Dear Elissa Gator,
I have been told by many people that I am a great writer and that I should pursue writing. The problem is I sit down to write and get stuck.
I fear I won't be as good as what people make me out to be. I fear I won't come up with great ideas. I fear my ideas will have already been done. I fear that my idea and ensuing story will be so great that I'll become famous and have to hide from the paparazzi. Any suggestions for an aspiring writer?
Wanda the Writer
Adnaw,
That's your name, but backwards. Actually, if we were going to be literal -- that's your name, but backwords. My name backwords is Rotag Assile; the first which is reminiscent of a dishwasher line, the second which sounds like a device for shooting missiles out of your...butt.
Putting the two together we can assume it's a clean missile shooting device, unless someone forgot to rotate the dial to "Heavy: Pots, Pans and Weaponry" and instead chose the "Light Spritzing" option.
Don't ever choose the light spritzing option.
Not only will it mess up the missiles, you'll be left with an itch that is unsightly to take care of in public.
I do believe I've accomplished so much more than I set out to for your reply.
You're welcome.
Dear Elissa Gator,
I've convinced myself to stay in Fairbanks, Alaska, for the winter. Will you help to super convince me?
Future Popsicle
Snowflake,
The problem with convincing yourself of something is that you are just as capable of unconvincing yourself. One time I convinced myself I was a human, and just like that I convinced myself I was beaver. I started hoarding wood, and even splintered down my roommate's dining table set. Granted, it was 73% plastic, so it didn't make for the best wood products, but it still dammed up nicely.
The problem with 73% plastic composite is the rancid smell it emits during the summer months. Being a beaver, I didn't mind so much. I cared more about how I was going to find a mate. Which I think we as humans can relate to, or at least those sad enough to not have found a mate yet.
The hardest part about being a beaver was my dental insurance no longer covered the large bucking beaver teeth I was sporting. Sometimes, I'd get these huge chunks of wood stuck between my teeth, and all I could do was stare at myself in the water, wondering when would my reflection show who I was inside. You think paper cuts are the worse, try having a permenant wooden saw scratching at your gumline. I win.
I unconvinced myself that I was a beaver when a Russian tried to trap me for fur. I said "Aw, hell no!" to the trapper and poof! I was human again. Unfortunately, my two front teeth seem to be larger than before. But that will change when I convince myself I'm jellyfish and don't have to deal with silly nuisances like teeth.
You're welcome.
Showing posts with label Advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Advice. Show all posts
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
The Perfect Girl
*WARNING: READER DISCRETION ADVISED. THIS MAY HIT A LITTLE CLOSE TO HOME FOR SOME OF YOU. THE ADVICE GIVER Elissa Gator CANNOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY STATEMENTS THAT MAY CAUSE YOUR HEART TO TWIST IN AGONY. SHE ONLY TELLS THE TRUTH.
Dear Elissa Gator,
I am a man, and as a man I can do anything. But I admit I have a slight problem. I keep going for this certain type of girl and something deep down inside me tells me it's wrong but I don't know why.
Here's my type -- they are shallow and self-serving and usually have the IQ of a canary (I love birds). I can't decide what I like more: that they're so skinny they probably don't menstruate (which hello, means they don't PMS so I'm dodging lots of bullets there); or the fact that they remind me of freshman high school girls straight out of Hannah Montana episodes (you really do get the best of both worlds).
They love to giggle at anything I say, scratch my back during church, and cuddle with me on my friends' beds (I love to show off how manly I am by showing gross amounts of PDA in public). I don't really know about their goals in life; we usually keep our conversations short and physical.
I'm not even sure she's capable of having an intelligent conversation, but who really wants a girl that knows how to string more than five words together? A smart girl might call me out on my crap and that would hurt my manhood.
Personality wise...well...she loves to kiss me personally...hahahaha.
Um, have I talked about her fine looking body? I love to take pictures of us and plaster them over facebook so my friends can be jealous of my smoking hot girl.
She's never cooked for me, but that's not a problem because I want to impress her so I always take her out to fancy restaurants. I don't think she knows how to change a diaper or rock a baby to sleep, but neither do I so I'm not going to judge. She'll tell me stories about how she used to play multiple guys at once, but she assures me she'd never do it to me. Obviously I believe her. She is really pretty.
Her jokes are kind of lame, and sometimes she gets really annoying, but she makes up for it by wearing super tight and low cut clothes. The irony is there isn't much to look at when her shirt does gap open, but I have a great imagination.
Some of my really close friends and family tell me she is not a good match for me, but they don't know her like I do. I think they're just jealous.
I'm going to admit, she can sometimes be uber dumb and makes my head hurt. She can also be really mean, but I know she's just doing it in a flirting way because she wants me so bad.
So, why do I have these glimpses of me waking up 10 years from now with this gorgeous girl next to me (well not really gorgeous anymore because of stretch marks and cellulite, ew) and me not being in love? I don't understand. Help me.
-Confused Carl
Dear Carl,
Actually, she sounds perfect for you.
You're welcome.
-Elissa Gator
Dear Elissa Gator,
I am a man, and as a man I can do anything. But I admit I have a slight problem. I keep going for this certain type of girl and something deep down inside me tells me it's wrong but I don't know why.
Here's my type -- they are shallow and self-serving and usually have the IQ of a canary (I love birds). I can't decide what I like more: that they're so skinny they probably don't menstruate (which hello, means they don't PMS so I'm dodging lots of bullets there); or the fact that they remind me of freshman high school girls straight out of Hannah Montana episodes (you really do get the best of both worlds).
They love to giggle at anything I say, scratch my back during church, and cuddle with me on my friends' beds (I love to show off how manly I am by showing gross amounts of PDA in public). I don't really know about their goals in life; we usually keep our conversations short and physical.
I'm not even sure she's capable of having an intelligent conversation, but who really wants a girl that knows how to string more than five words together? A smart girl might call me out on my crap and that would hurt my manhood.
Personality wise...well...she loves to kiss me personally...hahahaha.
Um, have I talked about her fine looking body? I love to take pictures of us and plaster them over facebook so my friends can be jealous of my smoking hot girl.
She's never cooked for me, but that's not a problem because I want to impress her so I always take her out to fancy restaurants. I don't think she knows how to change a diaper or rock a baby to sleep, but neither do I so I'm not going to judge. She'll tell me stories about how she used to play multiple guys at once, but she assures me she'd never do it to me. Obviously I believe her. She is really pretty.
Her jokes are kind of lame, and sometimes she gets really annoying, but she makes up for it by wearing super tight and low cut clothes. The irony is there isn't much to look at when her shirt does gap open, but I have a great imagination.
Some of my really close friends and family tell me she is not a good match for me, but they don't know her like I do. I think they're just jealous.
I'm going to admit, she can sometimes be uber dumb and makes my head hurt. She can also be really mean, but I know she's just doing it in a flirting way because she wants me so bad.
So, why do I have these glimpses of me waking up 10 years from now with this gorgeous girl next to me (well not really gorgeous anymore because of stretch marks and cellulite, ew) and me not being in love? I don't understand. Help me.
-Confused Carl
Dear Carl,
Actually, she sounds perfect for you.
You're welcome.
-Elissa Gator
Friday, April 27, 2012
Basic Animal Instincts
Dear Elissa Gator,
I am stuck in a florescent lit, panel ceiling, closed off classroom with 26 other people. I want to bang my head on my clipboard and hope I am rendered unconscious. What should I do?
Bored Bella
Babbling Bumpkin,
I hear you. In fact, I'm in that situation right now. Weird how some of the questions I get coincide with my present life problems. Difference between you and me is I don't write into advice columns for help.
But I'll still help you.
This is what you do when you're so bored you're beyond the point of falling asleep, past a healthy sanity level, far away from functioning on a socially acceptable norm: you give into your basic animal instincts and let it all go. Despite the common held belief that this sounds like chaos, we know that there is a process to chaos.
1. While sitting down, start grunting and making obscure animal noises. I personally prefer the mating call of the African ant eater. Most people haven't heard it and will therefore be thrown off guard. I loving throwing people metaphorically.
2. When people start looking in your direction (and they will if you're doing it right), bare your teeth and hiss. On the off chance you don't have teeth, bare your fingernails in a threatening manner. Never bare your soul, unless you're a bear.
3. While doing the above two, start ripping at your clothes using a ball point pen. By using the pen you are sticking it to the man while effectively ruining your clothes. Ink is demon to remove.
4. Standing on one foot, leap across the room in one fail swoop (minus the failing part). Flail your hands and in American Sign Language sign "I am animal and I am now free." Make sure you sign this before you reach the opposite side of the room while in mid leap. It's imperative.
5. By now, the teacher/boss/probation officer/North Korean war lord should know you mean business and you're not going to take that learning crap any more. Hopefully they'll get the hint and avoid you. If not, ask them to join you (in ASL, of course).
6. Caged animals go crazy looking for an escape route. Imitate this by eating the panel ceiling. This may take awhile, but if you pretend it tastes like white cheddar rice cakes and have irritable bowel syndrome, you should be able to eat a 20x20 room in 5 hours. Eating the panels also takes your mind off of nutrients that your body craves and has been denied because you've been stuck in class.
7. At this pint Animal Control, Police or the IRS may have been notified of the situation. They have protocol to follow -- I'd look up their play book under "people who self com-bust into animal behavior and write into advice columns" so you'll know what to expect.
In the case of the Animal Control or the po-po, they usually deal with these type of circumstances with tranquilizers manufactured in remote Australian sheep farms. The IRS bring in boxes of tax forms you have to fill out -- unfortunately their success rate with killing your animal drive is currently at 99.8%. Pray the IRS aren't called.
There you have it. I'm not going to lie, I'd love if you were prepared enough to video the whole thing and put it on youtube later. I'd watch it and like it.
You're welcome.
I am stuck in a florescent lit, panel ceiling, closed off classroom with 26 other people. I want to bang my head on my clipboard and hope I am rendered unconscious. What should I do?
Bored Bella
Babbling Bumpkin,
I hear you. In fact, I'm in that situation right now. Weird how some of the questions I get coincide with my present life problems. Difference between you and me is I don't write into advice columns for help.
But I'll still help you.
This is what you do when you're so bored you're beyond the point of falling asleep, past a healthy sanity level, far away from functioning on a socially acceptable norm: you give into your basic animal instincts and let it all go. Despite the common held belief that this sounds like chaos, we know that there is a process to chaos.
1. While sitting down, start grunting and making obscure animal noises. I personally prefer the mating call of the African ant eater. Most people haven't heard it and will therefore be thrown off guard. I loving throwing people metaphorically.
2. When people start looking in your direction (and they will if you're doing it right), bare your teeth and hiss. On the off chance you don't have teeth, bare your fingernails in a threatening manner. Never bare your soul, unless you're a bear.
3. While doing the above two, start ripping at your clothes using a ball point pen. By using the pen you are sticking it to the man while effectively ruining your clothes. Ink is demon to remove.
4. Standing on one foot, leap across the room in one fail swoop (minus the failing part). Flail your hands and in American Sign Language sign "I am animal and I am now free." Make sure you sign this before you reach the opposite side of the room while in mid leap. It's imperative.
5. By now, the teacher/boss/probation officer/North Korean war lord should know you mean business and you're not going to take that learning crap any more. Hopefully they'll get the hint and avoid you. If not, ask them to join you (in ASL, of course).
6. Caged animals go crazy looking for an escape route. Imitate this by eating the panel ceiling. This may take awhile, but if you pretend it tastes like white cheddar rice cakes and have irritable bowel syndrome, you should be able to eat a 20x20 room in 5 hours. Eating the panels also takes your mind off of nutrients that your body craves and has been denied because you've been stuck in class.
7. At this pint Animal Control, Police or the IRS may have been notified of the situation. They have protocol to follow -- I'd look up their play book under "people who self com-bust into animal behavior and write into advice columns" so you'll know what to expect.
In the case of the Animal Control or the po-po, they usually deal with these type of circumstances with tranquilizers manufactured in remote Australian sheep farms. The IRS bring in boxes of tax forms you have to fill out -- unfortunately their success rate with killing your animal drive is currently at 99.8%. Pray the IRS aren't called.
There you have it. I'm not going to lie, I'd love if you were prepared enough to video the whole thing and put it on youtube later. I'd watch it and like it.
You're welcome.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
He's Embarking
*Note: My senior brother, Trenton, had to have three adults write him a page of advice about life after high school. In his wisdom, he asked me to be one of those adults. This letter will be turned in to his teacher.
Dear Elissa Gator,
I am graduating from High School. As my sister, and advice columnist extraordinaire, what advice do you have to give me as I embark on this exciting time of my life? –TrennyWennyMenny
Brother,
You’re embarking? I had no idea you were leaving on a ship. Don’t expect that I’ll be there to see you off to sea. Hopefully this ship has a college on it. Hopefully you were accepted to the ship’s college, so you don’t have to be bound to KP duty. Hopefully they have oranges so you don’t get scurvy.
I have never been on a ship for a long period of time, so I can’t tell you what the best motion sickness medicine is to take. I’d call your local pharmacist and explain your situation. I do know that there will be a captain, and you need to obey all of his orders. If you don’t want to obey his orders, you and the rest of the crew need to start a mutiny and either put the captain in irons, or make him walk the plank. I’d suggest making him walk the plank, because it’d be fun to watch.
There will be very long days at sea without any wind. Your ship will be stuck in the middle of the ocean and you’ll most likely get cabin fever. Which is weird, because cabins are usually in the mountains, but I suppose you go crazy from lack of wind and think you’re in the mountains; hence why it’s called cabin fever. When going through cabin fever, make sure to hang your food in tall trees, lest the bears get it and you end up starving. The best way to starve is when you’re the most lucid, and cabin fever doesn’t rank high on the scale of sanity.
To pass time, you’ll need to make friends with others on the ship, especially the cook, because he’ll most likely turn out to be a pirate that is searching for treasure on an island ruled by a pig princess. Try not to upset the pig, as she packs a powerful round house kick that even Chuck Norris would be proud of. If you stick to doing your homework that gets assigned to you by the ship college, you shouldn’t have time to upset the pig. Moral of this paragraph: make friends with a frog.
If at any time it seems that your ship is sailing to world’s end or heading to Davy Jones’ locker, don’t freak out. This is natural nautical nothingness and will be resolved in sequel voyages. If you do freak out, call yourself Peter Pan and pretend you can fly. Others will avoid you for fear of contracting PeterPanitis, a whimsical disease only cured by believing in fairies. When pretending to fly, only pretend at safe heights, because the key word here is “pretending.”
There will be stormy nights where one of your crew mates has a statistical chance of getting himself thrown overboard. I know that because I read it on Wikipedia under “statistical chances of getting oneself thrown overboard during a stormy night on a ship.” So I guess technically you have a statistical chance of getting thrown overboard. I’d try to avoid the statistics by not being on the boat. Statistics for being thrown overboard are fairly low for people who are never on boats (although there have been some freak accidents, but don’t let that worry you).
Last of all, if you see a giant crocodile who sounds like he’s swallowed a giant clock, check your wrist and make sure he hasn’t swallowed your watch. Watches are hard to come by at sea.
Well, my dear little brother, I’m excited to hear of your adventures on the ocean blue, which Columbus sailed in 1492. You're welcome.
Dear Elissa Gator,
I am graduating from High School. As my sister, and advice columnist extraordinaire, what advice do you have to give me as I embark on this exciting time of my life? –TrennyWennyMenny
Brother,
You’re embarking? I had no idea you were leaving on a ship. Don’t expect that I’ll be there to see you off to sea. Hopefully this ship has a college on it. Hopefully you were accepted to the ship’s college, so you don’t have to be bound to KP duty. Hopefully they have oranges so you don’t get scurvy.
I have never been on a ship for a long period of time, so I can’t tell you what the best motion sickness medicine is to take. I’d call your local pharmacist and explain your situation. I do know that there will be a captain, and you need to obey all of his orders. If you don’t want to obey his orders, you and the rest of the crew need to start a mutiny and either put the captain in irons, or make him walk the plank. I’d suggest making him walk the plank, because it’d be fun to watch.
There will be very long days at sea without any wind. Your ship will be stuck in the middle of the ocean and you’ll most likely get cabin fever. Which is weird, because cabins are usually in the mountains, but I suppose you go crazy from lack of wind and think you’re in the mountains; hence why it’s called cabin fever. When going through cabin fever, make sure to hang your food in tall trees, lest the bears get it and you end up starving. The best way to starve is when you’re the most lucid, and cabin fever doesn’t rank high on the scale of sanity.
To pass time, you’ll need to make friends with others on the ship, especially the cook, because he’ll most likely turn out to be a pirate that is searching for treasure on an island ruled by a pig princess. Try not to upset the pig, as she packs a powerful round house kick that even Chuck Norris would be proud of. If you stick to doing your homework that gets assigned to you by the ship college, you shouldn’t have time to upset the pig. Moral of this paragraph: make friends with a frog.
If at any time it seems that your ship is sailing to world’s end or heading to Davy Jones’ locker, don’t freak out. This is natural nautical nothingness and will be resolved in sequel voyages. If you do freak out, call yourself Peter Pan and pretend you can fly. Others will avoid you for fear of contracting PeterPanitis, a whimsical disease only cured by believing in fairies. When pretending to fly, only pretend at safe heights, because the key word here is “pretending.”
There will be stormy nights where one of your crew mates has a statistical chance of getting himself thrown overboard. I know that because I read it on Wikipedia under “statistical chances of getting oneself thrown overboard during a stormy night on a ship.” So I guess technically you have a statistical chance of getting thrown overboard. I’d try to avoid the statistics by not being on the boat. Statistics for being thrown overboard are fairly low for people who are never on boats (although there have been some freak accidents, but don’t let that worry you).
Last of all, if you see a giant crocodile who sounds like he’s swallowed a giant clock, check your wrist and make sure he hasn’t swallowed your watch. Watches are hard to come by at sea.
Well, my dear little brother, I’m excited to hear of your adventures on the ocean blue, which Columbus sailed in 1492. You're welcome.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Ten Commandments
I wrote this in one of my companion's journals on the mission. She said I should post this on my blog as a list for all men to follow. I agreed.
The Ten Commandments (that the man that marries you must keep)
1. Thou shalt have no other woman before or after Rachel.
2. Thou shalt bow down to Rachel and love her with all their heart, might, mind and strength.
3. Thou shalt not take in vain communications from Rachel.
4. Keep each day as an honor to her. Every day thou hast been given to live within her presence. Thou, and thy money, and thy car, and thy attention and thy ass.
5. Honor and respect Rachel that thy days may be long upon the land.
6. Thou shalt not kill Rachel's hopes and dreams.
7. Thou shalt not commit adultery, especially if it begins with an S and ends with a tacey.
8. Thou shalt not steal or abuse Rachel's heart. His thumbs won't be the only things cut.
9. Thou shalt not bear false promises.
10. Thou shalt count thy blessings and consider yourself as probably the luckiest man alive as having Rachel as a wife. Others shall covet thy relationship.
The Ten Commandments (that the man that marries you must keep)
1. Thou shalt have no other woman before or after Rachel.
2. Thou shalt bow down to Rachel and love her with all their heart, might, mind and strength.
3. Thou shalt not take in vain communications from Rachel.
4. Keep each day as an honor to her. Every day thou hast been given to live within her presence. Thou, and thy money, and thy car, and thy attention and thy ass.
5. Honor and respect Rachel that thy days may be long upon the land.
6. Thou shalt not kill Rachel's hopes and dreams.
7. Thou shalt not commit adultery, especially if it begins with an S and ends with a tacey.
8. Thou shalt not steal or abuse Rachel's heart. His thumbs won't be the only things cut.
9. Thou shalt not bear false promises.
10. Thou shalt count thy blessings and consider yourself as probably the luckiest man alive as having Rachel as a wife. Others shall covet thy relationship.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Update: Elissa Gator was Kidnapped
Editor's Note: We're sorry about any inconveniences that have come about due to the lack of advice posting from Elissa Gator. We're sure you're no longer crying yourself to sleep. But to what the public really want to know, what happened to Elissa Gator and her fabulous advice column? Elissa Gator was kidnapped by an evil-average intelligence person while she was taking a nap in her own home (and some might know how vulnerable/dangerous she is while in sleep mode).
When she woke, she was in an abandoned bandanna warehouse. She escaped by blind folding (resourcefully using one of the bandannas) her kidnapper, spinning him around 30 times, and telling him to pin the tail on the gorilla. Because gorillas do not have tails, the kidnapper continued in a futile effort while she walked out, unharmed.
We do not know why he took her. We believe he may have written in for advice that he then found too sarcastic and too true. Or he was an eHarmony suitor angry that she never fully signed up for the service. While safe and secure, Elissa Gator has not been able to give her daily advice. It has not been because no one was actually asking her for her advice, or that she got slightly bored, or that the pressure to be funny, ahem, adviceful, gave her a bad case of the writer's block - it was really because of the kidnapping.
We do not know when she'll resume advice giving posts (although we suspect if there were some really good questions asked, she might be able to muster up the old goat again). Regular blogging about uninteresting things will continue. Thank you for your understanding. Oh, and she wanted to say: You're welcome.
When she woke, she was in an abandoned bandanna warehouse. She escaped by blind folding (resourcefully using one of the bandannas) her kidnapper, spinning him around 30 times, and telling him to pin the tail on the gorilla. Because gorillas do not have tails, the kidnapper continued in a futile effort while she walked out, unharmed.
We do not know why he took her. We believe he may have written in for advice that he then found too sarcastic and too true. Or he was an eHarmony suitor angry that she never fully signed up for the service. While safe and secure, Elissa Gator has not been able to give her daily advice. It has not been because no one was actually asking her for her advice, or that she got slightly bored, or that the pressure to be funny, ahem, adviceful, gave her a bad case of the writer's block - it was really because of the kidnapping.
We do not know when she'll resume advice giving posts (although we suspect if there were some really good questions asked, she might be able to muster up the old goat again). Regular blogging about uninteresting things will continue. Thank you for your understanding. Oh, and she wanted to say: You're welcome.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Are you a Nazi?
Dear ElissaGator,
What is the proper etiquette for chain letter like facebook statuses? I want to be cool, but sometimes I don't feel comfortable re-posting some of them.
- Friendly Fred
Follower,
Thank you so much for being brave enough to ask about this obnoxious practice so that I could show people the stupidity of their ways without making them look like out right idiots. For those readers just tuning in, or if you're half deaf and don't have a facebook page, chain letter statuses go something like this:
Because of you, my life is what it is today. Thank you so much, I might have to cry just typing this. Post this if you believe you have wonderful parents/grandparents/boyfriend/girlfriend/sibling/friend/pet iguana. Only people who truly love their parents/grandparents/boyfriend/girlfriend/sibling/friend/pet iguana will post this.
Variations include topics such as fighting cancer, national pride, and eternally mourning Michael Jackson.
What? Did Oprah come up with this idea as a way to immortalize her feel-good mind control after she's gone? And then people feel so pressured to re-post. Because let's face it, if you don't copy and paste someone's generic status about saving the whales, you are therefore a Nazi. It's like a gateway drug to shallow relationships. Are you going to tell your kids "Jeremy's mom told her son she was proud of him because she heard Dakota's father say the same thing to his daughter, so I guess I have to also tell you I'm proud of you." To the people who are tragic offenders of this, I say to you: this is a cop out way of professing your love. If you really love someone or care about a cause, you'd send them some chocolates (truffle variety with some caramels thrown in for good measure) or volunteer your time.Who is the Nazi now?
So, in conclusion, if you agree with this post, you will copy and paste it onto all your social networking sites to let everyone know. I'll know who my true readers are.
You're welcome.
This is day 12 of 30.
What is the proper etiquette for chain letter like facebook statuses? I want to be cool, but sometimes I don't feel comfortable re-posting some of them.
- Friendly Fred
Follower,
Thank you so much for being brave enough to ask about this obnoxious practice so that I could show people the stupidity of their ways without making them look like out right idiots. For those readers just tuning in, or if you're half deaf and don't have a facebook page, chain letter statuses go something like this:
Because of you, my life is what it is today. Thank you so much, I might have to cry just typing this. Post this if you believe you have wonderful parents/grandparents/boyfriend/girlfriend/sibling/friend/pet iguana. Only people who truly love their parents/grandparents/boyfriend/girlfriend/sibling/friend/pet iguana will post this.
Variations include topics such as fighting cancer, national pride, and eternally mourning Michael Jackson.
What? Did Oprah come up with this idea as a way to immortalize her feel-good mind control after she's gone? And then people feel so pressured to re-post. Because let's face it, if you don't copy and paste someone's generic status about saving the whales, you are therefore a Nazi. It's like a gateway drug to shallow relationships. Are you going to tell your kids "Jeremy's mom told her son she was proud of him because she heard Dakota's father say the same thing to his daughter, so I guess I have to also tell you I'm proud of you." To the people who are tragic offenders of this, I say to you: this is a cop out way of professing your love. If you really love someone or care about a cause, you'd send them some chocolates (truffle variety with some caramels thrown in for good measure) or volunteer your time.Who is the Nazi now?
So, in conclusion, if you agree with this post, you will copy and paste it onto all your social networking sites to let everyone know. I'll know who my true readers are.
You're welcome.
This is day 12 of 30.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Dear ElissaGator,
I committed to do a special project everyday for 30 days. The problem is, I'm kind of sick of it. I'm not sure what it's accomplishing, besides driving me a little batty. Should I cut my losses, or finish what I started?
-Frustrated in Florida
Failure,
Good for you for setting out to do a project. You didn't tell me what day you were on. If you're on day one, then yes, cut your losses (whatever that's supposed to mean) and move on with your life. If you're on day, oh I don't know, 11, then it sounds like you're in a real bind. If I were you (which thankfully I'm not, because if I were going to set out on a 30 day project, I'd be real sure I'd have the stamina to see it to the end) I'd come at it from a different angle. This should help renew your purpose and give new lifeblood to your project. Unless your project happens to be drinking blood, then I don't think you can give new lifeblood to it. If it's donating blood everyday for 30 days, then I suppose that would be new lifeblood, but I'd also suppose you might be dead by now. In which case I'd have to assume you're at day one. Cut your losses, you loser.
You're welcome.
This is day 11 of 30.
I committed to do a special project everyday for 30 days. The problem is, I'm kind of sick of it. I'm not sure what it's accomplishing, besides driving me a little batty. Should I cut my losses, or finish what I started?
-Frustrated in Florida
Failure,
Good for you for setting out to do a project. You didn't tell me what day you were on. If you're on day one, then yes, cut your losses (whatever that's supposed to mean) and move on with your life. If you're on day, oh I don't know, 11, then it sounds like you're in a real bind. If I were you (which thankfully I'm not, because if I were going to set out on a 30 day project, I'd be real sure I'd have the stamina to see it to the end) I'd come at it from a different angle. This should help renew your purpose and give new lifeblood to your project. Unless your project happens to be drinking blood, then I don't think you can give new lifeblood to it. If it's donating blood everyday for 30 days, then I suppose that would be new lifeblood, but I'd also suppose you might be dead by now. In which case I'd have to assume you're at day one. Cut your losses, you loser.
You're welcome.
This is day 11 of 30.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Mommy and Me
Dear ElissaGator,
I don't mean to really complain, but my mom has better looks than I do. When we go out clubbing together, she always get hit on by the guys, while I'm left alone. What can I do?
-Mad at Mother
Muriel,
Wait. Did you say you go clubbing with your mom? Well of course you did, because I can read. I had no idea there was such a thing as a mommy daughter club. What, is it called Mommy and Me? Do they give out prizes for the mom and daughter that look the most skank alike? This is your problem. Men that go to these clubs are looking for a father role, so of course they're going to hit on your mother. They don't want some fun young thang to have a relationship with; they want someone that already has children that they can make an impact on. And I'm guessing a lot of these guys may have just been released from prison (because obviously their judgment is impaired). Find some age appropriate friends (hopefully uglier than you) and find another club.
You're welcome.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 10 of 30.
I don't mean to really complain, but my mom has better looks than I do. When we go out clubbing together, she always get hit on by the guys, while I'm left alone. What can I do?
-Mad at Mother
Muriel,
Wait. Did you say you go clubbing with your mom? Well of course you did, because I can read. I had no idea there was such a thing as a mommy daughter club. What, is it called Mommy and Me? Do they give out prizes for the mom and daughter that look the most skank alike? This is your problem. Men that go to these clubs are looking for a father role, so of course they're going to hit on your mother. They don't want some fun young thang to have a relationship with; they want someone that already has children that they can make an impact on. And I'm guessing a lot of these guys may have just been released from prison (because obviously their judgment is impaired). Find some age appropriate friends (hopefully uglier than you) and find another club.
You're welcome.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 10 of 30.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Mashed
Dear ElissaGator,
My roommate is dating a boy whom I absolutely hate. How do I get rid of him?
-Irate in Idaho
Irene,
I'm a big fan of showing the couple how important you consider their relationship. First, make sure the doors are locked, because they need to stay inside for the entire performance. Then place potatoes (you're in Idaho, right?) that resemble the couple around the apartment, and when they're on the coach having a romantic interlude, precede to scream angry chants while throwing the potatoes in boiling water. Have another roommate flicker the lights to emphasis the extreme nature of the situation. While potatoes are boiling, dance around the couple while reading Robert Frost poems in a Canadian accent. Wear nylons.
When potatoes are done boiling, put potatoes in bathroom tub. Encourage (or force) the couple into the bathroom. Have everyone jump in the tub and start mashing the potatoes by any means necessary. While doing this, play Richard Simmons sound bites that have been auto-tuned. Make sure no one is laughing. Punish laughing by pointing to feminine hygiene products. Laughing should then stop.
When potatoes are at a nice mashy consistency, scoop them up placing equal amounts into ice cream bowls. Go back to the living room and have the three of you sit on the smallest couch. While spoon feeding each other the mashed potatoes, proceed to watch Steel Magnolias. At the end of the movie, hug the both of them and while looking seductively in the boyfriend's eyes say "Will you bring the potatoes tomorrow night?" Unlock the doors and wave good bye as they run out.
There is a 99.999% chance that this will work, if instructions are followed exactly. Your other option is to come onto the boyfriend, actually fall in love with him, get engaged and spend the rest of your miserable happy lives together (for wedding dress options, see this bit of advice). I'd go with the potato scenario.
You're welcome.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 9 of 30.
She is a fan of blog stalking.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Ten Steps to Glory
Dear ElissaGator,
I recently broke up with my boyfriend of three weeks. I am not really used to the single scene anymore. What should I do to make sure boys know that I am available again and ready to move on?
-Stranded and Single
Standing,
Wow. That really sucks. My condolences to the death of your relationship. But mourning time is over. This ten-step-non-fail list will for sure let the male species know you are ready to dust your eggs off (or at least go on a first date).
1) Create videos of yourself showcasing your best skills, then post them on YouTube. Have faith that they will go viral.
2) Say no to any parties where there are girls only. Only attend those where members of the opposite sex will be present (preferably in your age range). Tell your girlfriends that you'll have more time for them after your hunt is over and you've snagged a boyfriend. Your true friends will understand and support you.
3) Register for eHarmony and take their relationship test so they can tell you there are not many matches. Don't ever actually pay for the service.
4) Also register (remember, don't pay) for LDS Singles.com; and then run away as fast as you can.
5) Go through your contact list of male friends and text them personal questions about their life to make it seem like you're interested in them. The one/s that text back asking personal questions about your life are potential boyfriend material.
6) Think about taking applications for boyfriends, but don't follow through because you'll attract the wrong kind of men. Unless that is the kind of man you're looking for.
7) Set up a kissing both. Charge $5 for every kiss; $25 if you've never been kissed; $40 for men over 38. Contact the city about zoning laws.
8) Wear a shirt that you got after donating blood that says "Are You My Type?" Wear this at construction sites or football games.
9) Slyly let it out in any and all conversations that you're back on the single scene. For example, you're at the grocery store in the check out lane when the clerk asks if you found everything okay. Tell them: "No. I was only able to find this single apple. Too bad I couldn't make it a pear." Clerk then will most likely set you up on a blind date (hopefully not with a fruit).
10) Have a friend create a face book page that points out your singleness. Invite all to join. Update regularly with statuses like "Man, Friday nights are so boring when you're home all alone. LOL."
Let me know how it goes. And if following these rules helps you get your MRS degree, I fully expect a %12 cut of your wedding gifts.
You're welcome.
*ElissaGator cannot guarantee following these steps will result in getting a boyfriend. She can only guarantee that there will be a multitude of people aware of your singleness.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. She's dang proud she just made a week.You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 8 of 30.
I recently broke up with my boyfriend of three weeks. I am not really used to the single scene anymore. What should I do to make sure boys know that I am available again and ready to move on?
-Stranded and Single
Standing,
Wow. That really sucks. My condolences to the death of your relationship. But mourning time is over. This ten-step-non-fail list will for sure let the male species know you are ready to dust your eggs off (or at least go on a first date).
1) Create videos of yourself showcasing your best skills, then post them on YouTube. Have faith that they will go viral.
2) Say no to any parties where there are girls only. Only attend those where members of the opposite sex will be present (preferably in your age range). Tell your girlfriends that you'll have more time for them after your hunt is over and you've snagged a boyfriend. Your true friends will understand and support you.
3) Register for eHarmony and take their relationship test so they can tell you there are not many matches. Don't ever actually pay for the service.
4) Also register (remember, don't pay) for LDS Singles.com; and then run away as fast as you can.
5) Go through your contact list of male friends and text them personal questions about their life to make it seem like you're interested in them. The one/s that text back asking personal questions about your life are potential boyfriend material.
6) Think about taking applications for boyfriends, but don't follow through because you'll attract the wrong kind of men. Unless that is the kind of man you're looking for.
7) Set up a kissing both. Charge $5 for every kiss; $25 if you've never been kissed; $40 for men over 38. Contact the city about zoning laws.
8) Wear a shirt that you got after donating blood that says "Are You My Type?" Wear this at construction sites or football games.
9) Slyly let it out in any and all conversations that you're back on the single scene. For example, you're at the grocery store in the check out lane when the clerk asks if you found everything okay. Tell them: "No. I was only able to find this single apple. Too bad I couldn't make it a pear." Clerk then will most likely set you up on a blind date (hopefully not with a fruit).
10) Have a friend create a face book page that points out your singleness. Invite all to join. Update regularly with statuses like "Man, Friday nights are so boring when you're home all alone. LOL."
Let me know how it goes. And if following these rules helps you get your MRS degree, I fully expect a %12 cut of your wedding gifts.
You're welcome.
*ElissaGator cannot guarantee following these steps will result in getting a boyfriend. She can only guarantee that there will be a multitude of people aware of your singleness.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. She's dang proud she just made a week.You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 8 of 30.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Blogging With the Cons
Dear ElissaGator,
I am starting my own blog, is their any tips you can give me to help achieve ultimate blog domination?
-Blogging Brian
Boogers,
You're just now starting your own blog? You must have recently been released from prison after serving hard time. I know you probably didn't want the world to know you're an ex-con, but I can't be sorry for guessing the right answer either. I take it you'll be blogging about your time in the slammer. I think that will be a fabulous blog (I haven't read too many of those, and I think there is a need). Things you need to do to make your blog the envy of inmates prisons round:
1) A catchy name for you blog. It has to explain what your blog is about while not giving too much away. For example, My Time in Prison reeks of boringness. Try something along the lines of I Was Locked Up With the Cousin of the Guy I Accidentally Gunned Down or My Homie Ratted Me Out to Make a Deal with the DA. Things like that.
2) Figure out what the purpose of your blog is. The few ex-con blogs I do read all blog about the same thing: how horrible prison was. Find a direction that no one has done. I think it would be refreshing to read a blog about the food you had in prison, complete with recipes and photos. And make sure the titles are snappy: Gutted From the Naval Up Salmon, Bashed in the Yard Turkey, Riot Ready Rutabaga , etc.
3) One word: giveaways. Your audience will increase exponentially when they have a chance to win stuff. Give them stuff they won't be able to find on any other blogs. Like the original tool used by Tim Robbins to escape in Shawshank Redemption. Or an exact replica of a guard's uniform from a prison of their choice. I know people would just die to have their own personal electric chair; but refurbished, so that they could hook it up at home.
Well, good luck to you. And if you happen to blog about evidence that incriminates you and lands you back in the joint, think of it as more blogging material.
You're welcome.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 7 of 30.
I am starting my own blog, is their any tips you can give me to help achieve ultimate blog domination?
-Blogging Brian
Boogers,
You're just now starting your own blog? You must have recently been released from prison after serving hard time. I know you probably didn't want the world to know you're an ex-con, but I can't be sorry for guessing the right answer either. I take it you'll be blogging about your time in the slammer. I think that will be a fabulous blog (I haven't read too many of those, and I think there is a need). Things you need to do to make your blog the envy of inmates prisons round:
1) A catchy name for you blog. It has to explain what your blog is about while not giving too much away. For example, My Time in Prison reeks of boringness. Try something along the lines of I Was Locked Up With the Cousin of the Guy I Accidentally Gunned Down or My Homie Ratted Me Out to Make a Deal with the DA. Things like that.
2) Figure out what the purpose of your blog is. The few ex-con blogs I do read all blog about the same thing: how horrible prison was. Find a direction that no one has done. I think it would be refreshing to read a blog about the food you had in prison, complete with recipes and photos. And make sure the titles are snappy: Gutted From the Naval Up Salmon, Bashed in the Yard Turkey, Riot Ready Rutabaga , etc.
3) One word: giveaways. Your audience will increase exponentially when they have a chance to win stuff. Give them stuff they won't be able to find on any other blogs. Like the original tool used by Tim Robbins to escape in Shawshank Redemption. Or an exact replica of a guard's uniform from a prison of their choice. I know people would just die to have their own personal electric chair; but refurbished, so that they could hook it up at home.
Well, good luck to you. And if you happen to blog about evidence that incriminates you and lands you back in the joint, think of it as more blogging material.
You're welcome.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 7 of 30.
Friday, January 21, 2011
As They Say in Soccer: Goal
Dear ElissaGator,
Have you ever tried to keep a resolution, or just a goal in general? I find that it's super hard. Any words of wisdom for me?
-Struggling Stan
Smuggler,
Because I am human (even though I have received letters questioning my homo sapien status), I have struggled before keeping a goal. When I was 5, my parents gave me my first pet. His name was Chia. All I had to do is water his head and green fuzzies would grow. And I did. Every day I would water Chia, anxiously awaking in the morning to see what came from my intensive labor. And I grew to love Chia. I could talk to him, tell him things that no other 5 year old would understand. Like how I constantly had thoughts on world domination. Most other 5 year-olds could only think about dominating the doll house, but not me, my plans were much bigger. And Chia never laughed in my face when I told him my 12 step plan to achieving that goal (I would tell you my 12 step plan, but then you might implement it, and I surely can't have you dominating something I inhabit).
One day, Chia was taken away from me. My mother said he was beginning to rot and needed to be thrown away; but I knew the truth - North Koreans had taken him to see if I had somehow imprinted my plan for world domination on his little green head. Of course, I can't actually prove it, but any responsible smart 5 year old knows when the North Koreans have been around.
So what was my failure in this story? You may think it the fact that I haven't completed world domination. But it's not. Remember, you don't know that one of those 12 steps to dominating the world is to turn 30 (and I may or may not have reached that age, I am not at liberty to tell you). The failure came because I wasn't able to defeat the North Koreans. Moral of the story, if you're going to have a goal, make sure you calculate how the North Koreans might sabotage it, or you'll get screwed like I did.
You're welcome.
*Cynical Editor's note: I'm pretty sure no reads this part anymore, let alone the actual blog posts. Even though I'm getting like a million questions every day from hopeless people like yourself, I know I haven't received one yet from you (I think you know who I'm talking about. Look in a mirror if you're confused). But this isn't for you, it's for me. Because ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 6 of 30.
Have you ever tried to keep a resolution, or just a goal in general? I find that it's super hard. Any words of wisdom for me?
-Struggling Stan
Smuggler,
Because I am human (even though I have received letters questioning my homo sapien status), I have struggled before keeping a goal. When I was 5, my parents gave me my first pet. His name was Chia. All I had to do is water his head and green fuzzies would grow. And I did. Every day I would water Chia, anxiously awaking in the morning to see what came from my intensive labor. And I grew to love Chia. I could talk to him, tell him things that no other 5 year old would understand. Like how I constantly had thoughts on world domination. Most other 5 year-olds could only think about dominating the doll house, but not me, my plans were much bigger. And Chia never laughed in my face when I told him my 12 step plan to achieving that goal (I would tell you my 12 step plan, but then you might implement it, and I surely can't have you dominating something I inhabit).
One day, Chia was taken away from me. My mother said he was beginning to rot and needed to be thrown away; but I knew the truth - North Koreans had taken him to see if I had somehow imprinted my plan for world domination on his little green head. Of course, I can't actually prove it, but any responsible smart 5 year old knows when the North Koreans have been around.
So what was my failure in this story? You may think it the fact that I haven't completed world domination. But it's not. Remember, you don't know that one of those 12 steps to dominating the world is to turn 30 (and I may or may not have reached that age, I am not at liberty to tell you). The failure came because I wasn't able to defeat the North Koreans. Moral of the story, if you're going to have a goal, make sure you calculate how the North Koreans might sabotage it, or you'll get screwed like I did.
You're welcome.
*Cynical Editor's note: I'm pretty sure no reads this part anymore, let alone the actual blog posts. Even though I'm getting like a million questions every day from hopeless people like yourself, I know I haven't received one yet from you (I think you know who I'm talking about. Look in a mirror if you're confused). But this isn't for you, it's for me. Because ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 6 of 30.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I Wish You'd Be Smart
Dear ElissaGator,
I have a good friend, but she has a bad odor problem. How do I tell her?
-Nose Plugging Nancy
Nosy Nan,
Guess what? I'm pretty sure she wrote into me last week about your acne problem, saying that it disgusted her to look at your face. Did you know that? Now that you do and it's on this national blog do you feel better or worse about yourself? Your friend is going to read this and automatically know that her best friend Nancy hates how she smells; and you just found out how you disgust her, so I guess you two are even. Maybe next time you find a genie in a bottle or run into Oprah you can ask to switch problems. That way you'll be writing in to say that you wasted a perfectly good wish. And what will I tell you then? Well, you haven't written in yet, so I'm not just going to be giving away free advice. Check out my day-after-Thanksgiving-day special. But maybe by then you'll maybe you'll have the problem solved. In my expert opinion (which is expert among experts), I think you'll be writing back in. Can't wait to hear from you.
You're welcome.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 4 of 30.
I have a good friend, but she has a bad odor problem. How do I tell her?
-Nose Plugging Nancy
Nosy Nan,
Guess what? I'm pretty sure she wrote into me last week about your acne problem, saying that it disgusted her to look at your face. Did you know that? Now that you do and it's on this national blog do you feel better or worse about yourself? Your friend is going to read this and automatically know that her best friend Nancy hates how she smells; and you just found out how you disgust her, so I guess you two are even. Maybe next time you find a genie in a bottle or run into Oprah you can ask to switch problems. That way you'll be writing in to say that you wasted a perfectly good wish. And what will I tell you then? Well, you haven't written in yet, so I'm not just going to be giving away free advice. Check out my day-after-Thanksgiving-day special. But maybe by then you'll maybe you'll have the problem solved. In my expert opinion (which is expert among experts), I think you'll be writing back in. Can't wait to hear from you.
You're welcome.
*Syndicated Editor's note: ElissaGator has taken the challenge to answer/give advice freely for the next 30 days. She would have done it for the next 365 days, had the thought of utter failure not demised her attempts. You may ask her any question about herself, or ask for any advice for yourself or in behalf of a loved/hated/neutrally-platonic one.
This is day 4 of 30.
Monday, April 5, 2010
#4.5
Dear Elissa Gator,
It has taken me three months to finally commit to be in a relationship with a boy who is completely love stricken with me. Now that I said yes to just be his girlfriend, he thinks I should consider him “my #1 man.” Ew. I do not consider him this way. How do I let him know this without bursting his cute puppy dog dreams?
Disgusted Daphne
Daft,
My personal experiences with men teach me that they think they are #1 in all aspects of their lives. #1 Fan. #1 Grill Master. #1 Team Player. #1 at doing #2. So when it comes to a lover, they don’t understand that in fact they are no longer #1. They’re more like #4.5, because we women have to settle; real #1 men are usually homosexual, which makes them #2, so technically there is no such thing as #1 men. You have to slowly let them understand this concept.
For example, look at him googly eyed and say things such as: “Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near? Probably because you reek of worms.” The love emanating from your eyes will help balance the acidic words of your lips. Not being able to comprehend two things at once, they’ll only subconsciously hear the jab at their awesomeness.
This way when they start feeling downgraded they’ll never be able to pin it on you. It’s almost as good as getting away with murder that the Las Vegas CSI can’t solve in one episode length. If you do come to a point where you are ready to burst his cute puppy dog dreams, I hear they have specials on neutering at local animal shelters.
It has taken me three months to finally commit to be in a relationship with a boy who is completely love stricken with me. Now that I said yes to just be his girlfriend, he thinks I should consider him “my #1 man.” Ew. I do not consider him this way. How do I let him know this without bursting his cute puppy dog dreams?
Disgusted Daphne
Daft,
My personal experiences with men teach me that they think they are #1 in all aspects of their lives. #1 Fan. #1 Grill Master. #1 Team Player. #1 at doing #2. So when it comes to a lover, they don’t understand that in fact they are no longer #1. They’re more like #4.5, because we women have to settle; real #1 men are usually homosexual, which makes them #2, so technically there is no such thing as #1 men. You have to slowly let them understand this concept.
For example, look at him googly eyed and say things such as: “Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near? Probably because you reek of worms.” The love emanating from your eyes will help balance the acidic words of your lips. Not being able to comprehend two things at once, they’ll only subconsciously hear the jab at their awesomeness.
This way when they start feeling downgraded they’ll never be able to pin it on you. It’s almost as good as getting away with murder that the Las Vegas CSI can’t solve in one episode length. If you do come to a point where you are ready to burst his cute puppy dog dreams, I hear they have specials on neutering at local animal shelters.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Farmville Frights
Dear Elissagator,
I don’t know if you have heard of the game “Farmville” on facebook, but my mom is obsessed with it. So much to the point that she took it upon herself to keep up my farm once I was done with it. This means she logs onto my account and I don’t want her to do it anymore. How do I tell her? Side note, she is my only source of love.
Fed-up Fannie
Fannie Pack,
There are more issues here than just this Farmville problem. If you went to see a shrink, they would say you have mommy problems and need to cut the umbilical cord. But shrinks are dumb, because umbilical cords come off soon after one is born. That is, unless you’re a freak of nature and you still have a feeding tube hanging from your belly button; in which case you should see a specialist about that. My advice would be to just use a sterile pair of scissors. But you probably shouldn’t then display said cut off umbilical cord on fridge. It’s not exactly something you should be proud of.
However, you can be proud of the fact that you have the power to change your password at anytime so your mom can’t get onto your Farmville. Speaking of which, from what I hear of the game, it’s too much of a feel good game. You can’t shoot horses and sell them to the glue factory, you can’t burn down other people’s crops and you can’t introduce mad cow disease into your Angus stock. There should be an app for that. If I knew how to create such things I would name it “Real Life Farmville,” backwoods serial killer included. It’s true, I learn more from me than I do from my readers.
YOU'RE WELCOME
I don’t know if you have heard of the game “Farmville” on facebook, but my mom is obsessed with it. So much to the point that she took it upon herself to keep up my farm once I was done with it. This means she logs onto my account and I don’t want her to do it anymore. How do I tell her? Side note, she is my only source of love.
Fed-up Fannie
Fannie Pack,
There are more issues here than just this Farmville problem. If you went to see a shrink, they would say you have mommy problems and need to cut the umbilical cord. But shrinks are dumb, because umbilical cords come off soon after one is born. That is, unless you’re a freak of nature and you still have a feeding tube hanging from your belly button; in which case you should see a specialist about that. My advice would be to just use a sterile pair of scissors. But you probably shouldn’t then display said cut off umbilical cord on fridge. It’s not exactly something you should be proud of.
However, you can be proud of the fact that you have the power to change your password at anytime so your mom can’t get onto your Farmville. Speaking of which, from what I hear of the game, it’s too much of a feel good game. You can’t shoot horses and sell them to the glue factory, you can’t burn down other people’s crops and you can’t introduce mad cow disease into your Angus stock. There should be an app for that. If I knew how to create such things I would name it “Real Life Farmville,” backwoods serial killer included. It’s true, I learn more from me than I do from my readers.
YOU'RE WELCOME
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Wipe away the anger
Dear ElissaGator,
I can't take it anymore. My roommate keeps stealing my stuff. When my shampoo bottle mysteriously went missing, she finally fessed up that she had been using it for the past weeks because she forgot hers at home. She said she was so embarrassed; only because she got caught! She also has her own bathroom, but uses mine for the toilet paper. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I really don't want to blow up at her, but something has to be done. -Annoyed Anna
Annie,
I hear you. I once had a roommate who did the exact same thing, how weird is that? Maybe my old roommate and your roommate are relatives. Being me, I was able to quickly solve the problem.
Depending on her hair color, you could always put bleach or blue dye into your shampoo bottle and you'll have proof if she uses it again. Seeing how she's already gotten caught, a better way to get even might be to put the dye or bleach in her shower head. I've seen it done in a couple of movies and it seems to work pretty well.
Now the toilet paper problem. There's so many things you could do, but instead of putting habanero chili powder on the toilet paper, a more humane thing is to put itching powder on the toilet paper roll. Make sure to keep a safe roll hidden for you to use so you don't become the butt of your own joke (get it?). She may or may not connect that by using your toilet paper she's putting her downunders at risk. Watch as she suffers; who knows, she may even do the butt-scoot-boogie like a dog with worms.
If you follow these simple, yet effective tips, she'll either never use your stuff ever again, or sign up as a North Korean spy. She probably wouldn't last very long as a North Korean spy, so odds are she'll never use your stuff again. You're welcome.
I can't take it anymore. My roommate keeps stealing my stuff. When my shampoo bottle mysteriously went missing, she finally fessed up that she had been using it for the past weeks because she forgot hers at home. She said she was so embarrassed; only because she got caught! She also has her own bathroom, but uses mine for the toilet paper. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I really don't want to blow up at her, but something has to be done. -Annoyed Anna
Annie,
I hear you. I once had a roommate who did the exact same thing, how weird is that? Maybe my old roommate and your roommate are relatives. Being me, I was able to quickly solve the problem.
Depending on her hair color, you could always put bleach or blue dye into your shampoo bottle and you'll have proof if she uses it again. Seeing how she's already gotten caught, a better way to get even might be to put the dye or bleach in her shower head. I've seen it done in a couple of movies and it seems to work pretty well.
Now the toilet paper problem. There's so many things you could do, but instead of putting habanero chili powder on the toilet paper, a more humane thing is to put itching powder on the toilet paper roll. Make sure to keep a safe roll hidden for you to use so you don't become the butt of your own joke (get it?). She may or may not connect that by using your toilet paper she's putting her downunders at risk. Watch as she suffers; who knows, she may even do the butt-scoot-boogie like a dog with worms.
If you follow these simple, yet effective tips, she'll either never use your stuff ever again, or sign up as a North Korean spy. She probably wouldn't last very long as a North Korean spy, so odds are she'll never use your stuff again. You're welcome.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Bubbles and Boyfriends
Dear ElissaGator,
I have a problem. I've think I like one of my FHE brothers. We've been on a couple of dates and we hang out all the time. I'm not to the point where I'm in love him though. The problem is his parents invited me to Thanksgiving. I'm not going to my home for Thanksgiving, but I did have plans to stay with relatives near by. Should I say yes and go with him and potentially seal my fate with cranberry sauce? Or should I say no and potentially seal my single fate?
Clueless Cara
Less than a clue,
Of course you have a problem. Or you wouldn't be writing into me. I decided to answer your question because I'm waiting for my laundry to be done, and we all know how annoying that can be. You really can't do much because you have to be on beckon call for when it's done, lest someone should take care of your laundry for you. Then you have no option but to punish the perpetrator.
My favorite way of laundry revenge is to pour a whole bottle of bubbles in their washer. Who said bubbles were only for happy people prancing in the park? The best part is watching them try to explain to the laudromat owners why the place looks like a gathering for a foam rave. But enough about my sud life. The answer is... Opps- laundry's done. Thanks for writing in though. Hope it all works out! (And if you do get a cranberry sauce stain, I'd look up the proper way to get it out. Stains are almost as annoying as waiting for laundry to get done). You're welcome.
I have a problem. I've think I like one of my FHE brothers. We've been on a couple of dates and we hang out all the time. I'm not to the point where I'm in love him though. The problem is his parents invited me to Thanksgiving. I'm not going to my home for Thanksgiving, but I did have plans to stay with relatives near by. Should I say yes and go with him and potentially seal my fate with cranberry sauce? Or should I say no and potentially seal my single fate?
Clueless Cara
Less than a clue,
Of course you have a problem. Or you wouldn't be writing into me. I decided to answer your question because I'm waiting for my laundry to be done, and we all know how annoying that can be. You really can't do much because you have to be on beckon call for when it's done, lest someone should take care of your laundry for you. Then you have no option but to punish the perpetrator.
My favorite way of laundry revenge is to pour a whole bottle of bubbles in their washer. Who said bubbles were only for happy people prancing in the park? The best part is watching them try to explain to the laudromat owners why the place looks like a gathering for a foam rave. But enough about my sud life. The answer is... Opps- laundry's done. Thanks for writing in though. Hope it all works out! (And if you do get a cranberry sauce stain, I'd look up the proper way to get it out. Stains are almost as annoying as waiting for laundry to get done). You're welcome.
Monday, October 26, 2009
All the Leaves are Brown
First off, to those of you concerned with a dog pooping in the below alligator costume, there is an answer. Obviously the maker of this costume wasn't an ignorant bafoon, therefore I assume there is a "doggy door" in the costume. Don't alligators also answer nature's call? So not only is the costume alligator accurate it is also best friend friendly. Such sick people you are for thinking otherwise.
Second, I keep getting these letters asking for advice and crap. Good thing I'm so good at it.
Elissa Gator,
I just love the fall! The leaves chaning colors, the blustery wind, the smell of pumpkin. How do you enjoy fall? Any suggestions to further one's autumn experience?
Lesly Leave-it-to-Tree
Weird Name,
Glad someone loves tripping and scraping their knee. Don't know of many other people who enjoy falling. In regards to your other outlandish atempts to be poetic -- don't quit your day job (unless you're getting paid to be a poet, then by all means, file for disability).
I don't know what it is with people and their obsession with leaves changing colors. Don't they understand that this is nature's way of killing off the tree's labor throughout the year? Leaves change colors because they are no longer getting food from the tree's branches, therefore starving them. Their calls for help include vibrant reds, oranges and golden yellows. They then start to dry out, withering away, until they can no longer hold onto the branch. At this point a brutal tornado (your "blustery wind") usually comes and finally rips their lifeless umbilical cord from the tree and drops them mercilessly on dirty parked cars. How does the tree feel? Seems to me the tree is okay with genocide, as it produces leaves each spring to be murdered in the fall.
So how do I enjoy autumn? I don't. Because I'm constantly raking dead lifes and gathering them into a mass grave. Some people enjoy jumping in this mass grave. Perverts, that's what they are. Does it pain me that not every leaf will have the proper burial it deserves? Yes. It pains me so much I eat more Halloween candy than is humanly possible. If you're serious about furthering my fall experience, you would send me more Halloween candy. I know not everyone can appreciate the grief a fallen leaf causes, but I will respect any little attempt you take to understanding. You're welcome.
Second, I keep getting these letters asking for advice and crap. Good thing I'm so good at it.
Elissa Gator,
I just love the fall! The leaves chaning colors, the blustery wind, the smell of pumpkin. How do you enjoy fall? Any suggestions to further one's autumn experience?
Lesly Leave-it-to-Tree
Weird Name,
Glad someone loves tripping and scraping their knee. Don't know of many other people who enjoy falling. In regards to your other outlandish atempts to be poetic -- don't quit your day job (unless you're getting paid to be a poet, then by all means, file for disability).
I don't know what it is with people and their obsession with leaves changing colors. Don't they understand that this is nature's way of killing off the tree's labor throughout the year? Leaves change colors because they are no longer getting food from the tree's branches, therefore starving them. Their calls for help include vibrant reds, oranges and golden yellows. They then start to dry out, withering away, until they can no longer hold onto the branch. At this point a brutal tornado (your "blustery wind") usually comes and finally rips their lifeless umbilical cord from the tree and drops them mercilessly on dirty parked cars. How does the tree feel? Seems to me the tree is okay with genocide, as it produces leaves each spring to be murdered in the fall.
So how do I enjoy autumn? I don't. Because I'm constantly raking dead lifes and gathering them into a mass grave. Some people enjoy jumping in this mass grave. Perverts, that's what they are. Does it pain me that not every leaf will have the proper burial it deserves? Yes. It pains me so much I eat more Halloween candy than is humanly possible. If you're serious about furthering my fall experience, you would send me more Halloween candy. I know not everyone can appreciate the grief a fallen leaf causes, but I will respect any little attempt you take to understanding. You're welcome.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
I'm Back to being barely alive
Elissa Gator,
I had a special occassion (not my wedding, but almost as important) and I needed my bangs cut. So, being a college student I went to the beauty school. I've been there before and they have been competent enough to do a decent job. Except this time. She chopped my bangs off so that it looked like a cancer patient growing my hair back. The worse part? The hair mentor said the hair murderer did a good job. What am I supposed to do?
Forehead Francine
Foward,
What were you thinking getting your hair cut before a special occasion? Don't you know the fates usually frown in frolicking fancy when people like you make these dumb decisions? Enough admonishing, I'm sure you learned your lesson. Do you have cancer? One more question, as an advice giver and cosmos knower, how do you expect me to answer a question like "what am I supposed to do?" Doesn't matter, because if you did know, you'd be writing this, and you obviously are not. In a few words, sometimes grocery stores will not carry candy corn pumpkins. You just have to go mental until you find one that does. Then you get them, eat them, and usually throw up globs of orange corn syrup clumps. What did you learn? Hopefully next Halloween you'll find them at the first store so you can throw up on a Tuesday instead of a Friday. You're welcome.
I had a special occassion (not my wedding, but almost as important) and I needed my bangs cut. So, being a college student I went to the beauty school. I've been there before and they have been competent enough to do a decent job. Except this time. She chopped my bangs off so that it looked like a cancer patient growing my hair back. The worse part? The hair mentor said the hair murderer did a good job. What am I supposed to do?
Forehead Francine
Foward,
What were you thinking getting your hair cut before a special occasion? Don't you know the fates usually frown in frolicking fancy when people like you make these dumb decisions? Enough admonishing, I'm sure you learned your lesson. Do you have cancer? One more question, as an advice giver and cosmos knower, how do you expect me to answer a question like "what am I supposed to do?" Doesn't matter, because if you did know, you'd be writing this, and you obviously are not. In a few words, sometimes grocery stores will not carry candy corn pumpkins. You just have to go mental until you find one that does. Then you get them, eat them, and usually throw up globs of orange corn syrup clumps. What did you learn? Hopefully next Halloween you'll find them at the first store so you can throw up on a Tuesday instead of a Friday. You're welcome.
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