she was probably just a drunk whore who was ashamed of the sex she had the next morning

Die in a fire.

I have one semester of college left, and I just found out I got a job in Los Angeles working at a non-profit. So this white girl from a decently well off family is about to move across the country to make just under $1,200 a month. My parents are begging me not to, and promised no financial support. I’m not too worried because I’ve been working two jobs since I was a sophomore and have a couple thousand of my own to get me started along with a true streak of Irish stubbornness. Any advice? (also just to make it super obvious I have no interest in tv/movies/etc except to watch so I’m not trying to catch a break)

Get your fucking degree, you idiot. You’ve come this far. Finish what you start.

It’s not like you’re ducking out of your last semester because you found venture capital for your tech startup. You’re just in a stupid hurry to earn slave wages. Don’t waste three and a half years of educational investment for a false start at a shitty non-profit gig.

Chill the fuck out. Los Angeles will still be here in a couple months. So will any number of entry-level jobs in the non-profit sector with low pay, no benefits, and absolutely zero possibility for advancement.

Working two jobs as a college student doesn’t mean shit, either. You have no clue what’s about to be expected of you as a full-time employee. Those fuckers are gonna work your punk ass like a rented mule, and in six months to a year, after your dreams have been crushed and you’re both physically and spiritually exhausted, you’ll wish you had a bachelors degree on your resume.

Don’t fuck up here. Be smart. Take a deep breath, knock out your last semester, and save up some more money. There will be plenty of time to make poor life decisions once you get to Los Angeles.

How do you reconcile an admiration for Beyoncé with your belief that narcissism is ‘the worst thing ever’?

I’m sorry, but you seem to have confused acting like a diva with someone who is an actual fucking diva. There’s a big difference, you smarmy little shit.

Do you think it’s ok to hide money from your husband if he’s a reckless spender? We’re relatively comfortable but we aren’t saving any money at all. If there is anything extra after a pay day, he wants to spend it on himself. I’m fed up. I handle all of our bills and could probably easily hide around $150 each payday. I just want a safety net and I don’t think he is capable of knowing that it exists and keeping his hands off. What to do, coquette?

Fucking hell, lady. Start saving some damn money, and don’t feel the least bit bad about being sneaky. If you have to hide savings from your husband because he’s fiscally irresponsible, so be it. He’s not allowed to put you in financial peril just because he’s a reckless spender.

I recommend you open up a Bluebird account in your own name. It’s paperless, private, and comes with a ton of free features. Keep that shit separate from all your other banking, and use it to slowly build up a safety net. You can drop money in it every month as if it’s just another bill you have to pay, and your husband will never know the difference.

Best case scenario, you’ve got a rainy day fund and peace of mind. Worst case scenario, you’re saving up for your divorce. Either way, this is one of those times when keeping a secret is the responsible thing to do.

I used to play it off as being a hopeless romantic. I am actually calculating, manipulative, and emotionally stunted. I use my charisma to get what I want. How do I tell the girl I’m seeing that I’m basically Patrick Bateman?

You’re not Patrick Bateman. Patrick Bateman wasn’t even Patrick Bateman. You’re just a garden variety asshole, and trust me, you don’t need to run off and tell the girl you’re seeing. She already knows.

What you should do instead is take this minor revelation and use it to change your behavior. You don’t have to remain emotionally stunted. You can stop being manipulative. You can bury your charisma in the dirt where it belongs, because up to now all you’ve been doing is embarrassing yourself.

Grow, douchebag. Grow.

We’ve been married 30 years. Our marriage transformed our lives from “drama” to “romantic comedy”—and it just keeps getting better. Your view that “unhappiness = resting state of marriage” says more about you than it does marriage.

Yes, because when I make an observation about the institution of marriage, I’m talking about your relationship in particular.

It’s all about you.

Were you always so cynical, or do you think that as a result of listening to vapid idiots ask for advice all the time, you’ve simply become cynical? Whether you perceive yourself as cynical or not is unimportant, because it’s so easy to perceive you as such. So, was your blog always like this, or did it develop over time?

You don’t even know what the word cynical means, do you?

Silly child, if you want to know how I’ve developed over time, just go back to the beginning and read for yourself. Try not to get annoyed if you learn a few things along the way. I sure have. Hell, it’s been almost half a decade, and I’m just now starting to get good at this shit.

Alright, I graduate from my undergrad program in about 28 hours. I have no plans after (quiver…) Basically I work a retail job, have no idea what it’s like to have additional free time since I worked my ass off in school, both to pay the bills and get a decent GPA. Now my friends from Florida are touring my area, in towns where I have friends, all next month and I could get in the van with them. I have no savings, no plan, no boyfriend. Should I quit my job and just say fuck it for a month?

Absolutely.

This guy I’m seeing won’t have sex with me for religious reasons but requests to cum on my face while pouring champagne. No shit. Serial killer?

Yeah, this guy seems deeply in touch with his lord and savior.

I love how it’s perfectly acceptable for him to blow a load in your face like you’re a porn star he just bought bottle service, but the omniscient creator of the universe would suddenly have a problem if you two engaged in even the slightest bit of premarital vaginal intercourse.

Ugh, that’s so fucking creepy. Seriously, though. Don’t date people who bring religion into the bedroom. Just don’t.

We’re stuck in a suburban business hotel outside of Dallas, and our car won’t turn on, so we can’t even go get weed or beer. The cable was nice for the first couple of days but now I’m starting to feel the effects of cabin fever. How should we wait out the rest of the ice storm with poise, grace, and sanity?

Well, you could rent out one of the hotel conference rooms and invite everyone on your floor to a business casual ice storm orgy.

Or, you could download the Uber app and get a private driver to take you around the frozen tundra of Dallas to score weed and beer.

Or both.