I feel that you’re trying to push the “coke talk” costume a little too hard. Don’t get me wrong or nothing, I am a huge fan and spend hours reading the “in your face advice” that you give like some form of agoraphobic, anti socialite. It just seems like you’re trying to become a little too main stream and want some form of zombie cult worshipping you wherever they are from. But that is the beauty of you, you’re not mainstream and you’re not popular (I say not popular but you’ve got X amount of fans) I love the fact that you’re behind the scenes and only we know you, if everyone got wind of you then I’m sure it would go wrong and mainstream and I wouldn’t want to follow you. (Although saying that I am addicted to you like the coke you go on about) NEVER CHANGE AND DON’T BECOME MAINSTREAM (Cliche or what)

Don’t worry, hipster kitty. I’ll be your best kept secret forever and ever.

As for your bad pitchfork review, may I remind you that the only mainstream zombie cult is the catholic church, and Halloween is just one stupid night of candy and fun. Lighten the fuck up.

Let’s all remember never to take any of this shit seriously, okay?

So, I got myself in a ridiculous predicament. See, I’m gay, but I’m not out yet, which is hard enough as it is, but I’ve got a huge crush on this guy and I can’t really figure out how to navigate the situation. The thing is, I’m his tutor, so I have to see him three times a week no matter what; also, if he were to say no, I could get in a lot of trouble (I can’t afford to get fired). I also don’t know if he’s gay and he’s really hard to read. What do I do?

Shut the fuck up and do your job. It is entirely inappropriate to put a move on someone under your tutelage. He can hit on you, but not the other way around.

If you’re still crushing when the gig is over, feel free to let him know then, but only after the tutor/student relationship has come to a conclusion, and if you’re smart, only after you’re sufficiently sure that he’s gay.

Come on, man. Getting fired for making sexual advances toward a student is no way to come out of the closet.

Right, reliable, rational data. Data that cannot possibly account for actual human emotion. Just because he throws out “neuroscience” your panties get all wet believing he’s truly on to something. It is so naive to believe this would have a different outcome than religion. He still wants to tell people how to live. However rational it may be, not everyone wants to change. So does it become dictated that we should do the right thing? Where have we heard that before? Oh right religion. That worked out so great. Replace religion with science and it’s the same result.   Until we can account for the 90% of gray matter that scientist need just to back up their “how did we get here” claims, you and all atheists are still just living by faith. A great number of brilliant scientists, the ones that study biology at the cellular and molecular level seem to reach a point where they can no longer believe that it was chance. The odds just don’t support the data. Dawkins has said the same but would rather give the intelligent design credit to aliens than a god. Well that’s fine but it’s the same damn thing. Sucks doesn’t it. 

Wow. This is quite a lovely collection of logical fallacies you’ve collected here.

Listen, I know it seem like fun to challenge the anonymous coked up party girl to a battle of wits when she mentions that she likes Sam Harris, but you’re only gonna come off looking like an idiot.

For instance, I’ve taken the liberty of linking each one of your ridiculous sentences to its respective logical fallacy in the hopes that you will learn something next time you try and mount a cogent argument against someone who isn’t still fascinated by bubbles.

Honestly, I blame myself for this. When asked about the last book I read, I should have just giggled and said the September issue of Vogue.

Sam Harris; religion bad, we get it. And does he really say anything that B.F. Skinner hasn’t already?

You’re a psych major. We get it. Tell whatever professor that made this comparison for you that Harris isn’t a radical behaviorist, and where his argument has an twinge of determinism, it’s backed up with his own neuroimaging data.

Skinner was a genius, but ultimately a one-trick pony trying to fix all the world’s ills with a golden hammer. Harris isn’t so grandiose. He doesn’t advance a utopian vision for humanity, merely an increasingly rational one.

(Don’t troll at me with your summer reading list, fucko. I’ll Good Will Hunting your ass so quick your ponytail will spin.)

This is relative to “On Quitting.” I also achieved my dream job, but with barely enough pay to get through my rent and bills. I moved from Brooklyn to L.A., so I really don’t have a support system. Not that being skinny isn’t awesome, but I’ve shrank about 45 lbs, leaving me at about 97 lbs (I’m only 5’0, still, that’s pretty close to being an emaciated carcass.)I usually eat a couple of bananas in a day, and take a shit ton of supplements so I don’t die. They’re roughly 12 cents each, unless someone I know comes around, which is rare, and I fake it by making some pasta and sauce, (a relatively cheap meal.)The amount of work I put in from home is unpaid and though it’s really time consuming, I enjoy it, but it leaves me pretty much no time for a second job.

There’s talk of me moving up in the workplace, and calling home with my tail between my legs and asking for cash which isn’t something I’m willing to do unless dire straits really come about.

This is my career, and I’m on fucking fire, but I need to eat. What do I do? I don’t qualify for welfare or food stamps.

Who’s looking over your shoulder as you write this? My guess is a concerned boyfriend or sibling who’s been out of town for a while and come back to find you looking like you need to be sponsored by Save the Children.

You’re a model/actress/whatever who’s been making excuses all morning why you can’t afford to eat and why you’re too busy pouring over breakdowns or trying to get bookings to get a second job to pay for food, but things are great, and your career is about to take off.

Bitch, please. I can see right through you. Literally. There are entire apartment buildings in West Hollywood filled with your flavor of crazy.

Poverty is no excuse. No one with internet access and an LA dream job gets to act like this shit is Malawi. Proper nutrition is available for a few bucks a day, and no one in heels loses a third of her body weight without willful intent.

Since the only thing you’re filled with at the moment is denial, I’m gonna put this as plainly as possible: you have an eating disorder. Let me repeat that one more time for anybody else who’s there with you: she has an eating disorder, a massive one.

It sounds like you’ve been averaging less than four hundred calories a day, and to have dropped forty-five pounds, it’s been at least three, possibly six months that you’ve been living like this.

At this point, your thyroid looks like the baby from Trainspotting, you haven’t taken an honest shit since bikini season, and you walk around shivering like Paris Hilton’s dog after a line of blow. You are not healthy, kid.

I know there’s no getting through to you, but maybe, just maybe, the boyfriend or sibling who’s all up in your shit right now will see this and decide to take action.

Get some treatment. Immediately.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. This isn’t about putting weight back on. This isn’t going to threaten your career. This isn’t going to get in the way of your dreams.

This is about getting healthy. You’re doing an incredible amount of damage to your body living like this. Deep down, on some level, even you know that.

Most folks will tell you it’s not worth it. Fuck that. I’m here to tell you it doesn’t have to be worth it. You can be healthy and have your dream job, but first you have to take a little time and get your mind right.

Best of luck. I really hope you beat this shit.

Can you be in love with someone after only dating them for a short amount of time? Yes I’m a stupid teenage girl who believes in love, sue me.

Sue you for what? Bubble gum and a sense of entitlement?

Shit sweetie, I’m a bitch, but I’m not so nasty a shrew as to slap away the cartoon song birds that are fluttering around your candy filled head.

Enjoy the rush. Have a blast. Savor every minute of the experience. Really, I mean it. Young love is the greatest drug on the planet. Just remember, I’ll be here after the holidays when break-up season hits.

Toodles!

I had a weekend hook up with a guy. On friday and saturday night he couldn’t get it up but that was blamed on the alcohol.

Sunday night he finally said he didn’t feel any chemistry between us, although we had really good, smart chats and thought I was attractive.

I thanked him for his honesty and said I was fine being friends. For some reason he felt he still needed to tell me he always has a hard time fucking girls that are smart, if it’s some skank he has no problems at all.

He then asked me to be his whore for the night, with a very convincing hard-on.

I said no. Not because I don’t like playing whore, I actually love it, but because I felt that was being imposed on me (“I will only fuck you if you are a whore” instead of “it would make our fuck so hot if you were a whore”).

I’m still feeling like I let a good opportunity of kinky sex go, so can you tell me I gave the right answer?

You gave the right answer.

Accepting an invitation to an evening of sexual deviance is completely different than accepting an invitation to an evening of sexual dysfunction.

I was abused as a child and I’m now 18 years old and living on my own without any family contact, or any contact socially at all. I regularly see my doctor and therapist and I’m on medication and trying my best to lead as best of a life as I can. I’m not fit to work due to my mental health which has been affected quite deeply by my past. I also suffer from a stammer which is also a huge knock on my self esteem and confidence.

Basically, I’m writing to you to ask…how the hell do I move on with my life? How do I meet people? How do I begin to get over my stammer and be able to look people in the eyes and just own my shit as well as not give one? I know you can’t solve my problems for me or cure me over night, just some direction and advice would be great.

Love you and what you do and you honestly inspire me to make something out of my life and put all of this shit behind me.

Who says you’re not fit to work? You clearly have a sharp mind. Shit, you write with more grace and composure than most of the eighteen year old fuckwits who whine at me about their freshman roommates.

Unless you’re not telling me that somehow you’re a danger to society, get the fuck out there and do something with your day. Come on, you’re a teenager. Get a job at the mall.

Have your doctor and/or therapist write you a letter of recommendation. Other than that, all you need is a high school diploma, and if you don’t have one then fuck it, just lie on the application. Nobody cares.

If you’re on some sort of government aid as a result of your situation, and that’s what’s preventing you from being able to get a paying job, then go do volunteer work instead. Do whatever it takes to get out there and socialize.

Now, I don’t know the pathology of your stammer, so I don’t know what you’re up against there, but I do know that looking people in the eyes and owning your shit doesn’t take a single word.

Fix the stammer in whatever time it takes, but you don’t have to wait on the self esteem and confidence. You’ve earned the right to hold your head up high just by making it to the other side of all that horrible shit, and never forget, no one of substance will ever think you’re a lesser person because of it.

Your last letter about the boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is beautiful got me thinking. My boyfriend never compliments me on my body at all, or gives me That Look (you know, THAT look) that people who lust after other people give each other. I’ve never really had body issues, but I’m beginning to wonder if he’s attracted to me. We have sex a lot, so there’s that, but it would be nice to be verbally adored every so often. The other day, he made a comment about my getting dolled up for a work meeting I was going to, and how I never doll myself up like that for him, but when I do – he never says, “Hey, you look great!” He makes comments about finding other women hot, and has complimented women friends of our on their outfits so it’s not as if he doesn’t have eyes. The only time he’s ever spontaneously complimented my looks is when we’ve done coke together. But you know…coke talk.

I don’t know how to bring this up without sound desperately insecure or bitchy. I’m not insecure about my looks in general, and get a reasonable share of looksy attention from other guys. I just may not be his cup of tea, and I’d like to find that out before I spend any more time with someone who doesn’t find me essentially yummy.

Or maybe he’s just a douche. What do you think?

Sweetheart, you are his cup of tea, the one he’s been sipping regularly for quite some time. He’s not gonna stick his pinky in the air and constantly say, “Oh, this tea is delicious.”

Just be glad he’s not doing tequila shots behind your back, okay?

Get all this “essentially yummy” horseshit out of your head. I know you’ve got a raging case of prince charming disease, but this is how relationships usually work. Your vanity suffers a tiny amount of benign neglect in exchange for some reliable and exclusive cock. Get used to it.

Besides, if you’re not insecure about your looks or the relationship, then all this boils down to is that you’re the type who needs to be told she looks pretty.

Wanna know the quick remedy to that? Words. Simple, direct, and to the point will get you exactly what you want. Your entire problem could be solved with a little eye contact and the following sentence:

“Hey, fuckface. I’m the type who needs to be told she looks pretty.”

There. Done. You’re welcome.

Oh, and quit worrying about how you’ll sound. Is it vain to say that shit? Hell yes. So is putting on makeup. Fuck it.