat (my roommate’s), and my cat is strictly indoors. I give her Revolution drops every month to protect her from fleas and ticks, but she STILL caught some fleas from the other cat (who is ALSO on Revolution). The Revolution doesn’t seem to be working, even though I give it to her every month, without fail. I also gave her a flea bath. They just aren’t going away! What should I do?

Also, can fleas be transmitted to humans? Now I’m paranoid. EW!!!

 

Get rid of the outdoor cat. You have one too many cats. The outdoor cat is your roommate’s? Shoot your roommate point blank, then frame the cat so it gets in trouble and not you. Cats are notorious bad defendants and this cat will probably get the chair. Cats are profiled even worse by the courts than minorities.

 

I don’t know what the Revolution is, but I don’t understand why violent government overthrow is necessary for something as small as a singular domestic infestation. In this case, you only need to commit one murder and frame one housecat. You’re gonna be fine, though.

 

 

You Can’t Be Helped

April 3rd, 2011

No one is giving me any questions for “You Can’t Be Helped”, so I’m going to take questions from Yahoo Answers and instead of answering there, I’ll answer here because this is my website and I’m far better than Yahoo stupid Answers.

 

Conor asks: (btw, this is posted as typed on YA)

 

I had a dream where I died over and over again in gruesome ways (ripped to pices, boiled, alive broken down by acids, creepy things skinning me alive, ect.) The strange part is that before this dream I hadn’t dream t in 3 years. I keep a log and there is nothing in it. I (when I had dreams) at least remembered 6 or 7. Stranger yet is that I felt it all. I didn’t even awake for 36 hours. Is this lucid dreaming? Past lives? Whats going on?

 

Okay, Conor. If you were a reader of this website which I gather you are not, you will notice that I recently wrote a detailed description of a gruesome and violent dream I had.

 

For your sake, I want you to know there is no actual meaning to your dreams other than whatever you want to ascribe to them. They’re a bit like Pink Floyd lyrics. They can mean whatever you want.

 

Every song Blondie ever recorded was about ending world hunger.

That doesn’t mean your dreams mean anything, though. Basically, when you dream your subconscious finally gets to play and get lots of sun and have some fun in a safe environment. Most of our thoughts seem to go away whenever we have new ones, but they don’t really go away. They go into our subconscious and may crop up on occasion. We repress all our memories and thoughts, not even on purpose.

 

What happens in dreams is that everything in the brainpan goes splish-splash and clashes together crazily. All kinds of disconnected things that have nothing to do with each other end up in the same story and your mind tries to make it fit as a story. It’s not a story, it’s not a signal or a premonition. I’m sorry to tell you that if that’s what you hoped for. You are not a clairvoyant. Otherwise every dreamer would be one.

You Can’t Be Helped

March 18th, 2011

“You Can’t Be Helped” is the name of the advice column I will do as soon as somebody decides to ask me some advice-seeking questions. Once upon a time known as the 500-Lb. Life Coach, the title has changed to acknowledge my weight loss over the last year. Besides, “You Can’t Be Helped” is the truth.

 

By the time you start thinking about self-help, you are already doomed to whatever behavior has gotten you where you are now. You’re already mapped out psychologically long before self-help is an option in your life. And yet people keep buying these books. Just the other day, I bought second-hand a book called “How To Make Anyone Fall In Love With You”. I bought it for $3 for a laugh, but I have actually read a few pages in earnest.

 

By now I should know I will never make anyone fall in love with me. No one will fall in love with me, and if they do I won’t find them attractive at all or it will be some dude and I can’t hack it like that. Love is blind, but genitals got 20/20 vision.

 

I’m mapping out some chapter titles for “You Can’t Be Helped” in case I want to put together a book proposal. Like that will happen. Print is dying. I can’t be helped. You can’t be helped. That’s the point.

“Of Course I’m Bitter! My Life Is Shitty!”

“Guess What? You’re A Fat Crying Loser!”

“You’re Lucky To Have That Shitty Job, You Know That?”

“You’ll Never Get Laid Except For Those Few Times You Regret It.”

“Self-Esteem? Fuck You! We’re At War!”

“Good Luck Investing With The Money You Make!”

“If You Buy This Book, I Will Be Happy But You May Not!”

Charlie Sheen Hits Women, Water Is Wet

March 7th, 2011

Charlie Sheen. The man who memed himself. If you follow his Twitter account, as I do now, you’ll find that the man is completely burnt. Not burnt out, but fried in the melon. It’s over for him. I don’t know if he has a syphilitic brain or what but something is terribly off. And I don’t feel a bit sorry for him. Nor does anyone who has been keeping track of the last few weeks of his what-have-you.

 

I also follow Patton Oswalt on Twitter and he linked this article about Hollywood’s double standard for bad behavior and how it is linked to Charlie Sheen. How Charlie could get away with being a woman-beater but only lost his show after criticizing his boss Chuck Lorre. But here’s a snippet from the post in question:

 

Anna Holmes—creator of Jezebel and all around feminist badass—has contributed an op-ed to the New York Times in which she examines the media’s blind eye towards domestic violence. She writes, “Observers still seem more entertained than outraged, tuning in to see him appear on every talk show on the planet and coming up with creative Internet memes based on his most colorful statements. And while his self-abuses are endlessly discussed, his abuse of women is barely broached.”

 

I’m about to say something completely messed up here: if you’re a woman looking at Charlie Sheen as a romantic or intimate interest at this stage of the game you must have a “buyer beware” mentality.  It is not secret that the guy has a fucked-up relationship to women and has for a loonnnng time. The man has cavorted with porn stars and prostitutes for decades now. He is a forty-five year-old drug addicted john. What part of that says “potential mate”?

 

I guess this is blatant victim-blaming on my part, but if you see a pattern then why you should be surprised when the pattern continues. Why not steer clear of the embodiment of “Hot Chicks With Douchebags”? Hell, Sheen is a proto-douche. Am I being too pragmatic about this?

 

I would tell any woman to steer clear of Sheen, including his two Goddesses. Especially when I watched an interview where he talked about where if everybody followed his plan, they would win. He spoke like someone who wanted people in their place. The famous quote is, “I don’t pay for sex, I pay them to leave” but that’s not the only thing he pays for. Paying for sex is more than paying for sex, it is also about paying for control over someone for an hour, a day, a weekend, and so on. “It’s my money, it’s my time” is what he appears to be telling women.

 

Being in porn is as difficult a dollar as any job I can imagine, except for perhaps underground welding. Finding a gravy train like Sheen may seem like a lucrative get for his Goddesses but eventually he will turn on them, too. Much like the others he turned on, wives, girlfriends, hookers. They are all interchangeable in Sheen’s swiss cheese of a mind.

The 400-Lb. Life Coach

March 3rd, 2011

Once upon a time many years ago,  I hosted a blog called “The 500-Lb. Life Coach”. It was an advice blog for people who had simple life questions. Unfortunately, people are not keen on listening to a chronically depressed, anxious, unlicensed overweight man on matters of physical and mental health. However, I have lost a lot of weight in the last twelve months and feel like The 400-Lb. Life Coach (realistically, I’m somewhere around 430) would be a good occasional feature on KyProphet.com

 

Dear Ky. Prophet

My wife and I have been married for nearly seven years now. Our relationship just doesn’t have the “spark” it did when we first started dating. How can we get it back?

– Stressed In Shively

 

Dear Shively white-trash,

 

The longer a couple stays together, the less guess work necessary to suss out your partner’s reaction to all the stupid crap you spew on a daily basis. At some point, you no longer have to feel each other out. Unfortunately, by that time it’s not as exciting to have sex with each other.

 

Doug Stanhope, one of my favorite comedians, once said “There’s a big difference between the first five times you fuck somebody and all the other times after that.” Part of that difference is based in your new-found familiarity with each other. You know each other too well after a while.

 

They say familiarity breeds contempt. I believe it and that’s why you need to get strange on each other. You need to start keeping things from your spouse. Dark, embarrassing secrets that would make your partner question you as a person. She needs to do something on the down-low like develop an addiction to online poker while he’s at work. Meanwhile, he needs to keep cowboy gear in his trunk and skip work to pick fights at redneck bars while she’s at home gambling away what little savings the family has left.

 

Develop an ecstacy habit. Burgle your neighbor’s house. Make a dress out of human skin. Sell Amway. And when you finally accidentally see how degenerate you’ve both become, you’ll shout “I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE!”
Then the familiarity will evaporate and you’ll have the opportunity to get to know and fall in love with each other all over again. Won’t that be sweet?

 

Or you could try a threesome? There’s always that.