Where Useless Advice Breeds Counseling
Do you need advice? Advice that only a person pretending to be a celebrity
could answer for entertainment purposes only?
Then you've come to the correct place: GrudgeLine.
Here at GrudgeLine, we've assembled a cracked staff to solved your daily problems.
Please send your question to firstname.lastname@example.org.
I have a very serious problem. You see, my name is... Stuart Little. Just like the mouse, and his evil film. When it was released, I was, and still am, taunted repeatedly. People ask if I'd like some cheese, if they can get an autograph, and "How's Snowball?". I suffer these indignations from friends, shop staff, librarians and even members of my own family. The second Stuart Little film will be released soon, and I know the madness will begin again, and I'm not sure that I can contain the murderous intent that rises and is on the verge of consuming my tormented soul entirely! PLEASE HELP ME! IF YOU DON'T, I FEAR I MAY FIND THE NEAREST CLOCKTOWER AND VENT MY RAGE IN A TRAGIC WAY!!
Stuart "NO! I DON'T WANT SOME CHEESE"
Little Dear Stuart,
Oh, boo hoo. Poor Stuey has people making fun of his name. Get over it, kid. Life's gonna be way too short for you if you let that rodent gnaw at your skeleton. Personally, I don't think the solution is that difficult. Just change your name. If you don't like how the world treats Stuart Little, change your persona to Louie McSquarejaw or Hunk E. Heapinghelping. If that doesn't work out, change it again. The possibilities are endless. If, for some reason, you actually LIKE having Stuart Little for a name, may I make a suggestion? If someone insults you, punch him in the jaw. Knock him to the ground. Stomp on his face. As he rises to his feet in a daze, hit him with a folding chair and toss him in a coffin. I've always found that there is no problem that can't be solved with a well-executed tombstone.
The Undertaker (aka Cain the Undertaker, aka Punisher Dice Morgan, aka "Mean" Mark Callous, aka The Punisher, aka Texas Red, The Master of Pain, aka Mark Calloway)
I'm trying to get into the field of mad-science. I've been inventing, performing hideous experiments, and I've even found a kid at my school who honestly thought I was kidding when I asked him to be my tortured lab assistant. Oh, he learned better when I needed a guinea-pig for the Vogo-Viewer 500... anyway, my problem is simply this: very few take me seriously and point out that I'm not truly mad, I'm merely off-my-rocker. Should I follow my gut instincts and make them all watch all of the bad movies in my collection to prove how mad I am, or should I admit that they may be right while bottling up my true emotions, hoping that the emotional strain will eventually push me to true madness?
Wait a dog-gone minute here! You want to go mad? If you think I'd be loyal to that, you're barking up the wrong tree. Being mad is worse than being at a flea circus without a flea collar. It's worse than lapping up two bowls of water and discovering that you're nowhere near a fire hydrant. Going mad is just going to bring headaches. Literally! Go fetch a new hobby. Get a new leash on life. If you need some attention, roll over and have someone rub your tummy. Going mad will get you attention, but it will not be GOOD attention. You may think you'll hear "Good boy!" then they'll throw you a bone and you'll have a howling good time. But that's not the case. What will happen is they'll yell, "Travis, get yer gun! The dog's done gone mad!" Then they'll shoot you. Don't get mad; get the slippers and newspaper. If you do that, they'll even let you run down their kids because they think you're just playing. Learn a new trick: stay healthy and happy.
My son has a hamster. He hasn't been doing a good job of feeding it or keeping the cage clean. Now he wants another pet,
which he promises he'll take better care of. Should I get him a snake to eat the hamster and teach my son a lesson,
or get a puppy and let the hamster loose in the neighbors' house to prod them to mow their lawn more often?
Ps. I really liked your National Pet Day column, "Please God, I'm Only 119 In Dog Years"
Might I suggest buying a cat? They don't slither like snakes and they don't yap all the time like puppies.
Plus, they're delicious! I could go for one right now. You don't have one on you, do you? And I know what you mean about bad neighbors.
My neighbors, the Ochmoneks, are the same way. Long grass? HA! They never touch the stuff! I suggest renting a flame thrower.
It serves the purpose AND is entertaining. Try telling that to Willie, though. Sheesh! It's not like I was going to torch the car ... again!
Some people's earthlings! Thanks for your comments on my National Pet Day column. On Melmac, dogs live twice as long as humans so
I really AM only 119 in canine years. You might say I'm in the DOG DAYS of my life. HA! I kill me!
-Gordon "ALF" Shumway
What do I do about a co-worker, who shares the same general office space, that insists on performing personal hygiene in the office?
This person will floss his/her teeth, clean fingernails, and sometimes clip his/her toenails (seriously) in the office. Please advise.
Dearest Grossed Out,
What I like to do is use remnants to make artistic crafts. I usually collect things from around the house, but the workplace, as you've noticed, has its own
unique brand of craft fixings. Take the floss and weave it into a rope about 1/2 in diameter and about 6 feet long. Attach the toenail clippings, even spaced,
so they jut out from the rope -- giving the rope decorative barbs. Knot the rope and place it gently around your co-worker's neck. Tighten until toenail
clipping penetrate the skin. Then tighten a little further. Lift the rope until you are able to attach it to the plant hook on the ceiling. Take the fingernail
scrapings and carefully arrange them on the rope in the shape of your co-worker's fingerprints. (Your co-worker will receive the credit for the
hanging ornament, but that'll just be evidence of your expert workmanship.) Once completed, you will have a workplace ornament that will be
the envy of your cubicle group; a treasured keepsake for years to come. It's a good thing!
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