Free Advice Friday From Your Aunt Fatty

Dearest Aunt Fatty,

I’m friends with a handful of co-workers on Facebook. I recently made a vague post referencing work in a comedic fashion and was reported to my supervisor. I wasn’t written up and I’m in no way in fear of losing my job, but I’m upset that one of these so-called ‘work friends’ ratted me out over something so harmless. What should I do? Should I block all work friends on Facebook? Should I post a feckless comment about how snitches get stitches? Help!

Sincerely,

Snitches Gon’ Get Stitches

Dear Snitches Gon’ Get Stitches,

OH HELL NAH.

This kind of backstabbing career climber bullshit is why I have to keep my mouth kinda shut about work on Facebook (I have a really hard time doing this, because I have some important shit to say). Some snitch did the same thing to me last year. I made a comment about being aghast at the behavior I witnessed on the first day of school and not even a week later I got an email from my AP about how he was disappointed by my comment, didn’t think I was happy at my school, etc.

The joke was on whoever tried to tarnish my record, though, because I was evaluated as Highly Effective (the highest rating you can get) last year, so…

Now, I do believe there ought to be some kind of standard when it comes to posting about work, but unless it’s damning, downright nasty, or it reveals information that violates HIPPA, I say people need to get off their high horses and worry bout themselves.

What I would do is block your work snitches from your posts. They won’t know you did this, but it protects you and your free fucking speech. But, before you block them from your posts, share some super snarky passive aggressive post because that’s what professional adults do. Let us know what you do!

Love,

Your Aunt Fatty (who is really pissed off for you)

Check out Snitches Gon’ Get Stitches’ blog!


Dear Auntie Fatty,

A huge invasive snail vine on the opposite side of my backyard fence is out of control (which I constantly battle to keep from choking my Toyon tree and my Cape Honeysuckle shrubs). I usually win that battle but recently an entire extended family of opossums has taken up residence in the vine (and a couple of rats – EEWWHH!). I don’t mind the opossums – they are cute in an ugly sort of way. However, my dog Shiro thinks they are a puppy snack. He is constantly leaping to the top of the six-foot fence and plucking them off. Luckily, it is true that opossums play dead and I can usually get him in the house and the poor critters have scuttled away by the time I go to check on them. Obviously, this is not an ideal situation for my dog or the opossums!

I want to talk to the neighbors about removing the vine but here is my conundrum – they have only lived there a few months and I have never gone over to introduce myself and welcome them to the neighborhood. So am I a shit-head if I go over now and say hi but please tear out your ugly, invasive vine? What would you do?

Sincerely,
Tired of the Opossums (check out her blog here!)

Dear Tired of the Opposums,

Where do I even start with this? I’m kind of speechless and that’s pretty much never happened in the whole of my entire big-mouthed life. I don’t know if I should start with the opossums or the rats or your new neighbors who have moved in, next to not only a human family, but AN EXTENDED OPOSSUM FAMILY.

Now, I can’t help you on the plant issue as you were basically speaking Chinese to me and I kill any and all plants within a square mile of my being with just my…being. So.

Oh, but after reading your submission again, you’re not asking about the fucking plants, anyway.

OK, so for your neighbors. I, too, am guilty of being that neighbor who never introduces themselves until I need something. “Hi, I’m your neighbor you see leaving the house in no bra and ratty pajama pants to go to 7-11 for Ho-Hos, nice to finally meet you when I have a bra on. So, could YA NOT BLEND SMOOTHIES AT FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING? Thanks. See ya around.”

I think you need to do this in stages.

Stage One: Bake something delicious and take it to your neighbor and introduce yourself. People are always more willing to go along with things when you bake them something they can’t say ‘no’ to.

Stage Two: Next time your dog tries to eat an opossum family, make a big production about it, so they come outside to see what the racket is. When they see you wrangling your dog, a pack of possums and some mangy rats, they will see there’s a problem with opossums that can’t be ignored.

Stage Three: Mid-battle make your plea. No one being asked to help someone who is literally wrangling opossums will be difficult. When they see how backwoods fucked up your situation is, they may just do what needs done then and there.

Please update us on the opossum situation. Better yet, send pictures.

Love,

Your Aunt Fatty (who is worried about what kind of opossum-rat diseases you have now)


Dear Aunt Fatty,

How the fuck do I get my husband to open the frigging curtains in the morning?! Seriously, it’s like he has some weird allergy to it. Or he doesn’t like daylight. Maybe he’s a vampire! He never opens them. Anywhere in the house. He just leaves it to me to open them all. It’s like what my mother used to say when I lived at home and left any curtains closed, “THE NEIGHBOURS WILL START THINKING SOMEONE DIED IN HERE!”

Sincerely,

Open the Fucking Curtains Once in Awhile Will Ya? (Check out her blog here!)

Dear Open the Fucking Curtains Once in Awhile, Will Ya?,

Girl, I just witnessed the dude who lives here pass the HAND towel to dry his hands on the DISH towel. The hand towel is the one closest to the sink for ease of drying one’s HANDS. The dish towel, the towel that is reserved for drying CLEAN DISHES, is at least 12 inches further away from the sink than the hand towel and he goes for the MOTHERFUCKING DISH TOWEL every time.

I wish I could help you with your problem, sister friend. The only consolation I have for you is that millions of other women are also standing, dumbstruck, in the kitchen or the bedroom or bathroom, just staring at the socks that are in front of the hamper or the wet towel on the floor right under the towel rack or the curtains that seem to be invisible, right this very minute.

What I do know is that men don’t give a fuck about the different designation we give to towels that essentially look the same. They don’t give two shits about opening the curtains (he probably doesn’t even know you have curtains). They don’t ever think about how the decorative pillows on the bed should be arranged (and, he probably wants to mutilate them).

When he doesn’t open the curtains, message me with your favorite, most apropos Michael Scott meme and I’ll send one back and you’ll be all better.

Love,

Your Aunt Fatty (who totally gets it and has a twitching eye because of them* too)


I forgot to link to the lovely, Raili’s blog on my last post. Check her blog out here!

Have a personal problem? In a crazy conundrum? In the middle of a sticky wicket? Send them to your Aunt Fatty, and I’ll make it better for you. Submit them here.

*We love you, men. We wouldn’t be able to live without you. We’d have clean dish towels, yes, but we’d also have empty hearts. So, don’t hate me too much. In fact, send me a problem you have regarding the fairer (more annoying) sex and I’ll make it up to you.

Free Advice Friday From Your Aunt* Fatty

Dear Aunt Fatty,

I can’t stop eating cake. I eat cake every day. And it’s not just limited to cake – I also eat cookies, donuts, brownies, etc. If I don’t have any cake, I bake some and then I eat it. I just love cake. What should I do?

Thank you,
Have & Eat Cakery

This is me, choking down my raw carrots, reading about your cake “problems”.

Dear Have & Eat Cakery,

Yo, is this a real problem? Cake is not bad. Cake is delicious. I daydream of cake. I real dream of cake. Cake is fucking everything. So, for realsies, I think you’re living your best life.

Evidence:

“I bake some and then I eat it.”

1. You can bake

2. You can eat what you bake because it’s edible

These are not real problems.

Unless you think it’s a problem. Then it’s a problem.

I’m no expert or anything, but I think cake has tons of sugar and no-no flour in it, so if you’re on some kind of diet, I think cake is the opposite of what you’re supposed to eat. I could be totally wrong, though.

If you feel like your cake consumption is a problem, maybe eat half of the cake you normally eat and see if life is worth living with less cake. If you find this is not a sufficient amount of cake and your life has lost all meaning, just eat your normal amount of cake.

I really wish I had your problem right now. I’m going to go cry in my zoodles.

Your Aunt Fatty (who hates you right now, btw)


Dear Aunt Fatty,

Where shall I seek my Soul Mate?

From,

Bunny64

Dear Bunny64,

I wasn’t sure if this was a legit submission as I get all kinds of spam email from my site now that I’m self-hosting, but I figured I’d better help a, uh, bunny out, just in case.

Here’s my philosophy on soulmates. Why don’t you make yourself comfy? Pull up a chair. Make yourself a cup of tea. While you’re at, can you make me one, too?

Your soulmate can always and without any ounce of doubt be found in a perfectly powdered donut. An artfully iced cinnamon roll. Even a plain piece of white toast smothered in Nutella. If you’re not a fan of eating “morning foods”, I guarantee you will find true love in a perfectly crafted chocolate lava cake with melty vanilla bean ice cream on the side. Better add some hazelnut sauce while you’re at it.

People can’t always be relied upon to be someone’s soulmate, but carbs are always, always there for you. Remember that.

Your Aunt Fatty (who really wants a donut now)


Dear Auntie Fatty,


I joined a dating site in order to try to get over a guy, thinking if I had someone new, I could forget my feelings for him. Horrible I know! But then I met someone on there. He’s really sweet and we hit if off. Only thing: I’m still all hung up on this other dude! I can’t drop my very deep feels for him. I was an adult about it and told the sweet guy I had feelings for someone else and that it wasn’t fair to him if I wasn’t honest with him and myself. He was totally cool and wanted to stay friends. That was a few weeks ago, and we still talk a little bit, but he keeps pushing to actually meet (cos we haven’t yet!) and he says “just as friends” and he knows I’m not ready for a relationship. I’ve agreed to meet him now but I’m afraid he’s not really looking at it “just as friends”. What do I do on our meet up to ensure he gets that?! No solid plans yet, either ping pong or maybe just coffee at a bookstore, so these ideas have got to be flexible! 

Sincerely, 
Hardcore Friendzoning

Dear Hardcore Friendzoning,

I know making generalizations about men on dating sites isn’t fair, but what I have personally experienced would scare the bejeezus out of you. If you need a brief mental image of what I am referring to, picture a grown man asking for his diaper changed.

Almost every single guy I met during my brief foray into the terrifying single-and-dating life wanted “more than friends” action.

Also, many were on there, like me, to forget a former lover or relationship. When that is your reason for being on a dating site, it’s kind of blue balling your dude friend. Very few men are just looking for a friendship when they get on a dating site, whether what they want is a committed relationship or just sex.

This is my opinion from what I’ve experienced, personally. Others’ experiences and perceptions may be different.

So, from what I see, you’ve done your part in expressing what your boundaries are in being on the dating site and hanging with him. It’s up to him to respect those. If he doesn’t, you stop interacting with him, or he’s going to end up hurt if he has real feelings for you and you are not ready to reciprocate.

Dating is the epitome of the hard knock life, man. All too often you fall for someone who is pining away for someone else or vice versa.

Because this shit sucks, I suggest you go on a date with Ben & Jerry, because, well, duh.

Otherwise, I’d suggest bowling- it’s the least sexy date you can go on. The shoes look horrific and they smell even worse. Bowling alleys are loud, smelly, and dirty. Finally, unless you’re a professional bowler, all people look awkward bowling. Go bowling.

Your Aunt Fatty (who loves you and just wants what’s best for you)


Dear Aunt Fatty,

JoJo wants me to ask you when we have ice cream and I eat it all, what should she do? Keep in mind that the shit sat there for a whole week before I ate it. Go.

Sincerely,

The Midnight Goose and JoJo

Dear The Midnight Goose and JoJo,

Goose Pal, how are you still alive and well enough to write this email? It doesn’t matter if the ice cream has been in the fridge for over a year and there’s an inch of freezer burn covering the entire carton, YOU DON’T TOUCH YER BOO THANG’S ICE CREAM. I love you, Allen, but, pal, you done wrong (that was a lot of commas, but it had to happen).

My dude once ate my leftover helping of this decadent chicken fettuccine Alfredo I make whenever we are feeling like our arteries ought to be clogged. It’s made with cream cheese, full fat milk, and a buttload of parmesan. I thought about it all day long. I was practically foaming at the mouth by the time I got home. When I discovered his crime, I, legit, didn’t talk to him for a week and two days. He got off easy.

I believe eating your spouse’s/partner’s/dog’s treats they are probably saving for later should be punishable by death.

So, it was nice knowing you, Allen.

Regretfully Yours, Aunt Fatty


I was shocked at the amount of emails I got from ya’ll. I didn’t think this would get the response it has. If you’re reading this, feeling pretty ripped off because your query wasn’t included in this first Free Advice Friday post, fear not, you will be included next week.

Some of your questions were legit issues and I’m still trying to work out the perfect fucked up answer. Some of your issues were pretty damn funny and I’m trying to find out how to be funnier.

So, you gotta wait another week. I really hope I can make the suspense worth it.

Keep sending in those fucked up problems, my weirdos! You can contact me via my Contact Page.

*I don’t want any of you thinking of a crusty, old woman when you read ‘aunt’. Think more young (ish), wildly idiotic when it comes to being an adult, and super cool because she knows what ‘trill’ means (after doing a Google search). Think the kind of cool aunt who takes you to get Pink Drinks and then falls for your wily ways so she buys you, on her almost maxed out credit card, an entire new wardrobe at Target, complete with unicorn earrings. I’m that aunt.