Why the fuck is there a light in the refrigerator but not in the freezer? I mean, I know they make those side to side ones that have them, but I’m talking traditional old frig/freezer combos, stacked.

Please, please answer this question. I have a bet with my dog and if he wins another one I’m going to have to reconsider living.

There are no lights in freezers for the same reason that there are no seat belts in school buses.

Back in 1954, a closeted homosexual with a buzz cut and an engineering degree sat in front of a drawing board at GE and decided to fuck the world.

Tell your dog to pay up.

What are your thoughts on the Monroe piercing? I’ve never had a facial piercing before, but I’m pretty sure I could rock it. Plus I’m a college student, and I work in an environment that is down with body modification (to an extent). But does it scream “rebelling adolescent?” I’d rather avoid that.

Don’t worry. These days, a monroe piercing does not scream “rebelling adolescent.” It merely screams “adolescent.”

That’s fine, really. You’re in college. Perfectly appropriate time to stick shit in your face.

Best of luck. I hope that you do, in fact, rock it.

What are your thoughts on dating Persian men?

Based on the overly aggressive, mildly annoying way you submitted this question seventeen times in a row, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that you’re Persian.

I’m also going to assume that what you’re really doing is asking me to speak on behalf of all LA party girls as to why you’re constantly being rejected in the clubs. You’re using me as a barometer to measure whether there’s any latent cultural bias out there.

You’ve seen the kind of shit I talk, and you want to use any derogatory statements I might make as ammunition in your pity party. You can’t wait for me to start throwing around words like swarthy, sleazy, greasy, and creepy so that you can quietly self-confirm that it’s not your fault — stuck-up bitches just hate on Persians.

Well, the real answer is going to annoy you. I don’t care about nationality. I don’t want to care about nationality. If you happen to be Persian, fine cool whatever. On the other hand, if you identify as a Persian, I’m much less likely to give you the time of day.

Now, don’t get your Ed Hardy briefs in a twist. The same goes for every nationality. I don’t care if you’re Persian, Israeli, Armenian, Mexican, Irish, or motherfucking Cherokee. If the most interesting thing about you is based on whatever war-torn shit-hole your grandparents decided to flee, I’m just not going to be that interested.

Nationality is right up there with religion and professional sports teams as one of the most annoying things that one-dimesional, weak-minded people use as a substitute for an actual personality.

What do you do if you want to get a guy’s attention? Start with the “subtle” options then work your way up?

I hope you appreciate the irony of putting emphasis on the word subtle.

By the way, just because you use quotation marks as if you’re winking at me, it doesn’t mean I can read your mind or anything. I have no idea whether you’re implying “subtle” eye contact or a “subtle” blowjob.

I suppose either one will get a guy’s attention if you do it right.

I thought I would flip things and ask a question regarding you for a change. From your earlier posts, it seems that you are in the throws of a long distance relationship. How have you been able to keep this relationship going and stable? Do you both not mind each other sleeping with other people? I know you feel sex is one thing and love it quite a different beast, however, how do/did you come to terms with him sleeping with other women? Jealousy is a basic human emotion that you simply can’t turn off with a flip of a switch. I know some part of you deep down wishes he would be waiting for you and only you.

Yep, I’m still in the throes of a long distance romance. Shit’s working, too. We’ve started tossing around the L word, and I honestly can’t remember ever being this happy in a relationship I knew was healthy.

We’ve kept it going by making an effort to see each other regularly. We spent the holidays together, and for the past five months, we’d usually make it about ten days before one of us would hop on a Southwest puddle-jumper for a long weekend of sex and candy.

But that’s just logistics. The real trick is that we’re both strong enough to handle it, and neither of us is hung up on monogamy. I know it’s hard for you to comprehend, but I really don’t care if he sleeps with other women, because he does it the right way.

I’ll give you an example. He was on a business trip in Puerto Vallarta a couple months back and met a girl. He made it a point to whip out an international calling card, dial my number and check to make sure it was okay with me before he spent the night with her. Hell, I talked to the chick. She was cool as fuck. Next time she’s in LA, we’re all gonna hang out.

Even though our relationship was still pretty new at the time, he respected me enough to get a thumbs up. He knew I’d be cool with it, but he still called. The same goes for me, by the way. It’s a two way street, we’re both completely open with each other, and it works.

Besides, it’s not like we’re constantly giving each other hall passes. We’re both pretty slammed with work, and we end up seeing each other in what free time we do have. It’s much more likely that we’d wind up in a hotel room hooking up with a random couple when we’re together.

But all that stuff, hey, it’s just recreation. It’s just crazy fun. At the end of the day, we get to curl up with each other and fall asleep together. That’s all that matters.

Sure, it can be hard sometimes. I miss him a lot. The long distance routine is a bitch, but it’s worth it. We’re just so fucking good together.

You insist that some part of me deep down wishes he would be waiting for me and only me, but the thing is, I already know he is.

I get to see him this weekend, by the way.

I can’t fucking wait.

I was wondering about your use of cocaine. You seem like a highly intelligent woman, and yet I was under the assumption that cocaine kills brain cells? Especially after repeated use.

Forgive me for any ignorance.

Sure, cocaine might kill a few brain cells. You know what else might? Damn near every other modern product you can drink, swallow, or inhale, starting with that vodka tonic you’re sipping on right now.

Honestly, I don’t know why everybody’s so possessive about a few neurons. If you make it to eighty with every last one of your brain cells, you aren’t gonna have any stories worth telling the grandkids.

I’m not saying you should run out and start smoking crack, but don’t be a pussy either. Stop listening to all the silly anti-drug propaganda and do your own research.

At the end of the day, it’s all just a pile of chemicals. Whether it’s an aspirin or an E tab, there’s nothing to be afraid of if you know what you’re doing.

As for your concern regarding repeated use, I say moderation in all things, including moderation.

On days when I’m not thinking about killing myself (I won’t; my tits are too nice to waste), I’m contemplating murdering the man who abused me mentally, physically and sexually for most of my adolescence. It’s been, damn, 13 years since he left me a crumpled heap, and I’m now a mostly successful, functioning, married adult. But I can’t let it go and I’m haunted by thoughts of homicide.

So, how do I get over it? Alternately, will you help me bury the body?

While I’m not currently available to help you bury the body, I will say that homicide is the superior instinct to suicide. Neither is particularly healthy, but if you insist that somebody needs to die, I think the stronger choice would be killing your torturer rather than allowing him to kill you by your own hand.

Now, since our society condemns revenge killings and our state has a monopoly on capital punishment, it’s probably a bad idea to actually try murdering the bastard. I think you know this.

So, what to do? Well, I suggest you turn this sordid situation into a deeply satisfying creative outlet.

Plan his murder. Plan several of his murders. Be elaborate and outlandish. Design all kinds of devious and detailed ways to kill this motherfucker. Let each scenario become a chapter in a book and write, write, write.

Get the poison out on paper. After all, revenge fantasies are far more delicious than actual revenge.

Besides, I know you’re a writer. Hell, you used a semicolon in a parenthetical statement. You’ve got a book in you for sure, especially on the subject matter of ending that sick fuck’s life.

I think you’ll enjoy the process, and who knows? You could end up on Oprah’s sofa with a bestseller in your lap.

Am I a hypocrite if I believe in feminism and want to be a respected woman, but I like watching porn?

What kind of porn are we talking about?

Better yet, what kind of feminism are we talking about?

If you’re an old-school iron cunt — one of those angry, man-hating second-wave feminists leftover from the early 70s — and you secretly get off to bukkake gangbangs, then sure, that’s pretty damned hypocritical.

On the other hand, if you’re just a garden variety sex-positive post-feminist with a college degree, a tattoo, and a lesbian experience, then there’s no hypocrisy whatsoever in watching some hardcore anal action, especially if it’s well lit.

When you think about it, the debate between pornography and feminism has a lot in common with the debate between science and religion.

Folks are constantly trying to intersect two institutions that have no business together in the first place, and it’s only when you superimpose a close-minded ideology on the situation that you run into problems of hypocrisy.

I don’t know about you, but I’ll always be on the side of porn and science. If a narrow-minded belief system is making you feel like a hypocrite, maybe you should leave it at the door.

So there’s this boy. He is very, very attractive, and he finds me to be the same. I feel no sparks when we hold hands, although I am desperately happy to not be alone. We always run out of things to say when we’re together. He does all sorts of extra things to spend time with me, but when he gives me roses I’m so much more excited about the prospect of having roses than him being the one giving them to me. I am attached to his lap whenever we sit. He loves to feel my legs and we like all the same things.

It’s kind of boring, but it’s odd; although I’m never swooning when I’m with him, I’m heartbroken when I’m not. All I can think of after every lethargic, topical conversation is the next time we will see each other. Either that or all the other girls he’s done sweet thing for. He is not a creep and he obviously likes me a lot.

What, if anything, do you make of all this non-issue bullshit?

When you run out of things to say together, is it a comfortable silence? Have your past relationships involved a lot of chaotic highs and lows? Have you ever thought about this guy while masturbating? I’m guessing you can answer yes to all three questions.

What I’m thinking here is that you’ve got some legitimate feelings for this guy, but you’re not used to his type. You’re used to crazy love. You expect relationships to be a roller coaster ride that derails in a shower of sparks. You watch movies like True Romance or Sid and Nancy and think, “yeah, that’s the idea.”

Well, there’s a flip side to that coin, and you’re experiencing it with this guy. Obviously he’s got you interested, but he’s not playing mind games or pulling the kind of whacked-out stunts that would otherwise confuse you into swooning. His version of romance is more mellow.

Now, don’t worry. He’s not going to turn you into a Dave Matthews fan or anything. When I say mellow, I don’t mean unexciting. Don’t confuse a lack of chaos for boredom. I assure you a slow burn can get just as hot as an explosion. This is a good thing, so go with it. Take your time. Savor it.

I bet the sex will be amazing.

I hooked up with this guy I have liked for a while last friday. It is now Sunday and he has not texted me or tried to make any communication. I dont want him to think I like him even though i do.
should i wait for him to text me, or should i text him first?

Wait a few years until you mature into an emotionally honest woman who has enough self respect not to play silly mind games with her cell phone, and then call him.