Fun-Sized Advice

On fun-sized advice

I’m almost in tears writing this. What are we going to do when Bill Murray dies?
Don’t worry. When he dies, on his deathbed, he’ll receive total consciousness. So, he’s got that goin’ for him, which is nice.


How do I become better at confronting someone with my true feelings in the moment? (Versus hiding behind an email or text an hour later)

Why does it have to be a confrontation?

Why doesn’t my husband want me to fuck other women?
Um, I dunno. Why don’t you ask him?

He’s never going to like me back, is he?
Nope.

Do I have to tell my boyfriend that I was raped?
Hell no. You are never obligated to tell anyone. That’s nobody else’s business unless you want it to be.

With all due respect, I feel like you throw around the Freudian daddy issue thing quite a bit. Fuck me, eh?
The one I throw around is more Jungian than Freudian, but sure, fuck you. (With all due respect.)

Do you take Xanax recreationally or do you have anxiety?
Anxiety. Specifically, PTSD related panic attacks. I don’t recommend taking benzos recreationally. There’s way too much risk of addiction for relatively little psychopharmacological reward.

Attractive millionaire, 45, offers you $1 million to sleep with him. You were gonna fuck him anyway. Do you still take the $1 million?
Are you fucking kidding? Up front. In cash.

Who are you most excited to see at Coachella?
Outkast, HAIM, Glitch Mob, Lorde, Kid Cudi, Fatboy Slim, Nas, Galantis, Naked and Famous, Flight Facilities, Daughter, Pet Shop Boys, Calvin Harris, Pharrell, Flosstradamus, Disclosure, and as always, Arcade Fire.

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