Dear Bitter Amanda,
Recent life experiences have left me with a bitterness so intense, I can taste it like yesterday's hot dog. I crave something sweeter. Like revenge. Do you have any guidelines or tips on getting even?
Best Served Cold,
Gazpacho
Dear Restraining Order,
Ahh, hell hath no fury. It warms my cold, grey heart. I can only assume you're speaking of relationship-related scorn.
(If I'm wrong, email me again and I'll get back to you. But I'd strongly advise against using the word "wrong.")
Let's see what we can do for you, sunshine.
Try to turn your problem into an amusing anecdote. ("My boyfriend broke up with me by bringing me a present! I guess they just didn't have a greeting card with the appropriate sentiment?") Yours won't be as amusing as mine, but keep that chin up. In time it will improve. (Maybe. No guarantees. You might be one of those bad storytellers.) That way you can throw it around wherever you go, which is a subtle (and quite frankly, classy) way of bringing someone down. Making him the butt of every joke lets the whole world know that he was the butt of your relationship.
There are always the tried and true standards. The Chanel suit of revenge, these tactics just don't go out of style. Making sure that any girl he gets close to knows about his unadvertised traits is a good way to ensure that he is alone. ("God, I'm so glad we're through! I don't know how many more Friday night Lord of the Rings marathons I could have taken!") While you're at it, become friends with the new ladies so that he is in a constant state of AWKWARD.
Now...there are other ways to get your revenge, but it has been advised that I not endorse any of them. So you're going to have to use your imagination. *cough*spread rumors*cough* Excuse me. Rely on your bitter instinct here. *cough*syphilis is unattractive*cough* Damn, I'll have to have that cough checked out.
Hope that satisfies your craving.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
PS- As for guidelines, I believe there is a phrase in the popular vernacular that sums it up. Go big or go home.
Have questions for Bitter Amanda? She's full of answers. Send them to dear.bitter.amanda[at]gmail[dot]com!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Dear Awkward Button...
Ok. So after a company shindig, there was still a keg of beer left. So whats a group of twenty-somethings to do besides take it back to a coworkers house and kill it by playing some beer pong? Well, the socially awkward kid who we work with... gave me a peck on the cheek... when I went to leave. I've worked with him for years and have barely spoken to him. I don't think I've ever touched him, even a simple handshake.
What does it mean? Was it just a friendly but drunken good bye? Was he trying to make out with me and missed my mouth? Was he trying to get into my pants? I'd be ok with that, no ones tried to get into my pants for a while. Except for me, but they're my pants. If I don't get into them every morning, I can't go to work. So thats no fun. And does that mean my standards have dropped dangerously low? Am I just overthinking this way to much?
~Need to get laid, and soon
Dear Awkward Button,
Wow. That must have sucked for you. Since he's a boy, and an awkward one at that, there's no way of figuring out what his goal was. Not to mention, you didn't give me nearly enough information. I mean, what line of work are we talking about? Is awkward unusual? Are you more on the friendly-to-everyone flight attendant end of the spectrum, or more on the engineers-who-don't-know-how-to-have-regular-conversations end? Was he ignoring you all night and then randomly kissed you? Or was it something he was probably working himself up to? Was he kissing everyone? Or were you the target?
See what I mean? Not enough info.
Based on your minimal (and yes, disappointing) description, I'd just chalk it up to him getting somewhat plastered and finding the courage to not be awkward. You probably could have tried to turn it into something else, since he's a boy and they don't strike me as very picky regarding action.
And yeah, you're definitely overthinking it.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
What does it mean? Was it just a friendly but drunken good bye? Was he trying to make out with me and missed my mouth? Was he trying to get into my pants? I'd be ok with that, no ones tried to get into my pants for a while. Except for me, but they're my pants. If I don't get into them every morning, I can't go to work. So thats no fun. And does that mean my standards have dropped dangerously low? Am I just overthinking this way to much?
~Need to get laid, and soon
Dear Awkward Button,
Wow. That must have sucked for you. Since he's a boy, and an awkward one at that, there's no way of figuring out what his goal was. Not to mention, you didn't give me nearly enough information. I mean, what line of work are we talking about? Is awkward unusual? Are you more on the friendly-to-everyone flight attendant end of the spectrum, or more on the engineers-who-don't-know-how-to-have-regular-conversations end? Was he ignoring you all night and then randomly kissed you? Or was it something he was probably working himself up to? Was he kissing everyone? Or were you the target?
See what I mean? Not enough info.
Based on your minimal (and yes, disappointing) description, I'd just chalk it up to him getting somewhat plastered and finding the courage to not be awkward. You probably could have tried to turn it into something else, since he's a boy and they don't strike me as very picky regarding action.
And yeah, you're definitely overthinking it.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Dear Mrs. Fields...
Ok. So I ordered some Chinese food to be delivered to my house. Because I'm single and lonely and have no one to take me out to dinner. And the fortune cookie that came along with my meal said "This is a wonderful time in your life to look inward for answers." And its one of those fancy fortunes, which has a Chinese word on the back.
Nan pun yau. Boyfriend.
Umm, is it just me, or did the fortune cookie tell me to look inside my life, to figure out why I don't have a boyfriend? Go fuck yourself fortune cookie!! I don't need your 'advice'! Go shove your nan pun yau up your kung pao szechuan ass!
Signed,
Setting my fortune on fire
Dear Mrs. Fields,
It's a cookie. You're looking at this all wrong. (Thank God you people have me.) Eating with a boy is often a contact sport. If they're really hungry, it's like that hippo game that kids play--get your hands out of the way! Guard what you really want to eat, and kiss any leftovers goodbye. To a boy, "leftovers" are simply food that you left on your plate for him to eat. You got to eat in your pajamas if you felt like it, and you could put anything on the television. And if Chinese food makes you gassy? No matter! Nobody to censor yourself in front of! (Not that boys feel the same need to leave some aspects of life private. Since they are gross.)
Moral of the story, eat the second fortune cookie and ignore the first one. Your single life rocks.
And seriously, calm the hell down. It's a cookie.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Nan pun yau. Boyfriend.
Umm, is it just me, or did the fortune cookie tell me to look inside my life, to figure out why I don't have a boyfriend? Go fuck yourself fortune cookie!! I don't need your 'advice'! Go shove your nan pun yau up your kung pao szechuan ass!
Signed,
Setting my fortune on fire
Dear Mrs. Fields,
It's a cookie. You're looking at this all wrong. (Thank God you people have me.) Eating with a boy is often a contact sport. If they're really hungry, it's like that hippo game that kids play--get your hands out of the way! Guard what you really want to eat, and kiss any leftovers goodbye. To a boy, "leftovers" are simply food that you left on your plate for him to eat. You got to eat in your pajamas if you felt like it, and you could put anything on the television. And if Chinese food makes you gassy? No matter! Nobody to censor yourself in front of! (Not that boys feel the same need to leave some aspects of life private. Since they are gross.)
Moral of the story, eat the second fortune cookie and ignore the first one. Your single life rocks.
And seriously, calm the hell down. It's a cookie.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
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