Tag Archives: advice

Punish me with kisses, parking

Ohhhh, internet, internet. This monkey was at the other end of the hall. He is also sultry. I should have checked the other floors for enticing wildebeests or come-hither warthogs.

I know you are wondering where I’m parking during this latest snowstorm. As it turns out, I’m parked in the driveway. Suck it. I never thought having a parking space would be so exciting until after I lived in Somerville. I used to feel like the biggest asshole leaving a table in the space after I dug it out, but if I didn’t, someone else would do it right back to me. And if you move a table to park, you get a brick through your windshield. It is the Code of the Jungle.

The pedantic church bulletin board down the street says “Do unto others as if you were others.” My first thought was that they meant that one should do all one’s dirty deeds under an alias or assumed identity. That’s how I usually work anyway. I am right with the Lord.

Yesterday I didn’t take my Mother’s Little Helper, and when I realized it, I thought “Wot’s the worst that can happen?” See, crazy people are always looking for an excuse to stop taking their medication. We feel better, so we must be cured. Well, I guess, kinda. I’m not curled up in a ball* weeping, so that is a huge plus. But I do get the sensation of an electric shock to the middle of my chest every time I move my head. This is not entirely unenjoyable. I like pills in a universal sense, and I also like negative pills. Good day to you, too. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a yogurt** with my name on it.

*With my small frame, I can curl up into a very small ball.

**Tonight is quesadilla night instead. Satan demanded Thai pasta last night, at totally the last fucking minute.

Friends like these

From the desk of Kitty Winn

Dear Kitty Winn,

I’m always on the outside looking in. I try to get people to like me, by making sure to say friendly hellos several times a day and buying them gifts. If I see a friend online, I always chat them up and involve them in my life. But even though I give and give, I am not always invited places. Sometimes I think people even leave the room when I appear. It’s enough to make me want to stay home and get really fat. What should I do to get people to like the real me?

-Insecure in Iowa

Dear Hamhock in Hell,

Social acceptability requires a thing called finesse. The Unabomber understood the power of the unwanted gift, so why can’t you? Making and maintaining friendships involves finding people with similar interests unfolding them slowly over time. Some people will begin to share your concerns and others will probably find you a bore and tell you to sod off. The trick is to distinguish the two, and cultivate the former. Unbelievable as it may sound, there truly is someone for just about everyone. Even ugly people!

Being a popular party guest, on the other hand, requires a knack for mixing drinks and a wit sharp enough to slice a wedge of lime. Enjoy your Ding Dongs.

Love,

kitty

Revenge is a dish best served hot, hot, hot

Well, it’s Day 5 of the book deal! So far, so good. After Lambchop’s brief but eventful hospitalization, we filled her narcotics prescription and shopped for Lip Smackers. I purchased Martian Mallow and Gum Job Galaxy, er, Gum Ball Galaxy. I let my sister the moose choose one, and she opted to coat her pie hole with marshmallow flavor. I also purchased another note pad featuring a horse on the cover. After some bubble tea, we determined that Lambchop is on her way to health once again.

I am feeling a bit confessional, which will make for a lovely Chapter 3. In my time, I have done some terrible, meddlesome things. Just last week, I convinced a dieting acquaintance to eat an ice cream bar, citing the need for “you time.” I also told this individual to consider keeping “emergency chocolate” in his or her desk. Why? I don’t know! If someone asks me if he should do something patently destructive and contrary to previously disclosed goals, I am probably going to give permission out of sheer perversity. In other words, don’t come whining to me.

When I worked at Starbucks, I would frequently prepare drinks for substantially overweight people using skim milk whether they asked for it or not. I would only dispense low-fat cream cheese. Another time a woman insisted on sending her drink back for more whipped cream, and I pointed out that her Maple-Oatmeal Scone already contained over 700 calories, and that she had even requested butter packets to go with it, so maybe we should just check ourselves? This might qualify as public service, but it probably violates some civil rights statute somewhere.

I’m not even going to mention all the times I’ve tried to kill annoying roommates. That could be a chapter in itself. Let’s just say one should never leave their toothbrush out if I am around. If I have taken a dislike to you, it is a short trip to brushing your teeth with toilet water and having all your food removed from the fridge as soon as you leave, only to be replaced shortly before your return.

Finally, last week I attended a concert with Lambchop, and we were bothered by a beer-selling slattern jawing away during quiet moments in the performance. She wandered off to give her David Spade lookalike manager a chance to look at her lower back tattoos, and I ticked off a bunch of extra marks on her scratch pad where she kept track of what she’d sold. Later, she came up short on the till and no doubt had to go to the back office with David Spade.

Also, I lie on the internet.

I am going to be run over by a bus any minute now.

-xxoo

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Dear Kitty,

It’s been 10 minutes since my esteemed colleague left the firm, and my row,

forever, and already it is unbearable. How does one cope with such loss? I

feel like my life is over. I am sobbing uncontrollably. And on top of this

loss, the colleague I am left with harasses me mercilessly. Just today she

made insulting remarks about the size of my nose, for which I am very touchy

about.

Can you help me?

anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

I was very much moved by your letter, and I shall give you the name of my very own personal cosmetic surgeon. You shall walk away from this trauma with a perfect nose. One need not miss old friends when one has a beautiful face in the mirror to gaze upon with deep satisfaction. Or has their own television show.

Love,

Kitty Winn

Back in the Saddle

My Dear Troubled Readers,

It has been a grueling couple of months of self-denial at the Betty Ford. They would not let me smoke in the hot tub, and my massages with Nils did not include Happy End! But even though it was my own soul that lay troubled in a bed lacking Egyptian cotton, you people still had problems of your own. How selfish! Especially you unattractive lot- you are rather tempting fate to begin with by having concerns. (I will never forget the day I realized that ugly people have lives, too, I nearly fell in the shower!) In any case, I have returned to my manse and my refrigerator filled with champagne and I shall right your sorry, sordid worlds once more.

Dear Kitty Winn,

I did the unpardonable, the unthinkable, and have been swiftly punished. I read my girlfriend’s diary. And I found out she had not only cheated on me, but it seems she only decided to be with me when things did not work out elsewhere. Of course, this was all years ago, and we had what seems a happy and committed relationship since then. I confronted her and she lied through her pretty little teeth, even when she heard her own words quoted (unbeknownst to her). The bitter lesson for me here is that there must be skeletons like this within every coupling. That we end up together just as much by happenstance as driven by specific desire. My girlfriend is not a bad person, and she didn’t really do anything terrible, that’s just the way people are. The curtain has been lifted and I can no longer believe that there is anything magical about love.

-filled with inertia

Dear Inertia,

My, my, you are quite the philosopher! So, you are disheartened by the inconstancy of the human character? How on earth did you make it this long?! Well, well, we no longer feel special. You are just going to have to bear this one. Human beings are fickle and cruel, but they also have soft lips and will cook you a nice meal. You should have been enjoying what you had. Have a chocolate, and next time you collide into another woman’s life like a traffic accident, stay out of her private thoughts. And her underwear drawer.

-Kitty Winn

Vomitola offers you Meat

Dear Kitty Winn, health

Someone made this photo-collage of me and sent it to my email account. Should I imagine that I have enemies? Or is it in good humor? Paranoid in Montana…

Thanks, decease

“Richard”

(Note to the dear, malady gentle Reader- the photo-collage in question in question actually depicts a great, tumescent Schlong, so be warned if you are tuning in at work, or simply do not like to look at great, tumescent Schlongs.)

Dear “Richard”,

I see you are wearing some sort of sports cap. Apparently a Boston Red Sox cap. So humiliation and loss is something of a badge for you. You also admit to being both paranoid AND living in Montana- I could spend all day on this complex little nugget, but I will stick to your question, as I have a mimosa turkey brunch. So your face appears as a dainty cap, a Jimmy Hat as it were, on a massive Schlong. But this is not so much of a “letter from a foe”, as a friendly reminder that you are a Big Weenie.

gobble,

Kitty Winn

…I know, I know, it’s seeeeerious

Dear Kitty Winn,

I am a single girl and I keep going to parties where I wind up drunk and passing out my phone number like it’s Pez. Then i live for a few days in fear and paranoia that boys with neck tattoos and wives are actually going to call me. Now, this would be my problem, except that none of these bedraggled suitors have even called! What gives?

-I know I’m unloveable

Sheila Take a Bow,

Buck up. Kitty herself was stalked by a mad Russian she entranced while doing a kicky Serbian folk dance at a party. But I mostly find that blacking out has the virtue of erasing all unfortunate acquaintances, and leaving me to start each day afresh, blissfully unaware of the doings of yesterday. You are lucky that Mr. Neck Tattoo does not lurk upon your doorstep- what would the neighbors think of your taste?

I am sure you have many charms in addition to being an alcohol sucking tartlet. If you can name at least two you can stop hurling song lyrics around. Try bowling instead.

-Kitty Winn

Office Space

Fresh from a relaxing sojourn in more troubled parts of the world, say hello once again to your favorite unwholesome helpmate, the Miss Manners of the massacre, Stella Nuance.

from the vault of Stella Nuance

Listen up, ya mugs, I’ve been busy. I scored a pretty sweet consulting gig with Idi Amin. Crazy coot was trying to make a “comeback,” as his people put it. Comeback, what, now he’s Jamie Lee Curtis? What a piece of work. Couldn’t complain about the service at the villa, but try making a suggestion to that guy! I was nice as pie, “Aw, Idi, baby, you hired me for MY expertise, right? And my expertise says you should wear an ascot. NO, it doesn’t make you look chubby.” That sonofabitch wouldn’t know “avuncular” if it bit him on the ass. Needless to say, I had to extricate myself from my contract a bit early. Stella doesn’t take any guff.

So after hiding out for a few days, I’ve been thinking a lot about how a good lair really is the foundation to most of villainy. It’s the seat of professionalism, after all. Who’s going to believe you’re worth the dough if you’re still using a cell phone the size of a brick and loitering in the back of a rusted out Suburban? No way, we’re doing it up right. You need business cards so thick you could use one to slit a man’s throat (I recommend a nice brushed metal), and enough furniture to convince the boys from the IRS that it’s an actual working office.

First stop: a new computer.

Now I fancy this one not just because it’s illegal to export it to certain countries. I’m a sucker for packaging, and this new G5 is clearly a product of an Evil industrial design team. It could also be camouflaged as a microwave oven if one were to be raided for one’s files. Either way, don’t put a cat in it.

I must turn my attention to décor. Crate & Barrel really knows their stuff. Check out these keen desk accessories.

Form AND function! Never miss another message, and no more fumbling around for poultry shears when you really need them, during, say, negotiations with an independent contractor. And those clips have many a use “in a pinch.”

What could be more evil than Pottery Barn? Try keeping one these phones around for an air of legitimacy.

Never plug it in though, the feds will be on that like flies on pig shit. Yeah, I know, “80 clams for a phone, Stella?” It’s a bit steep, but have you ever tried cold-cocking someone with one of those receivers? Effective and unexpected. And the red one also keeps the Cold War excitement alive.

So now that I’ve covered the Do’s, let’s get to my favorite part: the Don’ts. Don’t work too hard. That’s what the help is for. And ergonomics are so very important. Experts recommend avoiding repetitive motions. To that end, for office discipline problems, choose a taser over a flail or a cat o’ nine tails. Don’t skimp on a good chair either. The help can make do with kneeling on the floor, after all, their childish bones are softer! But you should go ahead and spring for the Aeron for yourself. If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

Now, now, no need to thank me for this wealth of advice, I’ll have my assistant prepare an invoice. Pepito! Take dictation!

Ciao,

-S.N.

A Day in the Life of a Scrivener

No one ever talks to me here.

Save the occasional directive from my boss.

As he scuttles by my desk and burrows in his office.

But Today

I was cheerfully addressed with some small talk

By a suited gentleman in the elevator

I was grateful.

He had toilet paper streaming from the back of his trousers

I thought “I should tell this nice man and spare him further embarrassment”

The grand atrium lobby was teeming with office workers. It was an ice cream party.

I stopped him before he could enter with his paper streamer

My information made him appear stricken and humiliated

He said “How embarrassing”

I nodded and said “Yes” very sweetly with a glued-on smile and strode off to end the pained moment

I sullied the only friendly interaction I have had here

I should have said

“It happens to everyone”

For whom the dole tolls

Dear Kitty Winn, check

I hate my job, ailment but it keeps me in mascara and Marabou mules. Sleeping under my desk has failed to score me an unemployment check, drugs and I am uncertain as to how to proceed with something so tiresome as “My Future”, were I to simply quit. What should I do?

signed

unskilled at all things legal

Dear Unskilled,

Something has been dreadfully amiss in your education. Why do you not know that mascara and mules are things that men pay for?! The fiscal responsibility for your loveliness belongs to your clock punching love monkey. Must Kitty draw you a road map to his wallet? Job, indeed. The only reason for having one of those is because we look so smart in tweeds and it is occasionally good to have to rise before noon.

If work is getting you that down however, it is time to inform your mate that you will be staying at home until Fox offers you that special you have been talking of. Be prepared to offer him something in return, however- it might be as workaday as frequent fellatio, or as demanding as you getting sprogged up. Kitty Winn is not a huge fan of infant spew, teletubbies, or the handling of rubber feces-filled pants. But that is a very personal choice.

Good luck and let me just add “Gold Card”.

-Kitty Winn