Hi, hi. Everyone find your seats okay? Good. This is “wasting the precious few moments while the baby sleeps 101” and I’m doctor Kelly. How’s everyone doing today? I’m fucking exhausted. I slept for seven hours, but it wasn’t enough. I need one of those “long bender accompanied by a massive, extended sleep” type situations where you wake up and you’re like, “what? It’s only ten thirty?” and your roommate goes, “Man, it’s Tuesday” and you’re all, “No way bro! Oh dude! I missed my Italian Cinema final!” and he’s like “totally bro, but you were sleeping so sweetly, you know? I didn’t wanna disturb you.” And then you’re all “Oh, man! Aren’t you just the most darling! Let’s cuddle.” Then he goes “Thought you’d never ask, compadre.” You guys know what I’m talking about. Wow, so that’s it. The baby is awake, meaning class is over. Hope you enjoyed it. Now we return you to the regular, haphazardly constructed, split-attention poor fathering mixed with poor semi-autobiographical prose. One sec.
All righty. (Oh, see. That reminds me of Jim Carey…”All Righty then.” He makes me so fucking angry, that guy. He stinks, and that SMUG fucking look that he always has on his face. It’s so punchable. It’s just so FUCKING PUNCHABLE. He’s married to Jenny McCarthy, who I like, because she’s one of those hot chicks that wasn’t afraid to fart. It completely destroyed her in my mind as a hot chick, but she gained a little bit of street cred, for whatever that’s worth. She’s also from Chicago, which I tend to think of as a positive character trait.)
Anyhoo…there’s a lot to discuss today, right? The guy from yesterday’s comments with the suicidal anorexic seventeen-year-old friend with trust issues…what to do? No one knows she’s suicidal, homie is the only one she’s told (along with one other person)…Hmm. Well, here’s the thing, if she’s anorexic, and that’s obvious, you know, with the bird arms, bald spots, barf breath (yes, I’m aware that bulimia and anorexia aren’t the same thing, but they tend to kind of work together a lot of the time, not unlike Danny glover and Joe Pesci) shit like that, chances are, there are people around her besides you who are at least somewhat aware that she’s on a self destructive, if not downright suicidal path. Okay, you mentioned that you didn’t want to betray her trust by telling someone, but that’s just dumb. If she didn’t want people to know, she wouldn’t have told you. In self-destructive situations, there are two real methodologies that people tend to follow. There’s the “oh, I’ve just been busy/out of town/getting my shit together” and then you find out they’ve been holed up in a by-the-hour motel with a tranny shooting coke and water into their veins for the last 5 days type of program, which I’m going to classify here as the “Mind your own fucking business” methodology, then there’s the one where a girl makes a complex series of parameters regarding her situation (I’ve only told you, I have trust issues, my parents betrayed me wocka wocka wocka) who in essence is screaming out for help. A seventeen year old girl who’s been starving herself for seven years is not a junkie who doesn’t want to come out of the cocoon she’s built around herself, she’s a scared kid who’s gotten so confused and turned around that all she can do is sort of cryptically beg you to help her (side note: I’d bet you somewhere in the neighborhood of seven hundred billion dollars that she’s told a few people about this, and also told each of them that they’re the only ones she’s told…this is a big move for seventeen year olds with any kind of secrets, from ‘I got a handjob from the foreign exchange student’ to ‘my dad sneaks into my room and uh…woah’ and anything in between, this isn’t really an important point, just sayin’) by saying things that mean the opposite of what she wants. “I don’t trust my family, don’t tell anyone.” Come on dude! I can tell by the way you wrote ‘grade 5’ instead of ‘fifth grade’ that you’re Canadian, but that’s no excuse…Tell someone, man. You’ll feel like such a shit head if you’re at her funeral going “man, she went to the grave trusting me, at least.” Especially because you actually betrayed her trust. She needs an intervention of sorts, and she’s asking you to help give it to her. She’ll probably hate you for a while, and she’ll probably be resistant to anything that people try to do to help her at first, but…uh, she’s starving herself and says she wants to die. That’s a red flag on a red flag, man. As someone who’s lurked in alleys waiting for models to head to their cars, I’ll tell you firsthand that malnourished young girls are extremely easy to kill, so quit with the bullshit and talk to someone.
Okay, now for the young lady who meets dudes only to have the relationships end before going anywhere, as in no first proper date, no boning, no HJ’s, nothing. Hmmm….I’m gonna give you some bad advice that I think will be helpful. Get out there and do a little boning. Just really, really put it out there and try to have fun. My guess is, it’s gonna end up a lot like what’s going on now, and maybe give you a little bit of perspective. Most people are idiots, jerks or a combination of the two. Think about your high school class. There were maybe three people you actually, genuinely liked, probably about ten more you could tolerate, and the rest could really go get fucked, right? That’s how the whole world is set up. Here’s the golden ratio: mostly dildos/ barely anyone worthwhile. Every relationship in your life is going to end except for maybe one…that’s just how it goes. So get out there and slut it up for a second and then feel like crap about it and go back to the way things are now (which, I should stress, is a much safer way to go about things…but fuck man! Uh, well behaved women rarely make history, or something) to slightly alter a classic, there’s plenty of dicks in the sea. Some of them are even gonna be attached to some good dudes. Just because you’ve hit a stretch of losers, don’t let that get you down. There are SO many more losers out there than worthwhile dudes. It’s like a thousand to one. Hang in there. Use the force. To get into Occam’s razor a little (a heuristic maxim which advises economy or simplicity, especially in scientific theories) you’ve tried the not slutting it up…not working? Well, the simplest solution is usually best. Uh, what did I tell you? Bad advice. Heh.
Okay. Baby is on my lap now, and it’s hard to type, so we’re gonna go to the farmers market. Oh throw your stones! It is TOO punk rock to take your baby to the farmers market.