I’m drinking gin in studio and making sculptures of lipstick. I should be kissing foxy ceramics majors. Why does my life feel like a long mash up of every John Hughes movie?

Because you’ve idealized Molly Ringwald, and all you know of the eighties is what you see on retro VH1 clip shows. Ah yes, life was so much easier in Shermer, Illinois.

Good luck kissing foxy ceramics majors, though. Those kids really know how to work with their hands. Maybe you need a pop music montage so you can skip ahead to the awkward scene of sexual exploration.

*freeze-frame*

Would you recommend sleeping with a professor, not for a good grade but because I am incredibly attracted to him?

Been there. Done that. Got an A.

seriously, how do you manage the drugs??? i’ve got to fly to europe tomorrow and the strongest stuff i have is ambien. help!!

Yes, well. It all depends on what you mean by the word “manage,” doesn’t it?

If you’re asking how one manages the drugs amidst an otherwise hectic schedule, the answer simple. Some might even say trite. Moderation in all things, including moderation. You just have to be smart about when you get to blow it the fuck out.

If, on the other hand, you’re asking how one carefully manages the supply of illicit chemicals while headlining your way through a European tour so as not to arouse the suspicion of customs officials, the trick involves a carefully worded backstage rider and a complicit tour manager who has an unspoken agreement with a dedicated member of your vanity team who is exclusively responsible for “powdering your nose.”

I’m sure you’ve done this long enough to know there’s always someone at the local venue who’s holding, and as long as you’ve got someone in your camp who knows to ask, you’ll never go without.

Ah, the minor conspiracies of life on the road. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

I love it when rock stars ask for my advice.

Coke, my love – I need your acerbic wisdom.

Recently, I noticed that a old friend from high school was finally on Facebook. I felt very close to her in high school – she was one of the few intelligent, seemingly aware peers I had. After graduation, we went our separate ways – I moved out to LA and she stayed in our hometown, but I remembered her fondly. Of course, I immediately friend-requested her. In response to my friend request, she wrote several angry messages to me, detailing how I had “talked shit” about her in high school and “tried to fuck [her] brother.” She refused to friend me.

While it is true that I dated her brother for a month (no fucking), and was gossipy in high school, it has been almost 10 years since we graduated and I have certainly matured well beyond the petty shit of those old days. The whole thing really surprised me – she would have been the last person I would have thought to hold on to something like this for so long.

I wrote back and apologized for being an asshole, citing in my defense that it was stereotypical high school behavior, that it has been a long time, and that I am a different person now. She says, “personality is forever.”

I know I should let this go – she is the one with the problem and I have done all I can to make amends. But I can’t seem to reconcile what I know intellectually about this situation, and the hurt and confusion I feel. If I’m honest with myself, I guess I feel isolated from intelligent life here in LA and perhaps was overzealous in reaching out. Sometimes I wish I was as emotionally void as Spock (sorry for the nerd ref).

So what do I do? What do I not do? How do I kick myself in the head without yoga training? Lay it on me, baby.

Thank you. Really. In advance, and for everything else you’ve given.

You’re welcome, babe. I’m raising my cocktail for ya.

So yeah, just let this shit go. You say that you know she’s the one with the problem, but you’re not taking it far enough. The real truth is far simpler. This isn’t about you to begin with.

Quit trying to reconcile your intellect and your emotions. You’re only feeling hurt because you’re taking this personally. Don’t take shit personally. Especially this.

Your former friend doesn’t know you at all. She hasn’t known you for a damn decade. Even then, you were both bratty little girls. So fucking what? Personality isn’t forever. Hell, it’s practically seasonal.

Those remarks are just displaced anger. She was lashing out at an easy target. You make a great scapegoat for whatever shit she’s got going on with her brother, which leads me back to my main point. It’s not about you.

That being said, you’ve got to deal with your bigger issue. This is a city of ten million people. You’re an asshole if you think you’re isolated from intelligent life in Los Angeles. Either that, or you’re just too lazy to go find a few fellow nerds. There’s something for everyone here, and you don’t gotta own a yoga mat to find your way.

You’re a bit too inwardly focused right now because you’ve been doing a lot of reflective thinking lately. That’s fine. No biggie. Happens to us all. I suggest you head on up to the Griffith Park Observatory and shift that focus outward.

Go fall in love with LA again.

Cheers.

How do you make any money doing coke/other shit every day? Are you like a celebrity or something?

I work my ass off, and I have fun when I’ve earned it. I sure as hell don’t do drugs every day, and when it comes down to it, I really don’t do all that much blow.

A few lines with friends a few times a month is a less expensive habit than cigarettes if you’re a girl. Hell, a good tab of ecstasy lasts all night for the price of a couple of cocktails.

Shit, if you want to break down the budget on a wild night of fun, the real money gets burned on hotel suites and private tables. It’s not about finding good drugs, it’s about keeping good company.

And fuck being a celebrity, especially by today’s definition. That shit is nothing but hassle. I’ll take a velvet rope over a red carpet any day of the week.