Thursday, December 10, 2009

Visiting the Dentist

Dear Aunt Slugger,

I am supposed to go the dentist for a routine cleaning soon, and I understand that you had your teeth cleaned recently. Do you have any tips or suggestions?

Lars from Winston-Salem

Dear Lars,

Well, Lars, I'd like to tell you that it'll be all right. I'd like to tell you not to worry. I'd like to tell you not to lose sleep over it. Yes, Lars, I'd LIKE to tell you all of that, but Aunt Slugger doesn't believe in sugarcoating the truth. It's going to be awful, Lars, and if you have any sort of suicidal tendencies, you may want to pre-medicate.

The first thing you need to know is that brushing three times a day and flossing after you eat a bean burrito from Qdoba is no longer considered proper dental hygiene. And if you use a manual toothbrush, you may as well have someone take a baseball bat to your teeth and just ask for a whole new set when you get to the dentist.

Up until recently, your Aunt Slugger fancied herself something of a model of good oral hygiene. She brushes three times a day, rinses with mouthwash, and flosses occasionally. She has had only one cavity in more than three decades of life, and has never had to wear braces. While she acknowledges her flossing shortcomings, she doesn't necessarily think of herself as a terrible person and until recently did not experience white-knuckled terror at the dentist's office.

WELL. Readers, if you find yourself in Aunt Slugger's camp, you need to know that you are, in the mind of your dental hygienist, a hardened serial killer. It turns out that proper dental hygiene consists of brushing with an electric toothbrush, flossing, rinsing with Listerine, rinsing with anticavity mouthwash, and (get ready for this one) MASSAGING YOUR GUMS. You can imagine how much of an epic asshole your Aunt Slugger felt like when she had to admit that not only is her flossing sporadic, but she also doesn't get around to massaging her gums very often (i.e. never).

So given that engaging in modern dental hygiene would effectively take up about 95% of the average person's day, and given that most people have other obligations - like working, taking care of family members, and sitting on the couch with a bucket of fried chicken while watching Lifetime movies - you might think that your dental hygienist would be used to hearing people say that they don't necessarily find the time to light some candles and massage their gums for twenty minutes. You might also think that your dental hygienist would look at you and say, "You're a grown adult with a full-time job, and while I'd love for you to make time to give your mouth a spa treatment, I understand if you cannot."

And you would be wrong. Your Aunt Slugger was forced to PROVE TO HER DENTAL HYGIENIST THAT SHE KNOWS HOW TO FLOSS AND MASSAGE HER GUMS. She was also told that there is "no excuse for not flossing," which is actually false, because the excuse "I forgot" is more than sufficient.

But being interrogated by the East German Secret Police is not the only thing you have to worry about, Lars. You should also prepare yourself for the "Ultrasonic." After her bug-eyed hygienist made your Aunt Slugger feel like a complete dickhead, she used a high-powered device that operates a bit like a miniature fire hose to allegedly remove Aunt Slugger's plaque (of which there was reportedly a minimal amount, FYI, but this did NOT mean that Aunt Slugger was congratulated for her efforts - she was again reminded of the fact that she should be beaten to death for having small amounts of plaque on her back molars). Aunt Slugger also had to hold the suction thing (presumably because the hygienist's other hand was busy giving Aunt Slugger the middle finger for not flossing regularly), which didn't work, because most of the water from the Ultrasonic splashed onto her face instead of onto her teeth. Let us just say that it would not surprise Aunt Slugger if the Ultrasonic is also marketed as a waterboarding tool.

So there you have it, Lars. Be prepared to say goodbye to your happy childhood memories of receiving a rhubarb fluoride treatment and a smiling tooth sticker from your cheerful neighborhood dentist. Times have changed, Lars. In fact, as we speak, your dentist is probably interviewing former Gitmo interrogators to be your dental hygienist. I wish you all the best, Lars, but you may want to wish your loved ones farewell before you go get those teeth cleaned.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Holidays with the Family

Dear Aunt Slugger,

What is the best way to survive a holiday meal at your spouse's crazy grandparents' house?

Sincerely,

Pass the Scotch For My Sanity

Readers, the holiday season is upon us! For many of us, this means tons of great opportunities to interact with our beloved family members and add more scars to our livers.

PTSFMS, I am sorry I didn't get to this question in time for Thanksgiving. Assuming you aren't hooked up to a ventilator somewhere after trying to impale yourself repeatedly with a meat thermometer, I hope this advice will at least come in handy for the Christmas season.

In order to properly answer this question, it's important to ascertain exactly how crazy your grandparents-in-law are. On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being "they let the cat eat fresh Atlantic salmon at the dining room table," 5 being "there are puddles of urine on the stairs," and 10 being "you aren't sure whether this is a honey-glazed ham or a human thigh," exactly how crazy are we talking here?

For grandparents that register anywhere between a 1 and 4, you are probably fine to rely exclusively on your scotch, though I still recommend a single malt Lowland scotch, served directly out of the bottle. You're also going to want to maintain a cranberry sauce to scotch ratio (CSSR) of 1:12.

In-laws that clock in between a 5 and 8 require more advance preparation. In the days leading up to your visit, you should develop a debilitating addiction to valium or xanax. On the day of the visit, you should pre-medicate by telling your local animal control officer that there is a bear in your backyard, and then stepping in front of the tranquilizer gun at just the right moment. (This may take several tries.) You will also want to wear waterproof hunting boots, and you should only eat foods whose pedigree can be established with certainty (i.e. you opened the can of Beanee Weenies yourself). Your CSSR should be 1:24.

When dealing with relatives that score a 9 or 10 on the scale, you should maintain complete control of your faculties (which unfortunately means no scotch, but feel free to soak up as many shirley temples as you can). Citing allergies to gluten, egg, legumes, turkey, dairy, nuts, and water, you should bring your own food. And if your relatives leave the room, listen through the wall for the words "It puts the lotion in the bucket."

But the best way to survive a holiday meal at your in-laws' house? Don't go. Become a Scientologist, shun your extended relatives, and enjoy some peace and damn quiet with a Hungryman dinner in front of the TV.

Best of luck to you.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Office Dress Codes

Dear Aunt Slugger,

As you know, most offices have some sort of dress code policy. While perusing my office's dress code, I noticed that it addressed short skirts, flip flops, and jeans, but I did not find anything in the policy regarding tight fitting shirts. Is there a polite way to tell someone that his or her shirt is so tight that I am concerned that the buttons may pop off and land in my eye? Also, please confirm whether there is a law against neon-colored shirts in an office environment.
Sincerely,
Go Celtics!

Dear Larry Byrd:

First of all, I'd like to thank you for addressing this matter, because we certainly can't rely on our elected officials to deal with this. While they were sending 30,000 more troops to Afghanistan this week, the rest of us were wondering when someone will send 30,000 troops stop people from buying size XS graphic tees at Urban Outfitters.

Well, don't hold your breath. It's the elephant in the room - literally - and no one wants to deal with it. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that there is at least one United States Senator inside a Washington D.C. Brooks Brothers right now, trying to squeeze into a slim-fit, non-iron tattersall diddy with French cuffs and a 14.5" neck, when in fact we all know that the poor bastard would really just be better off draping a queen size comforter around his body and calling it a day.

So we can't expect legislative action, and ever since that cottage cheese-eating, New Hampshire rock-climbing hippie David Souter retired from the Supreme Court, we can't expect any majority opinions forcing people to buy the correct size, either.

Readers, this issue remains a mystery to me. Except in the case of certain college football sweatshirts, very few articles of clothing actually showcase the size on a visible portion of the garment. Yet people seem ABSOLUTELY INSISTENT on buying the wrong size and thereby drawing attention to any imperfections. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that Aunt Slugger hasn't eaten her fair share of Hostess Pudding Pies dipped in Cheez Whiz over the years. What I'm saying is that God gave us fabric stores for a reason, and we should not be afraid to go buy twenty yards of white muslin and fashion ourselves a housedress after a hard night of drinking and dunking fried Clark bars in tubs of butter.

So to get back to the question at hand, the unfortunate answer, Larry B., is that until we see some action at the federal level, your best course of action is to buy a pair of welding goggles and a kevlar vest to protect yourself from projectile buttons.

Oh, and if the culprit is not only wearing tight clothing, but also neon clothing, you should pour hydrochloric acid in your eyes.

Hope this helps.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Hospital Waiting Rooms

Dear Aunt Slugger,

Recently, my sister and I spent some time in a hospital waiting room with a young man that tried to impress us (and seemingly hit on my sister) by telling us about his collection of 9 millimeter guns and a certain "Desert Storm" weapon and silencer he was hoping to purchase. My sister nodded along and feigned interest while I put on some headphones and pretended not to hear him. Keeping in mind that his uncle was sharing a hospital room with our father, what was the correct way to respond to this situation?

Sincerely,
Dad, We Love You, But This Waiting Room is Really Inconvenient

Dear DWLYBTWRIRI:

First of all, it's important for Aunt Slugger to determine specifically WHICH Desert Storm weapon your waiting room friend was looking to purchase? Was it the Tapeworm, Hopper-9, or LYF-07 Stymie? Because if it was the LYF-07 Stymie, that is a BAD ASS weapon and if this guy really needs to get one, I can certainly put him in touch with--what was that? Oh, fine. Sorry, DWLYBTWRIRI, but the stuffed shirts in our legal department have asked me not to continue on with this paragraph.

Whatever.

Anyway, DWLYBTWRIRI, let's make sure we have all the facts here. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm going to sum up the situation with bullet points (no pun intended):

- You were in a hospital waiting room.
- Your father was hospitalized.
- The gun afficianado's uncle was also hospitalized.
- This guy decided, with emotions running high, that there's no better time to bag a lady than while his uncle is languishing in a hospital bed a few feet away.
- He further decided that he would put on his best game and discuss his gun collection.

Quite frankly, you have nothing to complain about. Your hospital waiting room experience is only atypical in the sense that you were not in the presence of at least nineteen other psychotic whackjobs. I include the emergency room doctors in this statement as well, all of whom have been awake since 1973 and all of whom believe that the single greatest medical threat facing our nation is earwax. I have never been to a doctor's office or hospital and NOT had my ears drained, cleaned, and buffed. You can go into an emergency room HOLDING YOUR LIVER IN YOUR HAND, and you will be told that you have a serious earwax situation. And for those of you who think that the cure for earwax doesn't involve strapping you down and putting a hot pink liquid laxative in your ear, you obviously have never lived.

So you do not have my sympathy, DWLYBTWRIRI. Not at all. The fact that you only had one conversation about silencers during the course of your wait means that you got off lucky.

Your earwax problem, on the other hand, is out of control, but we'll save that for another column.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Car Buying Tips

Dear Aunt Slugger,

I am in the market for a new car. Do you have any car-buying tips you can share?

Sincerely,
Ted of North Dakota

Dear Ted,

Ted, I'm glad you came to me with this important question. Buying a car can be a painful, labor-intensive process that can leave you financially and emotionally drained. Many people--like your dear Aunt Slugger, for example--have had such bad experiences buying cars that they have plans to either never buy another car, or commit suicide when it becomes manifest that buying another car is necessary. But hopefully, with my tips, you will be able to drive off the lot with your new car while whistling "The Next Episode" by Dr. Dre, featuring Snoop Dogg.

To begin, it's important to understand that there are four steps to buying a car. These are

1.) Browsing.
2.) Selecting.
3.) Negotiating.
4.) Death.

No! Sorry! The fourth step is actually "Purchasing." My mistake. In this column, I will provide you with detailed guidance for each step of the process. Each section is formatted to print on a 4"x6" notecard for you to use as a reference while you're huddled inside a bathroom stall, trying to get some time away from your car salesperson.

STEP 1, BROWSING:
The first thing you will need to do is decide what type of car you're interested in, and you can do this by browsing the lots at car dealerships. The ideal time to browse car lots is at 3:30a.m. on Christmas Day, because you can be reasonably certain that you will be left alone, but this is not always practical, and you might have to browse during normal daylight hours.

If you do decide to browse during daylight hours, you should plan which day you intend to go browsing, and then spend a few months before that training with an Olympic sprinter. This will give you a fighting chance of outrunning the salespeople that see you browsing. Although the cheetah has long been considered the fastest land animal, recent studies have suggested that a car salesman traveling at top speed toward a potential Honda buyer might actually be faster. Don't be deceived by appearances, either: Even a rotund car salesperson can go from donut to 60mph in less than two seconds.

STEP 2, SELECTING:
Once you have browsed the full range of vehicle options, you should narrow your choice down to a Toyota, because that is what Aunt Slugger drives. You should decide whether you want cloth interior or leather interior, manual transmission or automatic transmission, four-door or two-door, etc. You should write your selection down on a piece of paper and hand this to the car salesman, who will say, "You know, we have something like that in stock," and then he will take you out to look at something completely different. Keep referring to your piece of paper, and eventually, you might get something resembling what you originally requested. Keep in mind that you will never get the color you want, and you will always have to pay for some kind of embellishment that you don't want, like a sun roof or an espresso maker in the glove compartment.

STEP 3, NEGOTIATING:
There are a number of online research tools that will provide statistics on the amount of money that you should pay for a particular vehicle. No two tools will show the same amount, and it doesn't matter, anyway, because your car salesman will dismiss any pricing literature as being biased because it is sponsored by [name one--another car company, OPEC, Michael Moore, the French government, Charles Manson, etc]. To determine how much you want to pay, you should look at the sticker price, lob 20% off of that, and come to terms with the fact that you're going to get fucked no matter what you do.

STEP 4, PURCHASING:
Once you are done negotiating, you will meet with a financing expert, who will promptly change the price upon which you have just agreed. This is because your financing expert will start tossing in extras without your knowledge. Watch your financing expert closely, because if you're not careful, you'll drive off the lot with a fifteen-year limited warranty on your cup holders.

Your financing expert will also try to steal your trade-in. He or she will say things like, "Well, I mean, your antique 1948 Rolls Royce isn't even LISTED in the Kelley Blue Book, so you're lucky we're giving you 87 cents for it." This is why you are better off trying to sell your car to a strung-out college student on Craigslist.

Well, Ted, I hope this helps! Remember, buying a new vehicle doesn't have to be a terrible experience. With my tips, Ted, your car-buying experience should be an easy and painless--oh, who am I kidding? It's going to be fucking awful. You'd better get started on a bottle of valium now.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Fashion

Dear Aunt Slugger,
Not only is October the time to brush up on Holiday baking and other various domestic duties, it is also the time to brush up on Fall Fashion and look forward to Spring 2010 trends. I have come across several new "trends" and I need your opinion. Sometimes (especially in the case of the sequined forehead heart) it is tough to differentiate the outrageously awful from the outrageously fabulous fashion idea:

1.) Sequin Heart on forehead? Lindsey Lohan was the artistic advisor for Ungaro's collection--made its debut in Paris this past week. Sexy? Office appropriate?



2.) "Mantyhose"---by lingerie designer Unconditional. Should I buy these for my (somewhere out there) boyfriend??

3.) "Tufted" fur jackets? Will PETA allow this? I do live in the Northeast, tough territory.
4.) "Baby Bump Pad" by Jean Paul Gaultier - I'm not pregnant, but isn't this the sexiest???!!!

Thanks for all your advice.
Sincerely,
Is the Baby Bump a Good Way to Get a Date?

Dear ITBBAGWTGAD,

I'd like to begin this column by thanking ITBBAGWTGAD for addressing this critical topic. Although recent data suggest that the world financial markets are on the road to recovery, we are still plagued by news of lay-offs around the country, which means that you, readers, need to act swiftly and shrewdly when it comes to making your spring fashion choices. Appearance is everything, and you wouldn't want to find out that you ended up on the chopping block because you wore the wrong shoes with your mantyhose.

First of all, let's be very clear on something: We here in the general populace cannot be relied upon to make avant-garde and fashion-forward decisions about our clothing. This is why we have fashion designers. Were it not for fashion designers, people would wear pajamas to work, high heels wouldn't exist, and President Barack Obama would give his state of the union address wearing nothing more than a fleece bathrobe and a shower cap, and we as a society wouldn't think anything of it. The only thing saving us from sinking to such depravity and comfort is the fashion community, and we should always defer to their judgment. If they send a woman down the runway wearing a hunting vest and a box of fish sticks, you should grab your rifle and tartar sauce and walk with confidence.

Unfortunately, due to strict, unwritten social guidelines, some items are not appropriate for some situations. So, while a giant sequin forehead heart might be considered acceptable or even desirable in a private equity firm, a rheumatologist's office might frown upon it, or at least only allow it on Fridays. The same goes for the tufted fur jacket. Many clubs and bars will ONLY allow you onto the premises if your clothing appears to serve no function whatsoever and is made from sloth carcasses, whereas other establishments have standing orders to club you to death if you wear anything other than a garment made entirely from recycled flaxseed. In these situations, you should use your best judgment, or ask a friend who might be familiar with the scene. If you can't gauge the dress code, it is ALWAYS best to err on the side of caution and wear your mantyhose.

As for the cutting-edge maternity shirt from Jean Paul Gaultier, I can think of no other single piece of maternity attire that says, "I am a classy, confident pregnant woman, and I shall wear this beautiful shirt that resembles--in both style and comfort level--a gladiator breastplate." You should wear this top regardless of your pregnancy status, as I can say with total confidence that this garment will net you a lot of attention from 19-year-old drunk college students, people who like to re-enact ancient battle scenes, and men who are legally blind.

Good luck navigating the fashion waters, readers!

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

(Photos courtesy www.nymag.com)

Monday, October 5, 2009

Baking FAQ

Dear Readers,

Well, it's October already, and you know what that means! It means that the inspection sticker on my car is expired. But it also means that the holiday season is fast approaching, which means that you're going to be spending a lot of time in the kitchen--making cookies for your kids' teachers, roasting turkeys, baking pumpkin bread, and trying to get the cranberry sauce to come out of the can in one piece. So it is time for my annual holiday baking FAQ!!! The list below contains the questions I receive the most from you, my dear readers.

Happy baking!


Q: My pregnant wife thinks its okay to wear (and get dirty) my hooded sweatshirts and other clothes, but then she gets all up in my face when she doesn't have any clean panties because I've worn them and--
A: READERS, this is a FAMILY-ORIENTED BAKING FAQ. Please save this for another FAQ.

Q: I can't get my pie crust to turn out right. It's always soggy in the middle. Do you have any suggestions?
A: Common baking mishap. As it turns out, many pie crust recipes are lacking a critical ingredient called "pre-made pie crusts from the refrigerated dinner roll section." Add this ingredient to the pie pan first, and then mix your other ingredients and leave them on the counter.

Q: I would really like a 9-inch round springform pan, but it's expensive. Are there any substitutes?
A: Yes, a 9x13 casserole dish is actually the same thing. It's a marketing gimmick.

Q: Can I use butter to grease a baking sheet instead of cooking spray?
A: If you're trying to kill your family with saturated fat, then yes, by all means, use the butter, and see if you can look at yourself in the mirror the next morning, you selfish pig.

Q: Last weekend, I was making foie gras souffle with a duck confit, and I was whisking the egg whites when--
A: WOW, Julia Child, whenever you're done bragging--we can wait.

Q: No, I was just wondering whether--
A: We're still waiting.

Q: But...never mind.
A: Right.

Q: I am having a fondue party, and I am wondering what kind of cheese you'd recommend I use?
A: There are only two types of cheese, actually, that should be used for melting, cooking or baking, and these are plain Velveeta and pepperjack Velveeta. I'd recommend pepperjack for your fondue party, since plain Velveeta might seem a bit too pedestrian.

Q: I've heard that you can use applesauce in place of oil in brownies. Is this true?
A: If you would like tasteless, flavorless brownies that you can also use to scour your kitchen counter, then yes, applesauce is a great substitute.

Q: I mean, there's nothing wrong with wearing my wife's underwear--
A: You again--GET OFF THIS FAQ, DAMMIT.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Office microwaves

Dear Aunt Slugger:

I work in a small office where there is a communal microwave. On occasion, my coworkers like to reheat fish in this microwave, and it smells like a rotting orca corpse on a hot summer's day. What should I do?

Signed,
If I Wanted to Work in a Seaworld Graveyard I Would At Least Be Living Someplace Sunny

Dear IIWTWIASGIWALBLSS:

This question comes to us from Cambridge, Massachusetts, home of the world's most prestigious universities, top-notch scientific research firms, and an unsurpassed number of self-centered motherfuckers. What surprises me more than the fact that anyone would deem it appropriate to reheat fish in a communal microwave is the fact that IIWTWIASGIWALBLSS seems genuinely shocked by this behavior.

Cambridge is the same town where bicyclists regularly speed the wrong way down narrow one-way streets and then demand the Congressional Medal of Honor after transit buses accidentally plow them down like common roadkill. So we should not be surprised when a Cambridge resident throws some haddock with onion-n-garlic sauce on a paper towel, sets the microwave on high for eight minutes, and then walks away to post an angry blog entry complaining about how an ambulance sped through a green light and almost ran him over while he was running a red light on his bicycle in a pedestrian crosswalk.

But I digress. This is a particularly difficult situation because people who microwave fish are several levels removed from other, lesser offenders, like people who leave their egg salad sandwiches in the fridge for two weeks. Your basic egg salad offender will eventually respond to subtle comments like, "Is there a dead body in this fridge?" People who microwave fish, on the other hand, will never, ever take the hint.

You could try retaliating in kind by putting something equally horrific in the microwave, like a forty-pound bag of rancid clams marinating in venison broth, but this could only serve to encourage the offender, and before you know it, he or she will be preparing raw catfish on the office fax machine.

The real solution, IIWTWIASGIWALBLSS, is to change the offender's fundamental attitude toward microwaving fish. I'm not talking about sitting him down and politely telling him that he almost put two people in a coma the last time he had leftover swordfish; that will never work. The key is to get him to believe that he doesn't really want to microwave fish.

Fortunately, since you are located in Cambridge, this should be relatively easy. The average Cantabridgian (so called because "resident of Cambridge" is not considered pretentious enough) is extremely impressionable when it comes to health and health food. Work that angle. The next time you see the offender heading for the microwave, you should casually say, "I'm surprised you're microwaving that; I thought raw [whatever it is--salmon, crab legs, shark] was better for you because it has more [pick a scientific word--antioxidants, Omega-3s, botulism] than when you microwave it." NOTE: This won't work if the fish is part of one of those frozen meals that you see at the grocery store. In this case, you would be advised to just suck it up and take the destruction of property charge after you take a baseball bat to the microwave.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Thursday, October 1, 2009

New home

Dear Aunt Slugger,

At the age of 33, I have just moved into what is essentially a single study dorm room. I share a bathroom with three complete strangers, although a short, excitable, Singaporean guy introduced himself and was very nice. Apparently, one of the other residents is 'an old lady - don't touch her boxes* - she'll know'.

How should I make this more of a home away from home?

Signed,
V of London

* these boxes are stacked on the couch in the communal lounge area

Dear V of London,

Normally, I would suggest that you hang up posters of majestic underwater scenes or kittens playing with yarn, even if you hate dolphins and cats. I would also suggest that you plug in one of those cookie-scented oil devices and crochet a doily that reads "Home is where the heart is." These suggestions would have the dual effect of making you feel more at home and boosting my popularity among middle-aged women in Kansas.

But your situation seems a bit more extreme, and the solution is much more complex than simply mounting a dead sea bass to your wall and waiting for your neighbors to turn up and ask if you'd like to go fishing with them.

You will need to establish your authority immediately, like in prison. Get a conspicuous tattoo, like a full-back portrait of a skeleton holding a sawed-off shotgun and riding a motorcycle. Make references to "heading upstate" on a "manslaughter beef" in the '90s. Be vague if you're asked whether you use heroin, and "inadvertently" leave a belt tied around your bicep while you're making pasta in the kitchen. Leave a ski mask and crowbar next to those boxes on the couch. Keep a box of hollow-point bullets in the silverware drawer. Mindlessly sharpen knives while you watch television. Maintain a cage of subway rats in your bedroom.

Use the Singaporean to your advantage. He could be a potential ally, or he could just mysteriously disappear if you need to send a stronger message to your housemates.

Once you are firmly established as the alpha roommate, you should feel free to settle in and make yourself at home by baking pies, curling up on the couch with a good book, and forcing your housemates to buff your feet and clip your toenails.

Good luck making your house a home!

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Pants

Dear Aunt Slugger,

What is a polite way to tell the undergraduate man in the coffee shop that while it's great that he's wearing silky black boxers today, I don't need to see 4 inches of them before I even get my coffee.

Signed,
PullYourPantsUpSlim

Dear PYPUS:

First and foremost, it is important for you to realize that you are not the only person on our mortal coil grappling with this profound question. People tend to ask this question right after they ask, "Aunt Slugger, does God really exist?" because it's hard to believe in a benevolent deity when you involuntarily spend 85% of your day looking at other people's undergarments.

And I'm afraid I don't have a good answer for you, PYPUS. Lesser advice columnists will suggest that you tug at the individual's pant leg so that his pants fall off and he is so embarrassed that he will begin wearing his pants at his natural waistline. But this is flawed logic for a couple of reasons:

First of all, anyone who has seen young men wear their pants around their mid-thigh will automatically wonder how the pants stay in place. Even with a belt, the pants still appear to be defying gravity. Therefore, we can only assume that these young men have developed a highly sophisticated pulley system under their nine-sizes-too-large shirts to keep their pants firmly in place. So tugging at the pants would probably not accomplish much besides landing you in the county lockup on an assault charge.

Second, and more important, it is a common misconception that college students are embarrassed to be seen wearing only their underwear. Most college students, if given the choice, would stroll around campus wearing nothing more than a Q-tip and Birkenstocks. This is because the brain of a college student is not fully developed like yours or mine; in fact, recent studies have shown that undergraduates are clinically incapable of thinking about anything else besides naked people and grade inflation. The result is that most college students are looking for any excuse--any excuse at all--to remove their clothing. So by tugging at the pant leg of an offender, you would only be doing him a favor.

I hate to say this, PYPUS, but your best bet is either to make your coffee at home using one of many inexpensive, mass-produced coffee makers, or to gouge your eyes out.

Hope this helps.
Aunt Slugger

Cell Phone Etiquette

Dear Aunt Slugger: What is a polite way to tell the woman that I see on the train EVERYDAY to stop talking so damn loudly about effing nothing for the ENTIRE hour journey? Signed, Ready to Kill

Readers, this letter comes to us all the way from the United Kingdom! So you can sleep soundly tonight knowing that you're getting top-notch advice from a column with an international following. And as the Church of Scientology and Paris Hilton prove, anything with an international following must be worth its salt.

Ready to Kill, you've posed an interesting question here. A lot of this depends on the laws of your particular state/region/municipality/country. A person residing in a lawless society--like Somalia, certain areas of Brazil, or the Wellesley Township Whole Foods--should feel comfortable taking the phone and using it as a makeshift toilet without fear of punishment by the authorities.

But this gets a bit trickier in more civilized society, where it is unfortunately still considered a bit gauche to publicly flay individuals who just can't seem to shut the fuck up and turn off their phones.

Some suggested approaches:

STRATEGY # 1.) Politely remind the offender that, while her best friend might want to know whether her increased consumption of grapefruit juice is helping with her cirrhosis, the rest of the train car isn't quite so interested. Offer to lend her a copy of "Bon Appetit" or "The Economist" for the remainder of the ride if she agrees to turn off her cell phone.

HAHA! Aunt Slugger is just joking about #1. Grapefruit juice can't cure cirrhosis, and "The Economist" can't cure an asshole. Strategy #1 will definitely not work and could potentially result in an awkward social interaction or a week in the intensive care unit. Definitely do not try Strategy #1. You're better off with...

STRATEGY # 2.) Attempt to incite a riot and then "inadvertently" throw this individual from the moving train car. You will know the riot is starting when the offender begins to narrate the situation into her cell phone. "OMG, there are a couple dudes running around with pitchforks and torches" and "No, seriously, what did you say? I can't hear you over all this screaming and breaking glass" are telltale comments, and you will know that your plan is beginning to work. Wait until the level of mayhem has reached a critical mass, and then make your move. Admit nothing to the police.

Hope this helps, RTK! Enjoy some clotted cream and scones for the rest of us!

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Baking Tips

Dear Aunt Slugger:

I'd like to make malted milk ball cookies, and I understand that you just made these cookies this evening. Do you have any tips for us?

Signed,
Dwayne in Colorado

Hi Dwayne,

I sure do! The key, in my opinion, is to have a small and cramped kitchen in an apartment complex in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Ideally, you will also have most of your kitchen utensils packed away in boxes from when you moved into your apartment on August 15th, and you will rely exclusively on a plastic measuring spoon for all of your stirring, mixing, sampling, and tenderizing needs.

If you don't meet these initial requirements--don't worry! That's what dreams are for. And the cookies aren't out of your reach. Just follow my step-by-step instructions below.

1.) Soften your butter by neglecting it on top of the pre-heating oven for approximately thirty minutes.
2.) Once you've replaced your burners, cream the butter and sugar with an electric beater.
3.) Leave the beater on the edge of the counter in staunch defiance of the laws of physics.
4.) Retrieve the beater from the floor.
5.) Frantically locate your Swiffer Wet Jet and matching Swiffer Wet Jet pads.
6.) Slip on the batter.
7.) Notice that the batter has splattered into your pet cat's food and water dishes.
8.) Pretend you didn't notice.
9.) Swiffer the hell out of the floor, over and over again, even though the Swiffer Wet Jet pad appears not to absorb the lipids from the butter.
10.) Act confused when your significant other asks if the floor seems "slippery." Arrogantly suggest he get different footwear.
11.) Place the malted milk balls in a plastic bag and crush them using a granite mortar and pestle.
12.) Carry the bag across the room without realizing that there's a hole in it.
13.) Note that the Swiffer definitely doesn't pick up malted milk balls.
14.) Roll the dough into 1.5 inch balls, per the recipe. NOTE: Mathematically speaking, there is no difference between a dough ball with a diameter of 1.5 inches and a dough ball with a diameter of 4 inches, but recipe books will not mention this. Feel free to use either measurement.
15.) Bake for ten minutes, or until you remember that the cookies are in the oven.
16.) Peel excess dough off the bottom of the oven.
17.) Congratulate yourself! You're a gourmet chef!

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger