Please welcome our new contributer, Professor Daddy

Guys, I've realized that for too long this little low (no)-budget corner of the internet has languished because it's missing something incredibly important: a Man's perspective. All the feminist rants, the snarky movie blogging, the energy drink-fueled ramblings--completely pointless because of how they spring from the tragically underdeveloped brain of a Lady. (An incredibly unladylike lady at that.) Luckily for all of us, a Man has offered to help masculinize this here blog. But he's not just doing me a favor, he's offering to give you, yes YOU, little lady, some manly life advice. I present to you: Professor Daddy with his new column, Professor Daddy Sez.

He sez so many smart things, you guys.

Professor Daddy is a white American dude (but he's WORKED to get where he is) with the unique qualifications of being both a professor and a father, which means he knows A Lot. "Don't be intimidated by my vast knowledge and expertise of life and also all other topics, gals. Let's not be too formal: you can call me Daddy. Professor Daddy." ISN'T HE A CHARMER? All he needs is your questions! Life dilemma? Etiquette conundrum? General lack of knowledge? JUST NO FASHION QUESTIONS, THIS IS A MAN'S ADVICE COLUMN, OKAY? Send 'em my way and I'll get Prof. Daddy on the case. But not, like, in a nagging way.

Nobody can tell you what you should do like Professor Daddy can tell you. And he will. Authoritatively.

Ask Dr. Booze Science: Beer = Headache Cure?

Dr. Booze Science, who has a PhD in Drunkology and an MD in Nonstop Partying and is definitely real and not one of my silly alter egos, has graciously agreed to answer your questions/give out really good advice on this here blog. I've already got one question! Send me more, and I'll make sure the good doctor gets 'em.

Dear Dr. Booze Science, 
I had a headache, I drank a beer, no more headache. Did the beer cure it & should I have another?

The short answer is clearly yes and yes. Why do you think old-timey doctors used to give everybody booze as medicine? Not because they didn't really have medicine that cured anything so they just gave you alcohol to make you not feel as much! No, because booze is totally medicine. I'm a doctor, you can trust me. However, as a professional drunkologist, I encourage you to utilize the scientific method and do a series of experiments to see if your results can be duplicated. No matter how many pints or cases of beer it takes, do your due diligence and see it through. If beers keep curing your headaches, you're golden! If for some reason you end up with another headache, just drink more beers to see if that will help! If you end up passed out, then clearly you don't have a headache anymore, and PROBLEM SOLVED. Good luck, my junior drunkologist friend. I believe in you.


BOOZE SCIENCE FACT OF THE WEEK: If you learn something while drunk, the only way to access that knowledge again is to match the original level of drunkenness. This is why you only remember how awesome crappy frozen pizza is when you're trashed. #science

I have opinions

Guys, do you ever read things and then feel feelings and think thoughts about them? I do sometimes, but usually I just click the next post button on my Google Reader and hope a cute kitty will show up. However, I  had vaguely complex responses to MULTIPLE THINGS I saw on the webernets, so I'm going to go all op-ed on your asses and share.

Captain Awkward hits a (my) nerve while taking a physical boundaries/personal space question: "Do we hug? Because my feeling is that no, we don't." Are you my husband? Are you one of my stuffed animals? Are you my sister or parents (but not either of my brothers, because ew) when I haven't seen you/am not going to see you for like a year? Have we ever been roommates? Am I drunk and already your good friend? If you cannot answer yes to any of these questions then you will never, ever be invited to touch me. Deal. A ROUND OF FIRM HANDSHAKES FOR EVERYBODY! I was just saying to my sister that I also find small talk invasive, so basically I just hate people, is what I'm saying.

Over at Jezebezzle (that's what I'm calling it now because why not this is MAH BLOG), we hear about a nice girl named Kendra who goes to D.C.'s American University. She is recovering from an eating disorder. One day she was at the student gym and some frat douche was there wearing a "Please Don't Feed the Sorority Girls/Campus Beautification" t-shirt. So she was like, "This is horrible and reminds me of why I was anorexic," so she wrote an op-ed in the student paper about how that shirt was douchey and sends a bad message and how it was triggering for her. She wasn't like, "Ban all t-shirts" or "All men are the devil" or, as I would suggest, "Ban Greek life from campus and while we're at it, let's dismantle the patriarchy." But anyway, lots of assholes are calling her oversensitive/acting like she's some kind of attention whore for writing about her experience. She said that shirt was offensive and pointed out that lots of people (mostly ladies) have issues with eating disorders, so maybe campus-sponsored groups shouldn't be making shirts that encourage disordered eating or posit thinness and hotness as the one and only purpose for lady college students. People are assholes. Criticism is not censorship, it's just pointing out that you're using your free speech to be a dick.

WTF, Evolution? is cracking my shit up.

There's probably other shit I have feelings about, but this is enough for now. HELLO WEEKEND, I WILL BE DRUNKING YOU SOON.

The Sexy Gay Jesus and Long-Distance Lovin'

Due to popular demand (in that one person emailed me out of the blue), Our Most Fabulous Lord and Savior the Sexy Gay Jesus is back to answer your life questions. Feel free to email me if you feel you need His Divine Guidance.

Dear SGJ,

I'm in a long-distance relationship (well, sort of...it's complicated--being omniscient, you know how it is) and we're having lots of great virtual sex using e-mail and g-chat/video chat. Great as things are right now, I'm always on the look out for tips to keep things HOT! Having been around so long and doing that whole long-distance from heaven thing, I thought you might have some ideas for me.

Sincerely,

Counting on Your Sexiness

P.S. Thanks for dying for our sins and shit. That was really awesome of you!

Just imagine Him more shirtless. Source.

Dear CoYS,

You're welcome for the sacrifice, ain't no thang. And you are right, my child, I never lack for hotness in any of my relationships.* It sounds like you are already adept at the technologically-facilitated types of DOIN' IT, so you don't need my help figuring that out. I am pondering on ways to help you keep things "fresh," though. Let's think about my followers. How have I kept the Jesus™ brand hot for nearly two millennia? Many people may call something like this an abomination, but what I really think it speaks to is my versatility--by which I mean a broad-based appeal based around my deity status, not JUST this kind of versatility. Conservatives love me, hippies love me, even bigots love me! And while I would never personally visit some (many) of these people or get drunk with them or anything, I am both an advocate of free culture and kind of a slut. So what I'm saying is, as long as people want to get down with the J.C. is some form, I don't feel the need to stop them because all that worshiping makes a redeemer feel good, you know?

This is all to say that while I don't think you, CoYS, can or should try to be all things to your long-distance buddy (or to anyone, for that matter), you can mix things up a bit. Perhaps you and your LDR partner could try some role-playing? I feel like virtual sex is particularly well-suited to this activity! I personally like to pretend I am a sexy feathered serpent or a mischievous blue guy who enjoys banging lots of milkmaids or whatever sometimes. But you should not limit yourself to deities! What kinds of things are you and your LDR buddy into? Nerd stuff? Probably some type of nerd stuff. Or maybe you're kind of into that Justin Bieber/Nicki Minaj song and are intrigued by the sexy possibilities of this musical pairing?** Or you could pretend that one of you is a ghost! I don't know! Get in character! Make elaborate costumes! Write slash fiction that you inappropriately send to each other during the workday! I believe in your ability to get creative. If you don't always want to put on an elaborate show, it is okay to do the sexytimes just as yourselves, obvs, because that's why you like each other and all, but these are some ideas about how to get more freak in your freakin'.

The other thing I gotta throw out there is that while I certainly don't have time to listen to all of them, a well-timed prayer of thanksgiving or song of hosanna goes a long way in keeping my mood up. And while I don't recommend you necessarily make shrines and/or start cults worshiping one another, you and your LDR pal should keep in touch, expressing your appreciation for one another's Chrissie behinds*** even when you're not cybersexing (or whatever you kids call it). It sounds like you've got this under control, CoYS, but I appreciate you turning to me before a disaster strikes or something. I don't only want to hear from you when your grandma dies or your car gets stuck in a ditch on a deserted murderer-friendly road, people! Good luck with your long-distance lovin', CoYS, but know that if it all becomes too much work, this is a time when the non-in-person breakup is totally allowed.

Love and tequila shots,

The Sexy Gay Jesus 


*I don't endorse the sketchy mustache, but Pastor Dan knows what I'm talking about.
**I can't be the only one thinking about this.
***Did you know this is a Chrissie Hynde reference? I always thought she was saying "prissy" before I just Googled it.

The Sexy Gay Jesus Says What Dear Abby Won't

My queer little followers,

I, the Sexy Gay Jesus, have once again been reading Dear Abby. While the Abbster's advice is largely inoffensive, there are things she will not say that the poor letter-writers really need to hear. I will now share some of my favorite recent submissions and answer them myself, but with more swearing and maybe a little bit of casual blasphemy:

Question 1-

DEAR ABBY: When my sister's husband comes to our house for a family dinner or other event, he immediately asks where he can take a nap. He then goes upstairs and sleeps for a couple of hours. This has been going on for more than five years and is not related to any medical condition. Should I mention this to my sister? I think he is being rude. -- "SLEEPY'S" B.-I.-L.

Dear In-Law of the Seven Dwarves,
Just be grateful you're not forced into awkward small talk with this guy. Maybe he has a social anxiety disorder, maybe he's just rude. By all means, have a couple of glasses of wine and ask your sister WTF already, but I'm just saying that there's a chance he's boring or homophobic or is a closetalker or something, and at least you're being spared having to spend time with him!

Question 2-

DEAR ABBY: I am a caring, loving husband. I enjoy my time with my wife. I think about our future a lot and want our marriage to last for as long as possible.

I make exercise a priority in my life, but I can't get her to understand that she should, too. I love her for who she is, but I want her to be in great health.

I am a very straightforward person and have told her in ways she didn't respond well to. She becomes defensive. How do you tell a woman she should exercise without offending her? -- FIT IN AKRON, OHIO

Dear "Fit":
You are Chris Traeger. Chill out:



P.S. If you think a woman who lives in America doesn't already know she "should" exercise, than you are an oblivious douchebag.

Question 3-

DEAR ABBY: When I married my husband 30 years ago, I was the only girl he could get. He was a great catch by my standards -- and still is. But back then nobody else wanted him but me, which was fine with me. I don't like competition.

We have had a great life together up until the last 10 years or so. Mason is aging gracefully, and there's something about him now that every woman is suddenly interested in. They all treat him like he's a new toy. They fawn over him and I become invisible.

We don't get out much, and I used to think I wanted to go out more -- but now I just want to stay home and hide my husband inside. The real problem is, Mason loves the attention. It could be what he always wanted. I don't know how to handle this without getting my feelings hurt, pouting and being incredibly jealous. He gives me no reason to think he'll be unfaithful, but I can't help but worry. Help! -- WIFE OF A LATE BLOOMER

Dear WOALB,
What is your problem? You only liked your husband because you thought he was too much of a loser to leave you? And now that he is doing well and people are responding to his confidence, you are jealous? Can't you just be smug that your husband is so awesome? SRSLY, just because you have low self-esteem doesn't mean he has to, too. Get some therapy, lady. Also, you mind shooting me your husband's cell number? I can't resist a Silver Fox, and I like it when people stare!

Question 4-

DEAR ABBY: I have recently found out that I'm pregnant. My problem is my husband doesn't believe the baby is his. He says he and his ex tried for 13 years to have a baby and couldn't.

I don't know what to say to him. I can't explain his past with that other woman. My doctor has ordered rest and no stress, but this is taking a toll on me. When the subject comes up, I just walk away and my husband explodes. What do I do? -- EXPECTING IN GUAM

Dear Expecting,
Your husband is an asshole. He does not understand how reproduction works. You can't just avoid the topic since, you know, that baby is going to show up eventually, and it's going to be awkward if you're still married to Mr. Denial. If he refuses to speak to a doctor/believe you/take paternal responsibility while you're still pregnant, you should probably not EXPECT much from him as your child grows up (ha! Get it?). But SRSLY, keep the kid if that's what you want, but get rid of your husband unless he cleans up his act real fast.

The Sexy Gay Jesus answers an etiquette question nobody asked Him

My Loving Worshipers,

Sexy Gay Jesus here. It's been a while since I've written, I know. It seems nobody needs my advice anymore, so I've been hanging out with the Occupy crowd in New York, inspiring people, protesting greed, helping heal the sick and trench-footed, and circle-drumming:

I'm the guy with the beard, obvs.

Anyway, after getting evicted from the park a few nights ago, I decided to take a protest break and come back to Boringtown, Ohio to see if Lauren had gotten any life advice questions for me. She hadn't. But as I was trolling Yahoo! I saw a question submitted to Dear Abby that I think I could really add some perspective to:

Dear Abby:
Whenever I receive a business communication from someone unknown to me with my first name in the salutation, as in "Dear Robert," it immediately goes into the trash.

Being addressed by my first name in this context is just plain wrong. Since I don't know the person who is sending the correspondence, I find the informal tone to be highly improper...

I have been accused of being "old school." However, there are rules and guidelines governing written communication, and it seems as though they are being ignored. Would you please inform people about the proper way to write?  -- CALL ME "MISTER C.," SAN JOSE, CALIF.

Dear Mr. Cock (I just decided that's what the C stands for),

You need to chill the fuck out. You are "old school," and not in a Fab Five Freddy kind of way. Yes, sometimes people presume too much familiarity in correspondence and in personal interaction, but some (most?) of us don't give a shit if people call us by our first names (Unless they are creepy, in which case we prefer that they not know our names at all). Do you think people would like me as much as they do if I ran around insisting people call me MISTER Christ all the time? And sure, while I appreciate a good beatifying title like "Our Dear Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Son of God, Redeemer of the World, Jehovah, Prince of Peace, Light of the World, the Way the Truth and the Life, Lamb of God, King of the Jews, etc., etc.," that just takes too long for everyday use. And depending on which industry you work in, formality standards may be in flux.  I am pleased to see, though, that you both adhere to old-fashioned etiquette standards AND can use the internet with some competence! It is possible that one of those first name-users may actually be an important client or contact though, so I am not sure just deleting those messages is a good idea. I'm assuming you continue to work somewhere stodgy, in which case I recommend you reply to all overly informal emails as passive-aggressively as possible. Por ejemplo:

Dear MS. Soandso,

Thank you for your email. Unfortunately, both Dear Abby and I think you know nothing about business etiquette. I prefer not to be addressed by my first name by anyone, including my wife and my parents. I am afraid your business will ultimately fail because you have mis-gauged the proper level of formality. I have spent YEARS earning my title of "Mr." through being male and over eighteen and insist it be used at all times in order to show the proper respect to a man of my status.

Get off my lawn.

Sincerely,
MISTER R. COCK

I think this could be a really effective networking tool for you.

Love and vodka shots,

THE Sexy Gay Jesus, Ph.DEITY

The Sexy Gay Jesus is ALMOST Portrayed in Film

Remember our friend the Sexy Gay Jesus? This is the latest thing he endorses:



The play-within-the-movie also features accompaniment by the Tucson Gay Men's Chorus, so it's basically a tribute to Our Homosexualest Lord and Savior. Hey, it's been a while, but if you have any queries about life, the universe, or whatever, the Sexy Gay Jesus is still open for advice-giving. Email me your questions (lauren dot chesnut at gmail dot com), and I'll make sure he gets them and answers them while at least marginally sober.

Happy sexy Christ times!

The Sexy Gay Jesus and the Wedding-Industrial Complex

Dear Sexy Gay Jesus,

Look, I know that You never went through this particular bit of ritualizing on account of You were really busy healing the sick, curing the lame, cleansing the temple, and being patiently (but, you know, maybe not without second thoughts, which is totally cool, no worries) crucified, and also the marriage laws of the old-school Galilee probs weren't totally in Your favor anyway, BUT. I'm getting married in T-minus six weeks here, and instead of being all uplifted on happy clouds I'm just feeling super anxious about the whole thing. Not the marriage -- he's my best friend, love of my life, and frankly we've been married for all intents and purposes since that sunny day back in September '09 when we bought a Hyundai together -- but the wedding itself is causing me enormous worry. Will people have fun? Will people show up? Will it be special and magical and wonderful, or will I collapse under the pressure of trying to make it be all of those things before I even get down the aisle (which is more of a sandy path through the woods, but still)? I could really use some of Your perspective and calming wisdom, so I don't spend the next six weeks grinding my teeth and dreaming up every nightmare scenario that surely won't happen anyway, and arrive at the altar (er, woodsy place) exhausted. Help me get my groove back, JC?

Yours,
Anxiously Engaged

Dear Anxious,

Congratulations on your impending nuptials, my child! While it is true I have never gotten married, I have been to many, many weddings. I get invited to a lot of them. I would like to point out that just because a ceremony mentions my name, though, doesn't mean I bless the union. I'm not so much a fan of virginity fetishism and/or patriarchal property (lady) transfers. But anyway, weddings. As you point out, Anxious, there are many upsides to being married like state benefits or your grandma letting you share a bed when you come to visit. But GETTING married is another story. I have a few things to contribute that I hope will help you stay cool in the coming weeks:

1. It is both normal and okay to be dreading your wedding to a certain degree. Weddings carry a LOT of cultural baggage. Like, you don't just get charged for checking a bag, but for extra baggage and they are all overweight. (Haha, air travel joke!) This is especially so for ladies since it is your "big day" and the planning is considered girl stuff that your husband-to-be can just show up to hungover with a couple of his bros in matching tuxedos. I am sure your fiance is not one of those bros, but you should definitely make sure he is shouldering his share of the planning and fretting responsibilities. You may feel extra pressure nonetheless, but that's because patriarchy is stupid (sorry, Old Testament bros).

That's all the wine you brought? Seriously people, do I have to do everything around here?

2. Delegate, delegate, delegate. Though sitting down and making a list of everything that needs to get done both before the big day and on the day itself may be super-overwhelming, you can then start enlisting friends and family for various tasks once you know exactly what needs to happen. Tell your friends they can take pictures at the reception, pick up some food, or help set up as their gift to you. Non-douchey guests will be eager and happy to help you out and make your day easier. My forte is that whole Bottomless Wine Bottle trick, of course, but you may have an overbearing aunt or obnoxious younger cousin or something who will feel useful by being assigned glass-filling or table-busing duties.

3. Just let go (as much as possible, anyway). No matter how nontraditional, simple, cheap, and/or casual your wedding plans, something will go wrong and somebody will do something crazy. There's nothing you can do to control this. When bringing a number of people together for an event, mishaps, forgotten details, and a certain amount of interpersonal drama are basically inevitable. Accept that. The wedding is not really about you, anyway. This is a day for other people to celebrate you and your fiance and your decision to publicly announce your intention not to break up. Even if not everybody you want to be there can be there, it's okay, it's not like you'll never see them again. Trust that your friends and family will make their own fun without you having to orchestrate every moment of the reception. Booze helps, obvs. If anybody judges you because some detail wasn't taken care of, then they are douchebags and deserve to have a terrible time as they eat your food and drink your booze.

Once the wedding is over, you will have photos of that wooded path, your pretty dress and/or other fabulous outfit, and all the people who were able to make it. You will also have stories of what went wrong, who drank too much, who gave you that crazy concrete cat statue, and whose father refused to help with anything whatsoever. You will also be relieved! That is okay, you do not have to have a Magical Princess Best Day Ever just because you are a bride, despite what our culture might tell you. It's a big party with lots of details and expectations wrapped up in it, anxiety is normal. In the meantime, as the day approaches, try to remember how you felt when you and your dude bought that Hyundai together. That's why you're doing this, so your loved ones can share in your contentedness. Also, people give you money and presents and shit. That part is pretty good.

There's no cure-all to make you stop worrying, but hopefully some of these tips will help alleviate some of it. I will use my best Powers of Omnipotence to grant you beautiful weather and a happy, relaxed day. I also recommend some kind of post-reception after party with just the kids and lots of irresponsible/relieved drinking if at all possible. It'll give you something to look forward to when you are being forced to hug another poorly dressed in-law you have just met.

Love and champagne flutes,
The Sexy Gay Jesus

SGJ Dances to, Does Not Think Too Hard About Lady Gaga

Dear Sexy Gay Jesus,

Jesu babe, I have to ask: what are your thoughts on Our Lady of the Gaga?*

Bangin music. You surely cannot argue with that.

Great story right? Bootstraps. No. Yes?

Affirming message. Totally awesome, love that.

And she's a total stoner, so there's that.

Do you think her leader/flock trope is a tip of the hat to you, perhaps a form of ironic interpretation of your experience? Or does that give her too much credit?

I love her but have trouble with lots of what tries to say to explain her art (see her interview with Anderson). I mean, you're a student of philosophy (shit, some people think you're the genesis of human thought . . . ) It's way, way, way overcooked, right? (The art/sociology of fame??) Sometimes pop music is just fun. Maybe she shouldn't try so hard to explain it all.

Gah . . . I have to go read something called "The Conflict Helix" now. (Probably have no license to question Gags when I'm reading this nonsense for school. Maybe I shouldn't be such a critical naysayer.)

Thought I'd check in and give you a genuflect. Take care. Say hi to Lauren for me. Oh, and Happy Pride!

--Tweets

Dear Tweets,

Clearly I have neglected this letter for some time. I apologize, but summertime is a very busy time for attractive homosexual deities--there is a lot of laying out by the pool and binge-drinking to do. But I will weigh in on Ye Olde Gaga Question. First off, there are many fabulous gay bar anthems in the Lady's repertoire and no one can deny her very formidable musical talents (have you seen her play that piano in those outfits?). I will say that I'm really only into bootstraps when associated with fetish gear, but I admire her hard work also.

The Lady and I have only met in passing at Gay Community meetings, you know. I find it unlikely that she is deliberately emulating me, though I certainly couldn't blame her! I am pretty awesome, in the literal, awe-inspiring sense. I actually find it quite adorable that she calls her fans "little monsters," which is way cooler than anything Jesus fans have ever been called.

I do think she may be thinking a little bit too hard about her art, despite the fabulousness of her music and her audacity in fashion. She may or may not be friends with Slovenian postmodern theoretical darling Slavoj Zizek. Though I grant her musical efforts are a little more sophisticated than, say, Ke$ha's, K-Money clearly doesn't take herself too seriously. Neither of them wears pants, I think they should be friends. I also find sincerity uncomfortable. I think it's easiest to just take the songs as they come and ignore the philosophical grandstanding. Thus saith the lord.

I hope you aren't working too hard on your silly homework. I know I'm up to no good this summer.

Love and tequila shots,

The Sexy Gay Jesus

P.S. Lauren says hello and happy belated Pride to you, too!

*If no one's done it yet, please, please, please, internet, bring me a Lady Gaga devotional candle.

The Sexy Gay Jesus and the Case of the Missing MP3 Player

Dear Sexy Gay Jesus,

First off, HUGE fan of your work. The whole water into wine thing? Well played, SGJ. You have the whole classy with character thing going on and I like it.

Something not so classy happened in my apartment last week. No, no sexual deviance- just a missing ipod. I went out of town for the weekend and when I returned, my ipod was missing but my case and headphones were left behind. The ipod was last seen in my idock, in the bedroom. My housemate had some friends over that weekend and they were going through my room to get on the porch, someone passed out in my bed for a while. Housemate did not stay awake for the whole party and there was a lot of drinking.

I searched my room, moved everything around and searched the rest of the house. I looked at work, in my car, friend's car, etc. But really, I didn't bring it with me for the weekend so I knew it had to be in the house. Housemate has asked friends (mostly co-workers) if they have seen the ipod, no one has any recollection of it. No one has confessed either. I have no idea what happened to it for sure, but I think it was taken because a) case and headphones were here, ipod was gone. I would never take it anywhere without a case, especially not camping. b) quite a few people were going in and out of my room when I was not home c) it just simply disappeared, where else could it have gone?

I'm afraid this will be a housemate/friendship ruiner if I don't approach this the right way. I love my roommate and she is a great person. I'm planning to talk to her about respecting space when someone else is not home and you have guests over but I'm not mad at her, I just feel like she was negligent. I am however, really fucking pissed all my music is gone and I want my ipod back. It was pretty expensive for a broke kid like me and I feel like something should be done about it. Does roommate pay? Half? How do I approach such a delicate topic? What to do if roomie flat out refuses? Is it my problem and I should stop being bitchy and pay for it myself?

Please help me, SGJ! You're my only hope.

Yours Truly,
Suzy Sadface

P.S. Tell Lauren I say "Honk if you love Presidential board games."

Dear Dear Suzy,

I am so sorry to hear about your recent misfortune. Also, Lauren would honk about the nerdy presidential boardgames if she currently had a car with which to honk. But about your question: that is some shit luck, my friend. Well, there is always a sliver of a possibility that a drunk guest just wanted to peruse your music selection and then set the pod back down somewhere weird and next month you'll find it in a pile of towels or in a utility drawer. But probably not. It is gone. (Presumably your music is on your computer or something also?) And while it sucks that it happened while your roommate had people over and you were gone, you can't make her help you pay for a new one, either. Let me tell you a little cautionary tale about overreaction (you're not having one, I just want to make it clear that you should continue to not have one):

Once upon a time, my friends and I went into Jerusalem for Passover, because that's where the best parties were. We showed up at the temple (which is pretty much supposed to be my house, or at least my dad's house), and it's like a fucking hippie farmer's market up in there! Not to mention the terrible exchange rates those assholes were offering. Anyway, I got a little bit upset and may have participated in some property damage. Now nice Christian folks in Sunday School try and justify it. There are a number of different depictions of this event on the tubes, but I chose the scene from my favorite musical (obvs) because it was the gayest version:



Anyway, I felt kind of bad about it later. So you should not break any of your roommate's furniture or free her livestock even though she let strangers (to you, anyway) wander through your house who probably stole from you. I think a conversation is in order, but there's not really anything you can do about this now. Perhaps if she questions her coworkers they will come up with a suspect, but it doesn't really seem worth pursuing. Maybe she will feel guilty and offer to help buy you a new (or refurbished) one, maybe not. I don't think you can justifiably ask her to replace the ipod for you, but you can set up some ground rules about parties, friends of friends, and personal space. Presumably she never suspected any of her invited guests were thieves, but they probably brought some friends, and there was drinking and haziness and apparently the hostess passed out for awhile. While neither of you can be expected to keep track of each other's personal items at all times, you can reasonably expect one another to respect each other's things and try to make sure nobody fucks with them while the other is away.

Especially since you are friends, I think your roommate will understand that you are upset, though be careful not to blame her or make any monetary demands. I'm afraid my advice is mainly just to suck it up and start trolling Amazon for deals.

The Sexy Gay Jesus' Breaking Up Pain Relief Plan

 The SGJ and I are flattered and humbled that a favorite advice blogger of ours, Captain Awkward has turned to our flamboyant lord and savior for life advice. This is some real shit, yo.

Dear Sexy Gay Jesus:

I have believed in you ever since my mom sent me an Easter Card that she bought from one of the charities that helps artists who have no arms paint religious scenes with their toes.  There you were, coming out of the tomb, wearing only a strategically-draped sheet, with your arms up to announce "I'm here and I'm queer!"  You were so fabulous, I kept that painting of you on my fridge for years. [SGJ note: I am so flattered!]

My boyfriend and I are breaking up after 4.5 years.  Fortunately we still like each other, and while living in the same house and separating all of our stuff is awkward and involves a lot of crying, there is also a lot of hugging and laughing and telling each other that we'll be okay. 

So here's my problem.  I need to turn my life into one of those montages in bad chick movies, like, yeah, you are newly single and it can be hard and scary, but look at you with your new haircut and hip single-lady apartment and how you ride your bike down the street with a baguette hanging jauntily out of your shopping bag and oh yeah, you just got your dream job while some iconic pop song plays.

Could you put together some inspiring suggestions for things I could include in this Total Life Makeover Montage and also some accompanying pop music?

I have faith in you, Sexy Gay Jesus.

Dear Captain Awkward,

I am so sorry to hear that your long-term relationship is coming to a close. I am not going to lie, as an attractive homosexual deity, I tend to do more fooling around than relationshipping, but I draw upon centuries of prayers, Lauren's own experiences with serial monogamy, the chick flicks you speak of, and a few ill-chosen partners of my own to try to help you.

First things first: I am so glad you and your ex are on good terms. This often speaks to a base level of friendship in the relationship as well as maturity and/or a healthy avoidance of conflict. However, sometimes the "we're still good friends" situation can be even worse than "s/he is so terrible I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner let's go egg his/her home." This is especially so if you are still living together for the time being and/or still have to spend a lot of time together. I know you didn't ask my advice about this in particular, but if there's any way to speed up the geographic separation process, I say do it.* It's kind of like when I died for your (you plural, not just you, Capt. Awkward) sins and then spent a few days in hell or whatever and then was resurrected. That post-resurrection period was SO AWKWARD. After most of the disciples accepted that it was really me and they got tired of thrusting their hands into my side-wounds, it became very clear that no matter how much we still cared for each other, it was time for me to go. So I ascended to heaven. Presumably you have to wait until your new lease starts or whatever, but I say spend as much time out and about and/or with other people besides your live-in ex as much as possible. It's hard to start the grieving and recovery process if you haven't fully separated yet, is what I'm saying. You have to not see your ex for awhile while you do nothing but think about him while trying to do anything but think about him.

But the asked-for advice: happy single lady montage! It is the truth that it will be for a few months probably a "trying to be happy but actually moving super-slowly montage," but you do have to start the journey before it can become real (as real as chick flicks can get, anyway). I like all your suggestions of things to include in this montage: haircut (I would also add some new outfits!), exciting new apartment with nobody else's icky body hair showing up in your shower, biking, bread products, cheesy pop songs, etc. All good ideas! Lady friends and/or sassy gay friends are necessary to this process--especially kind but honest ones who will tell you when you are either not fully processing or talking a little bit too much about the breakup or if you should stop debating and just pour another drink.

Next I would suggest projects. We can't all appear as the messiah to the future Native Americans like I did in my immediate post-resurrection phase, but any sort of commitment that requires time, effort, concentration, and/or creativity is good for making the time pass in a more montage-like fashion. Presumably you have some projects you've been meaning to work on, a friendship you have yet to explore, or any various things you neglected because your partner didn't like them as much as you and you were too lazy to do them alone. Start a book club or a regular game night! Take a class! Force yourself to exercise regularly but in a way that makes you feel mentally and physically healthy and has nothing to do with beach bodies.** I know it is not fair that I am Jesus and can just will myself six-pack abs, but going for a run or a swim or a bike ride or trying to out-grunt the bros in the weight room at the gym can still be very satisfying if you need to distract yourself. Not all your projects will be successful or turn into anything long-term, but they will keep you busy, social, and interesting.

Other recommendations: strike a balance between brooding alone time and making yourself go to social events. Get drunk and sing ridiculous songs at karaoke. Find (or make up if you have to) reasons to be angry at your ex so you can move past just being sad and start recognizing the reasons it had to end. Put Flight of the Conchords season one, Party Down, or Parks & Rec or another show that makes you happy on repeat.***  Read trashy murder mystery/fantasy/sci-fi/romance/nerdy history/whatever your not-so-guilty pleasure is in books. Develop inappropriate but un-pursuable crushes on celebrities, acquaintances, or strangers. This is good practice for when you are (one day) ready to venture into the dating world again. Call old friends. Call your parents. Let people be extra-nice to you for a bit. Maybe try out a promiscuous phase if you're feeling up to it--or don't! That is okay, too! Develop an obsession with Ke$ha and/or glitter. (Maybe start spelling Captain with a cent symbol.) And try to avoid the ex until you feel like your montage is coming to a natural close and then you can see if you will really be a part of each other's lives for the duration.

I do not feel like I'm telling you anything you don't know, Captain Awkward, as you are such a fine advisor yourself. But if you want it in a nutshell, here it is: do lots of stuff, try to be fabulous, love yourself, and always carry a baguette.

Love and tequila shots,
The Sexy Gay Jesus

Two break-up themed songs that never fail to fill me with happiness:





Email me if you want life advice from the Sexy Gay Jesus!

*Lauren's personal note: Sometimes it is a little bit worse when you are sad about your breakup, so you call your best friend to come over and give you a hug except that it is the same person who you are breaking up with, so then it is awkward. And then you realize you need a new best friend.
**"Beach Bodies" would make a good Kathy Reichs book title about a North Carolina coast spring break gone wrong.
*** So what if two of these shows feature Adam Scott? He is the cutest cute thing that has ever been cute, in my divine opinion.

The Sexy Gay Jesus Will Now Answer a Question: Ladyparts are gay, so what?

This is a new blog feature hosted by my Imaginary Gay Best Friend/Deity of Choice, the Sexy Gay Jesus. The Sexy Gay Jesus has done a lot of livin' and dyin' and livin' immortally after that, so he's pretty knowledgeable. Email me if you'd like his fabulous/omnipotent advice. He will now answer his first question:

Dear Sexy Gay Jesus,

First time writer, long-time worshiper. Quick question: Is it true that I'm disgusting and worthless just because I have a vagina?

Signed,
Tabitha

This is not a party trick suggestion, but merely an illustration of how conveniently alike two of my favorite things are: booze and ladies. Both fun and pleasingly shaped!

Dearest Tabitha (presumably not this Tabitha, because aside from being a witch with a living doll servant/best friend/surrogate child, I think she's pretty comfortable with her body),

I am honored to receive your question. And not honored like in the way bros say they are honoring me when they pray before baseball games and shit, like I care what happens or something. This is a very important question. I will give you a quick answer and then a long answer.

Quick answer: of course not. If you are disgusting and worthless, it has to do with the content of your character and not the color or shape of your genitalia.

Longer answer: I get a little bit peeved when people are like, "Jesus wants you to be a submissive wife because BIBLE now let me spank you for burning my dinner." First of all, most of that stuff written about marriage was written by that guy Paul who I really only met that one time when he was still calling himself Saul. We went on a crazy bender, and then when he got back from Damascus he changed his name and started telling everybody that now he speaks for me and blahblahblah 1985039 epistles full of Saul/Paul's opinions. So clearly, like any other misogynist religious school of thought, it is all made up by some dude with a problem with ladies.

I love the ladies! While I generally do not get down and dirty with the ladies (unless you count that one time I turned WAY TOO MUCH water into wine and Mary Mag the Fag Hag and I totally hooked up and then it was awkward for a couple of days but then just hilarious), that does not mean there is something wrong with vaginas. Or cervices or clitorises. Or fallopian tubes or ova or labias majoris or minoris. Or any other female-type sex organs. I mean, I created that shit! How could it be bad? It has the capacity to grow and support the life of another human person!* Also, why should it matter what's happening inside your pants? As long as they are not animal print (exceptions made for drag queens)!

No, ladies are awesome and often make good friends and don't generally participate in chest-thumping type contests promoting by hegemonic ideals of masculinity. Some dudes might be like, "I like baseball and bacon... also you're gay, of course you like girls. Only gays like girls. Liking girls is GAY." Fine. Liking girls is gay. Anybody who likes girls is gay. Including girls. And dads. And husbands and women's rights activists and motherfucking JESUS CHRIST, for my sake. Gay. Gay. Gay. Oh hey, look at how I managed to make dear Tabitha's question all about myself and how awesome being gay is.

So Tabitha, you are not disgusting and/or worthless because of your vagina. I cannot speak to your personality, but that bears no relation to whether or not you have ever menstruated. I hope this helps.

Love and tequila shots,
The Sexy Gay Jesus


*The Sexy Gay Jesus is pro-choice, of course.

The Sexy Gay Jesus will now take your questions

Oh hey guys,

Remember my imaginary gay best friend/deity of choice The Sexy Gay Jesus? Like from that one time he used my blog to talk about how Lent is lame, or that other time he talked about how guys with douchey facial hair shouldn't dress up like him? Anyway, The Sexy Gay Jesus is awesome and lovable and totes knowledgeable about the universe. So if you need some life advice (fake or real, The SGJ don't give a shit), please submit questions. Send them to me at lauren DOT chesnut AT gmail DOT com (see how I made it so spambots couldn't steal my address?), and Jesus comma The Sexy Gay will give you important insights into the world. I highly recommend it.

Work: Do not want. Links: Will post instead.

I have kind of generally ignored Lily Allen except to know that she drinks a lot (a kindred spirit!), but I've kind of been hooked on this song since it came up on my Pandora* Metric station recently: Still behind on blog-readin' since my vacay, but here's some good 'uns I've seen: -Pandagon's fabulous proprietress produces regular columns and podcasts for the inimitable reproductive justice site, RH Reality Check. Her most recent column addresses the fact that pharmacists discriminating against women who are trying to obtain birth control get their BS arguments about "protecting our religious rights" listened to because nobody really cares that much when women get the short end of the stick. I mean, why should ladies get to have teh sex without getting teh babeez? Freedom's Just Another Word for Punishing Women. (Amanda Marcotte at RH Reality Check) -And speaking of teh babeez, once we force women to have them, we shouldn't ever let them out of the house or give them any help whatsoever in caring for them. Because, that's like, against America's Jesusiest values. Jesse at Pandagon highlights how radical anti-family man Barack Obama wants to help provide "early childhood education" and "after-school" programs that would allow mothers (and fathers, I guess, not that they have anything to do with it, and they're probably not around anyway because bitches be sluts who are constantly emasculating their men) more options and flexibility in their work schedules and might be "beneficial" to children or something. Whatevs. READ: The Childcare Boogeyman. (Jesse Taylor at Pandagon) -The amazing Babysitters' Club-loving Kim puts some words to an unspoken resentment of "cool" Stacey and her "New York" fashion. Claudia totally wins any style competition, duh. Choice quote:

I know when I open a Stacey-narrated book that Claudia will not receive the sycophantic attention she so rightly deserves.

I resent Stacey on Claudia's behalf.

This is not mentally healthy, I know.

If you were ever BSC-obsessed, and you have yet to check out the magic, do it NOW: #13: Goodbye, Stacey, Goodbye. (What Claudia Wore) -God I love William K. Wolfrum. He takes on assholes who write dating advice columns that consist of 97% stereotypes and 3% other bullshit. OMG:

"First of all, the most important thing is this - male online dating columnists share an extraordinary amount of traits with douchebags," said Dr. Sven Barrimore. "While this was assumed, we were truly unprepared by just what douchebags these guys really are."

New study shows that male Online Dating Columnists are "huge douchebags". (Wolfrum at Shakesville) *If you're into music at all and you spend any significant amount of time at a computer, Pandora is your best friend. I've found like 472 new artists through it that I really like whose CDs I've compulsively bought off of Amazon just recently.

Dear Abby: You kind of dropped the ball trying to help that nice fat lady

I guess nobody really wins this game, huh?

Don't get me wrong, my day feels incomplete if I don't read Dear Abby, the comics, and attempt the recycled NYT crossword puzzle in the Pioneer Press, but sometimes the Abb-ster really gets it wrong. On a lot of issues, she is refreshingly progressive, but once in a while I read her responses to letters and kind of want to cry. Like when she totally missed that a RAPE had been committed, or that column last year where she told that awesome rock-climbing chick to act more feminine and then maybe her guy friends would want to go out with her. Ka$h and I were so pissed off, we seriously discussed writing a response. But we probably got distracted playing the X-Files Drinking Game, and it never happened. Whatever. Yesterday's column certainly wasn't Abby's worst offense, but her response was certainly lacking. Here's the letter:

DEAR ABBY: Before her death, I promised my mother that I would not get fat like her. Now I'm finding it hard to keep that promise. Ever since we lost Mama, I have slowly gained a little each year. I have tried to lose, but all I do is look at food and I gain.

If this keeps up I'll become the size my mother was. Does that mean I failed her because I broke my promise? I feel so guilty. Please help me. -- JUST LIKE MY MAMA IN TEXAS

Dear Abby was pretty much just like, "Stop feeling guilty. Everybody gets fatter as they get older. But you should probably diet and exercise. Or maybe you have a binge eating disorder." I feel as though she could've been more helpful and/or affirming.

Let us break down all the things about this letter that are sad:

1. This lady's mom died. That sucks. Especially since it sounds like she wasn't very old.

2. There was obviously an unhealthy fixation on food and weight in this family for the mother to bring it up ON HER DEATHBED and force her daughter to promise not to get fat. Notice that there is no mention of the mother's weight being any sort of contributing factor to her ill health or death. Also, notice we have no clear idea of how "fat" is being defined in this woman's case.

3. Given that this poor woman is obviously fighting genetics by trying to stay thin, it's especially heartbreaking.

4. It seems as though the mother found a surefire way to guilt-trip from beyond the grave by extracting a promise whose fulfillment her daughter largely has no control over. I have to say that's not very nice.

JUST LIKE MY MAMA needs a big ol' dose of Fat Acceptance in her life. Please, JLMM, if you're out there reading this, a) you probably found me by Googling James K. Polk, and b) PLEASE go check out Shapely Prose. Seriously, that shit will change your life. I feel a little bit awkward talking about the whole Fat Acceptance thing since, well, I'm not really fat, and I feel like telling people who are fatter than me to accept their bodies makes me look like a self-righteous asshole. Sometimes I think that I'm not thin* enough, but then I remember that that is fucked up. I realize that since I fit most regular people's definition of "thin," I have never really experienced fat discrimination. But I do feel the pressure to be/stay skinny. I've never been super-obsessed, but I know I've still spent an unfortunate amount of time and energy hating my body. This is stupid. But we all do it. We're, like, required to do it, as women and girls. This doesn't make us stupid, but it does keep us from caring about more important shit.

Anecdotal section: My mother has been on a diet for as long as I can remember. As far as I know, she has never had an eating disorder and is basically healthy. BUT: she is a lifetime member of Weight Watchers, and that coupled with various scattered comments over the years makes it clear that she cares about her weight. And I know she cares about mine. She told me when I was about thirteen or fourteen (right when I stopped being a stick-thin kid and started thinking I was getting fat because my thighs were slightly thicker than rolling pins) that I would have a really big butt if I ever got fat. And though this may be an accurate observation, the fact remains that I remember to this day where we were (trying on clothes at an outlet store), and I immediately internalized the idea that my ass was big and damn, I better not get any fatter. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to blame my mom for some sort of nonexistent weight obsession, especially since I know we're all just reacting to outside pressure to conform to unattainable beauty standards. And I can thank The Sexy Gay Jesus that she would never be like JLMM's mom and try and make me feel like shit about a body type I inherited from her while on her deathbed.

BUT: I am still working on Fat Acceptance, even if my fat levels** are rather low. I mean, I know it's fucked up to enjoy the weight loss that comes as a side effect of my depression,*** but I do. So, what I'm saying is, Dear Abby, next time maybe you could direct people like JLMM towards something that can help them accept themselves for who they are, and learn to be healthy no matter their size, and to stop trying to live up to the ridiculous standards. The guilt has got to stop. Fat has no bearing on morality. Here, let me try:

Dear JLMM: STOP FEELING GUILTY. YOUR DEAD MOTHER IS DEAD. Your weight is nobody's business but your own, and mostly genetically determined anyway. YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND THANK YOUR DEAD MOTHER FOR THAT. I'm sorry for your loss, but she's gone and she shouldn't be able to make you feel bad about yourself anymore. Please learn to love yourself. And maybe admit that your mom kind of sucked.

Love and delicious baked goods and high-calorie fruity cocktails,
Lauren


BTW: My coworker just announced that she has 600 calories left for the day. That makes me sad.


*Or blonde! Obvs.

**Shut up, this is totally a scientific term.

***I've started calling the appetite suppression the "Depression Diet." Though Abby was right to mention disordered eating, especially since grief and depression does lead some people to overeat, though it doesn't sound like it applies in this case. It sounds like this woman's body is just doing what it's meant to do naturally, despite her mother's ridiculous dying wish.