Lately I’ve been trying to form a cohesive opinion on a topic and I could use your help. During my twenties I read a few dozen relationship advice books. Many of these books advise women to wait a specific amount of time before having sex because 1. Women get emotionally attached too quickly and 2. Men will not respect you if you have sex with them right away. I think these women and men need to grow the fuck up. I don’t wait to have sex, and I haven’t had codependent issues or disrespect in my relationships. I can understand why people would say to wait to have sex with a guy if you want a relationship.  That is probably good advice for some women, but I just don’t know if it is the right advice. What do you think?

A few dozen relationship advice books? No, no. You mean you read all the relationship advice books. This kind of shit drives me crazy.

You wasted a lot of time and even more money soaking up whatever bullshit Dr. Phil was selling that week. What has it gotten you? Not a god damned thing.

You’re still trying to form a cohesive opinion about the most basic relationship topic, and honestly, if you’ve been reading my shit for more than a month you would already know exactly how I feel.

Tell you what, though. I’m gonna do you a favor. I’m still gonna give you some advice. It’s probably the first piece of good advice you’ve ever gotten, and the last piece of right advice you’ll ever need:

Stay the fuck out of the Barnes and Noble Relationships section. Men are not from Mars, women are not from Venus, and our granddaughters will one day look back over “The Rules” and wonder how we ever lived with ourselves.

If it seems self-reflexively weird that an advice columnist would tell you to stop listening to advice, please consider the source. I’m not selling anything over here, least of all permission to validate your middle-class, middle-minded, middle-American ethos for $13.99 in paperback.

I’m glad you’re in the book store and all, but for fuck’s sake, keep on walking. You’ll find what you want in other sections, babe. Philosophy, History, Women’s Studies, Psychology & Psychotherapy, and of course, whatever you do, don’t forget to visit Fiction and Literature.

I can’t believe you didn’t say anything about how it is illegal to not hire someone because they are pregnant.

Excuse me? When have I ever candy coated shit? The pregnant chick doesn’t get the job, the black guy doesn’t get the apartment, and the police officer isn’t there to help you.

I live in the real world, bitch. Save your righteous indignation for someone who gives a fuck.

I am 18 weeks pregnant with my first child. I am currently employed, but am experiencing some serious job malaise. Now, I TOLD myself not to do this, but in a moment of weakness I checked a job site, and saw that an amazing job I’d be perfect for was just posted two days ago. So my question is: how crazy is it to apply for a job when noticeably pregnant? Obviously I wouldn’t get hired unless they have some crazy-flexible hiring schedule, but I can’t help thinking, what if? Help me put my mind to rest.

Help you do what now? You’ve got a half-baked bun in the oven, and you want to play bird-in-the-hand bullshit games with your employment status in this economy? Are you fucking nuts?

I think you’re in a little bit of denial here, babe. It’s fine if you wanna juggle motherhood and a career, but I don’t think you’re grasping the magnitude of how much your life is gonna change in twenty more weeks.

The last thing you want to do right now is give your current employer an excuse to replace you, and even if you got the other job, you’d still be the most recently hired, most expendable person in the room who also happens to be a first-time mom going through the most stressful year of her young life. Fuck that shit.

Come on, girl. The only amazing job you’d better be perfect for is coming up in April. Knock it the fuck out. You’ll get a full night’s sleep again sometime in 2013, and by then, the economy will have picked back up.

I know it seems like forever, but don’t worry. Life is long. You’ll get to do all the cool shit you want to do.

Why is it that when someone tells you they want to be an actor, you practically scoff at them? Yeah, there are tons of wannabe’s out there, but every actor started out that way. What do you do for a living that allows you to lead such a fun and fabulous life, yet still put yourself on such a high horse that you feel it’s okay laugh at the ambitions of others?

What do I do for a living? Your dad’s dick, motherfucker, and it isn’t big enough to be called a high horse.

If you don’t fundamentally understand that I’m doing wannabe punks a favor by punching them in the gut every time they utter the phrase “I want to be an actor,” then you aren’t ready to step foot into this town.

Cry about it all you want. Better yet, save those tears for the workshop instructor on the Boulevard you’re paying five hundred bucks to stroke your ego. (Just so you know, when he says you’ve got a delicate emotional instrument, all that really means is you’re a pussy.)

Listen, I love actors — all artists, actually — with every square inch of my soul. Thing is, I’ve been around. I’ve seen some shit, and I know how fucked up the celebrity machine really is.

You may think my reaction is cruel, but it’s not. Come on, this kind of thing is a staple cliche in every war movie. When the wet-behind-the-ears recruit asks a dumb question in front of the battle weary veteran with the thousand yard stare, it becomes that grizzled bastard’s patriotic duty to fuck with the kid unmercifully until he toughens up. Otherwise, the new guy ends up as a pair of smoking boots.

Not to overextend the metaphor, but at the end of the day, who the fuck do you think is the one lighting their shaky cigarettes and wiping the blood off their pretty little faces? Bullet-proof bitches like me.

Don’t you get it? If a wannabe actor can’t take getting spanked on my blog, he’d better stay the fuck out of Hollywood.

can you please change your theme to another one of the pretty plain ones out there…? For some reason it scrambles on my browser at work which I cant change but is where I most benefit and enjoy to read your blog…? Go on, Im sure Im not the only person with internet explorer who is frustrated with this scrambled display

Change my theme? Oh no you didn’t.

Listen, bitch. Just because you show up to a party wearing parachute pants, it doesn’t mean the DJ has to play MC Hammer.

It’s not my fault your work computer sucks. Your employer uses IE 7.0, by the way. I could have a team of internet nerds design a special helmet just for that browser, and it would still fuck up the alphabet.

Thankfully, it accounts for less than one percent of all my traffic, and while that is still a great many unfortunate people, I am not an enabler. In other words, this is your problem, not mine.

Upgrade that retarded shit. There’s always a way.

What happens when “the honeymoon” stage in a relationship is over? When all the fireworks and sparks are gone?

Come on, you’ve been to the 4th of July.

After the fireworks, the smoke clears. The children get bored and wander off looking for something better to do. That’s you.

Of course, you’ll also see a bunch of folks who just sit in their lawn chairs, drink the occasional beer, and gossip about the neighbors. That’s marriage.

Believe me, everyone gets bored after the fireworks. Everyone. At a certain point, it just becomes about whether you’re gonna park your ass in a lawn chair for the evening.

In a recent post you said “One other thing, please get rid of the notion that one perfect, magical unicorn of a soulmate is going to come along and provide you with all of your emotional, intellectual, and physical needs.” My question is if you find yourself having this notion, what is the best way to go about changing it?

It’s called growing the fuck up.

Sorry, babe. I don’t have a little magic pill that will cure prince charming disease. Believe me, if I did, I’d turn that shit into Oprah money.