“I’m going to have something made to send out to all the people that write in questions for our column!” Allison responded with, “Uh huh. Have fun.” Okay, she wasn’t into it. In fact, I’ve witnessed more excitement in line at a salad bar. Now, to be fair, Allison’s and my communication mostly consist of me writing stupid things on email or instant message and then waiting for her to get annoyed. Just yesterday I was drawing up the graphic for our newest column. As a goof I created an additional one which I emailed over with, “Next month, I have our topic.” This was attached.READ MORE
I’m surprised that I’ve received this question since I’ve returned from my trip. Three individuals have asked this independently, and it strikes me as odd for a number of reasons. First, I’m forty and my friends are around the same age. Everyone is married, mature, and with responsible careers. This is not a question anyone my age should be asking. Second, the trip to Iceland was not sponsored by Tinder and I didn’t check to see if there was a “Hot Broads of Reykjavik” meetup group. Third, I was traveling with my sister and her husband, and the idea of scoping out local trim didn’t seem like a healthy move. Fourth, I’m dating someone which further distances me from such silliness. Fifth, and most importantly, I truthfully don’t have an answer for this question. And I’d like to talk about that further.READ MORE
Peeing while in the lagoon is strictly forbidden and I honored this custom (out of respect).
Who goes to Iceland for New Year’s Eve?
When my sister sent out a blanket email to her friends back in June, I was in a terrible place in my life. Weeks before I had just been dumped by the woman I thought I would marry. I had sold my condo to move into hers but after the breakup found myself in a high rise rental nursing a broken heart. I’m a big believer that during crisis I’m best off doing what others tell me. The email my sister sent said simply, “Who wants to go to Iceland for New Year’s Eve?” My mind flashed to instances where people vacationed to Reykjavik and reported that it was one of the best vacations of their life. It took less than thirty seconds for me to reply. I was in.READ MORE
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!READ MORE
"Guru" Allison pondering the nature of the universe after three days of not washing her hair.
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.READ MORE
By accident I had left my old fake tree at the ex-girlfriend’s place. It was a cool fake Christmas tree, too. Tall, but thin. It had style. But when a relationship ends, sometimes it makes sense to just buy a new fake tree. So I did. I decided to go tall and thin again. A sign of respect to the previous tree that was likely covered with dust in her storage unit. The new tree arrived and I assembled it. The ornaments and lights and even that thing at the top. Treetop hat or whatever. Then I realized I didn’t have a tree-skirt. I must have left that with the tree at her place. I shook my angry fist toward the heavens, but then purchased a swath of canvas online a few minutes later. I had an idea. A great idea? Yeah, actually it was.READ MORE
Nobody is neutral about social media. All of us fall into one of three categories.
I should do less social media
I should do more social media
I’m not on social media
I think we can all agree that the I’m-not-on-social-media-guy is a little too proud to tell everyone that he’s not on social media. My guess is that he doesn’t have any friends and this is an overcompensation for only getting one “Happy birthday!” message on Facebook in 2013. In high school I used to say, “The prom is stupid. I’m not into it!” Which really meant, “No girl will go with me and on the night of the big dance I’m going to play guitar in the basement and cry.” This month Allison Arnone and I speak directly to the social media user and answer their questions directly about how to do more or less of it, but also how to do more or less of it better. Let’s go.READ MORE
One of the bummers of turning forty is that almost all of my male friends are married. This is not a bummer for them, of course. And, damn it if they didn’t all marry well. And, once someone marries well, children are soon to follow. This is accompanied by a move to the suburbs where the excitement of city life is sacrificed for a larger home with actual grass. I’ve lived in the city for sixteen years and I’m one of the last holdouts. However, there’s no good argument to be made for a single guy moving out to the suburbs until he’s forced. The upside is that I live smack in the middle of a million fun city activities. The downside is that nobody else I know still does. So, I’m lonely.READ MORE
This person owed me money. Quite a bit of money. Since I assume nobody is out to screw me over, I gave them a wide berth in paying it back. After months of hearing nothing, I reached out just to get an update. Their response when I politely asked on the status of the repayment was, “I agreed to that in a moment of vulnerability. I shouldn’t have. You’ll get it when I have it – no idea when that will be.” I stared at the computer screen in shock. This was a financial arrangement we had both decided was fair. The funny part was that I had never asked this person for repayment in the first place. They came to me knowing they owed me money and worked out a structure. Then, didn’t honor it. Before I could respond with a, “This has to be a joke, right?” she wrote, “Oh, and have fun on all those vacations you’re going on – you obviously don’t need the money.”READ MORE