I realized I had a crappy first name when I was five.

Our family was moving from Chicago to Peoria. One day, close to moving time, sitting shotgun, my mother was running errands. At a stoplight she turned and said, “We’re moving somewhere where nobody knows you. If you’d like to change your first name, now is the time.” I had always gone by D.J. (and still do today), but the message I received in that moment was clear.

My parents must had made a horrible mistake naming me. So horrible, in fact, that it was in my best interest to use initials to hide both my first AND middle name. And maybe that wasn’t even enough. Maybe it would best to deep six the whole thing and start fresh.

And, to be fair, my mother was right. It’s not a first name you want as a child. Kids goofed on me because of it. Childhood is hard enough with a normal name like Gene, Paul, Ace or Peter (I’ve been listening to a lot of KISS recently). And let’s not forget how important it is to be popular in school. It’s everything. You don’t want something bizarre singling you out, making you a weirdo. You want to fit in. While I knew I couldn’t be cool with my real name, using “D.J.” seemed to work. So I kept it.

Over the years, however, I’ve found that I’ve grown to love my first name. People think the name is cool. It’s not – it’s just unique, but I’ll take the compliment. On first dates when my first name is revealed it is met with positive response. I suppose it makes me sound exotic. Mysterious. Like that Dos Equis guy.

I have a garbage memory, but, if mine serves me correctly (it often doesn’t) I believe I have never written about my first name on this site. I go by D.J. Paris in my personal and professional life. The D stands for Delfin.

The reason for the backstory is to establish context for the 2018 ThoughtsFromParis holiday card.

And, in case you didn’t click on any of the links above, my holiday card is a thing. More than a thing. It is, without question, the best holiday card any of my friends receive. I know this because they tell me. I also know this because their cards suck. Fourteen pictures of someone’s kids in a 4″x6″ collage is not exactly what I want to display on my mantle. (I don’t have a actual mantle, so I balance the cards atop the guest bathroom toilet tank next to the adult wipes.)

Let’s pause for a moment to reflect that I am so thoughtful in my role as host that I provide adult wipes in the bathroom to guests. I’m not saying I’m the most thoughtful person that ever lived, but I’m not not saying it either, okay?

Back to the holiday cards. In case I didn’t clap myself on the back hard enough earlier, my cards fucking rule. One year I was several meerkats. Another time I inserted myself into a weird family. And yet another weird family. I even once created my a fake family. I morphed into Poodle Businessman. Once I was Delf On The Shelf. Last year I was a Hallmark holiday movie star.

This year I was Waldo.

I have a Chihuahua named Meepers and a cat named Pantaloons. And while the name Meepers means nothing, Pantaloons is named after old-timey underwear. They’re in the picture above, too.

As I was working on this card, being Waldo meant I wouldn’t use my more common moniker. “Where’s D.J.?” doesn’t look right. “Where’s Delfin?” is funnier. And, let’s face it, that name is ridiculous. So I went with it, even though nobody on the planet calls me Delfin.

What if I really did have peeps at Shutterfly? I guess if I was famous they might give me special favors with my card orders, but in return each year I would be contractually obligated to mention them on the blog, or you know – no more 80% discount codes on glitter envelopes.

The reviews from the above card are in. The feedback is that this is my finest effort to date. And it probably is. The bad news is now I have to top it in 2019. I always thought that a full-nude painting of me would be the ultimate holiday card to my loved ones. But before I commit to it, I need to make a list. I’m not exactly at my fighting weight, so I ought to drop ten pounds first. I should do a few pushups, too. Ooh, and let’s not forget to manscape. And I should probably start perfecting the sultry look I’m going to give the camera as I make love to it with my eyes. It’s time to get organized. I have a bar to clear.

I believe that someone has to send cool cards. I’ll always believe that.

So, I do.

A few weeks ago I started a humor writing class with The Onion.

In this course we are taught about satire and how The Onion approaches comedy. The publication is known for its sharp, pithy headlines and these headlines are the primary focus of the class. Headlines, in fact, are so important, it’s how The Onion selects articles for publication. Every week hundreds of headlines are submitted by editors and five or so articles emerge from that list. Their very best writers only have about a 1 in 50 chance of their headline becoming an article. We are asked each week to bring our ten best headlines and one article to be evaluated by classmates and instructor.

I was pleased with my work in week one. The jokes went over in most cases, and I felt that I had the knack to keep knocking out decent work in subsequent sessions. This proved more difficult than I had anticipated. In week one it only took two hours to write fifty headlines. The reason to write fifty is that forty are bound to be terrible. For example I am 100% in love with this headline:

Study Finds Camels Who Smoke Prefer Kools

I’m clear that there’s not one person on the planet that will share my love of that headline. It’s dumb. So there’s no way I can submit it in class unless I’m interested in sucking all of out the funny of the room. And since I care very much what others think of me, I wouldn’t include that in my final list.

But still, two hours of work got me ten decent headlines which performed well in class. However, this past week, I spent ten hours to generate that same output. I’m not sure why it took three times longer, but I can tell you it was frustrating. When I whittled down my list of fifty, I wasn’t pleased with the final ten. By my estimate, only five of the ten were winners. And, I guess if I had put in another ten hours maybe I would have perfected all of them, but I don’t have that kind of time. Peaky Blinders doesn’t watch itself.

One bright spot was that my article came out stronger than last week. Read aloud in class most of the students didn’t laugh at the story, but that’s because I don’t think they understood the reference. My teacher thought it was good, and she’s the expert.

For your reading enjoyment (or non-enjoyment), here’s my submitted list, warts and all.

– Headlines –

• Alexa Always Listening, Silently Judging
• Man Encouraged Not To Ask Wife To Pick Up Dinner On Way Home From Women’s March
• Guy At Work Who Brags About Never Getting Sick Needs to Shut The Fuck Up
• Megyn Kelly Surprisingly Proud of Taking Down 80 Year Old Woman
• Local Man “Pretty Sure” Ex-Girlfriend Is Still Using His Netflix Account
• Multicolored Mystery Stain on Presenter’s Pant Leg Derails Corporate Meeting
• Gayle King Cancels “Gayle for VEEP” Bumper Sticker Order With A Deep Sigh
• First Monkey Successfully Cloned, Ready to Throw Feces At Zoo Patrons
• Shirtless Selfie Guy On Tinder Believes Best Photography Lighting In Bathroom

– Article –

Gwyneth Paltrow Re-Signs With Satan

LOS ANGELES, CA—A joint press release today announced that Goop CEO Gwyneth Paltrow and Lucifer have renewed their business partnership through 2023, with promises to continue to bring morally and ethically bankrupt products to Goop readers. “Goop is proud to keep working alongside the prince of darkness, or as we like to call him around the office, ‘the prince of profit!'” Paltrow joked, also noting that the success of Goop’s vaginal egg line, coffee enema cleanse kits, and frog venom antibiotics were entirely conceived and developed by the ruler of demons. “I’ve got a lot of ideas for new products that are both criminally dangerous to mind and spirit, and hilariously overpriced,” the fallen angel revealed with a smile, noting that Goop readers are always willing to put themselves at great personal risk while shelling out hundreds of dollars for incredibly stupid items.

In April 1992 I fell in love with National Lampoon Magazine.

I bought my first issue at a local drugstore and raced home, excited to find out if this would be a worthy successor to my Mad Magazine fascination as a child. I had matured, albeit slightly, and was seeking a more sophisticated type of funny. I found it in National Lampoon. I decided after reading the issue that I would make it a life’s goal to write something worthy of the magazine’s inclusion. The problem was that as a sophomore in high school, I had never written anything. Plus, I was unfunny. Oh, and the National Lampoon quit publishing about a year later. I shelved the dream of being a writer and re-focused my efforts on trying to bone senior Ashley Ripley who once smiled at me in homeroom, to which I assumed meant she wanted this (note – pointing currently at self). She didn’t.

About seven years ago I started ThoughtsFromParis because I figured I would DIY the dream of being a humor writer. Which sort of worked for the first few posts but then I ran out of stories. I knew that if I was going to continue I would need to talk more about myself. My blog became less about hilarious stories and more about finding the chuckle of everyday life. I have a normal job and not too much crazy happens to me on the regular.

After many years of writing about myself I feel that I have developed a strong skill set in this type of writing. But it’s never been what I wanted to do creatively. My dream was always to make up funny and outrageous stories that weren’t about me. Thankfully, some old National Lampoon editors have revived the idea with the hilarious print magazine American Bystander, and I’m close to submitting my first piece, which (at least the title) was well received by their editor in chief.

I also realized, in trying to complete the Bystander article, that I have very little ability in writing anything other than in the style of this dumb blog. I reached out to my friend Tim O’Malley for advice. Tim is one of the big-deals at Second City and knows what to do about such matters. He recommended a class that The Onion developed in partnership with Second City. I signed up immediately.

Over the remainder of this writing course I’ll be honing skills on how to write headlines and articles in the style of The Onion’s humor. Each week we submit ten headlines and one article to be evaluated and discussed by the professor and students. As a blogger, I’m not used to instant feedback. If I think something is good, I write it and click publish. Being in this class I’ve learned that not everything I pen resonates with other human beings. Watching something I’ve written fall flat in a room of other funny people is humbling and humiliating. It’s also a lot of fun.

Because I’m putting a ton of energy into this class I thought it might be interesting to post my weekly submissions. Please understand I know not all of these are winners. To get to ten headlines, I write close to fifty and edit down. I then take the strongest one of the ten and write a full article. This first batch was presented to the class the other night, and most of them were well-received.

By the way, these headlines and articles are in a very specific Onion style, called News in Brief.

– Headlines –

• Neighborhood Rabid Raccoon Wondering When Persecution Will End
• Study Finds Dogs Prefer Organic GMO-Free Kibble – Also Garbage
• Man Bravely Reheats Last Night’s Salmon Scaloppini In Company Microwave
• Chipotle CEO Admits He Has No Idea What Barbacoa Is
• Old Country Buffet in Shreveport Snubbed By Michelin. Again.
• Actual Shithole Countries Excited To Be In News
• Local Area Sexual Harasser Thrilled He’s Not A Celebrity These Days
• Study Finds High School Sex Down 44% – Teen Skanks Devastated
• Whole 30 Promises to Be Next Diet You Fail At

– Article –

Kevin Spacey Fan Club President Undeterred That Membership Is Down 8000%

SIOUX CITY, IA—Despite numerous shocking sexual abuse allegations against Hollywood actor Kevin Spacey, acting 2018 president of the a-lister’s fan club, Sherman Phillips, remains steadfast in supporting the celebrity through a fan-site and monthly print newsletter. “2017 was a tough year for our organization. Most of the management resigned, along with 97% of members,” Phillips said alluding to the actor’s troubles in the press, adding that they have begun selling rubber bracelets inscribed with WWFUD – What Would Frank Underwood Do in order to raise funds to keep the organization solvent. “Those [bracelets] are not selling well. However, we have a K-PAX temporary tattoo coming out next month which I believe will be a big hit with our remaining members.” When asked about the morality of keeping such a fan club active, Phillips deflected by launching into an impression of Spacey’s character from Glengarry Glen Ross where Spacey yells repeatedly at Alan Arkin to go to lunch.

I had to be talked into this year’s card.

My girlfriend was certain it would land big with our friends and family, but what did she know? I’d like to think, for my own self esteem, that I’m the only one in the relationship with a rapier wit. Turns out she was right and the card was well-received. Many even reported that it was my best card to date. The credit for this success lands 100% in Liz’s lap.

Here’s how the idea came to be.

Months ago I took Liz to go see one of my favorite stand-ups, Jen Kirkman. At some point during her set, Jen turned her attention to Hallmark Christmas movies. While the jokes about these movies were funny, I had never seen one (nor heard of them). But as I looked around the audience was howling. I would estimate that 75% of the audience were female, so I chalked it up to something that women know about, but men don’t. Like heavy spotting days.

Later that night Liz declared that this would be the theme of our holiday card. I tried to convince her that nobody would get the joke. Since I had never seen one of these movies, clearly the masses hadn’t either. Liz reassured me that, not unlike most of our arguments, she was correct. After more resistance from me, I was encouraged to shut up. Also, I didn’t have a better idea, so I relented and agreed to move forward.

We took to Google Images which, if you’re not familiar, is the best place to steal copyrighted images. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you Liz and I looked at forty Hallmark holiday movie posters before deciding on a winner. This took hours and contained some heated arguments. Should we pick the cover where the two main characters were playfully throwing snowballs at each other, or the one where the guy is trying to balance seventeen packages in his arms while the woman is staring at the camera shrugging? Eventually we selected one, but for the life of me I can’t remember why it was chosen.

Next, we needed a Photoshop expert. Via Fiverr I hired a graphic designer to do the superimposition. We had to go back and forth a few times, and ultimately he still made my face too big, but it was close enough.

I went back to make sure superimposition was a word, because I was pretty sure I had fabricated it. Turns out it’s legit! Use that at your next cocktail party to impress the babes.

Now again, I was concerned that the joke would fail. And I take a lot of pride with these dopey holiday cards. I try to make the jokes hit like a sledgehammer – obvious and vulgar. This time it wasn’t really a joke, per se. It was just a reminder of these dumb movies that Liz convinced me everybody (but me) knew about. A reference to a pop-culture juggernaut, if you will.

The cards went out and we waited for response. And, to my credit, a few people didn’t understand the reference. But out of the 100 or so cards that we sent, it was almost universally praised (unlike the quality of these movies).

I did finally watch one on Christmas Eve. It starred Alan Thicke (of course) and Candace Cameron (also, of course) and halfway through her trying save the ski lodge I nearly jammed a golf pencil into my jugular. If you’ve ever watched a Hallmark Christmas movie, you know how painful they are to absorb. But instead of ending my own life I retreated to the guest bedroom and yelled at the wall for a few minutes. That calmed me down and I was able to return in time to see dad and daughter reunite on Christmas day. Also, the ski lodge didn’t fold, so that was nice. And, even though the movie was complete garbage, watching Alan Thicke and Candace Cameron embrace while the credits rolled was admittedly satisfying. It felt like Christmas.

So, here’s the card, for those of you who didn’t make the mailing list cut. Enjoy.

To be fair, Allison tried on this one.

She wrote me a few days ago asking to bow out of this specific edition. Allison had just taken on two new clients and was now travelling a good chunk of the time. She kept attempting to write this piece but wasn’t happy with it. (After reading her drafts, I concur) Then she did that thing that all weirdos like her and I do – we go all or nothing. In a frazzled state she said, “I can’t commit to this any longer!” She was having a moment. I told her to have her moment, and that I’d handle this one. She’ll come back in the next one. She’s just a spaz.

Here’s what I wrote announcing Allison’s temporary departure.

In visiting Allison last week in her native Ronkonkoma​, we (D.J. and Allison) ate fondue at a local juke joint. Allison’s nerves got the better of her and she drank an entire fifth of white zinfandel during the appetizer course. We were asked to leave as Allison became belligerent when she suspected the waitress of “giving me a look probably because she’s jealous of my legs.” Allison, too intoxicated to drive, left her 2015 Honda Accord in the parking lot and we shared a Lyft back to her flat. Thankfully her roommates slept through Allison crashing into every piece of furniture on the way to her master bedroom. She passed out face first onto her duvet and I did the same next to her. In the morning, for a lark I told Allison that I had enjoyed our vigorous lovemaking, but that she should get tested in the coming weeks. She exploded with violent rage and accused me of sexual misconduct, but before I could explain the joke, I found myself outside her condo – door slammed in my face. She still has my iPhone charger, and I don’t dare ask her to mail it back. She’s pretty peeved about the whole thing, even though all I really did was peek through her underwear drawer for a few seconds whilst she snored. I’m going to give it a few weeks before I ask for her to write the column, and I suspect her self-esteem is low enough to consider partnering again.

None of this is true, of course. I’ve never met Allison Arnone in person. I’m not 100% certain she exists. But I’m excited to keep doing this stupid column about your stupid problems. Enjoy.

My best friend and I live four hours apart, so we don’t get to see each other in person very often. We’re also both very busy with kids and family, so phone calls are once a month and very long — on her end. I hardly get to speak. She drones on and on about people I don’t know, complains about her mother, and tries to sell me products from all four of her different independent consultant/representative businesses, from beauty to nutrition to candles to teas — all the while knowing I’m living paycheck to paycheck. Every time I get off the phone, my blood pressure has risen. I love this woman dearly. We’ve been through a lot together, but I can’t seem to even squeeze in an interesting or amusing comment or two. Help.

D.J. – Okay, time for some tough love. It’s you, not her. That’s the bad news. She’s a selfish narcissist with an agenda. Nothing unique there. Tons of people like that roaming around. But… you’re the one who chooses to be friends with a selfish narcissist with an agenda. Here’s the solution – learn how to set boundaries. Work on your own self-esteem and guess what? These people either get in line or disappear. Because a truly healthy person doesn’t attract friends like that. Since I’ve been a tad rough on you, I’m going to end with some good news. She’s unconscious of her own nuttiness. You have the chance to change. She never will. So – change, ding dong!

She watches NON STOP IDIOT (FOX) NEWS. Need I say more? Okay, I will. She quotes idiotic, untrue, totally delusional political factoids at me. I keep saying, WE CANNOT TALK POLITICS. But she continues. I want to stab her in the eye with a fork. Should I?

D.J. – I’ve been listening to Donald Trump a lot recently in speeches and stuff, and he says FOX news is the best news source. And he’s the president! And there’s no way I’m smarter than the president. I barely made it through correspondence school! Plus, he is a big shot developer and hosted a TV show. That’s kind of badass, right? WE SHOULD OBEY OUR LEADERS.

Some like to think that their lover is their best friend. I thought so, at least. We did nearly everything together. I got my best friend a job at a restaurant. I drove her to and from work everyday and night, when she didn’t drive my car herself. She introduced me to a guy “friend” from work…”you’ll really like him” she said. One day she called me and said “hey, come meet me and Vinny at the bar I want you to meet him.” Surely, I agreed. He shook my hand, bought me a beer, and then a few days later proceeded to fuck my girlfriend. I kicked her out of my house the evening that I found out. Since then she’s keyed my car, threatened me, had men threaten me, try to call me for a shoulder to cry on after other men have dumped her…needless to say I’ve blocked her on all social media (she got so bad I had to block her on PINTEREST!) as well as her phone number…she still calls me to this day. She cheated on me after a year of being “best friends” in September of 2016. The end. Thank god.

D.J. – From what I understand, you’re a lesbian who lost her best friend and lover to a greasy Italian dude. Look, this is what greasy Italians do – they turn lesbians straight. It’s in their DNA. Just ask Allison. While she was never a girl-lover, she ONLY dates guys from Long Island with IROC Camaros (aka Italians). They’re hard to resist, from what I’ve read. So while I can justify your friend’s affair, I cannot condone her keying your car. You should hit back by throwing a bucket of red paint all over Vinny’s leather sport coat

She wants to be in a relationship, but does nothing to put herself out there in the dating world

D.J. – We’ve been poisoned by romantic comedies that suggest that Mr. Right just falls into your life, like when he’s seated next to you at a baseball game and he reaches for a foul ball and trips and ends up in your lap and then you fall in love but his best friend is kind of a jerk and he grabs your ass at a happy hour and you have to decide whether to tell him and you do and it strains his relationship and his friend lies and said you grabbed HIS butt and then he dumps you and then he finds out his friend was lying and to win you back he convinces the guy who runs the scoreboard at the stadium to video him apologizing to you in front of 45k fans. I guess what I’m saying is – tell her to hang out at the ballpark!

My brother publishes stories about my dad’s penis.

D.J. – I did publish a pair of stories about my dad’s pair, and I’m assuming this question came from my sister. To which I say this to her – You are free to write anecdotes on your blog about mom’s vagina. It’s a solid formula to drive web traffic. And we’re both in marketing, so we’re used to selling our souls.

Allison – When I saw this question and realized it had to be from D.J.’s sister, I laughed and told him we’re including this submission in the post.  I then felt bad for her because I realized she had to be related to D.J., and that just sucks.

I love my BFF, but she has the BIGGEST mouth. I want to confide in her and tell her personal things about myself, my family, my love life (or lack thereof) and other friends and it ALWAYS comes out that she’s told other people what I said. We’ve known each other a long time and she’s great, but how can I get her to keep her trap shut??

D.J. – Short answer is that you can’t. She’s going to blabber forever. So, if you’re harboring a terrorist sleeper cell in your neighborhood, you may want to keep that information to yourself. No wait – I’ve got it! TELL HER YOU’RE HARBORING A TERRORIST CELL. She’s blab to Betty, who in turn will blab to Sally, and before you know it, the FBI will be knocking at your door. But, hey – you’re not a terrorist, so no big deal, right? Then, guess whose door they’re hitting next? Your best friend. She’ll likely be put away on a felony charge of something or other. Then when she gets out of jail a few years later, odds are she’ll shut up about your secrets going forward.

She uses my jokes on social media, then doesn’t credit me. Then when I use my own joke, I’m accused of stealing from her.

D.J. – Here’s what you have to realize – 99% of people aren’t funny. But everyone thinks they’re funny. If you’re running around quoting one liners from Will Ferrell movies, you’re not funny. Don’t confuse memorization with humor writing. I was dating a woman last year who was wonderful in every way – and perhaps her most endearing quality is she would say, “I’m not funny.” And she never tried to make a joke. I loved that self-awareness and acceptance. That being said, I had to dump her. I can’t be with an unfunny person. Wait, I feel like I’ve made this all about me. Oh well. You’re on your own!

A guy a know who I’ll call Cullen used to say, “I love you enough to tell you the truth.”

After this proclamation, he would immediately follow it with a barrage of criticisms about how you’re doing things wrong. It was uncomfortable. You’d feel defensive. But after his assault concluded, you’d find yourself saying, “Dammit, the sonofabitch was right.” And he always was. A mutual friend of ours, Jen, was complaining about some shitheel she was dating. Jen is a psychologist and a strong, independent woman. However, she was dating a shitheel. He sucked. We all knew it. She suspected it, but stuck with him. One day, Cullen says to her (apropos of nothing), “What’s up with your self-esteem? You know better than to be with a loser. Get yourself together. Christ!” And Jennifer started to cry. Cullen didn’t flinch. He patiently waited for the sobbing to end. Then Jennifer said, “Yeah… I know.” Because she knew that Cullen was right. She dumped the guy a few days later.

The reality is, like the Buzzy Lindhart song preaches, “…ya gotta have friends…” And maybe the job of a friend, aside from being there when the world collapses around you, is to be there to knock you down a few pegs. For example if I wanted to meet out some buddies and I showed up with a ten-gallon cowboy hat, I hope they would say, “You look like an asshole and aren’t allowed to sit with us. Go home and change.”

Or, rather, parts of them suck. Maybe they always hit on your girlfriend. Maybe they never pick up the check at Applebees EVEN THOUGH YOU SAW THEM EAT ALL THE WINGS. Perhaps they ask to borrow money. Or they’re just not there when you need them most. Or, God forbid, they didn’t “like” the video you uploaded to Facebook about your child’s piano recital.

But, they’re your best friend(s) and you’re likely stuck with them. And they with you.

Let’s help you figure out how to fix the stupid problems you have about your closest pals. Allison Arnone and I are, if nothing else, pretty damned smart. Also handsome. And we have hips that don’t quit for days.

Below here you can enter in the issue you have with your best friend issue, and we’ll solve it. If you don’t see the form below, click here to submit.

Everyone wants to love what they see staring back in the mirror. And, I’m not referring to that inner-beauty nonsense that isn’t real. Well, inner beauty can be real, I guess. But your outer beauty is always being evaluated. Mostly by you. And I’d bet, if you’re like near everyone else on the planet, that you focus on the imperfections. When we check out our crooked nose or thinning hairline, it’s a reminder that not only are we imperfect, but we’re imperfect and aging. Those are two very heavy trips, dig? So, we asked for your questions about how to cope with said imperfections. Allison Arnone and I did our best to lighten your load. Read on, where we help you co-exist with your warts and all. (Oliver Cromwell reference, sucka!)

I hate the bump on my nose and wish I didn’t have “white girl butt.” Should I get them fixed or just deal?” – Jen

Allison – When I was in Jr. High, I decided I hated my nose.  It’s a ‘family’ nose; I come from a long line of folks on my mom’s side who don’t exactly have cute little pug snouts and instead have pretty substantial schnozes.  I never wanted a Sweet 16 party (believe it or not I don’t like that kind of attention) (no, seriously) so I half-jokingly asked my parents for a nose job instead.  They always laughed it off, and guess what?  I got older, and I stopped caring.  My nose is fine.  It’s fine!  It’s not adorable or cute or little and it’s certainly not perfect but when I see my other family members rocking similar honkers, I’m glad I didn’t fix mine.

So, yeah. I’m willing to bet that bump on your nose is more of a tiny speed bump that only you notice and no one else – so I say leave it.

As for the butt?  Yeah, I have that problem, too.  I don’t know, guess you could do squats?  Wear butt pads?  Get that surgery that all the Kardashians have but deny having?

D.J. – Hi Jen. Here’s the thing about certain body parts – you literally never see them. I believe it’s the reason why so many women have horrible back tattoos. I’ve dated 27 women with horrible back tattoos and I always go, “That’s a horrible back tattoo.” And they go, “Yeah, I know. I should get it fixed or lasered off.” But they never do. Why? Because they never see it. Out of sight, out of mind.

But you have to stare at your nose bump for the rest of your life, every morning while applying foundation. You can’t escape it. And it’s going to piss you off every morning. Life is hard enough. Get the bump fixed, but not for vanity or sexiness – but because it makes you feel crappy and feeling crappy is not a great way to start the day.

As for your butt being “white girl” I’m assuming you wish it were bigger. Let me quell your fear. I have never heard a man say, “Ugh, my old lady’s fanny’s too small!” Not once. But (pardon the pun) we do complain if it’s too big. Less is more.

My husband and I have a great/healthy relationship, but he always “jokes” about how I should get breast implants. I’ve had a relatively flat chest my whole life and clearly it wasn’t a deal breaker for him, but should I consider surprising him and getting them?? -A-Cup

Allison – Do YOU want breast implants?  Feminist rant time: we’re currently living in a world where a bunch of men are trying to make decisions about women’s bodies.  Cool!  Personally, I have this crazy little rule where I only do things as it relates to my own body/mind if *I* want to.  You want to go from a 32A to a 34DD?  Go right ahead!  But do it because you want to join the Big Titty Commitee and not because your hubs “jokingly” pressured you to.  Also, have you “jokingly” let him know about all the penile enlargement procedures that are out these days?  Haha, what fun jokes!

D.J. –  Your husband sounds like a true delight. Joking about a woman’s breast size is a universal no-no. It would reduce even the most confident feminist to a pile of tears. I’ve dated As to DDs. Real and fake. And you know what? None of it really matters. If you’d feel better with giant bombs, go ahead. Or just tell your husband that joking about your cans isn’t cool. I’d suggest you make fun of his physique but I’m sure he’s already got six pack abs and a massive wang.

I look too much like my parents, who are toxic and whom I’ve recently cut out of my life. – Tits McGee

Allison – Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikes.  I’m sorry you have a bad relationship with your parents, but hopefully it’s not to the point where you want to full-on alter your appearance.  But if you DO, I suggest using whatever surgeon the Kardashian family uses, since they all did a good job of obtaining brand new faces that don’t even remotely resemble the ones they were born with.  (I’m aware I’ve mentioned the Kardashian family twice already, but… #relevant)

D.J. –  Okay, but Ms. McGee, were your parents attractive? Because if Brad and Angelina’s oldest emancipated, that kid would still look like Brad and Angelina. Which is not the worst lot in life. Now, if your parents had unfortunate jawlines and asymmetrical eye heights, then you should probably get on that face transplant list. You usually have to be attacked by a rabid monkey to qualify, but if you’re ugly enough, you might already look like that. Get a new face is what I’m saying.

I want (need) to lose weight, but I don’t want to diet. Or exercise. HALP -Dee

Allison – Girl, same.

D.J. –  Easy – cut out sugar and grain. The weight will peel off within days. And let’s face it, you’ve eaten enough bread and Skittles for a lifetime. Oh, and you should sell your car and run everywhere. Now, I know you said no exercise. But if you don’t have a car, running seven miles to the Piggly Wiggly is just called “getting groceries.” It’s a brain trick, yo!

I have always been overweight and I think it makes me look hideous -Monica

Allison- This makes me sad.  If you’re truly unhappy, make some changes.  I wrote a blog post about this (click HERE if you want to read) where I talked about changing the things in your life that you actually DO have control over, since there are so many things we actually can’t control.  One of those things?  If you’re truly unhappy with your body, you can eat better and exercise.  I certainly don’t think it’s easy – in fact I know it can be very hard – but it is doable, especially when you’re ready, willing and motivated.  Good luck!  And don’t be so hard on yourself!

D.J. –  Chicks have it tough with their bodies. Us guys can lose weight easily just by cutting calories and hitting the gym. You birds have all sorts of hormones that screw with water retention, fat storage, and metabolism. So, at the end of the day, there’s probably not a ton (pun INTENDED) you can do about your weight. Might just be genetics. Now, here’s the good news – your mind really only cares about effort. If you bust your ass in the gym six days of seven and say no to the office danishes, you’re going to feel awesome. Because you did something hard. Just keep doing hard things, and let the physical chips fall where they may. You’ll be happy regardless.

I have a cowlick just to the left of center at my hairline. It has been tormenting me my entire life. It is a wild, untamed beast. IT MUST BE STOPPED. What would you do? – Alyssa

Allison – I, too, have a cowlick right where I part my hair on the left.  I once cut bangs and it was glaringly obvious that I had rogue hairs that would NEVER be tamed and go where I wanted them to go, so I quickly grew the bangs out.  Now?  I just kind of deal with it because these are very scary times we’re currently living in and cowlicks should be the least of our problems.  Also, whenever I picture an actual cow licking someone’s face I laugh because that’s kind of adorable.

D.J. –  Since I only made it through two years of Harvard Medical School, and I never got to the cowlick lecture, I’m not wildly qualified to answer this question. But, from Catholic high school I learned that God can fix just about anything with miracles. But he never did much with hairlines, from what I read. Moses, however, did part the seas for the Jews. And all he did was ask God for a little help. So, I’m guessing God can part your hair correctly. So throw your hands high to the heavens and ask that HE answers your prayer. Report back. Bonus tip – God responds well to flattery so maybe start with a compliment about his booming voice and how it’s really sexy sounding.

In the new year, I am trying to (surprise, surprise) lose weight. I also am trying to date more. That is where the problem lies! How can you be healthy while dating? So far, I told one guy on a first date and he did everything to sabotage me and I couldn’t lay the law down because I am trying to be nice… TRYING… Lol. That didn’t last. I definitely don’t want to be a cliche “I’m on a diet girl” when dating… Help! -F

Allison – Ugh.  Men want us to be all cute and skinny but they ALSO want us to gorge on chicken wings and pizza with them.  MAKE UP YOUR MIND, BOYS!  I think there’s a happy medium here.  Go on a first date and get a couple of drinks (nothing too sugary or high in calories) and if you DO get food, don’t completely go batshit and eat something terrible.  You don’t have to eat a plate of kale but you also don’t have to split sky-high nachos, either. Keep in mind there’s also something called “living a little” and “cheat days” so don’t go too nuts if you’re putting in work the rest of the week.  Good luck!  (with both the dieting and the dating, cause they both suck.)

D.J. –  Am I the only guy that loves it when you take a date to the best steakhouse in town and she only nibbles at her petite filet? You know why that’s sexy? Because I know she wants to wolf it down like a pig, but she’s showing restraint. That’s attractive. Ooh, but here’s the pitfall of that strategy – don’t leave 95% of the steak for the busboys. Tell the date, “I’m eating this tomorrow” and get a take-home bag. Nothing pisses us off more than when I woman orders a $75 ribeye and then leaves it. So, as long as you’re willing to walk around the rest of the night with a smelly piece of rotting steak in your Kate Spade clutch, you’ll have an awesome breakfast the next day.

Do guys really notice small things like eyebrows and nails?? -Fran

Allison – I’m not a guy so I’ll let D.J.  take this one.  But if I had to answer I’d say, “who gives a shit?”

D.J. – Not only do I not notice such things, I don’t even notice eye color. I’m not kidding. I’ve had many long term relationships and I’m not confident which of them had brown eyes or green. In fact I just had to double check my own. They’re blue.

Nails? I’ve never once thought of a woman’s nails. Neither has any man. Just don’t get too weird with it where you’re painting each one with a stenciled design and when you look at them all together it spells your name or something.

What is the best way to make sure I don’t have resting double chin face while in public? -Double Chin City

Allison – Hope you have an Amazon Prime account cause this bad boy is designed to take that double chin and transform it to the single variety.  And it’s not weird looking at all.

D.J. –  I have a far more simple solution. You know how photographers always shoot you from above your head facing downward to eliminate double chins in pictures? Simply make sure that all the people you hang with are taller than you. Sure, it might mean getting a new set of friends, but hey, the current batch probably weren’t all that great to begin with. What was their solution to your double chin? Probably nothing! Ditch ‘em and find better, taller people.. Your new friends will never even see your chins!

How do I make myself look more like the “Wendy” from the Wendy’s logo, and not like my dad, Dave Thomas, in a wig? -Wendy Thomas

Allison – Just so I’m clear, you want to be a young freckle-faced redheaded girl with pigtails?  I’m sure that can be arranged, but I personally think Dave Thomas is a stud. (RIP)

D.J. – I’m hoping that you’re not more that seven years old, Wendy. If you’re an adult I’m sending the men with the white coats to come pay you a visit. It’s for your own good.

What is the best way to hide my wobbly bits during sex? – Anonymous

Allison – Two words: lights. off.  Always.

D.J. – Reverse cowgirl, duh.

I believed I was so ugly no woman would ever want to date me.

I remember confessing this to a college roommate one summer. He was a handsome fraternity brother who had to fend off women when we went out. He was asking why I never talked to girls and I told him, “Well, I’m just not attractive enough, so why get rejected?” Now, the worst thing you can do if someone confesses their most vulnerable insecurity is to confirm it. Since I believed I was an ugly troll as much as I believed my name was D.J., the only hope that I had was that I might be wrong. But of course, he said the worst possible response.

Look, at the bars, you just don’t go up to the most beautiful women. They probably wouldn’t be interested. Just go for someone who is okay looking. Not beautiful, though.

I thanked him for the advice and then walked slowly into the kitchen to find a sharp enough steak knife to slit my wrists. My biggest fear had been confirmed. See – I wasn’t crazy. Other people thought I was hideous, too.

A year passed and I decided that well, I just couldn’t do anything about my looks. Bad DNA. But, I knew I was funny. Funnier than just about anyone. So, every chance I got I would approach women and make them laugh. I’d stand next to them and point something out that was going on and goof on it. Comedians call it observational humor. Eventually I became so good at it, I decided it was time to try to parlay this skill into romance.

One day I met this girl and I made her laugh. She was about the prettiest woman I had ever seen. I wanted to ask her out in the worst way. But I didn’t want further confirmation that I was un-datable, which I was convinced would come if I asked her out. So, I told her, “We’re going out on Saturday. The lead singer of my band is in a play. I’ll pick you up at five.” See, she couldn’t reject me if I never asked her out. She laughed and said she was looking forward to it.

We went on a few more dates and one night she said, “You know, you’re really handsome.” I replied, “Look, that’s very sweet, but there’s no need to lie to me. I know what I look like.” She stared at me like I was nuts. “Uh, no. You’re good looking. My friends think so, too.” From that moment I no longer considered myself ugly.

My point is that sometimes change comes from the outside. I know every self-help book would like you to think, “You won’t feel pretty until YOU believe it!” and yes, that’s technically true, but it doesn’t mean that something external can’t tip the scales.

Allison Arnone and I can be that external source. Are you a man/woman struggling with a gock/gunt? Is your hairline receding? Did you join the Spanx of the Month subscription service? How about those ashy elbows? Do your teeth point in every direction but north and south?

I’d like to point out that we don’t think any of the above conditions are “bad” or need fixing. If you’re happy with your physical appearance and its many, many imperfections, congratulations. But I’d bet there’s a few things that annoy you when you look in the mirror. We can help solve those issues.

Also, remember, the form is anonymous. Feel free to share your most insecure physical issues. We won’t ask for a photo, and I don’t really want to see your superfluous third nipple anyway.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to brush my hair one hundred times while staring longingly in the mirror.

Click here or fill out the form below to submit your issue about your physical appearance!

I’ve never made out with anyone underneath mistletoe.

To be fair, if I’m at a friend’s home I’m not going to attack his wife because she happened to walk by the mistletoe plant on her way to the kitchen. Or sprig. Or whatever the hell mistletoe is. Nobody knows. What I do know is that it’s never helped me get over with the ladies. In the past I’ve even brought a tube of lip plumper to these parties, and taped it up next to the mistletoe so women can get their lips right for a kiss. I’m nothing if not thoughtful. But this column isn’t about me and my problems. It’s about yours. We got so many damn issues on this one topic, Allison Arnone and I are doing a part II next week. We started this advice column several months ago, and each time we do it we get more and more entries. It’s very much appreciated, and we respectfully bow to you. Now, go endure your family for the next week. It will be difficult, sure, but hey, your folks still load you up with some decent presents, and you’re thirty-seven years old. Just grin and bear it when mom starts in on your weight. Happy holidays!

I am broke as a joke. Possibly broker than a joke. How can I stay fabulous during the holiday season on a budget??? – Farishta

Allison – I feel you, girl.  The holidays are an INSANELY expensive time of year and I’ve decided that the person I should be buying lavish Christmas presents for is…well, me.  For every gift I bought a family member, I bought myself two.  I then decided I wanted to get outta Dodge for New Year’s Eve so I booked a trip to Miami with my girlfriends (spoiler alert: that wasn’t cheap).  I THEN BACKED INTO A LIGHT POLE IN A PARKING GARAGE AND HAD TO PAY $500 WORTH OF DAMAGES ON MY CAR.  This all happened this month, so, yeah.  I’m feeling very Kristen Wiig circa Bridesmaids/”Help Me I’m Poor” right now.  My suggestion?  MAKE everyone’s gifts this year.  You know, like arts and crafts stuff.  When I was in elementary school and made macaroni art my Grandmother seemed to really like it, so who’s to say she wouldn’t now?

D.J. – I’ve had a number of failed relationships over the years, but I’ve always been successful at gift giving. You could call me the Ted Williams of gift giving, except he hit .400 and I’m batting 1.000. So lace up your cleats and get ready to take the field. I’m your batting coach. Allison is right. The trick is to make something instead of shelling out the black AMEX for the tennis bracelet that never goes on sale at Tiffany. I’ve bought a million broads jewelry, but nothing is more exciting to them than saying, “I made this for you.” Even if it’s a huge piece of garbage. Head to JoAnn and buy some yarn. Watch a cross-stitch video on YouTube. 300 hours later you’ll have this objet d’art. Total cost – $.17.

My family and significant other don’t like each other, so we all aren’t getting together.  I feel guilty,  what do I do? – Chiaseeds

Allison – I first read this question as “My significant other and I don’t like each other” which is way worse, so at least you have that going for you?   Without knowing the circumstances it’s bit difficult to give my opinion or a thoughtful response, but I’ll try.  If your family and S.O. don’t get along and it’s to the degree that a fight is going to break out while you’re enjoying your pork loin or whatever, then don’t risk it.  The holidays are many things to many people, but they should NEVER be filled with tumultuous fighting, tension or aggression.  JESUS WOULD BE SO PISSED IF Y’ALL FOUGHT ON THIS BIRTHDAY.  On the other hand, if you guys can all suck it up and pretend to like each other for one day, maybe that’d be nice?  The holidays are all about togetherness and bonding, even if you’re all faking it.

D.J. – On my first day ever of therapy, I asked my shrink how to fix my problems. She said, “That’s not what therapy is for.” When I asked why I was spending $140 an hour, she revealed, “My job is to help teach you how to cope with tough feelings.” Because I’m like Jessie Owens when it comes to tough feelings – I run. I’ve dated some women with awful families too, but you know what? You show up for the holidays, anyway. And you cope with the craziness of your partner’s family. It’s a wonderful opportunity to stretch the muscles of acceptance. You just remember to set some boundaries along the way – e.g. “Honey, if your father throws another empty whiskey bottle through the sliding patio door, we’re leaving.”

My husband can’t seem to make a damned decision (23 years now!) On whether he wants a repeat of Thanksgiving Dinner for Christmas Dinner or if he wants ham. WTH?!? It’s meat! Pick one! So, this year I’m going to let YOU decide what we will have! Turkey or ham? And don’t forget the side dishes! Or the breads! Or the desserts! Thanks for taking this decision out of his hands (and brain) this year and planning our dinner for us.  – Chris

Allison – OH GOD THIS IS A LOT OF PRESSURE.  Of course I have to make this difficult and say: neither.  Doing Thanksgiving dinner AGAIN on Christmas — a mere ONE month later — is a bummer and a half.  Two back to back holidays with the same damn tryptophan-filled gobbling turkey meat is lame.  Know what else is lame?  HAM.  I mean, ham is FINE — it’s fine!  It’s just that I think you guys can do better.  I’m Italian so gluttonous binge-eating is super important, so I’ll share with you what Mama A is making this year: stuffed shells, filet mignon and a HUGE antipasto.   Now that’s a dinner.   Step ya game up, Chris.  

D.J. – This is such a great opportunity to blow everyone’s mind. This year you do halibut. Nothing but halibut. If someone says, “But I don’t eat fish!” point them to the shrimp tray sitting in the living room. If they have an allergy to shellfish, you hand them a plain bagel and some lox. Then, during dinner start reading from health journals about the importance of fatty acids in diet. Pause every few sentences until someone acknowledges your cooking as being consistent with recent heart studies. For side dishes, more halibut. We all know that grains are the devil, so you’ll serve no bread. For dessert, freeze some halibut into the plastic ice cube trays and call them “Fish Pops.” And here’s the best news of all – you and your husband will never again be asked to host a holiday meal!

I’m in a group secret santa and I got paired with someone that recently pissed me off.  Do I get a bad gift, not spend the minimum amount, or suck it up and be in the spirit? – Anonymous

Allison – Now, now — let’s not be petty here.  Just because this person wronged you doesn’t mean you have to get them a bad gift.  How about getting them a nice book?  Everyone likes books, right?  Here, I’ll even find one for you.  Ooh, perfect!

D.J. – The best revenge is a dish served cold – like gazpacho soup. But don’t actually buy gazpacho soup because it’s a terrible present. Here’s what to do. You’re going to spend the appropriate amount and get your person a decent gift. But then you’re going to fart all over it. Eat nothing but pinto beans and cooked cabbage for 48 hours. Each time you feel the need to destroy the air, grab the not-yet-wrapped gift and explode all over it. Wipe the front of your privates all over it too (if you have stinky privates). Then wrap it up with the nice paper and ribbons. For extra cruelty, a few days after the gift exchange casually ask the co-worker, “How’s my present? It’s the shit, no?” Then laugh and high-five yourself!

My biggest problem with the specific holidays of Christmas and New Years is everyone’s feigned interest in “wrapping things up for the year” at work which is just office speak for passing the buck and pretending that you are doing your job.  Truth is, if you did your job then the end of the year wouldn’t be a time a crunch to get everything done.  Bums. – Matt

Allison – Did you have a specific question, or…?  Listen, Matt, you sound like a real blast to be around (you’re probably a real bitchin time at parties, amirite?) but the truth is, most people are procrastinators.  Most people are cruising along on autopilot for 11 months out of the year and then realize on December 1st: OH SHIT, I HAVE TO HIT MY SALES NUMBER!  I have to make sure I met and exceeded all those goals my boss laid out for me in January!  Is it too late to start actually CARING about this job?!?!

Look, people tend to cram 12 months of work into 4 short weeks and that’s just the way it is.  We can’t all be overachievers like you.

D.J. – Hi Matt, it sounds like you’re in middle management. To which I say, you must continue to strive and edge out the competition until you rise the ranks to a board position within the company. Ever meet a board member? They only come into the office three times a year. They stay for an hour in a closed-door meeting and then eat an expensive meal on the company dime. Before dusk they jump into their private jet back to their home state of Colorado (board members love to ski). They’re never stressed, always smiling, and have their clothes custom made. And you know what they don’t complain about? Underlings. So there it is – you see your carrot. Run for it, Matt. Run fast.

I’ve been dating someone for almost a year now and we talked about spending Christmas together.  Great, except this means having to determine where to spend it since our families don’t live close.  I hate to miss Christmas with my family, and he feels the same way.  What do we do?  – Conflicted

Allison – I’ve been single for three years and one of the few perks of Singlehood is not worrying about ANYTHING like this anymore.  My parents know I’m a surefire guarantee to be at their house for every holiday, probably forever.  That said, I GET this question.  I love spending holidays with my fam and have this obnoxious view that no guy I meet could EVER have a family that tops mine, especially in the holiday department.  I ALSO have a codependent mother who is horrified at the thought of me not being at the kiddie table around on holidays.  For that reason, she always tells me to find and date a Jewish guy or an orphan.  AN “ORPHAN.”  Those were her exact words.  Now, since it sounds like ditching your dude for a nice Hanukkah-celebrating-gefilte-fish-eating gentleman isn’t an option, you gotta turn to the C-word I hate.  No, not that one.  The other one.

Compromise. (ick)

Maybe you’re with his family this year and then yours the next.  Maybe you play rock-paper-scissor to decide.  Either way it sucks being away from your people, so seriously…maybe consider dropping your guy and finding one that’s family-less?

Orphans make great boyfriends, according to my mother.

D.J. – To make this really simple, you choose the family with the better house. Having a lot of square footage is important because that means you can escape to another wing after you’ve had enough of in-law nonsense. Aside from determining who has the bigger home, it’s critical to check out bedsheet quality. Knowing the thread count and fabric will help you make an informed decision. The cable package of each family should also be researched. Lastly, does one family have an extra Italian sports car that you can take out and do parking-lot-donuts to blow off steam? Oh, and if one family puts a lock on the liquor cabinet, do NOT choose that house.

photo credit: Ocean Networks Canada Pacific Halibut via photopin (license)

Let’s face it – everyone’s family is nuts.

Yes, even yours. And I don’t mean your twice-removed aunt that shows up on Christmas Eve clearly off her meds. Even the “normal” members of your family are crazy. How could they not be? There’s decades of dysfunctional family history stored in everyone’s hippocampus. Quite frankly I’m impressed you turned out as well as you did. Let’s face it – you’re a survivor. And then every December you voluntarily go back into that den of insanity! After what they did to you! I wish I was half the man/woman you are. To go back and face your antagonists, wow. Just wow. I moved the laptop to the top shelf of my bookcase – right this second – because I needed both hands free. Yes, I’m clapping for you. That’s what you do for heroes. You clap.

This holiday season is going to be both fun and horrible. And while you can handle the fun stuff (eggnog, presents, throwing a snowball packed with an ice at the back of your grandfather’s head), you may need some assistance around the horrible. Allison and I can help you cope.

Don’t think for a moment that Allison and I are master coping gurus. Our stats are worse than yours. However, we’re really competent at telling other people how to fix their stuff. In short, we tell you the truth most people wouldn’t. And we’ll pepper it with a few dirty jokes to help soften the blow.

So, what are you worried about this holiday season? Submit your question here and tell us your problem. We’ll take some time to ponder your quandary (each day opening another window on the advent calendar revealing a delicious chocolate coin!) and return back sage advice. Hey, I like that! We’re sages!

Click her to submit your holiday question that needs fixin’!